behalf of a game its enemies were seeking to kill. I did say something.
But Andrew had not been napping. As I was about to leave the room, a dapper little fellow took hold of my coat sleeve and handed me a paper of portentous appearance.
"What's this?" I demanded.
"It's a summons, Mr. Spalding. You've been enjoined."
I tossed the paper over to my lawyer, with the remark, "Now, it's up to you," and left the room. How I dodged the minions of the law during the next two months, to prevent being dragged before the courts, would not be of public interest, and is therefore omitted from these reminiscences.
I may be pardoned, however, for referring to an incident in connection with this case which occurred at that time. Hon. Thomas B. Reed, the great statesman and parliamentarian, had established an office in New York. I called upon him for counsel. Like most great men, he was a lover of our national game, and I found him deeply interested in the controversy then waging in New York. He had kept close watch of proceedings and needed not much in the way of explanation when I came to state the case. I said to him:
"Mr. Reed, I have come to consult you professionally. I want to present a case for your consideration, and then ask your opinion as to two points." After briefly going over the facts as they were, referring to my election and to my ruling as to Knowles, I asked:
