“He likewise states that, in case we use Lefty again, the protest will contain a request that all games in which Locke plays on any Northern League team except Bancroft shall not be reckoned in the percentage record of such a team. Now, Mr. Cope, if he does push this thing, and the decision should go against us, it would knock the stuffing out of our standing in the league. We are also warned not to use Locke again until the question is settled. Unless you know beyond the shadow of uncertainty that Bancroft can’t establish her claim, we’d better hurry the matter to a settlement, or keep Locke on the bench.” Henry Cope was greatly wrought up. “Keep him on the bench! That’s just what Riley’d like to frighten us inter doin’. If he could only scare us so we wouldn’t dast use Locke for a while he’d have the laugh on us, whether he proved his case or not. He’s full o’ tricks as an egg’s full o’ meat.” “Well, until the matter is settled, I think we’d better use Locke as little as possible. I don’t believe it would be advisable, under any circumstances, to run him into this game to-day.” “This game! I should say not! We’ve got other pitchers for games like this. We’ll keep Locke special to down Bancroft. If we can’t hold our own with the rest of the teams with the pitchers we’ve got, we’ll git more pitchers.” The umpire was ready, and the game was on the verge of starting, so Hutchinson returned to the bench. Despite his outward boldness, Henry Cope was troubled, for it began to seem that Riley really meant to press his claim, an action that would be foolish unless he could back it up with proof. The grocer sought Tom Locke, and drew him away from the bench. The young man listened to Cope’s words, frowning a little, the blood slowly mounting into his cheeks. “They seem determined to make as much trouble for me as possible,” he said. “I have a feeling that Hutchinson doesn’t like me too much, and there is another individual in town who is doing his prettiest to stir things up. Benton King is the chap I mean. He has sent for a photograph of Paul Hazelton.” “Has he? Well, what d’ye think o’ that? See here, Bent’s ruther smashed on the parson’s daughter. You ain’t been cuttin’ in on his preserves, have ye?” “I scarcely know the girl,” answered Locke; but the flush in his cheeks deepened. “Mr. Cope, consider that I’ve been in this town only a few days.” “I know that, but some o’ you baseball fellers are pretty swift with the gals. They generally git their pick in towns like this, for the gals go smashed on ’em right off. Still, Janet Harting ain’t just that kind; she’s a fine little lady, and she wouldn’t pick up with no stranger in a hurry, whether he played baseball or not.” “I’d scarcely fancy her foolish or forward. She appears to be a very nice girl, indeed.”