“No, I don’t,” said Walter irritably.
“Walter,” said Dan quietly, “didn’t you know what kind of a fellow Gus was when you began to run with him?”
“I thought all the fellows were down on him. He isn’t as bad as some of them say he is.”
“That’s very likely so.”
“But this thing is the worst——”
“What thing?”
“Oh, you know what I mean. This ipecac business.”
“Why did Gus want to make me sick?”
“You know that too. He expected to be the pitcher of the nine. Everybody else expected him to be too. At first Gus was down on me for bringing you here, but he got over that. He had two plans going—one was to make you just sick enough so that you couldn’t play in the game with the academy or, if you did play, that you’d fall down and the fellows would have to call on him; and the other was to try to have the officers of the league bring a charge against you—that you were a professional—had been paid for playing.”
“How did Gus think he could do that?”