Fargo stared at him an instant. “Well?” he queried sharply. “Is that all? Didn’t they put anybody wise to what the sneak had done?”
Stillman shook his head. “No. He’d have been fired out of college, and there wasn’t anybody to take his place on the nine. Lefty and Ferris talked it all over and decided to keep still for the sake of the varsity.”
“Humph!” grunted the big backstop. “I’ll be hanged if I’d have done it!” He paused a moment, interlacing his strong, brown fingers. “Well, there ain’t any doubt that’s what started things going here,” he went on. “Elgin’s sore as a boil, of course, to have Locke around, knowing what he does about this stealing. How he worked this dope trick gets me, though.”
The newspaper man started to explain his theory of the waiter’s complicity, but in the midst of it the manager roared out an order to Fargo to get into the game and limber up some. The big backstop obeyed and was kept busy for the rest of the morning. Later on, however, he sought Stillman again, to hear the remainder of the story.
When it had been told he made no comment. His face showed plainly, however, that his interest was aroused to an unusual degree; and the reporter congratulated himself on having secured a valuable ally for Lefty.
CHAPTER XVI
THE PURLOINED LETTER
It was rather difficult for Lefty to tell what sort of an impression the day’s work had made on Jim Brennan. That astute individual was thoroughly proficient in the art of keeping his thoughts to himself, and it was almost impossible for any one to guess what was going on in his mind. Those who knew him well had long ago ceased to guess.
He had watched Locke all day as a cat does a mouse, picking at the least fault, hurling criticisms in that brusque, snappy way of his at the slightest opening, and never once giving his cub pitcher a word of praise. There seemed to be nothing in this to encourage the southpaw.
Nevertheless, Lefty knew that he was in good form. He felt that between his work of to-day and that disgraceful exhibition of twenty-four hours ago there was a vast gulf, and he was comforted. And when, along toward the middle of the afternoon, he began to notice quite lengthy periods of silence on the part of his mentor—spaces of five minutes, or even longer, in which the manager could find absolutely nothing to carp at—his spirits began to rise.