It was commonly reported around Carsonville that the estimable Colonel Carson could tug more Satanic inspiration out of his yellow-gray goatee than Satan himself. At the present moment he seemed to be highly satisfied with himself. He was sitting in his study at Carsonville, and with him was his son. Bully Carson’s face was decorated with a large black eye, over which he wore an eye patch.
He was clad in a loud checked suit, flaming-red necktie, and green waistcoat. From one corner of his mouth drooped a negligent cigarette. His face looked pasty and unwholesome, and reflected the same hard, unscrupulous look that shone in his father’s eyes.
“Son, here’s where we even up with them Merriwells for good and all.”
Colonel Carson tugged at his goatee again, and glanced down at Merry’s telegram of acceptance. He used the Clippers as a means to win money by gambling. And when he did gamble, it was usually a sure thing. This he proceeded to prove in his next words.
“Bully, I’m going to clean up a lot on this here Fardale game,” he stated reflectively. “I got word to-night that Southpaw Diggs will come.”
[220]
“Whew!” Bully peered at his father in admiration. “Pop, you’re a slick one! Ain’t you afraid they’ll recognize him?”
“Not at Fardale. He’ll take a fictitious name and shave off his mustache. I’m going to pay him well for it. Also, I’ve got a semipro catcher to take the place of Squint Fletcher, whom some of the town boys trounced. Squint was always insolent, anyhow.”
“Yes,” said Bully, with a scowl. “He didn’t have no respect for me at all. Then you’ve got two other fellers from that outlaw league, ain’t you?”
“For first and third,” replied his father. “Our own second baseman is excellent, and with Southpaw Diggs we’ll have a walk-away, son.”
Bully nodded. Diggs was a famous professional pitcher. In his good days he was one of the best in the country, but he had been let out by the last team he had been with for drunkenness.
“Sure Diggs won’t get boozed up, pop?”
“Quite sure. He has agreed to let me bet half the amount I am to pay him on our team. He’s also agreed not to touch a drop meantime, and, as he needs the money, we can depend on him fully.”
Carson, junior, looked down at the floor, then lifted his one good eye suddenly.
“Pop, I want some money,” he blurted out. “I[221] want to get down some bets on this game for myself, and I’m busted.”
“Nothing doing,” and his father’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll make a clean-up for the family, son.”
“Aw, loosen up!” exclaimed Bully disgustedly. “You durned old tightwad, you got more dollars in the bank than I have cents! Why, you own the bank, yet you won’t come over with a hundred!”
“I should say not!” cried Colonel Carson, horrified at the mere idea. “Ain’t I brought you up all your life? Ain’t I paid for them clothes you got on?”
“Well, you needn’t holler so about it,” retorted his son. “I want some coin, hear that? I’m tired o’ lollin’ around without any money to go on, and I’m goin’ to have some.”
“Get out and rustle for it, then, like I did,” retorted his father grimly.
Bully grunted with contempt. He had the same keen love for dollars that his father had, but he did not possess the elder Carson’s aptitude to pick up cents. However, he fully intended to get hold of some money to bet on the Fardale game.
There was no doubt that the Clippers would win, none at all. With Diggs on the mound the academy team would be helpless, to say nothing of the other professionals who would masquerade as amateurs for the occasion. It was a “raw deal,” but Colonel Carson was famed in sporting[222] circles for his ability to put raw deals over successfully.
“This is the surest kind of a good thing,” he mused reflectively. “If Diggs shows up in good shape, Bully, I’ll get down about a thousand that we shut them out without a run.”
“You’d better go easy on them fancy bets,” growled Bully. “That Merriwell kid is liable to connect with a streak of luck and jab out a homer, like he done against Franklin. You thought that was a sure thing, too.”
Colonel Carson winced. Merriwell’s homer on that occasion had cost him more money than he liked to think about.
“You may be right, Bully,” he said slowly. “But he would be helpless before Southpaw Diggs.”
“He’s got the durndest luck you ever seen,” insisted Bully doggedly.
Colonel Carson began to pull at his goatee once more, frowning at the floor. He knew that Merriwell’s success was not so much due to good luck as it was to pluck, skill, and honesty. He could not blind himself to this, but the knowledge only swerved his mind toward vindictiveness.
“No,” he replied slowly, “it isn’t all luck, son. Just the same, I’ve no fears that he’ll be able to buck Diggs. There&............