with fright.

"I knew they'd get on. If they report to Clancy I'm done for," he said.

"Shut up," ordered the gambler angrily. "They haven't seen you and
they don't know I'm here. Who are they, Jack?"

"I don't know dem," said the ex-fighter. "Dey's a big, husky lookin'
guy, a Dutchman, I guess, wid a blue suit"----

"It's Swanson," said Williams. "He's been looking at me as if he knew
something for two or three days. He has followed me here."

"De oder one is a smaller, wiry sort o' guy. Got on a light suit"----

"It must be McCarthy," whined Williams. "He's always with Swanson.
They're looking for me. I wish I had kept out of this."

"Listen," ordered Edwards coldly. "This fellow McCarthy is the one we
want. If we can get him out of the way it'll be easy and I can get
even with that big, fat lobster, Baldwin, for trying to double cross
me. Jack, you go out there and get in a mix-up with them and take a
poke at the little fellow that'll keep him from playing ball for a
week. Is the bartender a friend of yours?"

"One of me best pals," replied the ex-fighter. "Leaf it to me. I'll
land de punch dat'll fix dat fresh, young guy."

The fighter strolled back to the barroom and resumed his stand at the
end of the bar, eyeing the two ball players. As he tapped the bar the
bartender walked to him.

"I'm goin' to start somethin'," said Jack in a low tone. "Ed wants me
to punch de head offen dat youngest one."

"That big guy looks hard to handle," commented the bartender. "Make it
quick. I don't like no rough house here. The license ain't any too
safe now."

"I'm going back to see what's there," whispered Kennedy to Swanson.
"You stick here. I'll bluff it through."

He walked toward the door leading back from the bar and started to pass
through it.

"Here, young feller," said the bartender, "where you goin'?"

"Washroom," replied Kennedy, keeping on through the door.

"Naw you don't. Come back outen there," ordered the fighter angrily.

"Who appointed you boss?" asked Kennedy belligerently.

"Well, I'm boss anywhere I goes," declared the big fellow. "Youse stay
outen there. D'ye hear?"

He grabbed the ball player by the arm--and at that instant Kennedy
swung. His fist caught the bruiser squarely on the mouth and he reeled
back, then, with a bellow of rage, he sprang at Kennedy.

With a roar of anger Swanson hurled himself into the fray. Kennedy's
fist had caught the ex-fighter and