“I suppose there’ll be quite a party going along with the teams, just for the sake of the trip,” observed Joe.
“You’ve said it,” replied Hughson. “At least half of the men will have their wives along, and then there’s a whole bunch of fans who have been meaning to go round the world anyway who will think this a good chance to mix baseball and globe trotting. Altogether I shouldn’t wonder if there would be about a hundred in the party. Some of the fellows will have their sisters with them, and you boys had better look out or you’ll lose your hearts to them. But perhaps,” he added, as he saw a look of quick intelligence pass between the chums, “you’re already past praying for.”
Neither one of them denied the soft impeachment.
“By the way,” said Hughson, changing the subject, “while I think of it, Joe, I want to give you a tip to be on your guard against ‘Bugs’ Hartley.”
“Why, what’s he up to, now?” inquired Joe.
“I don’t know,” Hughson replied. “But I do know that he’s sore at you through and through. He’s got the idea in that twisted brain of his that 74 you got him off the Giant team. I met him in the street the other day——”
“Half drunk, I suppose,” interjected Jim.
“More than half,” replied Hughson. “He’s got to be a regular panhandler—struck me for a loan, and while I was getting it for him, he talked in a rambling way of how he was going to get even with you. Of course I shut him up, but I couldn’t talk him out of his fixed idea. He’ll do you a mischief if he ever gets the chance.”
“He’s tried it before,” said Joe. “He nearly knocked me out when he doped my coffee. Poor old ‘Bugs’—he’s his own worst enemy.”
“But he’s your enemy too,” persisted Hughson. “And don’t forget that a crazy man is a dangerous man.”