“It was no accident!” cried Joe.
“No accident! What do you mean?”
“I mean that someone did this on purpose!” cried Joe. “Someone got at my watch when I wasn’t looking, and shoved the regulator lever over to slow. That was so it would lose time gradually, and I wouldn’t notice. It has lost over an hour. This is too bad!”
“Well, don’t worry,” advised Reggie, as he speeded the car ahead, turning into a long, country road that would take them almost directly to the ball park. “I’ll get you there on time if I have to do it on bare rims. Let the tires go! But who do you imagine could have slowed down your watch?”
“I wouldn’t like to say—not until I have more proof,” answered Joe, slowly. “It would not be fair.”
“No, I suppose not. Yet it was a mean trick, if it was done on purpose. They didn’t want you to get back in time to pitch. Say! Could it have been any of the Clevefield players? They have plenty of cause to be afraid of you for what you did in the game yesterday—after you got a chance.”
“No, it wasn’t any of them,” said Joe, with a shake of his head. “They’re too good sports to do a thing like that. Besides, I didn’t do so much to them yesterday. We couldn’t have had a much worse drubbing.”
“But you prevented it from being a regular slaughter.”
“Maybe. But it was none of them who slowed my watch.”
“You don’t mean it was one of your own men!” cried Reggie.