"Very much so, Big Man."
"What are you doing here?"
"The faculty, Big Man, desire my presence," said the Butcher, sarcastically. "They would like my expert advice on a few problems that are perplexing them."
"Ah," said the Great Big Man, slowly. Then he understood. The Butcher had been caught two nights before returning by Sawtelle's window at a very late hour. He did not know exactly the facts because he had been told not to be too inquisitive, and he was accustomed to obeying instructions. Supposing the faculty should expel him! To the Big Man such a sentence meant the end of all things, something too horrible to contemplate. So he said, "Oh, Butcher, is it serious?"
"Rather, youngster; rather, I should say."
"What will the baseball team do?" said the Big Man, overwhelmed.
"That's what's worrying me," replied the crack first-baseman, gloomily. He rose and went to the window, where he stood beating a tattoo.
"You don't suppose Crazy Opdyke could cover the bag, do you?" said the Big Man.
"Not in a lifetime."
"How about Stubby?"