"Here you are! Wanderer--the third favourite!" shouts the opener.
"I say, just give me my ticket, please," remonstrates Tadpole.
"Hullo! don't be in a hurry," breaks in Flashman; "what'll you sell Wanderer for now?"
"I don't want to sell," rejoins Tadpole.
"Oh, don't you! Now listen, you young fool: you don't know anything about it; the horse is no use to you. He won't win, but I want him as a hedge. Now, I'll give you half a crown for him." Tadpole holds out, but between threats and cajoleries at length sells half for one shilling and sixpence--about a fifth of its fair market value; however, he is glad to realize anything, and, as he wisely remarks, "Wanderer mayn't win, and the tizzy is safe anyhow."
East presently comes up and draws a blank. Soon after comes Tom's turn. His ticket, like the others, is seized and opened.
"Here you are then," shouts the opener, holding it up--"Harkaway!--By Jove, Flashey, your young friend's in luck."
"Give me the ticket," says Flashman, with an oath, leaning across the table with open hand and his face black with rage.
"Wouldn't you like it?" replies the opener, not a bad fellow at the bottom, and no admirer of Flashman. "Here, Brown, catch hold." And he hands the ticket to Tom, who pockets it.
Whereupon Flashman makes for the door at once, that Tom and the ticket may not escape, and there keeps watch until the drawing is over and all the boys are gone, except the sporting set of five or six, who stay to compare books, make bets, and so on;
Tom, who doesn't choose to move while Flashman is at the door; and East, who stays by his friend, anticipating trouble. The sporting set now gathered round Tom. Public opinion wouldn't allow them actually to rob him of his ticket, but any humbug or intimidation by which he could be driven to sell the whole or part at an undervalue was lawful.
"Now, young Brown, come, what'll you sell me Harkaway for? I hear he isn't going to start. I'll give you five shillings for him," begins the boy who had opened the ticket. Tom, remembering his good deed, and moreover in his forlorn state wishing to make a friend, is about to accept the offer, when another cries out, "I'll give you seven shillings." Tom hesitated and looked from one to the other.
"No, no!" said Flashman, pushing in, "leave me to deal with him; we'll draw lots for it afterwards. Now sir, you know me: you'll sell Harkaway to us for five shillings, or you'll repent it."
"I won't sell a bit of him," answered Tom shortly.
"You hear that now!" said Flashman, turning to the others.
"He's the coxiest young blackguard in the house. I always told you so. We're to have all the trouble and risk of getting up the lotteries for the benefit of such fellows as he."
Flashman forgets to explain what risk they ran, but he speaks to willing ears. Gambling makes boys selfish and cruel as well as men.
"That's true. We always draw blanks," cried one. --"Now, sir, you shall sell half, at any rate."
"I won't," said Tom, flushing up to his hair, and lumping them all in his mind with his sworn enemy.
