CHAPTER VFRIENDLY BUCK FARGO
Dazed, bewildered, a sudden overpowering weakness gripping his limbs, Lefty felt himself thrust against the wall, and saw the massive form of the man who had baited him so successfully on the field that morning leap into the front place, eyes blazing and huge fists doubled for action.
Perhaps it was the sight of him—burly, menacing, and fresh—which turned the tide. More likely it was that sudden panicky awakening which comes to every mob when the first outburst of passion has run its course. At all events, Fargo had no more than time to land his fist with precision and force on the faces of two men, before some one at the rear started a yell that the cops were coming.
The effect was magical. Out into the street poured the mob, and fled wildly in every direction. Before he realized that it was all over Lefty felt himself grasped by the shoulders, hustled out of the barricade and rushed across the street. Thewhole thoroughfare was filled with flying men, so that they passed unnoticed as Fargo headed straight for the nearest corner.
“Them cops is coming at last,” he explained shortly, whirling into a side street. “We don’t want to be pinched. Think you’re good for the hotel, kid? If you ain’t, we can stop at a drug store and have you patched up.”
“I can make it all right,” Lefty gasped. “I’m only—dead beat.” An instant later he stopped still. “What became of Elgin?” he asked abruptly. “I forgot him.”
“He beat it.” Fargo’s tone was noncommittal. “He crawled out the same way I got in, while they was busy with you. That ticket coop was held up a mite at the end by hitting against the wall. He’s all safe.”
There was an expression of curiosity on the catcher’s face, and for a moment he seemed about to ask a question. Apparently he changed his mind, however, for the next instant his lips closed and he hustled Lefty on again.
They reached the hotel without attracting much attention. Locke had managed to wipe most of the stains of battle from his face, and as they entered the side door Fargo clapped his own wide-brimmed felt hat on the other’s head, starting somerough bantering with the elevator boy, which kept the fellow occupied. They stepped out on the top floor without the boy having really noticed Lefty at all.
“Now we’ll take stock, kid,” the catcher said, as he switched on the lights in Lefty’s room and closed the door. “That face of yours ain’t so bad, after all. We’ll fix your mouth up in a jiffy. Got any plaster?”
Locke nodded. “Yes, but I don’t want you to bother about it, Fargo. It’s white of you to—”
“Stow that, son!” interrupted the big chap shortly. “This rumpus is going to get the old man up on his ear for fair. If he finds out you was in it, there’ll be blazes to pay.”
“But how can he help it? I was there, and everybody saw me.”
“Sure you was,” grinned Fargo, dexterously applying a wet towel to Locke’s countenance. “In the scuffle you got a tap or two by mistake; that’s all. You don’t s’pose that crazy bunch of roughnecks is going to remember faces, do you? They was clean off their nuts, every last one of ’em.”
There was silence for a moment or two as the big, muscular fingers applied the plaster to the cut lips with surprising deftness. “There!”Fargo said with satisfaction. “That’ll do fine. There’s a scratch alongside your nose, but it don’t amount to nothing. Pull off your shirt, and let’s have a look at the rest of you.”
Lefty obeyed without question, and revealed a muscular chest dotted here and there with bruises already beginning to darken. It had been impossible to guard himself at every point from the frenzied rushes, and he had instinctively protected his face.
Fargo grinned as he saw the damage. “Won’t you be stiff and sore to-morrow morning!” he chuckled. “It’s lucky you can lay it to the first day’s practice. Say, kid, how in thunder did you two start that riot? You look like a peaceable guy to me.”
“I didn’t start it,” Lefty returned swiftly. “I broke into the game afterward.”
“Humph! Let’s hear about it.”
Briefly, Lefty told him what little he knew about the beginning of the trouble. He said nothing of his dislike for Bert Elgin, but Fargo must have guessed it from his manner.
“So that’s it?” the catcher commented. “I gather you two ain’t very chummy.”
“Not exactly,” Lefty returned shortly.
Fargo eyed him curiously. “Then why did youbutt in? He started the muss, and I should say he deserved what he got.”
“But the whole push was against him,” protested Locke. “I couldn’t sneak off and let them hammer him to pieces.”
“Strikes me thathesneaked,” Fargo said swiftly. “When I came across the street to see what was doing, there wasn’t any use trying to get near the front, so I made for the corner to see if I could get a glimpse over the top of that tipped-over ticket cage. I hadn’t been there a minute before Elgin came crawling out from underneath. He was so blamed scared that I hadn’t more’n got out of him that you were in there alone when he beat it. Looks like it didn’t worry him any to leave you alone for the bunch to hammer.”
Lefty smiled faintly. “Can’t help that. It was up to him. I’d have hated myself if I’d gone away and left any man in that kind of a hole.” He hesitated an instant, the color rising to his face. “Besides, even if we aren’t friends, he’s—one of the bunch.”
Fargo stared at him oddly; then he broke into a laugh. “Time we was both in bed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t forget to keep your trap shut about this to-morrow. You was there and got alove tap or two in the scuffle. Lucky the old man can’t see that chest of yours.”
Outside the door he paused, the queer look in his eyes again. “One of the bunch!” he muttered aloud. “Well, I’ll be hanged!”