For a time he had feared that in his declaration of such close
attention to business he might be posing; but he found that to miss a
stag hunting party, which heretofore had been one of his keenest
delights, weighed upon him not at all; found actually that he would
far rather stay in the city to engage in the game of finance which was
unfolding before him! He came upon this surprising discovery while he
was on his way across to a side street, where, on the fourth floor of
a store and warehouse building, he let himself in at a wide door with
a latch-key and entered the gymnasium of Biff Bates. That gentleman,
in trunks, sweater and sandals, was padding all alone around and
around the edge of the hall at a steady jog, which, after twenty solid
minutes, had left no effect whatever upon his respiration.

"Getting fat as a butcher again," he announced as he trotted steadily
around to Bobby, suddenly stopping short with an expansive grin across
his wide face and a handshake that it took an athlete to withstand.
"Got to cut it down or it'll put me on the blink. What's the best
thing you know, chum?"

"How does this hit you?" asked Bobby, taking from his pocket the check
Johnson had given him that morning.

Mr. Bates looked at it with his hands behind him.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said to the slip of paper,
nodding profoundly.

"Oh, everybody's friendly to these," said Bobby, indorsing the check.
"It is for the new gymnasium," he explained. "Now, partner, turn loose
and monopolize the physical training business of this city."

"Partner!" scorned Mr. Bates. "Look here, old pal, there's only one
way I'll take this big ticket, and that is that you'll drag down your
split of the profits."

"But don't I on this place?" protested Bobby.

"Nit!" retorted Mr. Bates with infinite scorn. "You put them right
back into the business, but that don't go any more. If we start this
big joint it's got to be partners right, see? Or else take back this
wealthy handwriting. I don't guess I want it, anyhow. From past
performances you need all the money in the world, and ten thousand
simoleons will put a crimp in any wad."

"No," laughed Bobby; "you're saving it for me when you take it. I've
just read a very nice note, left for me by the governor, that I'll be
a fool and lose anyhow."

Mr. Bates grinned.

"You will, all right, all right, if you're going into business," he
admitted, and stuffed the check in the upturned c