“To the victor belong the spoils,” replied Jack untroubledly. “Frank won’t let sentiment interfere with getting his place back if he can, Joey, so why should you――――” “But he had it first.” “And couldn’t keep it!” “Just the same, I don’t like it. I think I’ll quit.” “You think you’ll quit!” exclaimed the other in horrified tones. “You’re crazy underfoot like a radish! Quit nothing! What about that bat――――” Joe turned on him menacingly. “If you say ‘bat-case’ again I’ll punch you,” he threatened. “Oh, all right. I won’t. I was only going to ask what about that receptacle for――――” Joe chased him half a block. When peace had been restored Joe asked: “Have you seen Buster Healey today?” “No, he wasn’t out,” replied Jack. “I know he wasn’t. I’m sort of worried about Buster. I didn’t say anything about it yesterday, Jack, but I’m afraid he’s got something wrong with his eyes.” He told of the incident of the day before, ending up with: “I don’t know much about cataracts, Jack, but I wouldn’t be awfully surprised if that was the trouble.” “You’re a cheerful little chap, aren’t you? Fellows don’t have those things, Joey. Old ladies have ’em when they’re about eighty. My grandmother had ’em, and I know.” “Well, maybe. I hope you’re right. Anyway, I’m going to call him up and find out what the oculist said.” Events, however, proved that unnecessary, for when they turned into the Adams Building there was Buster leaning against the counter in conversation with the sprightly Mr. Chester Young. “I was waiting for you, Joe,” he announced. “Thought you’d like to know you were dead right yesterday. I went to the doctor man this afternoon and he says I’ve got my――my――――Oh, thunder, I’ve forgotten it!” “Myopia?” “That’s it! He says I’m so blamed near-sighted that’s it’s a wonder I can blow my nose! But it isn’t cataracts, anyway. Say, honest, Joe, I was scared blue last night. I told my mother what you’d said and she was certain sure I had cataracts!” “I’m glad you haven’t. What’s the oculist going to do about it?” “He says he can cure me in a few months. I have to go every day for a while and look through a sort of machine he has. And I may have to wear glasses, too. And”――and by this time Buster’s cheerfulness was ebbing fast――“he says I can’t play ball any more for a while. Isn’t that the limit?” “Too bad, Buster. But if he can cure the trouble――――” “He says he can. Says when you catch them young, these myopias, you can chase ’em out of the system, or words like that. I suppose I oughtn’t to kick, because it might have been a heap worse, but it’s hard having to give up playing baseball.” “No use troubling about that,” said Jack, who had joined them. “You couldn’t play anyhow, Buster, until you got your eyes fixed up right. Much better give it up this spring and go back to it next.” “I suppose so. I haven’t any choice, anyway. Say, Joe, I’m certainly much obliged to you for tipping me off. What gets me――――”