Jack suggested once when Joe was mourning the lack of opportunity to exhibit his skill at the first sack that they enter into a deep, dark conspiracy against Handsome Frank. “We might,” said Jack thoughtfully, “decoy him to the soda fountain and slip poison in his drink. Or we might wait for him outside his house some night and stab him full of holes. If we did that it might be best to leave a Black Hand note attached to the stiletto in order to avert suspicion. They’d probably arrest Tony, the bootblack, and might hang him. Tony never did anything to me, and――No, I guess it wouldn’t be fair to have Tony hung. How would a bomb do? We could put it under his seat at school and――――” “And blow ourselves up, too?” asked Joe. “No, I don’t like that idea so much, Jack.” Jack acknowledged that it had its drawbacks. “Just the same,” he asserted decisively, “something must be done. Frank has a nasty way of grinning at me nowadays, and yesterday he wanted to know if I was feeling well. Said I looked a bit pale. And the funny thing is, Joey, that I don’t feel awfully smart; haven’t for nearly a week. I suppose it’s the warm weather, but if I caught scarlet fever or anything and had to lay off for a couple of weeks I’d lose that bet sure as shooting!” “Well, I guess you needn’t count on me to help you win it,” replied Joe hopelessly. “Bat seems to think that I’m only good on second, or, sometimes, third.” “If Buster doesn’t take a brace you’ll find yourself on second for keeps,” said Jack. “I’d like to know what’s the matter with that chap. Last year, and the year before, too, he was a mighty good second-sacker, but now――Great Scott, did you see that heave of his to Frank yesterday? It went three yards wide of the base if it went an inch, and Buster declares that he threw straight as an arrow! And even his hitting is punk. I don’t see Bat’s idea of trying to make a first baseman of Farquhar this season. The kid’s too green for it.” “Maybe if Healey would brace up,” said Joe, “I’d lose my job at second and might get a chance to substitute Foley. I sometimes wish they’d let me go to the Scrubs.” “Piffle! At least, you’re a member of the First Team, even if you don’t play all the time, and you’ll get your letter, too, before the season’s over. Next month Bat will be putting you in somewhere for four or five innings at a whack. Then, if you get into the Petersburg game you’ll get your A.” “Yes, but what’s to keep Bat from getting tired of seeing me sitting around and letting me go long before that?” asked Joe dismally. “Everything! He’s got to have at least two substitute infielders, hasn’t he? And you’re one of them, aren’t you? Anyway, if you keep on batting as well as you’ve been doing it he won’t dare to let you go. Speaking of that, Joey, I guess we’ve done about all we can with that parlour baseball stunt of ours in the cage. We might as well call that off, I think.” “Especially as we’ve missed about every other day lately,” Joe laughed.