McCarthy slept the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion. He slept all the way during the homeward journey, waking refreshed and only a trifle stiff when he was called early in the morning to disembark. He and Swanson rode to the hotel in a taxicab, anxious to escape from the crowds that gathered to witness the arrival of the champions after their sensational victory. "Don't run," urged Swanson, "I'm a hog for punishment of this kind. I could stand around all year and let these people cheer me. It sounds good after what I've heard them say. See that big fellow, yelling his head off, there? He's the same one that yelled 'rotten' at me for two months in the middle of the season." "Let's have breakfast up in the room," urged McCarthy. "Get them to send up all the morning papers. I want to read what they say about the game." "They say enough, judging from the headlines," replied Swanson. "Let's eat down here and bask in the admiration of these fellows who have been calling us dubs. Pose for them, Kohinoor! You're a hero! Don't you know a hero has to stand on his pedestal all day and smile? Smile, darn you!" In spite of the giant's good-natured badinage they hurried to their rooms and ordered breakfast and newspapers. "They've got most of the story," said McCarthy. "They have written a lot of guff about---- Oh, they make a heroine out of Miss Tabor. Look at her picture. Where did they get it? I never had one." "Get the original," said Swanson gruffly, his mouth full of toast. "See this: Easy Ed Edwards has run. He skipped before the game was over, and the paper says he has carried off a hundred thousand dollars in money that was bet with him and is fleeing to Europe." "Williams made his getaway, too," said McCarthy, eagerly scanning the papers. "Where did he go? I saw him slide off the bench in the eighth while we were scoring and start toward the club house. Guess he was afraid of Edwards." "Darn the luck," growled Swanson. "Here's all that stuff about Kennedy and me being licked in the saloon. The whole story is out." "There's one thing I want to find out," said Swanson, clenching his fist. "And that is who the big guy was that Edwards hired as his slugger. The season won't be complete until I hook this old grounder grabber of mine on his jaw." "I've got a bit of business," announced McCarthy, after an hour of excited conversation. "Wait till she gets through breakfast," insinuated Swanson insultingly. "Going to desert your old pal for a skirt so soon?" "Aw, shut up," said McCarthy. "I've got to thank her, haven't I?" Swanson was silent for an instant. A serious expression came over his homely, good-natured face. "I hope you win her, Kohinoor," he said, simply, putting his big arm across McCarthy's shoulders. "You deserve her--I wanted her myself, once." Without another word he went over and sat down, picking up a paper, and McCarthy, walking to him, said: "I'm sorry, Silent, maybe"----