I, being out of the city, spending Sunday with some friends, did not read the papers, and I arrived at the grounds just in time to don my uniform and get onto the field in time to play in a game against the St. Louis team.
I was alone in the dressing room, when Ross Barnes came in and said:
"Well, you will get a chilly reception when you come on the field."
"What's the matter now?" I asked.
"Why, don't you know?" said Barnes. " Haven't you read the morning papers?"
I replied that I had not, whereupon he continued:
"The jig is up. The secret is out and H—'s to pay. McVey, White and I took to the woods early in the day and just arrived at the grounds a few minutes ago. Everybody seems to take it as a huge joke," added Barnes, "and we have treated it the same way, and have neither affirmed nor denied the rumor."
I knew that the Boston crowd would consider me the head devil in this secession movement, so I made a clean breast of the whole affair, and turned the joke into a reality by announcing that the statement was absolutely true. We had been dubbed the "Big Four," and for the balance of that season were caricatured, ridiculed, and even accused of treason. Boys would follow us on the streets, shouting "Oh, you seceders; your White Stockings will get soiled," and would hurl all kinds of facetious remarks at us.
The "Big Four" had certainly been popular in Boston up to the time of our so-called secession movement.
