“Why not?”
“I resigned to-night.”
“Resigned?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, why in blazes did you resign?”
“Step over here,” invited Fernald, drawing the Maplewood man toward the corner where the tramp sat sleeping on his chair. “I’ll tell you about it. Don’t want to let every one hear.”
“Go on!” urged Hammerswell. “They are paying no attention to us. This fellow is snoozing off a jag.”
Fernald lowered his voice almost to a whisper. Swiftly he explained how he had attempted to clinch the coming game for Rockford by making a bargain with Brad Buckhart.
“Without Buckhart at his best,” he said, “I was confident we could beat the islanders easily.”
“Sure thing,” nodded Hammerswell. “He’s the only catcher they have, and the only man who can hold Dick Merriwell. Of course, they might get hold of Brodie, the fellow I let go when I engaged my new team; but Brodie can’t handle Merriwell’s combination ball. It would fool him just the same as it fools batters. You were right, Fernald; with Buckhart out of the game, or with him bought up, it would be a simple thing to down Fairhaven. One thing that led me down here to-night was to see you about this business. I wondered if there was no way it could be fixed so Rockford would have the game nailed to-morrow.”