The paper that had printed the attack upon the team had given space to a partial retraction, and, although the players did not know it, the reporter who had written the article had been suspended during an investigation that was inspired because Technicalities Feehan had, after overwhelming two editors with his statistics, convinced them that no basis of truth existed for such charges.
The Bears were happy and confident. With a full game the advantage and only five more games to play, and those comparatively easy; with the pitching staff in good condition, they considered the pennant as won.
McCarthy and Swanson almost had forgotten to keep watch upon Williams. They despised him, and in the club house and on the field they ignored him completely. Several of the other players, although they knew nothing of the plot, had come to ignore the pitcher, and he shunned them all. He seemed nervous and laboring under a heavy strain. Two or three times he started toward Clancy as if to speak to him, but each time the manager, who was watching him, turned away to address another player. Finally, Williams seemed to gather his courage, and with a pretense of indifference he sauntered toward Clancy, who was talking with several of the players.
"Which game do I work, Bill?" he asked, tossing his glove down and picking up a bat.
"I think I'll save you for the first game of the World's Series, Adonis," replied Clancy. "It's a shame to waste you beating these dub clubs."
The hidden sarcasm in the words stung. The pitcher started, then rallied and said:
"What have you got it in for me about? Haven't I worked my head off to win for your team?"
"I haven't made any kick," responded Clancy shortly. "When I have a kick coming I'll make it good and strong."
"I'm not joking, Bill," the pitcher persisted. "My arm is good, and a lot of my friends are wondering why I don't work when it's my turn."
"Tell them," said Clancy very quietly, "that I have only one third baseman, and that I don't want him killed."