“I know what ailed me to-day!” panted the Fairhaven catcher. “I was drugged! This low-down coyote paid the waiter here to get the stuff into me! Stand back, pard, and let me square up the score!” It required all of Merriwell’s strength to hold the furious lad back. “How do you know this, Brad?” demanded Dick. “Just heard them talking right here by this window.” “That’s a lie!” asserted Fernald. “Where’s Knox? He’ll say it’s a lie!” But the fellow who had been knocked down by Buckhart was not to be found. He had picked himself up and hurried away as he saw the people gather in front of the hotel. Finding Knox had fled, Fernald became still more bold. “Somebody call the police,” he said. “We’ll have this crazy chap locked up.” “Let them lock me up!” hissed Buckhart. “I am ready to tell the judge why I jumped on Fernald.” “All right,” nodded Dick, “go ahead and call your policemen.” Then he turned to the crowd that had gathered. “Gentlemen,” he said, “some of you were present at the ball game to-day, I fancy. You must remember the singular behavior of our catcher here. He complained of feeling wrong directly after dinner. Yesterday Tom Fernald tried to bribe him—tried to induce him to throw the game to-day. Deny it if you want to, Mr. Fernald; we have proof of it. Buckhart induced Fernald to make the offer in a room of this hotel, and several of us heard all the talk. If you doubt my word, ask Uriah Blackington; I fancy you won’t doubt him. He was present and heard it all. That’s why Fernald was compelled to resign as manager of your team. Evidently he has been looking for revenge. It’s my belief that no man who makes a living as a professional gambler can be on the square. I doubted the squareness of Fernald from the first. He has been proved a crook. I mean it, Fernald—you’re a crook!” The deposed manager of the Rockford team was pale, but he forced a sneering laugh. “You will find I have some friends in this town,” he declared. “You think yourself very smart, young chap, but in time you will get what’s coming to you.” This speech was promptly hissed by some one in the crowd, and as if that hiss was a signal, a storm of hisses followed it. Fernald shrugged his shoulders and snapped his fingers defiantly. “You go to blazes, the whole of you!” he exclaimed. Then he turned and walked away, paying no attention to the scornful remarks of the crowd. “Let him go, Brad,” urged Dick, restraining the Texan. “It’s my opinion he lost enough money to-day to punish him for his dirty work.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER IX CHANGING THE SCHEDULE. Dick and Ray Garrett were waiting in Uriah Blackington’s office when Hammerswell and Jared Whitcomb entered. The Maplewood manager carried himself with an air of self-satisfaction and importance.