“How is that going to help us?” questioned Butler, in doubt.
Riley winked shrewdly. “Hutch ain’t handlin’ a team in this bush league from choice, or for his health, and I know enough about him to hang him. He’s in a position to muddle things for the Kinks, and, if I have to, I can make him do it. I’ll get busy with Hutch to-night. Leave it to me, gents.”
“I’d rather beat them on the square,” said Kilgore.
“I never knew a lawyer to worry much about the way he won; they’ll gener’lly grab at anything that’ll land ’em on top. Of course, we’d all ruther trim the Kinks on the level; but we can’t let them trim us, no matter what we have to do.”
“If we did let ’em,” said Dyke, “some of the crazy ones would feel like handin’ us some tar and feathers. I reckon we’ll have to leave Mike to fix things; he’s on the job.”
“Thanks,” growled Riley sarcastically. “The way you come at me on the street, I didn’t know but you was goin’ to demand my resignation from the management.”
“Oh, we couldn’t get another manager like you.”
“Thanks ag’in.”
“That’s right,” nodded the lawyer, “we couldn’t. We depend on you entirely.”
“But, of course,” put in Jorkins hastily, “if you enter into any sort of a deal with Hutchinson, we don’t care to know about it. You’re engaged to manage the team, and see that it wins; but no member of the association is going to advise you to go out for victory in anything but a legitimate, honest manner. I trust you’ll see fit not to come to me with information concerning a deal with this dishonest rascal, Hutchinson.”