“And never you mind about my name,” he rejoined shortly.
“Well, it is your name, isn’t it?”
“That’s none of your business. You’re too fresh. You——” Proudfoot’s further remarks were halted by the strange behavior of the All-Stars. One by one they were edging toward the left of the field. As they went they held their noses and looked accusingly toward first base, where Pinky Trainor was elaborately binding a handkerchief about his face. Even Tubby showed signs of uneasiness. Jonesie’s voice rang out sharply.
“What’s the matter with you fellows?” he asked irately. “What are you all doing?”
“We can’t stand it, Cap,” called Hoyt from out in short left field.
“Stand it! Stand what?”
“The—the odor!”
“What odor?”
“Onions!”