"It must be McCarthy," whined Williams. "He's always with Swanson. They're looking for me. I wish I had kept out of this."
"Listen," ordered Edwards coldly. "This fellow McCarthy is the one we want. If we can get him out of the way it'll be easy and I can get even with that big, fat lobster, Baldwin, for trying to double cross me. Jack, you go out there and get in a mix-up with them and take a poke at the little fellow that'll keep him from playing ball for a week. Is the bartender a friend of yours?"
"One of me best pals," replied the ex-fighter. "Leaf it to me. I'll land de punch dat'll fix dat fresh, young guy."
The fighter strolled back to the barroom and resumed his stand at the end of the bar, eyeing the two ball players. As he tapped the bar the bartender walked to him.
"I'm goin' to start somethin'," said Jack in a low tone. "Ed wants me to punch de head offen dat youngest one."
"That big guy looks hard to handle," commented the bartender. "Make it quick. I don't like no rough house here. The license ain't any too safe now."
"I'm going back to see what's there," whispered Kennedy to Swanson. "You stick here. I'll bluff it through."
He walked toward the door leading back from the bar and started to pass through it.
"Here, young feller," said the bartender, "where you goin'?"
"Washroom," replied Kennedy, keeping on through the door.