CHAPTER XXIV.

AN AMUSING WAY TO CATCH A SNEAK.

The boys had built a shed at the ball grounds where they could put their street clothing and don their baseball outfit.

One day a player named Washton came to the others with a long face.

“See here, this is getting too thin,” he said.

“What is getting too thin, Washton, your shirt?” and Captain Brown, who was a jolly sort of a chap, smiled at his little joke.

“No, this stealing in the dressing-room.”

“I didn’t know there was any stealing going on,” and the captain grew sober.

“It don’t amount to a great deal, but it is enough to worry one,” went on Washton. “Last week I lost a silk handkerchief, and to-day my cardcase with six cents in stamps is gone.”

“I had my handkerchief taken, too,” said another player.

“I had three photographs stolen,” put in a third.

“A new rule book I had is gone,” said Joe. “But I thought I had lost it on the street.”

A watch was set for the sneak thief, but he could not be detected.

A week passed and more small articles disappeared.

Joe was one of the main sufferers, and he resolved to catch the guilty party if such a thing could be accomplished.

He suspected a negro lad named Jeff Lumson, who was in the habit of hanging around the club on the watch to do errands and thus pick up a few cents.

Joe set a watch over Jeff, but could not catch him in the act of stealing.

Yet he became certain the colored boy was guilty.

“I’ll fix him,” said our hero to Washton.

“Hope you do,” grumbled the other player.

On the following morning Joe went down to the fish market. Here he hunted around until he came across a chap who had live crabs to sell.

Joe bought three of the smallest and toughest looking of the crabs and put them in a basket.

He took the basket to the shed at the grounds and told Washton of his scheme.

When the boys went on the field they left the crabs in their inside coat pockets.

Half the game went by and in the excitement Joe forgot all about the crabs.

Then the Lockport team came in to take their turn at the bat.

Suddenly a loud yell was heard coming from the shed.

“Come on!” shouted Joe. “I have the sneak!”

The umpire called time, and all started forward.

At the door to the shed they came upon Jeff the negro. He was a sight to behold. His hands were covered with blood, and to his right thumb hung two of the crabs.

“Help! murder! Take dem off!” he shrieked.

“Jeff, what are you doing with my crabs?” demanded Joe sternly.

“Ain’t doin’ nuffin’, ’pon my word, Joe!” groaned the colored boy. “Take dem off before I’se bit to pieces!”

“Do you own up that you are the sneak we’ve been looking for?” asked Washton.

“Oh, let me go! I’se----”

“Own up, or we’ll let the crabs have another innings at you!” said Charley Osborne.

“I owns up; yes, I does!” groaned Jeff. “Let me go an’ I’ll gib you back all de stuff I took.”

“All right,” said Joe.

A bucket of water was handy, and this he held under each crab. As soon as the crustaceans saw their native element they dropped into the bucket.

Jeff continued to groan, but no one sympathized with him.

The stolen stuff was taken from him and then he was kicked out of the grounds by all hands.

Some of the Lockport players thought he was a sort of Mascott for the club, but this proved to be false, for that day they beat their opponents, a heavy team, too, by fourteen to three.