"I know," said old Jack, returning and sitting down heavily. "I wanted to kick him myself, and I think I shall do it some day soon. He's crooked as a corkscrew and rotten as a last year's early apple. But he ain't shrewd; he only thinks he is. He's fooled himself. You never agreed to his verbal terms, and, just as I said, he didn't dare put them in writing. According to that contract, you've got as much power as I ever had, and you can exercise it. It's up to you to get busy. Don't wait for contract forms from Weegman; they'll be delayed. I have plenty. Wire the old players who are left that contracts will be mailed to them to-night." Locke stopped by Kennedy's chair and dropped a hand on the old man's shoulder. "And you're going to St. Paul?" he said. "You've been handed a wretched deal." "Nix on the St. Paul business, son; there's nothing to it. That wolf thought I swallowed that guff. Byers is Garrity's friend, and it's plain now that Garrity's mixed up in this dirty business. It was easy enough to ask if I'd consider hooking up with St. Paul. By the time I got round to saying yes, Byers could tell me it was off. This time, Lefty, I'm out of the game for good." His voice sounded heavy and dull, and his shoulders sagged. The southpaw was silent, words failing him. After a few minutes old Jack looked up into the face of his youthful companion, and smiled wryly. "You've got a little glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes in baseball," he said. "The fans that pay their money to see the games look on it, generally, as a fine, clean sport--which, in one way, it is. That part the public pays to see, the game, is on the level. There's a good reason: the crookedest magnate in the business--and, believe me, there's one who can look down the back of his own neck without trying to turn round--knows it would spell ruin to put over a frame-up on the open field. By nature the players themselves are like the average run of human critters, honest and dishonest; but experience has taught them that they can't pull off any double deals without cutting their own throats. People who talk about fixed games, especially in the World's Series, show up their ignorance. It can't be done. "But when it comes to tricks and holdups, and highway robberies and assassination, there's always somethin' doing off stage. What you've seen is only a patch. The men who run things are out for the coin, and they aren't any better, as a rule, than the high financiers who plunder railroads and loot public treasuries. They'll smile in a man's face while they're whetting the knife for his back. Some of them have put the knife into Charles Collier now, and they intend to sink it to the hilt. You've been picked as a cat's-paw to help them pull their chestnuts off the coals. They intend to fatten their batting average at your expense, and when it's all over you'll be knocked out of the box for good. You'll get the blame while they pluck the plums."