CHAPTER XXXI.
A CHALLENGE.
Basil Bearover's usually florid face turned pale, and the man actuallystaggered.
The horse tossed its head, wrinkled its upper lip, and seemed to grin.
"That gave the big bear a jolt," he apparently observed.
Bearover's companion was a husky-looking young Irishman, and he nowseemed on the point of taking flight. He was even paler than Bearover,and his teeth actually chattered together.
"Holy saints!" he gasped. "The divvil is in the beast! It spakes."
"Don't get excited," smiled Merry. "I told you Dick was an educatedhorse. I think I've proved my statement. Now, Dick, my boy, you'llfollow Bart and Pansy round to the stable and permit Toots to look afteryou. I'll see you at the usual hour this afternoon and give you yourlessons in algebra and Latin. Be a good boy, Dick. Trot along. Ta! ta!"
"Ta! ta!" answered the horse, as it turned away. "Look out for the bigbear. He thinks he's a sharper, but he's only a common lobster."
With a whisk of his tail and a flirt of his heels, Dick followed Pansyand disappeared round the corner toward the stable.
Basil Bearover pulled himself together and took a deep breath.
"Say," he huskily remarked, "have you a little something bracing roundthis place? I'd like a small nip of whisky after that."
"I'm sorry," answered Frank, "but I don't keep it in the house. Ihaven't a drop of liquor of any kind round the place."
"Be Heaven!" exclaimed the Irishman. "I nade a drink meself."
Bearover placed a hand on his companion's shoulder.
"Tell me, McCann," he said, "did you hear that horse speak? I must havedreamed it. I must be getting in a bad way."
"It was no dream, Mr. Bearover," was the answer. "I heard it meself. Thebaste talked as plain as any man could spake."
"Jerusalem!" exploded the stout stranger, as if struck by an idea. "Thatanimal ought to make a fortune for its owner. What'll you take for thathorse, Mr. Merriwell?"
"You can't buy him, sir," was the quiet answer. "Do you think I'd beheartless enough to sell Dick after spending all this time in educatinghim and getting him trained to such a high point of perfection? Why, itwould break the poor creature's heart."
"I'll give you a thousand dollars for him," offered the man, thrusting ahand into his breast pocket and producing a pocketbook.
"Put up your money," said Frank. "I tell you that you can't buy him.Why, if I should sell that horse to you, just as likely as not he'd beso disgusted and angry that he'd never speak again. You know it's nosmall matter for a horse to talk. It isn't natural for them. It couldonly be produced by a mighty effort, and the most natural thing in theworld would be for the creature to relapse into dumbness if transferredto another owner."
Bearover looked disappointed as he slipped the pocketbook back into itsresting place. Glancing around, he observed that the young man near athand and the young ladies on the veranda were all smiling and laughingas if highly amused. Their suppressed merriment gave him a resentfulfeeling, and suddenly his face flushed, while an expression of angercame into his small eyes.
"You're purty smart, young man--purty smart," he said. "You think youfooled me, don't ye? Well, you didn't. I happen to know how you done thetrick. You're a ventriloquist. The horse didn't talk. I was jest testingyou to see if you would try to soak me by selling the critter to me."
Bearover fibbed, for, although he had finally hit upon the truth, itwas an afterthought conjured up by the laughter of the spectators.
"Do yer mean to say the horse didn't spake?" demanded the Irishman. "Iheard it meself--I tell ye I heard it meself!"
"That's all right, McCann!" rasped the big man. "Perhaps you've neverseen a good ventriloquist do a turn, but I have. That horse can't talkany more than a cow or a dog or any other dumb creature can."
"Vale," observed Hans Dunnerwurst, who stood Bear, with his hands thrustdeep into his trousers pocket, "it took it a long time to found yououdt. Dot hoss peen a good 'rithmeticker uf he coot talk or not. Yah!"
"You've had your fun with me, Mr. Merriwell," said Bearover, ignoringthe Dutchman; "but I hope to have a little sport with you later. I'vedriven over from Wellsburg this morning for the express purpose ofseeing you."
"What can I do for you, sir?" asked Merry.
"I understand you have a baseball team here."
"Do you mean my Farnham Hall team?"
"I don't know what you call it."
"Well, I have a ball team made up of youngsters. They are able to put upquite a game."
"What sort of youngsters?"
"Boys--my pupils at the Hall."
"But I ain't referring to that kind of a team. I mean your regularteam--I mean the one you play on."
"Oh, that's different."
"You've got such a team here, ain't ye?"
"As you see, a lot of my friends are visiting here just now. I can't saythat we have a regular organized team."
"They told us in Wellsburg you had, and that's why I took the trouble tocome here. I'm manager of the Rovers, the strongest independent team ofthis country. We're making a tour by automobile and playing the bestteams we can get up against. I have a big seven-seated car at Wellsburg,and that machine, together with this one, carries my men from place toplace. We made arrangements to play Wellsburg to-day and to-morrow. Wewere to have a guarantee of three hundred dollars and sixty per cent. ofthe gate receipts. When we gut into Wellsburg last night we found thatthe team had disbanded and the manager skipped out. That leaves uswithout a game to-day and to-morrow. We're looking for a game. This isMike McCann, captain of my team."
The young Irishman nodded and touched his cap brim.
"Go on," invited Merriwell.
"I've always had a desire to meet you," continued Bearover. "You have abig reputation as a baseball man. I'd like to play you in Wellsburg fora purse."
"Evidently you're out for the dust," said Frank.
"It takes money to run a team."
"Your team is composed of professionals, isn't it?"
"They're all salaried players."
"Just a bit out of our class. We're straight amateurs."
Besides the chauffeur, a rather sad-faced, somber-looking man wassitting in the car. This man now arose with a languid air and steppedout.
"I told you how it would be, Bearover," he said, with a slight drawl."Merriwell has made his reputation by defeating second-class amateurteams. I didn't think he'd have the sand to play a nine like theRovers."
"Who is this gentleman?" asked Frank.
"This is Casper Silence, the backer of the Rovers," explained Bearover."Mr. Silence, Mr. Merriwell."
"How do," nodded Silence, as he adjusted his nose glasses and surveyedFrank from head to foot. "I presume the report that you're a back numbermay have some truth in it. A great many pitchers use themselves up intheir prime. You look all right, but I take it your arm is gone."
"Well, now," retorted Frank, "you place me in a rather embarrassingposition, Mr. Silence. I don't feel like cracking up myself, you know."
"Waugh!" snorted Buck Badger, unable to keep still longer. "I certainopine you're still in the ring, Merry. I judge it wouldn't take youlong to show this gent that you're no back number."
"You're a prosperous young man," said Silence, still addressing Frank."Such being the case, if you have a team here, why not play us inWellsburg for a small purse? If you're the wizard we've heard you are,you can make a little money while you're having the enjoyment of a game.A purse of five hundred dollars would be all right. It would suit us.We'll play you to-morrow. What do you say?"
"I say no, sir," answered Frank. "If we were to play you for such apurse, we would immediately become professionals, like yourselves. Wehave no desire to be classed as professionals, and therefore I declineyour proposition."
"Just as I thought," nodded Silence. "I've seen amateurs before who tookrefuge behind such an excuse. Well, if you'll not play us for a purse,will you play us with
the agreement that the winning team takes theentire gate proceeds?"
"Not in Wellsburg."
"Eh? Why not in Wellsburg?"
"Because I have a better baseball ground yonder within sight of thishouse. Because at the present time I have a house party here, and we'renot looking for baseball games. If your team of Rovers will come hereand meet us on my field, we'll give you a game to-morrow, I think. Whatdo you say, boys?"
"You pet my life ve vill!" shouted Dunnerwurst.
"By gum, that'll suit me!" came from Gallup.
"I'm with you, Merry!" said Carson.
"You know you can depend on me!" rumbled Browning.
"Begorra, it will suit me clane down to the ground!" came from Mulloy.
"Waugh!" exploded Badger. "You can bank on the whole bunch of us, Frank.That's whatever!"
"But what inducement have we to come here?" demanded Bearover. "This isa little dried-up country town, and we couldn't turn out a hundred andfifty people to see that game. We've gut to make expenses somehow."
"If you decide to play us here, and the weather's favorable, I'llguarantee a thousand paid spectators. It's a safe guarantee, and in allprobability there'll be two or three thousand persons here. I'll havethe game announced by the Wellsburg _Herald_. I'll see that it isadvertised in the neighboring towns. We do not depend on Bloomfieldalone for our spectators. They come in from all the surrounding towns.We'll play with the understanding that the winning team takes the entiregate receipts. If we win, we'll donate the money to some charitablepurpose. If you win, you may do whatever you please with it."
"Will you make a written guarantee that there'll be at least a thousandpaid admissions?" asked Bearover.
"With the weather favorable," assented Frank.
The manager of the Rovers turned to Silence.
"What do you say, Casper?" he asked. "We haven't any game for to-morrow,and we can't arrange one unless we accept this man's terms."
Silence shrugged his shoulders, lighted a cigarette, and stepped backinto the car.
"Go ahead, Bearover," he drawled. "Make any arrangements you please."
"All right, Merriwell," said the manager, "we'll play you. Draw up thatagreement in regard to the gate receipts, and we'll sign it."