"Great times to-night," said Paul happily. "I wish you were going out to the field with us, Neil."
"Maybe I will."
"If you try it I'll strap you down," replied Paul indignantly. "By the way, Mills told me to announce his coming. He's terribly tickled, is Mills, although he doesn't say very much."
"He's still wondering how you went stale before the game and then played the way you did," said Sydney. "However, I didn't say anything." He caught himself up and glanced doubtfully toward Cowan. "I don't know whether it's a secret?" He appealed to Neil, who was frowning across at him.
"What's a secret?" demanded Paul.
"Don't mind me," said Cowan. "It may be a secret, but I guessed it long ago, didn't I, Paul?"
"What in thunder are you all talking about?" asked that youth, staring inquiringly from one to another. Sydney saw that he had touched on forbidden ground and now looked elaborately ignorant.
"Oh, nothing, Paul," answered Neil. "When are you all going out to the field?"
"But there is something," his chum protested warmly. "Now out with it. What is it, Cowan? What did you guess?"
"Why, about Fletcher going stale so that you could get into the game," answered Cowan, apparently ignorant of Neil's wrathful grimaces. "I guessed right away. Why--"