was an uproar. Saunders grounded his cue on the floor
and stood calmly amidst the storm, his eyes fixed on the green cloth.
There were shouts of "You were not interrupted," "That's for the umpire
to decide," "Play your game, Saunders," "Don't be bluffed." The old man
stood up with the rest, and his natural combativeness urged him to take
part in the fray and call for fair play. The umpire rose and demanded
order. When the tumult had subsided, he sat down. Some of the High
Fliers, however, cried, "Decision! Decision!"

"There is nothing to decide," said the umpire, severely. "Go on with
your play, Mr. Saunders."

Then young Saunders did a thing that took away the breath of his
friends. He deliberately struck the balls with his cue ball and
scattered them far and wide. A simultaneous sigh seemed to rise from
the breasts of the True Blues.

"That is magnificent, but it is not war," said the man beside old
Saunders. "He has no right to throw away a single chance when he is so
far behind."

"Oh, he's not so far behind. Look at the score," put in a man on the
right.

Saunders carefully nursed the balls up together once more, scored off
them for a while, and again he struck them far apart. This he did three
times. He apparently seemed bent on showing how completely he had the
table under his control. Suddenly a great cheer broke out, and young
Saunders rested as before without taking his eyes from the cloth.

"What does that mean?" cried the old man excitedly, with dry lips.

"Why, don't you see? He's tied the score. I imagine this is almost an
unprecedented run. I believe he's got Prognor on toast, if you ask me."

Hammond came up with flushed face, and grasped the old man by the arm
with a vigour that made him wince.

"Did you ever see anything grander than that?" he said, under cover of
the momentary applause. "I'm willing to lose my ten thousand now
without a murmur. You see, you are a mascot after all."

The old man was too much excited to speak, but he hoped the boy would
take no more chances. Again came the click-click of the balls. The
father was pleased to see that Dick played now with all the care and
caution he had observed at first. The silence became intense, almost
painful. Every man leaned forward and scarcely breathed.

All at once Prognor strode down to the billiard-table and stretched his
hand across it. A cheer shook the ceiling. The cup would remain on its
black marble pedestal. Saunders had wo