“Yes, sir,” I responded, “and you will get a report from Tony Larcom, too, in a short time. He goes with us.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Dikes, making a memorandum. “Make sure we are given fair play at the convention.”
After a few more words, I hurried to my room and packed my valise. Then I went to my eating club, which was situated some distance from the main street. Tony Larcom, who was a member of the same club, was there before me; and, as I entered, I found him wrestling with an exceptionally refractory duck.
“If you expect to get the meat off that bird you’ll never catch the 7:15 train,” said I, after watching his efforts for a few moments.
“I don’t care for the meat; I’m doing this for exercise,” he answered sarcastically. “Harry, just think what a baseballist that duck would have made, with its web feet to catch the balls, and all that muscle to throw with——”
“Oh, stop your nonsense, and hurry up with your dinner,” I answered. “We have only twenty minutes to spare.”
Tony accordingly set to work in real earnest, and we soon finished our meal, and were on our way to the station.
Ray was already there when we arrived, and had purchased tickets for the party. He was conversing earnestly with Edwards, who had come down to see us off, and the latter was listening with surprise to Ray’s story about the telegram.
“I wish I could go over with you,” said Edwards. “I would like to see the fun. Give me all the facts when you come back, and if there has been any trickery or negligence on the part of the officers of the League, I will run off two or three columns in the next issue of the Chronicle that will make their hair curl up in knots.”