rd!" yelled Swanson. "Look! The Jackrabbits scored
five in the eighth inning and beat the Panthers out, 6 to 4. Boy,
we're champions!"

McCarthy did an odd thing. He slid quietly to the ground in a faint,
and they carried him to the dressing rooms.

CHAPTER XXXII

_Rejoicing_

McCarthy slept the deep, dreamless sleep of exhaustion. He slept all
the way during the homeward journey, waking refreshed and only a trifle
stiff when he was called early in the morning to disembark. He and
Swanson rode to the hotel in a taxicab, anxious to escape from the
crowds that gathered to witness the arrival of the champions after
their sensational victory.

"Don't run," urged Swanson, "I'm a hog for punishment of this kind. I
could stand around all year and let these people cheer me. It sounds
good after what I've heard them say. See that big fellow, yelling his
head off, there? He's the same one that yelled 'rotten' at me for two
months in the middle of the season."

"Let's have breakfast up in the room," urged McCarthy. "Get them to
send up all the morning papers. I want to read what they say about the
game."

"They say enough, judging from the headlines," replied Swanson. "Let's
eat down here and bask in the admiration of these fellows who have been
calling us dubs. Pose for them, Kohinoor! You're a hero! Don't you
know a hero has to stand on his pedestal all day and smile? Smile,
darn you!"

In spite of the giant's good-natured badinage they hurried to their
rooms and ordered breakfast and newspapers.

"They've got most of the story," said McCarthy. "They have written a
lot of guff about---- Oh, they make a heroine out of Miss Tabor. Look
at her picture. Where did they get it? I never had one."

"Get the original," said Swanson gruffly, his mouth full of toast.
"See this: Easy Ed Edwards has run. He skipped before the game was
over, and the paper says he has carried off a hundred thousand dollars
in money that was bet with him and is fleeing to Europe."

"Williams made his getaway, too," said McCarthy, eagerly scanning the
papers.

"Where did he go? I saw him slide off the bench in the eighth while we
were scoring and start toward the club house. Guess he was afraid of
Edwards."

"Darn the luck," growled Swanson. "Here's all that stuff about Kennedy
and me being licked in the saloon. The whole story is out."

"There's one thing I want to find out," said Swanson, clenching his
fist.