[Big Six]

Hotel Fremont
August 10, 1899

Charlie Callahan lounged in a comfortable chair in the lobby of the Hotel Fremont, reading a newspaper, his feet propped on his bag. He and the other Canton Watchmakers would soon be walking the two short blocks to the Fremont depot, where they would board their train back home.

Charlie didn't see the portly man approach him until he was standing right beside his chair. "Excuse me," his visitor said. "You're Charlie Callahan, aren't you?"

"Yes, that's me," Charlie replied as he rose from his chair.

"My name is James Travis. I would like to speak with you for a moment, if I may." Travis extended his hand, and Charlie shook it.

Charlie nodded. He figured Travis was simply a rooter who wanted to make conversation. "Sure," he replied.

At that moment, Joshua Spesinger descended the large staircase that led to the lobby. He saw Travis shaking hands with Charlie and stopped dead in his tracks.

That's the gambler who approached me at the ballpark yesterday, Joshua thought. I figured I'd scared him off when I told him that if he came around here again, he'd get a bat in the teeth. Apparently not...

Spesinger wasn't sure what to do. He stood beside a large potted fern, where he was sure neither Travis or Charlie would see him, and tried to make out the jist of their conversation.

"Mr. Callahan, I have a business proposition for you," Travis said with a smug grin. "If you're agreeable, there could be a considerable amount of money coming your way."

Charlie paused, waiting for Travis to continue. He was surprised when Travis leaned closer, as if he were about to share a secret.

"You are pitching against Lima on Saturday, are you not?"

"That's right," Charlie said. Obviously Travis was a fan. Otherwise, how would he know so much about the Watchmakers' pitching rotation?

"Well, Mr. Callahan, it would be worth quite a bit of money to me to see the Lima club win on Saturday. If you were to make sure that happened, I would see to it that you were rewarded very generously."

Charlie's face darkened. "Listen, Travis," he said. "I'm as interested in making money as the next fellow, but I'm not going to throw a game to do it."

James Travis wasn't giving up. "I commend your honesty, Mr. Callahan," he went on, his voice as smooth as the silk cravat he had knotted around his thick neck. "But think about this. I'm not sure what your salary might be, but I am prepared to offer you a hundred dollars for one day's work. You're what, nineteen years old? Do you know any other way for a man your age to make that much money? Why, a farmer around these parts might not make that in two months."

Charlie shook his head. "I'm not interested, Travis. Good day."

"Think it over, Mr. Callahan. You don't have to make up your mind right away. I will be staying at the Grand Hotel in Canton. You may wire me tomorrow if you decide to accept my proposal."

"Good day, Mr. Travis," Charlie repeated, his face set firmly.

Travis nodded his head and walked away. Almost immediately, Joshua Spesinger approached Charlie.

"What did that [expletive deleted] want with you?"

Charlie saw no reason to be anything less than completely honest with Joshua, whom he'd known all his life. "He offered me money to throw Saturday's game."

"You didn't agree to that, did you?"

"You know me better than that, Josh. I'd never sell you and the boys out."

Spesinger smiled and clapped Charlie on the shoulder. "Good, good. He tried the same thing with me, and I told him to go to hell. I think he might have talked to a few of the other fellows, too."

"Do you think we should say anything to anybody?" Charlie asked.

Joshua paused. "I've been wondering the same thing. Why don't we wait and see if any of the boys look like they're playing less than their best? If everyone is playing well, then there's no need to say anything."

"Okay," Charlie replied. "I'd hate to think any of the fellows are in with a scoundrel like him. We're tied for first place..."