Randy said no more but hurried off in the direction of the baseball grounds. Just as he came in sight of the place, he saw a figure ahead that looked familiar to him.
"Unless I am mistaken, that is Bob," he told himself, and hurried closer.
It was indeed Bob Bangs, walking along as if nothing had ever happened to him. He was smoking a cigarette. He passed into the grounds and Randy did the same, and took a seat on a bench directly behind the rich youth.
It was easy to see that Bob Bangs was not suffering physically. He smoked half a dozen cigarettes, and applauded as loudly as anybody when a good play was made.
"Fine game," said a man sitting next to Randy.
"It is," said our hero. He looked at the man and saw that he was evidently a merchant. "Excuse me, are you from Catskill?"
"I am."
"Do you want to do me a favor if I pay you for it?"
"Well, it won't be a favor if you pay me."
"I may want your assistance and I may not. Do you see that boy there?"