Dick had suggested giving the cup, and all of the senior class "chipped in" willingly, raising ten dollars, with which a very neat trophy was secured through a pupil whose father was a silversmith in New York. I say all the senior class contributed. I must correct this. There was one exception, and that was Dan Baxter.
"I haven't got anything for you or your brothers," growled the bully when Dick spoke of the matter before the class. "Let 'em furnish their own silver cups if they want 'em."
"All right, Baxter; I guess Sam and Tom will be just as well satisfied if you don't chip in," had been Dick's ready answer. "I only wanted to give everyone a chance to own an equal share in the gift, if it was desired."
"Our football team can't play for a sour apple, Dick Rover. They'll be whipped out of their boots."
"If I was a betting boy, I'd bet you a dollar on the result," answered Dick coldly.
"I'll bet you ten dollars we win!" put in Fred Garrison impulsively.
"I'll cover that bet," sneered Baxter, and drew from his pocket a roll of bills.
"Gracious, Baxter, where did you get the wad?" questioned several in chorus, for the supply of pocket money among most of the pupils was limited.
