“Nothing wrong,” declared Jackwell, earnestly, and Bowen echoed him.
“Why should they be after you, then?” asked Joe, with a faint tinge of skepticism in his tone.
“We got mixed up in a shady business,” explained Jackwell, with a look of misery on his face. “But we didn’t know there was anything wrong about it till it went up with a bang. You see, Mr. Matson, this is the way it came about. Last winter, Ben and I were rather up against it—short of ready money. You know what poor salaries they pay in the league we came from. We were down in Dallas, Texas, and the oil boom was on. We saw an ad for men to sell oil stocks, and we answered it. The fellow at the head of it—Bromley was his name—was a smooth sort of chap and could talk any one into anything. From his description, we thought his oil well was an honest-to-goodness well, and we sold a lot of stock for him. Then came the blow-up, and it turned out that his well was just a dry hole in the ground. He got out from under just before the crash came, and I heard he went to Mexico. The federal officers got after him and all connected with it. We heard that warrants were out for us, and we skipped North. But until the company broke we thought they were straight as a string. We wouldn’t have had anything to do with it if we had thought it was crooked. We were just roped into it. That’s as true as that we’re sitting here this moment. All that either of us got out of it was part of our salaries and part of the commissions that were promised.”
[CHAPTER XXV]
IN THE DEPTHS
The story had a ring of sincerity that was not without its appeal to Joe. Still, he knew that some of the most plausible stories are told by the worst of crooks, and before accepting it fully he determined to make some investigations on his own account.
“Dallas is a long way from here,” he remarked, as he eyed the two men keenly. “What makes you think the federal agents are looking for you?”
“Because we know some of the men that are in the Dallas branch,” replied Jackwell, “and on several occasions we’ve seen one or more of them at the Polo Grounds and at other fields on the circuit.”
“That doesn’t say they’re looking for you,” said Joe. “I suppose all of them take in a game when they get a chance. Besides,” he went on, as another thought struck him, “if they really wanted you, it would be no trick to get you. Your names appear in the papers in the scores of the game every day. Every one that follows the game knows Jackwell and Bowen.”