sheets and bulked about an inch in thickness. It began with Anson, and dropped him after two or three days as all right. So with Sunday and several others. But the records of seven out of the fifteen players on the team were too awful for patient consideration. The detective had followed them up and down Clark Street, all over the tenderloin districts, through the whole roster of saloons and "speak-easy" resorts, and kept track of their movements, in minutest detail, for days at a time—and the evidence was now in my hands!
But what to do with it? That was a question not easy to answer. If the full disciplinary powers of the League were applied, that meant the disruption of the team at the height of the season—the practical elimination of the White Stockings from the League, I gave the subject long and careful consideration, and at length decided upon a course to pursue.
One day I told Anson to have all the boys on the grounds next morning, as I had something I wanted to say to them. He asked me, "What's up?" and I told him to be there and learn for himself.
Next morning I met the team by appointment. I told them what had been done; how I had heard the stories of their dissipation; how I had received scores of letters of complaint; how newspapers had finally taken up the subject; how I had then employed a detective to learn the facts, and that I had his report with me. I then asked:
"Now, boys, what shall I do with it?"
"Read it," said one, and