The chums bade him a laughing good-night and resumed their interrupted stroll.
“Who was that fellow, anyway?” asked Jim in curiosity.
“His name is Fleming,” answered Joe. “That’s about all I know of him.”
“How long have you known him?”
“Since yesterday.”
“What was the row all about, anyway?”
“Oh, nothing much,” evaded Joe. “I guess we just don’t like the color of each other’s eyes.”
Jim laughed and did not press the question. But he had heard the warning to keep away from the Marlborough Hotel, and could hazard a vague guess as to the cause of the quarrel.
At their hotel both Joe and Jim found a letter from the owners of the New York Club waiting for them. In addition to the informal thanks conveyed to the team in general by McRae, they had taken this means of thanking each player personally. It was a gracious and earnest letter, and wound up by inviting them to a big banquet and theatre party that was to be given by the management to the players in celebration of their great feat in winning the National League championship for New York.