Lefty’s lips curled scornfully. “Don’t let that worry you,” he retorted. “I didn’t do it for you. I did it to save my self-respect, and because you were one of the boys against a crowd of muckers. You don’t owe me anything. Get that? I don’t want you indebted to me. As for this story you told Brennan, it’s up to you. I won’t go out of my way to put him right, but if he asks me questions I’ll tell him the truth.” Elgin threw back his head, furious under the lashing contempt of the other’s voice. “If you’re such a good little boy,” he sneered, “how do you explain traveling under a name which isn’t yours? Strikes me that’s a lie, all right.” “That’s my business,” returned Lefty curtly. “Anything more?” “No,” snarled Elgin; “but if Brennan gets wise through you, I’ll settle your hash for good and all.” Lefty shrugged his shoulders indifferently. “Try it,” he laughed. “If you don’t have any better luck than you did the last time, I guess I’ll survive.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked across the field, leaving Elgin glaring after him in speechless rage. For a moment or two Lefty was conscious of an unpleasant feeling, more like a bad taste in the mouth than anything else. He had not really expected any fulsome expressions of gratitude from Bert Elgin. He was quite sincere in not wishing the man to feel indebted to him in the slightest. And yet, inconsequentially enough, when it was all over he could not help wondering how any one could be so lacking in a sense of decency. At least the fellow could have kept his mouth shut, if nothing else. The whole matter was swept swiftly out of his mind, however. Brennan, still somewhat peevish at his lack of success in reaching the bottom of the riot affair, was decidedly short of temper, and he started the day’s practice with a rush and vim which kept everybody on the jump. “Get a hustle on you, Locke!” he snapped, as Lefty approached at a dogtrot. “I want to see what some of the cubs can do with a stick,” he went on, in a lower tone. “Get out there and loosen up a bit; a little smoke, you know. You was full enough of it yesterday.” Lefty caught the ball with outward calm, but as he turned and walked out to the pitcher’s box he groaned to himself. He had been hoping that he might be spared this to-day, for he had a bruise on his left shoulder as big as a silver dollar, and his whole upper body was stiff and sore from last night’s experience. There was nothing to do but grin and bear it, however, unless he wanted to rouse Brennan’s suspicions. While the cub batters were being gathered in, he tried warming up a little, but had no more than sent two balls over before he was brought up sharply by the manager’s roar: “Stop that, and get down to business!”