Frank Merriwell's Son; Or, A Chip Off the Old Block

by Burt L. Standish

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  REMORSE.

  As they were passing Priley's Hotel Casper Silence hailed them.

  "Pull up, Toots," said Merry. "Let's see what he wants."

  The colored boy stopped the horses, and Silence came out.

  "One point, Mr. Merriwell," he said. "We haven't decided on the umpirefor that game."

  "It's generally understood that the home team furnishes the umpire, Ibelieve," returned Frank.

  "That's a matter of accommodation. In this case it won't be anyparticular accommodation for us."

  "Is that so?"

  "That's right. If you don't mind, we'll furnish the umpire."

  "What if I do mind?"

  "Why should you?"

  "I happen to have a good man who will officiate for us. He knows thegame, and I know him."

  "But I don't know him," protested Silence.

  "I give you my word that he is square."

  "I've been told such things before. I've had plenty of experience, Mr.Merriwell, and I know the sort of square umpires to be found through thecountry."

  "I've had a few experiences myself," returned Frank, "and I confess theywere not pleasant ones. I've been up against crooked umpires more thanonce. Nevertheless I promise you I'll supply a man who is thoroughlyhonest and conscientious."

  "It doesn't satisfy me. You'll supply one of your friends, of course."

  "That's right," nodded Frank.

  "I shall have to object, sir," said the proprietor of the Rovers. "Itwould be the most natural thing for your friend to favor you in closedecisions."

  "It might seem a natural thing, but I've often observed that the mostconscientious umpires are so very careful that frequently they givetheir own friends the worst end of a deal."

  Silence shrugged his shoulders and laughed languidly.

  "I don't think that happens very often," he said, "and I wouldn't expectit to happen in this case. If it should, you'd be sore. On the otherhand, if your friend gave you all the close points, we'd be sore. Let'sget around that. Let's take a man who will have no particular interestin either team. Let's have an umpire from somewhere outside of yourtown."

  "No," returned Frank firmly; "I'll furnish the umpire. I did not seekthis game. You came to Bloomfield looking for it, and if you're notsatisfied with the arrangements I'll make, you can easily cancel theengagement."

  "I don't want to cancel it. All I want is an umpire who'll give bothteams a fair show. Now I understand they have such a man here inWellsburg--a chap who is capable of handling a game right up to themark. His name is Bowers."

  Merriwell laughed.

  "I happen to know this Bowers," he said. "I've seen him work, and therecollection is hardly a pleasant one. He does know the game, but he canbe influenced. That's putting it in a mild fashion. I have reasons tobelieve that Bowers deliberately tried to give my Farnham Hall team theshort end of a game played here in this city. No, sir, I'll not acceptBill Bowers."

  "Well, we can find some one else."

  "Don't put yourself to the trouble. I've told you I would supply theman, and I've guaranteed his honesty. If you don't like that, you're atliberty to cancel."

  "Why not have two umpires? We'll furnish one, and you may furnish theother."

  Under most circumstances Frank would have accepted this propositionwithout demur. Just now he had a feeling that Silence was determined toobtain some advantage in the umpire. He knew Greg Carker to be honestfrom his head to his feet, and therefore he resolved not to yield apoint to the proprietor of the Rovers.

  "There'll be only one umpire, Mr. Silence," he said. "It's useless toargue over that point."

  Casper Silence frowned.

  "You're an obstinate young man!" he exclaimed. "I think we'll have tocall that game off."

  "Oh, very well," smiled Merry, "we'll cancel the engagement now, andI'll step in here and telephone the Wellsburg _Herald_ to that effect."

  "That's right, Frank," put in Gallup, "don't fool with 'em a bit."

  Silence gave the Vermonter a queer look.

  "You seem rather anxious, my friend," he drawled. "No doubt you'd liketo have the game canceled. You appear to be frightened. No, we won'tcancel it, Merriwell; we'll accept your umpire. But I want to give youfair notice now that we'll stand for no partiality on his part. We'llhave a fair show, or we'll make trouble. If he tries to rob us, he'llget thumped."

  It was Frank's turn to laugh.

  "I wouldn't advise you or any of your players to attempt to thump anyone on Farnham Field," he said. "If you do, you'll precipitate a riot,and I don't believe you'll like what'll happen. Don't threaten me, Mr.Silence. I don't like it, and I may take a fancy to cancel the gameanyhow."

  "Oh, go ahead!" sneered Silence. "I know you're frightened! Cancel it ifyou like, and I'll tell the facts to the Wellsburg _Herald_. I want youto understand that this game means something to me."

  "Indeed! Why, yesterday you entered into an agreement to play inBloomfield with the greatest reluctance. You didn't seem to think itwould pay you."

  "It won't pay as far as the gate receipts go. Of course we expect totake the entire gate money, but I'm not fussing about that. I've made alittle wager on this game, and I propose to win it."

  "Is it possible you found some one in Wellsburg who was willing to backus against your professional team?" questioned Merry.

  "Oh, yes, I found some one in Wellsburg who was willing to do that,"answered the man, again glancing toward Gallup.

  Ephraim was worried, for he feared that Silence would break hisagreement not to tell about the bet. He frowned and shook his head abit, without being observed by Frank.

  "I've promised you a square deal, Silence," said Merriwell. "If you'lltake the trouble to inquire, you'll find plenty of people in this littlecity who will assure you that I always keep my word. We're due home atdinner, and we'll have to drive along. Good day, sir."

  Toots chirruped to the horses, and they were off.

  "I don't fancy going back on an agreement with any one," observedMerry, "but I'm rather sorry that we made arrangements to play thatteam. Those men are professionals, and they're not in our class. It'sevident Silence is a gambler. Gambling ruins any sort of a game. The manwho bets money is liable to take 'most any questionable advantage inorder to win. Betting is bad business anyway you look at it. It ruins aman's fine principles."

  "Yeou don't think that allus happens, do ye, Frank?" asked Gallup."Don't yeou believe some decent fellers bet occasionally?"

  "Oh, yes, occasionally. But the man who gets into it in a small way ispretty sure to keep it up. If he wins, it baits him on to repeat. If heloses, he feels that he must take another chance to get even. I saw manybad results of gambling both at school and at college. At Yale lots ofyoung fellows who had no right to do so made bets on baseball, football,and other games. In most instances the money they risked had beensupplied by their parents. They knew their parents would not countenancegambling, yet they gambled. It was not honorable. No man has a right torisk money on which any other person has a claim. Now, for instance,you, Ephraim, would have no right to risk your money on an uncertaintyof this sort. You're married. You have a child. Both your wife and childhave claims on the money you possess. Were you to wager that money andlose it, you would be robbing them of their just rights. I presumeyou've thought of this matter?"

  "Never thought of it that way," mumbled the Vermonter huskily. "S'pose Ishould put my money into some sort of business and lose it. Would thatbe robbin' Teresa and the youngster?"

  "That's a different thing. Business is business. No man has a right toplunge into a reckless venture, but if it seems legitimate and he hasinvestigated it carefully, he cannot be blamed if the venture proves afailure. The best and shrewdest men sometimes fail in businessenterprises. I've never yet seen a genuine gambler who was thoroughlyupright, conscientious, and respected by decent people. I have seengamblers who were honest to all appearances, but they were notrespected. There's something degrading i
n gambling. The man who gamblesis compelled, as a rule, to associate with a class of men who have nostanding in respectable society. He places himself on their level. Now,you, Ephraim, would not care to be estimated on the same level as CasperSilence. He's not a man you would invite to your home, introduce to yourwife, and dine with at your table."

  "Not by a blamed sight!" growled the Vermonter.

  "Another bad feature of gambling is the effect on the individual whoindulges in it. It spoils his taste for legitimate money making. If he'ssuccessful for a time as a gambler, the regular methods of making moneyseem tame and insipid to him. Very few, if any, thoroughbred gamblersever accumulate a fortune or a competence and retain it. Once the germof gambling gets into their blood, they never quit. Let them make asmall fortune, and they're determined to double it. Let them make alarge fortune, and they still pursue gambling for the excitement thereis in it. In the end, nine out of ten go broke. If others depend Onthem, they bring hardship and suffering upon those dependent ones. Mostgamblers die poor."

  "It's logic, begobs!" put in Mulloy.

  "You both know," pursued Frank, "that the loss of a few hundred dollarson a baseball game would not mean a great deal to me. I might have madea wager with Casper Silence. Had I lost the bet, it would not havebrought immediate hardship or deprivation on any one. It was not themere loss of a hundred or a thousand dollars that restrained me. It wasthe principle of the thing--I looked at that. I figured this thing outyears ago, and that's why I've been opposed to gambling. More than onceI've been tempted to set aside my scruples when some blatant,loud-mouthed chap has challenged me and shook his money in my face. Sucha thing stirs my blood. It's mighty unpleasant to have one of thesechaps accuse me of lacking nerve. I have one consolation, however. It'snot a sign of nerve or courage to be led into anything wrong through thetaunts of another. Usually it's a sign of cowardice. The boy who does ahazardous and unwise thing simply because a companion dares him to do itis the one who lacks nerve. He lacks nerve to say, 'No, I won't.'"

  "I guess yeou're right, Frank," confessed Gallup dolefully. "By hemlock!I've been dared into a lot of tomfool things in my day. Next timeanybody tries it on me I'm goin' to remember what yeou've jest said.I'll say no, by thutteration, and I'll say it mighty laoud, too!"