“Not much it didn’t fail—that is, not entirely,” Blunt resumed. “Lenning has shown himself a good deal of a man, by jumping into this thing like he did, and I for one feel as though I had made a blamed fool of myself.” He turned to Lenning. “Will you shake hands,” he asked.
A gratified smile wreathed itself about Lenning’s lips.
“You bet I will, Blunt!” he exclaimed. “The plot certainly worked out all right if it gave me Barzy Blunt for a friend.”
“Shucks!” grunted Blunt, deeply touched. “I reckon I acted like a coyote, t’other day, when I allowed I wouldn’t have you in this nine of Chip’s. I’m sorry I tuned up like I did.”
“Just forget it, Blunt,” smiled Lenning.
“I feel a good deal the same as Barzy does,” spoke up Handy. “If it hadn’t been for you, Lenning, dropping into our team as a substitute for the Mexican, I reckon we would have lost out. Will you shake with me?”
And, beginning right there, Jode Lenning held an impromptu reception. Reckless was next to grip his hand after Handy had released it; then came Clancy and Ballard, and every player that was left in both teams.
“I guess you fellows didn’t fall down on that plot, after all,” laughed Clancy. “You made good on the diamond, Lenning, and that has shown a few of us what pesky idiots we were.”
“I—I want you to understand, fellows,” said Lenning, his voice trembling and his eyes misty, “that I appreciate your show of confidence in me. I have turned over a new leaf, and I’m not particularly anxious to curry any favor with Colonel Hawtrey. I gave him cause to treat me as he did, and I don’t want him to think I’m sneaking around, trying to get him to take me back and help me. I wouldn’t go back if he offered to take me. I’m earning my way now, and I want to be independent.”
“That’s the talk!” approved Barzy Blunt.