The man’s voice was excited now, and Joe tried to calm him. But Mr. Benjamin continued.
“Wait, Joe, I have something to tell you—something important—a warning to give you. If we—can we talk in private?”
“Yes, later, when you are stronger,” answered the lad soothingly.
“Then it may be too late,” went on Mr. Benjamin. “I am strong enough now. It was just a passing faintness. I—I am weak—haven’t had much to eat—I’m hungry. But no matter. Here, come over here, I’ll tell you.”
He struggled to his feet with Joe’s aid and led the lad aside from the crowd, which parted to make way for them.
“I’m down and out, Joe. Money and friends all gone.”
“What about Mr. Holdney?”
“He too, has deserted me—turned against me, though I helped him in many schemes. I’m nothing but a tramp now, Joe.”
The young pitcher looked at the wreck of the man before him. Truly he was “down and out.” His once fine and well-dressed appearance had given place to a slouchy attire.