“Diggs!” Bob gasped. “I guess you had mighty little luck in that game, Chip, and a whole lot of good playing! I heard a fellow near us saying that he thought the first baseman was a semipro player from Buffalo.”
“Likely enough,” said Chip thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Colonel Carson had got professionals all the way through, because he expected to clear up a big wad. It must have cost him a lot, even besides what he lost! Well, that only goes to show that a fellow gets exactly what he gives, Bob. Your attitude toward the world will be bound to be reflected back at you from the world.”
“I suppose that’s about right,” and Randall’s handsome face clouded.
“By the way,” said Chip suddenly, “I may leave Fardale almost any time now, old man. I had a notion of having a team meeting to-night or Monday, and putting it up to them about electing you captain——”
“Hold on a minute, Chip,” broke in Randall, his eyes fixing those of Merry in a peculiar fashion. “Did you and Carson drink those glasses of water I had poured out?”
“Eh?” Merry’s thoughts went back swiftly to the scene in Bob’s room. “Why, yes!”
“Then that’s what’s the matter with Bully,” and Randall faced Merry, white-faced but firm. “I had doped one glass of water, hoping to put you out of the game for the afternoon. He got it by mistake. I pretended to be placated by your words this morning, Chip, and—well, I began to see differently later, that’s all. Now go ahead and do anything you want to—I’m glad that I’ve made a clean breast of it.”
“So am I,” said Chip quietly. “As I was saying, I hope you’ll be elected the captain, to succeed me when I leave, Bob.”