"
Baker turned to him joyously.
"List' to the voice of reason!" he cried. "I'm sorry he won't come with
us; but the next best thing is to put him where he won't fight us. I
didn't know he was going back to your timber--"
Bob opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again at a gesture from his
father.
Baker glanced at the clock.
"Well," he remarked cheerfully, "come over to the Club with me to lunch,
anyway."
Bob stared at him incredulously. Here was the man who had employed
against him every expedient from blackmail to physical violence; who had
but that instant been worsted in a bald attempt at larceny,
nevertheless, cheerfully inviting him out to lunch as though nothing had
happened! Furthermore, his father, against whose ambitions one of the
deadliest blows had been aimed, was quietly reaching for his hat. Baker
looked up and caught Bob's expression.
"Come, come!" said he; "forget it! You and I speak the language of the
same tribe, and you can't get away from it. I'm playing my game, you're
playing yours. Of course, we want to win. But what's the use of cutting
out lots of bully good people on that account?"
"You don't stick to the rules," insisted Bob stoutly.
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