rules of the league, you had the call on this Hazelton, in a way. If Locke is the same guy, you've got somethin' on Cope, and you can make some disturbance about it."
Riley lifted himself to his feet, pulling out his watch and looking at it.
"Twenty-five minutes after," he said. "What time do the stores close here? I might be able to catch the old fox in his den."
"Go for him," urged Fancy Dyke. "That's the stuff! If there's a chance to do it, it's up to you to protest Locke. If you can't take him away from the Kinks, mebbe you can stop him from pitchin' in the league, and that would do the business. Shall I come along?"
"You may as well. If this thing really comes to a meetin' to decide on a protest, I may need a witness to the conversation that'll pass between Cope and me to-night."
Hutchinson was on his feet. "Gentlemen," he said, "I presume it's fully understood that my name is not to be mentioned in the matter. You'll say nothing of your visit to me?"
"Aw, sure not," promised Riley. "We're not lookin' to get you fired; we would ruther see you stay right here as manager of the Kinks. Don't worry, Hutch; it's all right. Let's hike, Fancy."
