Barclay had been looking curiously at Joe ever since the latter had returned. He had been more alarmed than he would have cared to confess by his unexplained absence. Knowing his chum so well, he could see that even now he was laboring under repressed excitement. But his chance for an explanation did not come until some time later. It was only after they had bestowed their charges in their Pullman car and had said good-night and had gone forward to the car in which the Giants were quartered, that Jim was able to relieve his impatience.
“Come on now, old man, and tell me all about it,” he demanded.
“All about what?”
“You know well enough. Quit your stalling and come across with the story. Where did you go? Who called you up? Get it off your chest.”
Joe readily complied. There was very little he ever kept from Jim, and just now he felt especially the need of a confidant.
Jim listened with growing excitement and indignation.
“The hounds!” he exclaimed hotly.
“That doesn’t begin to express it,” said Joe. “It was about as dirty a piece of business as I ever heard of. It’s worthy of a reptile like Fleming.”
“I’d like to have him here this minute,” cried Jim. “I’d repeat the dose you gave him yesterday.”