"Leaving you to try to forget the hundred and twenty-five thousand
you've already spent," figured Gamble. "Nice cheery thought of
Washer's! Of course you applauded?"

"With a brick--if I'd had one!" declared Courtney still angry.

Johnny smiled and looked thoughtfully out over the sunlit
greensward. There were electrifying plays down there; but, "fan"
though he was, he did not see them. Something in the tingle of it,
however, seemed to quicken his faculties.

"Sell me that block, Mr. Courtney," he suggested with a sudden
inspiration.

The mad mob rose to its feet just then and pleaded with Sweeney to
"Hit 'er out!" Shrieks, howls and bellows resounded upon every hand;
purple-faced fans held their clenched fists tight to their breasts
so that they could implore the louder.

"On what terms?" shouted Courtney into Johnny's ear.

"I'll take over your contract," yelled Johnny beneath Courtney's hat
brim.

"On what terms?" repeated Courtney at the top of his voice.

"Bless your heart, Sweeney, slam it!" shrieked the now crimson-
visaged colonel. He was standing on his chair, with distended eyes,
and waving his hat violently.