ofessionals, like yourselves. We
have no desire to be classed as professionals, and therefore I decline
your proposition."

"Just as I thought," nodded Silence. "I've seen amateurs before who took
refuge 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 the
entire gate proceeds?"

"Not in Wellsburg."

"Eh? Why not in Wellsburg?"

"Because I have a better baseball ground yonder within sight of this
house. Because at the present time I have a house party here, and we're
not looking for baseball games. If your team of Rovers will come here
and meet us on my field, we'll give you a game to-morrow, I think. What
do 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 is
a little dried-up country town, and we couldn't turn out a hundred and
fifty 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'll
guarantee a thousand paid spectators. It's a safe guarantee, and in all
probability there'll be two or three thousand persons here. I'll have
the game announced by the Wellsburg _Herald_. I'll see that it is
advertised in the neighboring towns. We do not depend on Bloomfield
alone for our spectators. They come in from all the surrounding towns.
We'll play with the understanding that the winning team takes the entire
gate receipts. If we win, we'll donate the money to some charitable
purpose. If you win, you may do whatever you please with it."

"Will you make a written guarantee that there'll be at least a thousand
paid 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 back
into the car.

"Go ahead, Bearover," he drawled. "Make any arrangements you please."

"All right, Merriwell," said the manager, "we'll play you.