“Do you suppose he heard what we said?” asked Gerhart, as the shadows swallowed up Tom.
“No; but it doesn’t make much difference. He wouldn’t understand. Now, do you think you can do it?”
“Of course. What I want to do is to keep him laid up for several weeks. That will give me an opportunity of getting back on the eleven. He was responsible for me being dropped, and now it’s my turn.”
“But are you sure it will work?”
“Of course. I know just how to make the stuff. A fellow told me. If we can substitute it for his regular liniment it will do the trick all right.”
“That part will be easy enough. I can think up a scheme for that. But will it do him any permanent harm? I shouldn’t want to get into trouble.”
“No, it won’t harm him any. It will make him so he can’t use his arm for a while, but that’s what we want. The effects will pass away in about a month, just too late to let him get on the eleven.”
“All right; if you know what you’re doing, I’ll help. Now then, where will we get the stuff?”
“I know all about that part. But let’s get off this bridge. It’s too public. Come to a quieter place, where we can talk.”
“I know a good place. There’s a quiet little joint in town, where we can get a glass of beer.”