It wasn’t likely the three lads would ever forget that. The team had made a poor showing at the start; and now, after weeks of careful coaching, the showing was but little better.
After all, Merriwell was asking himself, did the fault really lie in the material? He could not bring himself to think this. The Saturday’s game had merely been called on an “off” day for the regulars. He had faith to believe that the game Monday afternoon would turn out differently.
“We’re getting away from the point I’m trying to get at,” said Merriwell suddenly. “What I’d like to know is, why is Guffey in Ophir? What business has he here when his work is all in Gold Hill?”
“Think he was spying upon this hotel?” queried Ballard.
Merriwell started. Instinctively his thoughts recurred to Bleeker and the conference he and Bleeker had had the night before.
Was Guffey under the box at the time? Had he trailed Bleeker to the hotel and then hidden himself away so as to listen to what passed between Bleeker and Merry?
A moment’s reflections all but convinced Frank that this could not have been the case. If Guffey had sneaked to the hotel on Bleeker’s trail, then when Bleeker left Guffey would also have gone away. There was no possible explanation of the Gold Hill coach’s presence under the box except the one that had to do with his hypoderm and his morphine. Feeling the need of the drug, Guffey had crawled off into the most convenient quarters he could find; from that moment until the antics of Fritz, Silva, and Woo Sing had aroused him he had been in the grip of the drug demons.
This, at least, seemed to Merriwell the most plausible explanation. As evidence that his theory was correct, he had that little “hypoderm” which had been found near the box by Silva.
“No, Pink,” said Merry, “I don’t think Guffey was spying upon this hotel. What good would a move of that sort do him? If he wanted to find out anything regarding our club eleven he’d be hiding somewhere near the grid.” A grim smile crossed Merry’s face. “Guffey would have enjoyed the performance if he had been out there yesterday afternoon.”
“He’d have carried a lot of good cheer back to Gold Hill,” grinned Ballard. “Oh, well, hang them and their dopey coach. I guess Ophir will wiggle out of the set-to in pretty fair shape.”