“Read her out, Captain,” cried “The Lily.” “Read her out and let us divide the bad news with you. I’m sure it’s bad news, isn’t it, Neddie?”
Without stopping to consider whether it were discreet or not to divulge the message that was causing him so much perturbation, Hiram, casting a sharp glance at Ben Burton, said, “It is bad news, boys, for it accuses one of our number of treachery. It is from Tom Selby, and it reads thus:—
Look out for Ben Burton; he has sold the game.
“It’s an infernal lie!” shouted Ben, passionately, and very red in the face, and shaky in the limbs. “What does Tom Selby know about the game, and how could I sell the game in Catalpa? I’ll thrash Tom Selby as quick as I get home; see if I don’t!”
“No you won’t,” said Albert Heaton, who entered the room at this moment. “No you won’t. Hear this, Mr. Burton. It’s a despatch from Dr. Selby, dated at Catalpa, 5:20 p.m. You see they had then got the news that the game was lost:—
I am afraid you did not get Tom’s despatch to the captain, for we hear that the game is gone. Hunt up despatch to Hiram, sent to lodgings.
“What’s that despatch you’ve got there Hi? Is it Tom’s?”
“Yes,” answered the captain. “It is from Tom. Read it.”
Albert read the despatch deliberately and said: “I see it all now. My despatch was sent to Judge Morris’s office, where I found it when I stopped in there on my way back from seeing the ladies on board of a streetcar for the north side. Your despatch should have been sent to the ball grounds, and the idiots here have kept it until it was too late. Oh, this is too bad!” and Albert fairly groaned.
“They couldn’t tell what was in the despatch, Al,” said Larry, soothingly. “There’s no use crying over spilt milk. But what I should like is an explanation from Mr. Burton.”
All eyes were now turned on Burton, who defiantly faced his accusers. He was evidently determined to brave out the charge made against him from Catalpa. His cheek grew red and pale by turns, and he failed to keep the serenity that he attempted.
“See him shake,” said “The Lily,” with bitter contempt. “Did any man ever shake like that when he was innocent. Oh, no, Bennie did not play a muffing game, this afternoon, for nothing!”
“I tell you that’s a lie!” roared Ben, furious with rage. “Any man who says I threw the game is a slanderer and I’ll fight him. Any man would show feeling and shake, as you call it, Bill Van Orman, if accused of doing such a mean thing as selling out his club, and you know it.”
More in sorrow than in anger, Captain Hiram ordered the boys to drop the matter for the present. It could not be determined, in the absence of specific testimony, what amount of truth would be found in the startling charge made against a member of the club. They must wait until they reached home, he said, before it would be worth while to take any steps in the matter. Meantime, he would advise (but not order) that the members of the club drop the business and say nothing about it, especially not to any outsider.
It was good advice that the captain gave, and the members of the club all followed it so far as speaking of the matter to outsiders was concerned. It was asking too much that they should not talk it over among themselves. By common consent, however, Ben Burton was avoided by all hands. He stood about the house until after supper, then, without leaving any word as to his intentions, he quietly disappeared and was seen no more.
“What a wretched streak of luck!” murmured Larry Boyne to Neddie Ellis. “If that despatch had been sent to Al Heaton, or to Hiram at the ball grounds, all would have been well. We could have withdrawn Ben Burton and put Will Sprague, or Al Heaton, in his place, before the game began. Oh, why did Tom do such a foolish thing as to send the message here?”
“Tom is an idiot!” said Neddie, indignantly. “He’s a feather-head; always was, and always will be! Let’s look at that despatch again, captain.”
Critical examination of the message showed that it was received in Chicago at half-past one o’clock. It had left Catalpa at half-past eleven o’clock in the forenoon.
“Two hours to send that little message!” almost shrieked Neddie Ellis. “It’s that giddy, flirting girl that works the telegraph office in Catalpa! That’s what’s the matter with the message. Now you just remember that, boys.”
“Softly! softly! Neddie,” said Larry. “You mustn’t accuse the operator. Perhaps the line was down, or somebody else blundered. At any rate, the mischief is done. We’ll wait until we get home before we try to find out what it all means.”
“Aha!” cried “The Lily,” as if he had seen a sudden burst of light. “Now we know why Ben was late in the field. Don’t you remember he stole out after we had got through practicing, this noon, and was gone half an hour, or so? Where was he? Why, he looked as if he had been stealing sheep when he came back. I’ll tell you where he had been. He had been to the telegraph office on the corner below the grounds, telegraphing to some confederate in Catalpa.”
“Smart boy, Bill; but why should he go to the next block below the grounds when there is an office in the building? And how could his telegram to his confederate, if he has one, get back here in Tom Selby’s message?”
“That’s more than I know, Cap, but I should say that he wouldn’t dare to send any crooked message from the ball grounds, where he is
