“But the real luck came about when I heard Fernald and this Maplewood man, Hammerswell, plotting downstairs in this hotel. I pretended to be asleep, but I was pretty wide-awake. All the time I was straining my ears to catch what they were saying. They kept muttering and whispering, and I could not hear much of it. However, I decided to watch Fernald, and in that manner it came about that I got in with those toughs engaged by Fernald to knock you and Brad out. That upset Fernald’s calculations somewhat, but he succeeded in drugging Buckhart. Fernald did not originate that plan; Hammerswell was responsible for it.” “That miserable scoundrel has been at the bottom of all the crookedness in this league!” cried Dick. “He’s a thoroughbred rascal, and he’s bound to get his just deserts in time.” Dick then told Bart all about his adventures since arriving in Maplewood with his baseball team. Naturally, Hodge was very indignant as he listened to the recounting of Benton Hammerswell’s plots. “I congratulate you, Dick!” he cried when the boy had finished. “You have done amazingly well to hold your own in this league. It’s evident all the crookedness has been aimed at you. With the teams tied as they are, and Fernald dropped from the management of the Rockford team, you have a chance to land in first place. It’s going to be a hard game at Maplewood to-morrow.” “That’s right,” nodded Dick. “Hammerswell means to take that game, somehow.” “Better go to bed now,” advised Hodge. “The rest of the boys are snoozing ere this. I shall sit up a while to write.” Long after Dick had fallen asleep Hodge sat writing to Frank. He told how the tramp trick had worked, and all about Dick’s gallant fight in the Trolley League. “It’s evident, Frank,” he wrote, in conclusion, “that you have a brother with the real Merriwell blood in his veins. He never quits. I wish you might be here to witness the final games in this league, for, unless Fairhaven is beaten by treachery and plotting, I am confident Dick will land his team on top at the finish.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER X AT THE CLUBHOUSE. The following morning, shortly after breakfast, Dick received a call over the telephone. It proved to be Henry Duncan, of Maplewood, and after talking a few moments Merriwell told his companions that they had been invited to Maplewood as guests of the Maplewood Canoe Club. “I think we’d better go, fellows,” he said. “Mr. Duncan wants us to come. He says the sympathy of the summer visitors at Maplewood is with us, and they hope we’ll win the game to-day.” “Where be we going to eat?” questioned Obediah Tubbs anxiously. “We was put out of the Maple Heights Hotel, you know, and the only place up there where we can git anything is at that dirty little restaurant. I s’pose you might git plenty of pie there, such as it is.”