of course I had to tell him that I hadn't given any cuts. I'm not
supposed to, anyway, but he seemed to think that maybe I had. If you
don't mind, Thayer, it wouldn't be a bad idea to tell him if he asks you
that you were--ah--sick, you know."

"Do you mean," asked Clint incredulously, "that he wanted me to play on
the second this afternoon?"

"Yes, you see Tyler got an awful bat on the head and he's out of the
game for several days, I guess. It's none of my business, in a way, of
course, but, if you don't mind me saying so, Thayer, it's a poor idea to
let chances get by. If you'd been there today you might have had a slice
of luck and found yourself on the second for keeps. A fellow's got to be
on the _qui vive_ all the time and not miss any chances, old chap."

"I reckon that's so," agreed Clint regretfully. "You don't think he
will want me for the second tomorrow, Black?"

"Oh, maybe. You be there, anyhow. And if he asks you you'd better fake
sickness, I think."

"I dare say he won't remember by tomorrow," said Clint. "But if he
does--"

"Don't bank on that," replied Black, shaking his head. "Robey has a
fierce memory. You'll find that out for yourself if you stay around
awhile longer."

"If I do," murmured Clint.