“But this thing is the worst――――” “What thing?” “Oh, you know what I mean. This ipecac business.” “Why did Gus want to make me sick?” “You know that too. He expected to be the pitcher of the nine. Everybody else expected him to be too. At first Gus was down on me for bringing you here, but he got over that. He had two plans going――one was to make you just sick enough so that you couldn’t play in the game with the academy or, if you did play, that you’d fall down and the fellows would have to call on him; and the other was to try to have the officers of the league bring a charge against you――that you were a professional――had been paid for playing.” “How did Gus think he could do that?” “He had a letter from that harness-maker at Rodman――――” “Who? Si?” “Yes.” “Well, he didn’t say I was a professional, did he?” “Not exactly; but his letter was a funny one. Even you would laugh if you should read it.” “What did Si write?” “A lot of stuff. He praised you to the skies and went on to say that every man, woman, and child in Rodman knew that you had had an offer to play on a professional team ‘for big money,’ as he put it. Of course his letter was worded in such a way that one might think you had been paid――――” “I understand,” said Dan shortly. “Did Gus write the letter?” “Ye-es, though I’m afraid I helped,” said Walter slowly. “How did Gus know about the harness-maker?” “I’m afraid I told him that too,” said Walter wretchedly. “But the letter hasn’t been used,” he added eagerly. “How do you know it hasn’t?” “Why――you see――I thought――I thought I had the letter in my pocket!” exclaimed Walter aghast as, after feeling in every pocket, he failed to find the missive. “Probably Gus has it or has had it and sent it on,” said Dan. “That isn’t square, Dan!” “Maybe it isn’t. So Gus was holding back the letter until he had tried a dose of ipecac on me, was he?” “That was the plan,” faltered Walter. “Well, Gus pitched to-day anyway. He ought to be satisfied.” “But he lost the game.” “Say the game was lost.” “It’s all the same. Dan, there isn’t any use in trying to mince matters. I can’t say anything. You know I was mixed up in the matter and it served me right too when I got the glass with the ipecac in it. I’m all broken up, Dan. Do you think you ever can call it square?” “Walter,” began Dan soberly, “I want you to know――――” What it was that Dan desired to say was left unspoken for, at that moment, a loud piercing scream came from the hall below. Without a word Dan darted from the room and, leaping down the stairway, came face to face with Gus Kiggins. The burly giant was holding Carlton Hall by his left wrist and was twisting the arm of the little fellow in a way that had brought forth the screams of pain which had startled the two boys. “You little sneak,” Gus was saying to Carlton, “you will go and tell the fellows that I tried to make Dan sick, will you? I’ll teach you! You’ll get what you deserve if I have to――――”