“Oh, if I could only get square with him!” he muttered to North.
“There’s only one way to put him out of the running,” declared that worthy.
“And that is—?”
“To get his special glasses. He can’t get another pair made in time now, for that old codger of an astronomer has been arrested I hear, and the other professor hasn’t been around lately. There’s only a week more before the close of the season, and if you get the specks Bill couldn’t pitch. You might have a chance then.”
“I wish we could get ’em, but we risked it once, and—”
“We’ll have to do it differently this time. No more trying to sneak into his room. We’ve got to take the glasses away from him personally.”
“How? Hold him up some dark night? That won’t do, for he only carries them with him going to and from the games.”
“And that’s just when I mean to take them. If we could get him into what would look like a friendly scrimmage say, one of us could frisk the glasses out of his pocket, and he’d be left when he tried to pitch next time.”
“Can it be done?”
“Sure. If you’re with me just hang around the next time Bill comes off the diamond. I’ll start something, you come back at me, we’ll run around Bill and his brothers—maybe upset ’em, and in the confusion if I can’t get the glasses I’m no good. I know where he carries ’em.”