SID IS SPIKED
“By Jove, but I’m glad we’re going out of town for a game,” remarked Tom to Phil the next morning.
“Why?” inquired the first baseman, as he critically examined his favorite mushroom bat, which he had mended with wire and tape.
“Because of Sid. It may put him on his feet again, after this business of Langridge, Miss Harrison, and the newspaper clipping. Hang it all! girls can sure mix things up when they want to, can’t they?”
“Yes, but it isn’t her fault. She merely doesn’t care for a fellow that gambles, and Sid can’t say that he doesn’t.”
“I don’t believe Sid gambles,” said Tom quickly. “I was going to add,” he went on, “that I’d ‘gamble’ on that. After the way he acted with Langridge last night, almost coming to a fight, I think there is something more in this than we’ve thought of.”
“Probably there is; but why doesn’t Sid come out and say he wasn’t in the raid, and clear himself? It ought to be easy enough to do, but he doesn’t do it.”
“I know; and yet he may have a reason.”
“Very likely. But things look suspicious. Mind you, I don’t say to us, for I’d stick to Sid, no matter what he did. But there’s the fact of him suddenly being broke, being out late several times, going off after getting mysterious notes, and coming in smelling strongly of tobacco. It looks bad, and I don’t see why Sid doesn’t own up and confess, or else clear himself.”
“Maybe he can’t. But that’s neither here nor there. I’m glad he and Langridge didn’t fight. Now we’re going out of town to play Wescott, and maybe get beaten, for they have a fine nine. But, anyhow, it will do Sid good. He may come back entirely different.”