CHAPTER XX
MEN OF CONSCIENCE!
There was a moment’s silence. Then Dyke spoke up. “We’ll be up ag’inst it hard with our left-hand hitters if they keep on holdin’ Locke in reserve for us,” he said. “Lisotte, McGovern, Bernsteine, Mace—he’s got their number, ev’ry one of ’em. It was pitiful to see them tryin’ to hit him to-day.”
“Never suffered more at a game in all my life,” sighed Jorkins. “Every time a man fanned and those Kingsbridgers howled, I had an attack of heart disease. Then think of them loading up with brooms, and bells, and tin horns, and parading through the main street! It was insulting.”
“Insulting!” gurgled Butler. “Wonder they weren’t pelted with rotten eggs.”
“It would have been unfortunate if they’d caught anybody shyin’ rotten eggs at them,” said Riley. “They were primed for a ruction, and there’d have been merry blazes to pay. Now, gents, just you calm down, and wait for me to straighten things out. Losin’ this game to-day hit me just as hard as anybody, for I had an idea we’d bag it, dead sure.”
“And your confidence, which you expressed unreserved last night, cost me good money,” murmured Fancy.
“You’ve won enough in the past to stand one or two losings.”
“I wish you could give us an idea what you propose to do,” urged Jorkins.
“I don’t mind sayin’, confidential, that I mean to do some chinnin’ with Bob Hutchinson.”