“I am between two fires,” he confessed. “I’d like to fix Buckhart, somehow. I’ll do it, too! I don’t know just how to get at him.” “A little dope in his coffee,” whispered Hammerswell. “He doesn’t take coffee. Those chaps over there are temperance cranks. Every man on the team drinks water.” “Then a little dope in a glass of water—that’ll do it.” “I believe I can get a drug into him all right,” said Fernald. “I stand in with the head waiter here at the Corndike. He’s a poker player, and I have divided winnings with him in more than one game we have played together. I did the crooked dealing and gave him the hands to win.” “Then it’s a simple matter,” whispered Hammerswell eagerly. “If you can fix it with the head waiter, I will provide the drug.” “What sort of a drug?” asked Fernald. “I don’t like to monkey with stuff unless I know how it is going to work. I don’t want to poison any one.” “Don’t worry about that. I know a drug that will do the work, and it’s perfectly tasteless.” “Where do you get it?” “I’ll get it. Leave that to me. If you will fix it with the head waiter, I’ll provide the powder.” “Explain how the stuff works on a man who takes it,” urged Fernald. “It takes the life and judgment out of him. He loses his strength.” “Then it doesn’t knock him flat? It doesn’t put him down and out?” “Not a bit of that. He’ll keep on his feet, but he’ll be useless as a ball player.” “Get me the dope,” hissed Fernald. “I will guarantee to reach Buckhart. I’ll soak that fellow, and I hope he makes a holy show of himself to-morrow.” “He will,” chuckled Hammerswell. “How long will it take you to get the powder?” “There’s plenty of time. I will find a man to purchase it here in Rockford at a drug store. Don’t want to do it myself. Leave it all to me. You shall have it to-night, but you’re not to use it until to-morrow noon. Understand that? If you use it before that time he might recover from the effect in time to play all right. He will feel it for four or five hours after taking the stuff.” “Then it’s a go,” said Fernald. “I’ll make a big winning on Rockford to-morrow. After that I hope Rockford will get it in the neck regularly. Have another drink with me. Come on!” They again stood up to the bar and called for drinks. While they were drinking one of the bartenders noticed the sleeping fellow in the corner. Immediately he came from behind the bar and gave the sleeper a poke in the ribs. “Here! here! what are you doing?” he demanded. “This is no lodging house.” Apparently the fellow was undisturbed. A second poke toppled him from his chair to the floor, where he sprawled awkwardly. “Thunder and guns!” he muttered thickly; “that was an awful shock! Thought I was riding on the truck of a freight car. Lost my hold and fell off. The whole train went over me.” “This is no place for bums,” said the bartender, surveying the fellow’s ragged clothes. “When did you blow in here?”