Lefty obeyed without question, and revealed a muscular chest dotted here and there with bruises already beginning to darken. It had been impossible to guard himself at every point from the frenzied rushes, and he had instinctively protected his face.
Fargo grinned as he saw the damage. “Won’t you be stiff and sore to-morrow morning!” he chuckled. “It’s lucky you can lay it to the first day’s practice. Say, kid, how in thunder did you two start that riot? You look like a peaceable guy to me.”
“I didn’t start it,” Lefty returned swiftly. “I broke into the game afterward.”
“Humph! Let’s hear about it.”
Briefly, Lefty told him what little he knew about the beginning of the trouble. He said nothing of his dislike for Bert Elgin, but Fargo must have guessed it from his manner.
“So that’s it?” the catcher commented. “I gather you two ain’t very chummy.”
“Not exactly,” Lefty returned shortly.
Fargo eyed him curiously. “Then why did you butt in? He started the muss, and I should say he deserved what he got.”
“But the whole push was against him,” protested Locke. “I couldn’t sneak off and let them hammer him to pieces.”
“Strikes me that he sneaked,” Fargo said swiftly. “When I came across the street to see what was doing, there wasn’t any use trying to get near the front, so I made for the corner to see if I could get a glimpse over the top of that tipped-over ticket cage. I hadn’t been there a minute before Elgin came crawling out from underneath. He was so blamed scared that I hadn’t more’n got out of him that you were in there alone when he beat it. Looks like it didn’t worry him any to leave you alone for the bunch to hammer.”