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diff --git a/34100-h/34100-h.htm b/34100-h/34100-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7e6601 --- /dev/null +++ b/34100-h/34100-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10178 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Lefty Locke Pitcher-Manager, by Burt L. Standish</title> + <style type="text/css"> + body {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%;} + p {margin-top:1ex; margin-bottom:0; text-align:justify;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size:x-small; text-align:right; text-indent:0; + position:absolute; right:2%; padding:1px 3px; font-style:normal; + font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration:none; + background-color:inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + .pncolor {color:silver;} + h1,h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal;} + h1 {font-size:1.6em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} + h1.pg {text-align:center; font-weight:bold; + font-size:190%; margin-top:0ex; margin-bottom:0ex;} + h2 {font-size:1.4em; margin-top:4ex; margin-bottom:2ex;} + hr.pb {margin:30px 0; width:100%; border:none; border-top:thin dashed silver; clear:both;} + .sc {font-variant: small-caps;} + div.figcenter {text-align:center; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em;} + p.center {text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + p.caption {font-size:smaller;} + a {text-decoration:none;} + div.toc {} + div.toc a {text-decoration:underline;} + table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; clear:both;} + td.tcol1 {text-align:right; padding-right:1ex; vertical-align:top;} + td.tcol2 {text-align:left; padding-right:2ex; vertical-align:top; font-variant:small-caps;} + td.tcol3 {text-align:right; vertical-align:bottom;} + span.h2fs {font-size:smaller;} + div.bquote {font-size:1.0em; margin:5px 5%;} + div.bquote p {text-indent:0em; margin-bottom:4px; margin-top:4px;} + div.poetry {text-indent:0em; margin-left:2em; margin-bottom:.7em; margin-top:.7em;} + div.poetry p {margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} + div.center {text-indent:0em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom:.7em; margin-top:.7em; text-align: center;} + div.center p {text-align: center; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} + div.front {} + div.front p {text-align:center; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} + + h3 { text-align: center; clear: both; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + pre {font-size: 85%;} + </style> +</head> +<body> +<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Lefty Locke Pitcher-Manager, by Burt L. +Standish, Illustrated by Charles L. Wrenn</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Lefty Locke Pitcher-Manager</p> +<p>Author: Burt L. Standish</p> +<p>Release Date: October 19, 2010 [eBook #34100]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFTY LOCKE PITCHER-MANAGER***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Roger Frank,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.fadedpage.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/cover.jpg' alt='cover' /> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<a id='link_i1'></a><img src='images/frontis.jpg' alt='' /> +<p class='center caption'> +Lefty had sprained his ankle so seriously that he required assistance to walk from the field. (<i>See Page 103</i>) +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='front'> +<p style='font-size:2.2em; margin-bottom:30px;'>LEFTY LOCKE<br />PITCHER-MANAGER</p> + +<p>BY</p> + +<p style='font-size:1.4em;'>BURT L. STANDISH</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller; margin-bottom:40px'>Author of “Lefty o’ the Bush,” “Lefty o’ the Big League,”<br /> +“Lefty o’ the Blue Stockings,” “Brick King, Backstop,”<br /> +“The Making of a Big Leaguer,” etc.</p> + +<p style='margin-bottom:40px;'><i>ILLUSTRATED BY<br /><span style='font-size:larger'>CHARLES L. WRENN</span></i></p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<p>PUBLISHERS</p> +<p style='font-size:1.2em'>BARSE & CO.</p> +<p>NEW YORK, N. Y.        NEWARK, N. J.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='front'> +<p style='font-size:smaller'>Copyright, 1916<br />By<br /><span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Barse & Co.</span></p> +<hr style='border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; width:5em;' /> +<p style='margin-bottom:30px; font-variant:small-caps'>Lefty Locke, Pitcher-Manager</p> +<p style='font-size:smaller'>Printed in the United States of America</p> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<p style='font-size:1.4em; text-align:center; margin-bottom:30px;'>CONTENTS</p> +<div class='toc'> +<table summary='TOC'> +<tr><td class='tcol1'><span style='font-size:smaller'>CHAPTER</span></td><td class='tcol2'></td><td class='tcol3'><span style='font-size:smaller'>PAGE</span></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>I</td><td class='tcol2'>An Unexpected Offer</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_1'>11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>II</td><td class='tcol2'>Something Queer</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_2'>20</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>III</td><td class='tcol2'>The Federal Policy</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_3'>28</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IV</td><td class='tcol2'>The Magnetized Ball</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_4'>37</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>V</td><td class='tcol2'>A Man of Mystery</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_5'>48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VI</td><td class='tcol2'>Peculiar Behavior</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_6'>56</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VII</td><td class='tcol2'>The Test</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_7'>64</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>VIII</td><td class='tcol2'>At Necessity’s Demand</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_8'>72</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>IX</td><td class='tcol2'>Torturing Doubt</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_9'>79</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>X</td><td class='tcol2'>The Only Door</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_10'>86</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XI</td><td class='tcol2'>Burning Speed</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_11'>93</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XII</td><td class='tcol2'>Too Much Temptation</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_12'>103</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIII</td><td class='tcol2'>The Perplexing Question</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_13'>113</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIV</td><td class='tcol2'>Only One Way</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_14'>120</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XV</td><td class='tcol2'>Signing the Manager</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_15'>132</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVI</td><td class='tcol2'>The Wrong Stool Pigeon</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_16'>139</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVII</td><td class='tcol2'>Getting into Action</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_17'>146</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XVIII</td><td class='tcol2'>The First Deal</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_18'>155</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XIX</td><td class='tcol2'>A Fleeting Glimpse</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_19'>165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XX</td><td class='tcol2'>A Riddle to Solve</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_20'>175</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXI</td><td class='tcol2'>The Man Ahead</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_21'>180</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXII</td><td class='tcol2'>A Doubtful Victory</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_22'>186</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXIII</td><td class='tcol2'>All Wrong</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_23'>194</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXIV</td><td class='tcol2'>Wheels Within Wheels</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_24'>202</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXV</td><td class='tcol2'>Hidden Tracks</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_25'>210</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXVI</td><td class='tcol2'>Not Much Show</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_26'>219</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXVII</td><td class='tcol2'>The Suspended Ax</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_27'>226</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXVIII</td><td class='tcol2'>The Gage of War</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_28'>233</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXIX</td><td class='tcol2'>The Jaws of the Trap</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_29'>240</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXX</td><td class='tcol2'>One Against Three</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_30'>248</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXXI</td><td class='tcol2'>Light on a Dark Spot</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_31'>255</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXXII</td><td class='tcol2'>One Chance</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_32'>266</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXXIII</td><td class='tcol2'>One in a Million</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_33'>274</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXXIV</td><td class='tcol2'>Weegman’s Proposal</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_34'>281</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXXV</td><td class='tcol2'>The Shattering Stroke</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_35'>288</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXXVI</td><td class='tcol2'>The Test of Mysterious Jones</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_36'>296</a></td></tr> +<tr><td class='tcol1'>XXXVII</td><td class='tcol2'>The Return of Lefty</td><td class='tcol3'><a href='#link_37'>308</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<h1><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11'></a>11</span>LEFTY LOCKE, PITCHER-MANAGER</h1> + +<h2><a id='link_1'></a>CHAPTER I<br /><span class='h2fs'>AN UNEXPECTED OFFER</span></h2> + +<p>Lefty Locke gave the man a look of surprise. +The soft, bright moonlight was +shining full on Weegman’s face, and he +was chuckling. He was always chuckling or laughing +outright, and Locke had grown tired of it. It +was monotonous.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” the pitcher asked. “Tinware +for Kennedy! I don’t believe I get you.”</p> + +<p>Weegman snapped his fingers; another little +trick that was becoming monotonous and irritating. +“That’s poor slang perhaps,” he admitted; “but +you’ve been in the game long enough to understand +it. Collier is going to tie the can to old Jack.”</p> + +<p>Lefty moved his chair round on the little vine-covered +porch in order to face his visitor squarely. +Frogs were chorusing in the distance, and the dynamo +in the electric power house on the edge of the +town kept up its constant nocturnal droning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12'></a>12</span>“I could scarcely believe you meant just that,” +said the star slabman of the Blue Stockings soberly. +“Being Charles Collier’s private secretary, +and therefore to a large extent aware of his +plans, I presume you know what you’re talking +about.”</p> + +<p>“You can bet on it,” laughed Weegman, leaning +back and puffing at his cigar. “I’m the man Collier +left to carry out his orders regarding the team. +I have full instructions and authority.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m sure Kennedy has no inkling of this. +I correspond with him regularly, and I know he +expected a new contract to sign before Mr. Collier +went abroad. He wrote me that the contract was +to be mailed him from New York, but that he supposed +Collier, being a sick man, forgot it at the +last moment.”</p> + +<p>Weegman took the cigar from his mouth, and +leaned forward on the arm of his chair. “A new +manager of the right sort is hard to find,” he +stated confidentially, “and Collier wasn’t ready +to let go all holds until he had some one else in +view at least.”</p> + +<p>Locke uttered a smothered exclamation of incredulity. +“Do you mean to tell me that Charles +Collier was handing old Jack Kennedy a deal as +deceitfully crooked as that?” he cried. “I can’t +believe it. Kennedy has been a faithful and loyal +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13'></a>13</span> +manager. Three years ago, when Collier secured +the controlling interest in the club, his bad judgment +led him to drop Kennedy and fill his place +with Al Carson. You know what happened. Carson +made a mess of it, and old Jack was called back +at the last moment to save the day. He did it and +won the championship for the Blue Stockings by a +single game. Since then–”</p> + +<p>“Come now!” chuckled Weegman, snapping his +fingers again. “You know you were the man who +really won that championship by your air-tight +pitching. Why do you want to give somebody else +the credit? Kennedy merely went in as a pinch +hitter–”</p> + +<p>“And pounded the only run of the game across +the rubber. No matter how air-tight a pitcher’s +work may be, to win games the team behind him +has got to hit. Kennedy was there with the +goods.”</p> + +<p>“That’s ancient history now. What has he done +since then? As a player, he’s a has-been. He’s +lost his eyes so that he can’t even bat in the pinches +now. His sun has set, and he may as well retire to +his farm and settle down for old age.”</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t lost his brains,” asserted Locke +warmly. “Playing or pinch hitting is a small part +of a manager’s business. Once since then he’s +copped the bunting for us, and last year it was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14'></a>14</span> +hard luck and injury to players that dropped us +into third position.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you,” said Weegman good naturedly. +“You ought to stand up for him. It +shows the right spirit. He gave you your chance–practically plucked you from the brambles. +But,” he supplemented disparagingly, “he was +desperately hard up for twirlers that season. You +were sort of a lucky guess on his part. Save for +the fact that he’s never been able to win a world’s +championship, old Jack’s been picking four-leaf +clovers all his life. He’s too soft and easy-going +for a manager; not enough drive to him.”</p> + +<p>It was Lefty Locke’s turn to laugh, but his merriment +held more than a touch of irony. “Jack +Kennedy has won pennants or kept in the first division, +at least, with teams that would have been +fighting for the subcellar under any other manager. +When meddlers have not interfered he’s +always been able to get the last ounce of baseball +out of every man under him. While he has handled +it the club has always been a big paying proposition. +What he has done has been nothing short of +miraculous considering the niggardly policy forced +upon him by those in power. It’s the lowest-salaried +team in the league. We have men getting +twenty-five hundred or three thousand who should +be drawing down twice as much, and would be with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15'></a>15</span> +any other winning Big League club. Only a man +with Kennedy’s magnetism and tact could have +kept them going at high pressure, could have kept +them from being dissatisfied and lying down. +What they’ve accomplished has been done for him, +not for the owners. And now you tell me he’s to +be canned. There’s gratitude!”</p> + +<p>“My dear man,” chirruped Weegman, “baseball +is business, and gratitude never goes far in business. +Granting what you say may have been true +in the past, it’s plain enough that the old man’s beginning +to lose his grip. He fell down last season, +and now that the Feds are butting in and making +trouble, he’s showing himself even more incompetent. +Talk about gratitude; it didn’t hold Grist +or Orth, and now it’s reported that Dillon is negotiating +with the outlaws. You know what that +means; our pitching staff is all shot to pieces. If +the players were so true to Kennedy, why didn’t +they wait for their contracts?”</p> + +<p>“How could Jack send them contracts when he +hasn’t one himself? If he had the authority now, +perhaps he could save Dillon for us even yet. +Billy Orth is hot-headed and impulsive, and he +thought he wasn’t given a square deal. As for +Grist, old Pete’s days are numbered, and he knows +it. He was wise to the talk about asking waivers +on him. It was a ten-to-one shot he’d have been +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16'></a>16</span> +sent to the minors this coming season. With the +Federals offering him a three-year contract at +nearly twice as much as he ever received, he’d have +been a fool to turn it down. All the same, he had +a talk with Kennedy before he signed. Jack +couldn’t guarantee him anything, so he jumped.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” exclaimed Weegman triumphantly. +“There’s a sample of Kennedy’s incompetence +right there. He should have baited Grist along, +and kept him away from the Feds until the season +was well under way, when they would have had +their teams made up, and probably wouldn’t have +wanted Pete. Then, if he didn’t come up to form, +he could be let out to the minors.”</p> + +<p>Lefty’s face being in the shadow, the other man +did not see the expression of contempt that passed +over it. For a few minutes the southpaw was +too indignant to reply. When he did, however, +his voice was level and calm, though a trifle +hard.</p> + +<p>“So that would have been your way of doing it! +Grist has had hard luck with all his investments; +I understand he’s saved very little. He’s a poor +man.”</p> + +<p>Weegman lolled back again, puffing at his cigar. +“That’s his lookout. Anyway, he’s not much loss. +But these confounded Feds aren’t through; they’re +after Dirk Nelson, too. What d’ye know about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17'></a>17</span> +that! Our best catcher! They seem to be trying +to strip our whole team.”</p> + +<p>“Knowing something about the salaries our +players get, probably they figure it should be easy +stripping.”</p> + +<p>Suddenly the visitor leaned forward again, and +gazed hard at Locke. He was not laughing now. +“Have they been after you?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I thought likely. Made you a big offer?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“What have you done?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” exclaimed Weegman. “It’s a good +thing for you that you kept your head. They’re +outside organized ball, and any man who jumps to +them will be blacklisted. All this talk about the +money they have behind them is pure bluff.”</p> + +<p>“Think so?”</p> + +<p>“I know it. They’re plunging like lunatics, and +they’ll blow up before the season’s over. They +haven’t got the coin.”</p> + +<p>“Then how does it happen they are signing players +for three years, and handing over certified +checks in advance for the first year, besides guaranteeing +salaries by bank deposits for the full +tenure of contracts?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, they’ve got some money, of course,” admitted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18'></a>18</span> +Weegman lightly; “but, as I say, they’re +spending it like drunken sailors. When the Feds +explode, the fools who have jumped to them will +find themselves barred from organized ball for all +time; they’ll be down and out. The outlaws may +hurt us a little this year, but after that–nothing +doing. Just the same, I own up we’ve got to put a +check on ’em before they rip the Blue Stockings +wide open. That’s what brings me down here to +Fernandon to see you.”</p> + +<p>“Really!” said Lefty interestedly. “You seem +to be shouldering a lot of responsibility.”</p> + +<p>“I am,” chuckled Charles Collier’s private secretary. +“It was all arranged with Mr. Collier before +he sailed. He left me with proper authority. +I am to sign up the manager for the team.”</p> + +<p>“Is that right?” exclaimed Locke, surprised. +“Then, according to your own statement, if you +want to save the Blue Stockings from being riddled, +you’d better be about it.”</p> + +<p>“I am,” said Weegman. “That’s why I’ve +come to you.”</p> + +<p>“For advice?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” He laughed heartily. “I don’t +need that. I know what I’m about. I’ve brought +a contract. I want you to put your name to it. +Your salary will be advanced fifteen hundred dollars.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19'></a>19</span>“The Feds offered to double it. As a +pitcher–”</p> + +<p>“You’re not getting this extra money on account +of your pitching,” interposed Weegman promptly. +“I’m offering you the increase of salary to assume +the additional duties of manager.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20'></a>20</span><a id='link_2'></a>CHAPTER II<br /><span class='h2fs'>SOMETHING QUEER</span></h2> + +<p>The expression of amazement that leaped +into the eyes of Lefty Locke was masked +by a shadow. He stiffened, and sat bolt +upright, speechless.</p> + +<p>Bailey Weegman, having stated the business +that had unexpectedly brought him down from the +North to the Florida town where the great left-hander +of the Blue Stockings was spending the +winter with his wife, once more settled back, taking +a long, satisfied pull at the stump of his fragrant +Havana. He was chuckling beneath his +breath. A gentle breeze crept into the leaves of +the vine-covered porch and set them whispering +like gossips. The dynamo droned drowsily in the +distance.</p> + +<p>Presently Lefty found his voice. “What’s the +joke?” he asked a trifle harshly.</p> + +<p>“No joke,” assured the jovial visitor. “I’m not +given to joking. I’m a man of business.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s preposterous! A pitcher for manager!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21'></a>21</span>“Clark Griffith isn’t the only pitcher who has +succeeded as a manager.”</p> + +<p>“Griffith’s success came when he was on the decline +as a pitcher.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the use to argue, Locke? There’s +really no good reason why a pitcher shouldn’t +manage a ball team. You’ve been doing it with +the little amateur club you’ve been running down +here in Fernandon this winter.”</p> + +<p>“Because necessity compelled. Nobody else +would take hold of it. I organized the team for a +special reason. It’s made up mainly of visitors +from the North. No salaries are paid. I had +located here for the winter, and I wanted to keep +in trim and work my arm into shape for the coming +season. I couldn’t find anybody else to organize +the club and handle it, so I had to. I have +only three other players who have been with me +from the start. The rest of the nine has been composed +of changing players who came and went, +college men, or just plain amateurs who have taken +to the sport. We have played such teams as could +be induced to come here from Jacksonville, St. +Augustine, and other places. Handling such a +club has given me absolutely no reason to fancy +myself qualified to manage one in the Big League.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been keeping my eye on you,” said Weegman +patronizingly, “and I am satisfied that you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22'></a>22</span> +can fill the position of playing manager for the +Blue Stockings.”</p> + +<p>“You’re satisfied–you! How about Charles +Collier?”</p> + +<p>“As you know, he’s a sick man, a very sick man. +Otherwise he’d never have dropped everything +just at this time to go to Europe along with a +physician and trained nurses. He has been too ill +to attend properly to his regular business outside +baseball, and therefore his business has suffered. +He has had heavy financial reverses that have worried +him. And now the meddling of the Feds has +hurt the value of the ball club. The stock wouldn’t +bring at a forced sale to-day half what it should be +worth. Mr. Collier trusts me. He was anxious to +get some of the load off his shoulders. He has left +me to straighten out matters connected with the +team.”</p> + +<p>“Where is Mr. Collier now?” asked Locke +quietly.</p> + +<p>“He was taking the baths at Eaux Chaudes when +last heard from, but he has since left there. I +can’t say where he is at the present time.”</p> + +<p>“Then how may he be communicated with in case +of emergency?”</p> + +<p>Chuckling, Weegman lighted a fresh cigar, having +tossed the remnant of the other away. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23'></a>23</span> +glow of the match fully betrayed an expression of +self-satisfaction on his face.</p> + +<p>“He can’t be,” he said. “It was his doctor’s +idea to get him away where he could not be troubled +by business of any nature. He may be in Tunis +or Naples for all I know.”</p> + +<p>“It’s very remarkable,” said Lefty slowly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” purred the other man, locking +his fingers over his little round stomach which +seemed so incongruous for a person who was +otherwise not overfat. “Really, he was in a bad +way. Worrying over business reverses was killing +him. His only salvation was to get away from +it all.”</p> + +<p>Locke sat in thought, watching the serene +smoker through narrowed lids. There was something +queer about the affair, something the southpaw +did not understand. True, Collier had +seemed to be a nervous, high-strung man, but when +Lefty had last seen him he had perceived no indications +of such a sudden and complete breakdown. +It had been Collier’s policy to keep a close and constant +watch upon his baseball property, but now, +at a time when such surveillance was particularly +needed because of the harassing activities of the +Federals, having turned authority over to a subordinate, +not only had he taken himself beyond the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24'></a>24</span> +range of easy communication, but apparently +he had cut himself off entirely from the sources of +inside information concerning baseball affairs. +Furthermore, it seemed to Locke that the man who +claimed to have been left in full control of that +branch of Collier’s business was the last person +who should have been chosen. What lay behind +it all the pitcher was curious to divine.</p> + +<p>Presently Weegman gave a castanet-like snap +of his fingers. “By the way,” he said sharply, +“how about your arm?”</p> + +<p>“My arm?” said Lefty. “You mean–”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, isn’t it? You know there was a +rumor that you hurt it in the last game of the season. +Some wise ginks even said you’d never pitch +any more.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been doing some pitching for my team +here in Fernandon.”</p> + +<p>“Then, of course, the old wing’s all right. +You’ll be in form again, the greatest left-hander +in the business. How about it?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve never been egotistical enough to put that +estimate on myself.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s what lots of the sharps call you. +The arm’s as good as ever?”</p> + +<p>“If you stop over to-morrow you’ll have a +chance to judge for yourself. We’re scheduled to +play a roving independent nine known as the Wind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25'></a>25</span> +Jammers, and I hear they’re some team, of the +kind. I shall pitch part of the game, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve been pitching right along?”</p> + +<p>“A little in every game lately. I pitched four +innings against the Jacksonville Reds and five +against the Cuban Giants. We’ve lost only one +game thus far, and that was our second one. The +eccentric manager and owner of the Wind Jammers, +who calls himself Cap’n Wiley, threatens to +take a heavy fall out of us. He has a deaf-mute +pitcher, Mysterious Jones, who, he claims, is as +good as Walter Johnson.”</p> + +<p>Weegman laughed derisively. “There’s no +pitcher as good as Johnson anywhere, much less +traveling around with a bunch of hippodromers +and bushwhackers. But about your arm–is it all +right?”</p> + +<p>“I hope to win as many games with it this year +as I did last.”</p> + +<p>“Well, the team’s going to need pitchers. The +loss of Orth is bound to be felt, and if Dillon +jumps–Look here, Locke, we’ve got to get busy +and dig up two or three twirlers, one of top-notch +caliber.”</p> + +<p>“We!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, you and I. Of course we can’t expect to +get a first-stringer out of the bushes; that happens +only once in a dog’s age. But perhaps Kennedy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26'></a>26</span> +has some good youngsters up his sleeve. You +should know about that. I’m wise that he has consulted +you regularly. He’s sought your advice, +and listened to it; so, in a way, you’ve had considerable +to do with the management of the team. +You say you’ve corresponded with him right along. +You ought to know all about his plans. That’s one +reason why I came to figure on you as the man to +fill his place.”</p> + +<p>“I wondered,” murmured Locke.</p> + +<p>“That’s one reason. For another thing, you’ve +got modesty as well as sense. You don’t think +you know it all. You’re not set in your ways, and +probably you’d listen to advice and counsel. Old +Jack is hard-headed and stiff; when he makes up +his mind there’s no turning him. He takes the bit +in his teeth, and he wants full swing. He’s always +seemed to feel himself bigger than the owners. +He’s butted up against Mr. Collier several times, +and Collier’s always had to give in.”</p> + +<p>“As I understand it,” said Lefty smoothly, +“you think the manager should be a man with few +fixed opinions and no set and rigid policy.”</p> + +<p>“In a way, that’s something like it,” admitted +Weegman. “He mustn’t go and do things wholly +on his own initiative and without consulting anybody, +especially those who have a right to say +something about the running of the team. Mr. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27'></a>27</span> +Collier has placed me in a position that makes it +imperative that I should keep my fingers on the +pulse of things. I couldn’t conscientiously discharge +my duty unless I did so. I know I could +never get along with Kennedy. The manager +must work with me; we’ll work together. Of +course, in most respects he’ll be permitted to do +about as he pleases as long as he seems to be delivering +the goods; but it must be understood that +I have the right to veto, as well as the right to +direct, policies and deals. With that understanding +to start with, we’ll get along swimmingly.” +He finished with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Lefty rose to his feet. “You’re not looking for +a manager, Weegman,” he said. “What you +want is a putty man, a figurehead. Under any +circumstances, you’ve come to the wrong market.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28'></a>28</span><a id='link_3'></a>CHAPTER III<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE FEDERAL POLICY</span></h2> + +<p>Weegman was startled. “What–what’s +that?” he spluttered, staring +upward at the towering figure in +white. “What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Just what I’ve said,” replied the pitcher +grimly. “Under no circumstances would I think +of stepping into old Jack Kennedy’s shoes; but +even if he were a perfect stranger to me you could +not inveigle me into the management of the Blue +Stockings on the conditions you have named. +Management!” he scoffed. “Why, the man who +falls for that will be a tame cat with clipped claws. +It’s evident, Mr. Weegman, that you’ve made a +long journey for nothing.”</p> + +<p>For a moment the visitor was speechless. Lefty +Locke’s modest, unassuming ways, coupled with +undoubted ambition and a desire to get on, had led +Charles Collier’s secretary to form a very erroneous +estimate of him.</p> + +<p>“But, man alive,” said Weegman, “do you +realize what you’re doing? You’re turning down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29'></a>29</span> +the chance of a lifetime. I have the contract right +here in my pocket, with Collier’s name properly +attached and witnessed. If you doubt my authority +to put the deal through, I can show you my +power of attorney from Mr. Collier. In case sentiment +or gratitude is holding you back, let me tell +you that under no circumstances will Kennedy +again be given control of the team. Now don’t be +a chump and–”</p> + +<p>“If I were in your place,” interrupted Locke, +“I wouldn’t waste any more breath.”</p> + +<p>Weegman snapped his fingers, and got up. “I +won’t! I didn’t suppose you were quite such a +boob.”</p> + +<p>“But you did suppose I was boob enough to +swallow your bait at a gulp. You thought me so +conceited and greedy that I would jump at the +chance to become a puppet, a manager in name +only, without any real authority or control. It’s +plainly your purpose to be the real manager of +the team, for what reason or design I admit I don’t +quite understand. Just how you hypnotized +Charles Collier and led him to consent to such a +scheme I can’t say; but I do say that no successful +ball team has ever been run in such a way. You’re +not fit to manage a ball club, and you wouldn’t dare +assume the title as well as the authority; probably +you know Collier wouldn’t stand for that. Yet +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30'></a>30</span> +you intend to force your dictation upon a pseudo-manager. +Such meddling would mean muddling; +it would knock the last ounce of starch out of the +team. If the Blue Stockings didn’t finish a bad +tailender it would be a miracle.”</p> + +<p>Bailey Weegman was furious all the way +through, but still he laughed and snapped his +fingers.</p> + +<p>“You’re a wise guy, aren’t you?” he sneered. +“I didn’t dream you were so shrewd and discerning. +Now let me tell you something, my knowing +friend: I’ve tried to save your neck, and you +won’t have it.”</p> + +<p>“My neck!” exclaimed the pitcher incredulously. +“You’ve tried to save my neck?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know your old soup bone’s on the blink; +you didn’t put anything over me by dodging and +trimming when I questioned you about your arm. +You knocked it out last year, and you’ve been +spending the winter down here trying to work it +back into shape. You can pitch a little against +weak bush teams, but you can’t even go the whole +distance against one of them. That being the +case, what sort of a figure do you expect to cut +back in the Big League? Up against the slugging +Wolves or the hard-hitting Hornets, how long +would you last? I’ve got your number, and you +know it.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31'></a>31</span>“If that’s so, it seems still more remarkable that +you should wish to hold me. Certainly I’d be a +great addition to a pitching staff that’s smashed +already!”</p> + +<p>“Did I say anything about your strengthening +the pitching staff? I offered to engage you in +another capacity. Think I didn’t know why you +declined to dicker with the Feds when they made +you a big offer? You didn’t dare, for you know +you couldn’t deliver the goods. Having that +knowledge under my hat, I’ve been mighty generous +with you.” Weegman descended to the top +step, chuckling.</p> + +<p>“Good night,” said Locke, longing to hasten the +man’s departure.</p> + +<p>“Think it over,” invited Charles Collier’s representative. +“Now that I’m here, I’ll stick around +and watch you pitch against these bushwhacking +Wind Jammers to-morrow. I imagine your efforts +should be amusing. Perhaps you’ll change +your mind before I catch the train north at Yulee.” +His chuckling became open laughter.</p> + +<p>Lefty turned and entered the cottage, while +Weegman walked away in the moonlight, the smoke +of his cigar drifting over his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Certain circumstances had led Philip Hazelton +to enter professional baseball under the pseudonym +of “Tom Locke,” to which, as he was a left-hander, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32'></a>32</span> +his associates had added the nickname of +“Lefty.” These names had stuck when he +abruptly moved upward into the Big League. His +rise having been rocketlike, the pessimistic and +the envious had never wholly ceased to look for +the fall of a stick. Thus far, in spite of the fact +that each year of his service with the Blue Stockings +saw him shouldering more and more of the +pitching load, until like Jack Coombs and Ed +Walsh he had become known as “the Iron Man,” +they had looked in vain. And it came to pass that +even the most prejudiced was forced to admit that +it was Lefty who kept his team “up there” fighting +for the bunting all the time.</p> + +<p>Toward the close of the last season, however, +with the jinx in close pursuit of the Blue Stockings, +Locke had pushed himself beyond the limit. +At one time the club had seemed to have the pennant +cinched, but through the crippling of players +it had begun to slip in the latter part of the season. +In the desperate struggle to hold on, going +against Manager Kennedy’s judgment and advice, +Lefty did more pitching than any other two +men on the staff, and with a little stronger team +to support him his winning percentage would have +been the highest of any pitcher in the league. It +was not his fault that the Blue Stockings did not +finish better than third.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33'></a>33</span>In the cozy living room of the little furnished +cottage Locke had leased for the brief winter +months a remarkably pretty young woman sat +reading by a shaded lamp. She looked up from +the magazine and smiled at him as he came in. +Then she saw the serious look upon his face, and +the smile faded.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Phil?” she asked, with a touch of +anxiety. “Is anything wrong?”</p> + +<p>He sat down, facing her, and told her all about +his interview with Bailey Weegman. As she listened, +her mobile face betrayed wonderment, annoyance, +and alarm.</p> + +<p>“It’s a raw deal for Kennedy,” he asserted in +conclusion; “and I believe it’s wholly of Weegman’s +devising. I’m sure, when the season ended, +Collier had no idea of changing managers. There +isn’t a more resourceful, astute man in the business +than old Jack.”</p> + +<p>“You’re always thinking of others, Phil,” she +said. “How about yourself? What will happen +to you if you don’t come to Weegman’s terms?”</p> + +<p>“Hard to tell,” he admitted frankly. “In fact, +I’ve been wondering just where I’d get off. If +my arm fails to come back–”</p> + +<p>She uttered a little cry. “But you’ve been telling +me–”</p> + +<p>“That it was growing better, Janet, that’s true. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34'></a>34</span> +But still it’s not what it should be, and I don’t +dare put much of a strain on it. I don’t know +that I’d last any time at all in real baseball. +Weegman is wise, yet he offered me a contract to +pitch and to manage the team. On paper it would +seem that he had retained one star twirler for the +staff, but if I failed to come back we wouldn’t +have a single first-string slabman. As a manager, +I would be sewed up so that I couldn’t do anything +without his consent. There’s a nigger in the +woodpile, Janet.”</p> + +<p>She had put the magazine aside, and clasped her +hands in her lap. He went on:</p> + +<p>“It looks to me as if somebody is trying to +punch holes in the team, though I don’t get the +reason for it. Following Jack Kennedy’s advice, +I’ve invested every dollar I could save in the stock +of the club. As Weegman says, it’s doubtful if +the stock would bring fifty cents on the dollar at +a forced sale to-day. Collier has met with heavy +financial reverses in other lines. He’s sick, and +he’s in Europe where no one can communicate +with him. Is somebody trying to knock the bottom +out of his baseball holdings in order to get +control of the club? It looks that way from the +offing.”</p> + +<p>“But you,” said Janet, still thinking of her husband, +“you’re not tied up with Weegman, and the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35'></a>35</span> +Federals have made you a splendid offer. You +can accept that and land on your feet.”</p> + +<p>He smiled, shaking his head slowly. “There +are several reasons why I don’t care to follow that +course. The first, and strongest, is my loyalty to +Jack Kennedy, the man who gave me a square +deal. Then I don’t care to bunko anybody, and +unless my arm comes back I won’t be worth the +money the Feds have offered for my services. +Lastly, I’m not sure the new league is going to +be strong enough to win out against organized +baseball.”</p> + +<p>“But you’ve said that they seem to have plenty +of money behind them. You’ve said, too, that +their plan of dealing directly with players, instead +of buying and selling them like chattels or slaves, +was the only system that gave the players a just +and honest deal.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” affirmed Lefty. “Slavery in +baseball is something more than a joke. The organization +has been one of the biggest trusts in +the country, and it has dealt in human beings. It +has been so that when a man signed his first contract +he signed away his right to say what he +would do as long as he remained in the game. +After that he could be bought, sold, or traded +without receiving a dollar of the purchasing or +trading price. He had to go where he was sent, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36'></a>36</span> +regardless of his personal likes, wishes, or convenience. +He had to accept whatever salary a +manager chose to give him, or get out. Even if +his contract had expired with one manager, he +couldn’t go to another and make a bargain, no +matter how much the other manager was willing +to give him; the reserve clause held him chained +hand and foot. To-day, if the powers chose, I +could be sent down to the minors at any old salary +the minors chose to pay. I could be sold, like a +horse or a dog, and if I didn’t like it I could quit +the game. That would be my only recourse.”</p> + +<p>“It’s terribly unfair,” said Janet.</p> + +<p>“Unfair? That’s a tame word! On the other +hand, the Federals are dealing directly with the +players. If they think he’s worth it, they give a +man a good salary and a bonus besides. The +bonus goes to the player, not to the club owner. +Added to that, the Federal contracts provide that +a club must increase a player’s salary at least five +per cent. each year, or give him his unconditional +release, thus making it possible for him to deal +with any other club that may want him.”</p> + +<p>“It’s plain your sympathy is with the Federals.”</p> + +<p>“If they’re not trying to jack up organized baseball +and sell out,” said Lefty, “I hope they come +through.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37'></a>37</span><a id='link_4'></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE MAGNETIZED BALL</span></h2> + +<p>“What are your plans?” asked Janet, +after they had discussed the situation +in all its phases. “Have you +decided on anything?”</p> + +<p>The southpaw answered: “I’m going to put +Jack Kennedy wise. I’m going to write him a +letter to-night, and I shall send him a telegram as +soon as the office opens in the morning. It’s up +to him to get in communication with Collier if +there’s any way of doing it. You have not received +a letter from Virginia lately?”</p> + +<p>Virginia Collier, the charming daughter of the +owner of the Blue Stockings, was Janet’s closest +friend.</p> + +<p>“No, I have not heard from her in over three +weeks, and I don’t understand it,” returned his +wife.</p> + +<p>“She seems to have stepped off the map, along +with her father. The whole business is mysterious. +Why don’t you write her at once, explaining +what is going on, and send the letter to her +last address?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38'></a>38</span>“I will.”</p> + +<p>“It may not reach her, but there’s no harm in +trying. Meanwhile, I’ll get busy on mine to Kennedy. +There doesn’t seem to be much chance to +spike Weegman’s guns, but it’s worth trying.”</p> + +<p>Locke had the knack of writing a succinct letter; +the one he wrote old Jack was concise, yet it +was clear and complete. Within two minutes +after opening it, doubtless Kennedy would know +as much about the situation as did Lefty himself. +Yet it was probable that, like the pitcher, the manager +would be mystified by the surprising and +seemingly sinister maneuvers of Bailey Weegman.</p> + +<p>Following Lefty’s advice, Janet wrote to Virginia +Collier.</p> + +<p>Locke rose early the following morning and +posted the letters for the first outward mail. He +sent a telegram also. Returning past the Magnolia +Hotel, to his surprise he perceived Collier’s +private secretary sitting on the veranda, smoking. +Weegman beamed and chuckled.</p> + +<p>“Morning,” he cried, waving his cigar between +two fingers. “The early bird, eh? Been firing +off a little correspondence, I presume. Our communications +will reach Kennedy in the same mail; +and I wired him, too. Quite a little jolt for the +old man, but it can’t be helped. Of course, he’ll +have the sense to bow gracefully to the inevitable, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39'></a>39</span> +and that will clear the air. Afterward, perhaps, +you may change your mind regarding my offer.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so,” returned Lefty pleasantly. +“But if I do, I shall be a fit subject for a padded +cell.” The agreeable look was wiped from Weegman’s +face as Locke passed on.</p> + +<p>Some time after breakfast Lefty returned to +the Magnolia to learn if Cap’n Wiley and his ball +players had arrived. Approaching, he perceived +a queer assortment of strangers lounging on the +veranda, and from their appearance he judged +that they were members of the team. Many of +them looked like old stagers, veterans who had +seen better days; some were youthful and raw and +inclined to be cock-a-hoop. There was a German, +an Italian, an Irishman, and a Swede. One was +lanky as a starved greyhound, and apparently +somewhere near six feet and six inches tall from +his heels to his hair roots. Another was short and +fat, and looked as if he had been driven together +by some one who had hit him over the head with +a board.</p> + +<p>In a way, these strangers in Fernandon were +most remarkable for their attire. With scarcely +an exception, the clothes they wore were weird +and fantastic samples of sartorial art; various, +and nearly all, prevailing freaks of fashion were +displayed. With colored shirts, flaring socks, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40'></a>40</span> +giddy neckties, they caused all beholders to gasp. +They were most amazingly bejeweled and adorned. +With difficulty Locke suppressed a smile as his +quick eyes surveyed them.</p> + +<p>Near the head of the broad steps leading up to +the veranda sat a somewhat stocky but exceptionally +well-built man of uncertain age. He was almost +as swarthy as an Indian, and his dark eyes +were swift and keen and shrewd. His black hair +was graying on the temples. His coat and trousers, +of extravagant cut, were made from pronounced +black-and-white-striped material. His +fancy waistcoat, buttoned with a single button at +the bottom, was adorned with large orange-colored +figures. His silk socks were red, his four-in-hand +necktie was purple, and the band that encircled +the straw hat cocked rakishly upon his head +was green. He was smoking a cigar and pouring +a steady flow of words into the ear of Bailey +Weegman, who made a pretense of not noticing +Locke.</p> + +<p>“Yes, mate,” he was saying, “old man Breckenridge +was the most painfully inconsiderate batter +I ever had the misfortune to pitch against. +Smoke, curves, twisters, slow balls, low balls, and +high balls–they all looked alike to him. Now I +have a preference; I prefer a high ball, Scotch and +carbonic. But it made no difference to Breck; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41'></a>41</span> +when he put his fifty-five-ounce ash wand against +the pill, said pill made a pilgrimage–it journeyed +right away to some land distant and remote and +unknown, and it did not stay upon the order of its +going. When it came right down to slugging, +compared with old Breck your Home-run Bakers +and Honus Wagners and Napoleon Lajoies are +puny and faded shines. And he always seemed +able to make connections when he desired; if he +rambled forth to the dish yearning for a hit, there +was no known method by which the most astute +and talented pitcher could prevent him from hitting.”</p> + +<p>“Quite a wonder, I must admit!” laughed +Weegman, in high amusement. “Rather strange +the Big Leagues didn’t get hold of such a marvelous +batsman, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he was on the roster of some Class A team +at various times, but he had one drawback that +finally sent him away to the remote and uncharted +bushes: ‘Charley horse’ had him in its invidious +grip. A spavined snail could beat Breck making +the circuit of the sacks, and cross the pan pulled +up. Yet, with this handicap, the noble old slugger +held the record for home runs in the Tall +Grass League. Naturally I had heart failure and +Angie Pectoris every time I was compelled to face +him on the slab. Likewise, naturally I began +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42'></a>42</span> +meditating with great vigor upon a scheme to circumvent +the old terror, and at last my colossal +brain concocted a plan that led me to chortle with +joy.”</p> + +<p>“I am deeply interested and curious,” declared +Weegman, as the narrator paused, puffing complacently +at his weed. “Go on.”</p> + +<p>Locke had stopped near at hand, and was listening. +Others were hovering about, their ears open, +their faces wreathed in smiles.</p> + +<p>“It was a simple matter of scientific knowledge +and a little skulduggery,” pursued the story-teller +obligingly. “I possessed the knowledge, and I +bribed the bat boy of old Breck’s team to perform +the skulduggery. I sent to the factory and had +some special baseballs manufactured for me, and +in the heart of each ball was hidden a tiny but +powerful magnet. Then I secretly furnished the +rascally bat boy with a specially prepared steel rod +that would violently repel any magnet that chanced +to wander around into the immediate vicinity of +the rod. I instructed the boy to bore Breck’s pet +bat surreptitiously when the shades of night had +fallen, insert the steel rod, and then craftily plug +the hole. And may I never sail the briny deep +again if that little scoundrel didn’t carry out my +instructions with the skill of a cutthroat, or a diplomat, +even! Nature intended him for higher +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43'></a>43</span> +things. If he isn’t hanged some day it won’t be +his fault.</p> + +<p>“Well, the next time old Breck brought his team +to play against us upon our field, I used the magnetized +baseballs. I was doing the hurling and +in the very first inning the old swatter came up +with the sacks charged and two out. He smiled a +smile of pity as he bent his baleful glance upon me. +‘You'd better walk me, Walter,’ says he, ‘and +force a run; for if you put the spheroid over I’m +going to give it a long ride.’ I returned his smile +with one of the most magnanimous contempt. +‘Don't blow up, old boy,’ says I. ‘With the exception +of your batting, you’re all in; and I’ve a +notion that your batting eye is becoming dim and +hazy. Let’s see you hit this.’ Then I passed +him a slow, straight one right over the middle of +the rubber. He took a mighty swing at it, meaning +to slam it over into the next county. Well, +mate, may I be keelhauled if that ball didn’t dodge +the bat like a scared rabbit! Mind you, I hadn’t +put a thing on it, but the repulsion of that deneoutronized +steel rod hidden in the bat forced the +ball to take the handsomest drop you ever beheld, +and the violence with which old Breck smote the +vacant ozone caused him to spin round and concuss +upon the ground when he sat down. It was +a tremendous shock to his nervous system, and it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44'></a>44</span> +filled me with unbounded jubilance; for I knew I +had him at my mercy, literally in the hollow of my +hand.</p> + +<p>“He rose painfully, chagrined and annoyed, but +still confident. ‘Give me another like that, you +little wart!’ he ordered savagely, ‘and I’ll knock +the peeling off it.’ Beaming, I retorted: ‘You +couldn’t knock the peeling off a prune. Here’s +what you called for.’ And I threw him another +slow, straight one.</p> + +<p>“Excuse these few tears; the memory of that +hallowed occasion makes me cry for joy. He did +it again, concussing still more shockingly when he +sat down. It was simply an utter impossibility +for him to hit that magnetized ball with his doctored +bat. But, of course, he didn’t know what +the matter was; he thought I was fooling him with +some sort of a new drop I had discovered. The +fact that I was passing him the merry cachinnation +peeved him vastly. When he got upon his +pins and squared away for the third attempt, his +face was the most fearsome I ever have gazed +upon. He shook his big bat at me. ‘One more,’ +he raged; ‘give me one more, and drop flat on your +face the moment you pitch the ball, or I’ll drive it +straight through the meridian of your anatomy!’</p> + +<p>“Let me tell you now, mate, that Breck was a +gentleman, and that was the first and only time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45'></a>45</span> +I ever knew him to lose his temper. Under the +circumstances, he was excusable. I put all my +nerve-shattering steam into the next pitch, and, instead +of dropping, the ball hopped over his bat +when he smote at it. I had fanned the mighty +Breckenridge, and the wondering crowd lifted +their voices in hosannas. Yet I know they regarded +it in the nature of an accident, and not until +I had whiffed him three times more in the same +game did either Breck or the spectators arrive at +the conviction that I had something on him.</p> + +<p>“After that,” said the narrator, as if in conclusion, +“I had him eating out of my hand right +up to the final and decisive game of the season.”</p> + +<p>Weegman begged the fanciful romancer to tell +what happened in the last game.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we won,” was the assurance; “but we +never would have if Breck had been wise the last +time he came to bat. It was in the ninth inning, +with the score three to two in our favor, two +down, and runners on second and third. Knowing +it was Breck’s turn to hit, I was confident we +had the game sewed up. But the confidence oozed +out of me all of a sudden when I saw the big fellow +paw the clubs over to select a bat other than +his own. Clammy perspiration started forth +from every pore of my body. With any other +swat stick beside his own, I knew he was practically +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46'></a>46</span> +sure to drive any ball I could pitch him +over the fence. The agony of apprehension which +I endured at that moment gave me my first gray +hairs.</p> + +<p>“Although I did not know it at the time, it +chanced that Breck had selected the bat of another +player who had had it bored and loaded with +an ordinary steel rod. This, you can clearly understand, +made it more than doubly certain that +he would hit the magnetized ball, which would be +attracted instead of repelled. Had I known this, +I shouldn’t have had the heart to pitch at all.</p> + +<p>“As the noble warrior stood up to the pan, I considered +what I could pitch him. Curves could not +fool him, and he literally ate speed. Therefore, +without hope, I tossed him up a slow one. Now it +chanced that the old boy had decided to try a surprise, +having become disheartened by his efforts +to slug; he had resolved to attempt to bunt, knowing +such a move would be unexpected. So he +merely stuck out his bat as the sphere came sailing +over. The magnet was attracted by the steel +rod, and the ball just jumped at the bat, against +which it struck–and stuck! I hope never to tell +the truth again, mate, if I’m not stating a simple, +unadulterated, unvarnished fact. The moment +the ball touched the bat it stuck fast to it as if +nailed there. Breck was so astonished that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47'></a>47</span> +stood in his tracks staring at the ball like a man +turned to stone. I was likewise paralyzed for an +extemporaneous fraction of time, but my ready +wit quickly availed me. Bounding forward, I +wrenched the ball from the bat and tagged old +Breck with it, appealing to the umpire for judgment. +There was only one thing his umps could +do. He had seen the batter attempt to bunt, had +seen bat and ball meet, and had seen me secure +the ball on fair ground and put it on to the hitter. +He declared Breckenridge out, and that gave us +the game and the championship.”</p> + +<p>Bailey Weegman lay back and roared. In doing +so, he seemed to perceive Lefty for the first +time. As soon as he could get his breath, he said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, I say, Locke, let me introduce you. This is +Cap’n Wiley, owner and manager of the Wind +Jammers.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48'></a>48</span><a id='link_5'></a>CHAPTER V<br /><span class='h2fs'>A MAN OF MYSTERY</span></h2> + +<p>The swarthy little fabulist rose hastily to +his feet, making a quick survey of the +southpaw. “Am I indeed and at last in +the presence of the great Lefty Locke?” he cried, +his face beaming like the morning sun in a cloudless +sky. “Is it possible that after many weary +moons I have dropped anchor in the same harbor +with the most salubriously efficacious port-side +flinger of modern times? Pardon my deep emotion! +Slip me your mudhook, Lefty; let me give +you the fraternal grip.”</p> + +<p>He grabbed Locke’s hand and wrung it vigorously, +while the other members of the Wind Jammers +pressed nearer, looking the Big League +pitcher over with interest.</p> + +<p>“In many a frozen igloo,” declared Wiley, “I +have dreamed of this day when I should press +your lily-white fingers. Oft and anon during my +weary sojourn in that far land of snow and ice +have I pictured to myself the hour when we should +stand face to face and exchange genuflections and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49'></a>49</span> +greetings. And whenever a smooched and tattered +months-old newspaper would drift in from +civilization, with what eager and expectant thrills +did I tremulously turn to the baseball page that +I might perchance read thereon how you had stung +the Hornets, bitten the Wolves, clipped the claws +of the Panthers, or plucked the feathers from the +White Wings!”</p> + +<p>“And I have been wondering,” confessed Lefty, +“if you could be the original Cap’n Wiley of whom +I heard so many strange tales in my boyhood. +It was reported that you were dead.”</p> + +<p>“Many a time and oft hath that canard been circulated. +According to rumor, I have demised a +dozen times or more by land and sea; but each +time, like the fabled Phœnix, I have risen from my +ashes. During the last few fleeting years I have +been in pursuit of fickle fortune in far-off Alaska, +where it was sometimes so extremely cold that fire +froze and we cracked up the congealed flames into +little chunks which we sold to the Chilkoots and Siwashes +as precious bright red stones. Strange +to say, whenever I have related this little nanny +goat it has been received with skepticism and incredulity. +The world is congested with doubters.”</p> + +<p>“When you wrote me,” admitted Locke, “proposing +to bring your Wind Jammers here to play +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50'></a>50</span> +the Fernandon Grays, I thought the letter was a +hoax. At first I was tempted not to answer it, +and when I did reply it was out of curiosity more +than anything else; I wanted to see what the next +twist of the joke would be.”</p> + +<p>“Let me assure you that you will find playing +against the Wind Jammers no joke. I have conglomerated +together the fastest segregation of +baseball stars ever seen outside a major league +circuit, and I say it with becoming and blushing +modesty. Look them over,” he invited, with a +proud wave of his hand toward the remarkable +group of listeners. “It has always been my contention +that there are just as good players to be +found outside the Big League as ever wore the +uniform of a major. I have held that hard luck, +frowning fate, or contumelious circumstances +have conspired to hold these natural-born stars +down and prevent their names from being chiseled +on the tablet of fame. Having gathered unto myself +a few slippery shekels from my mining ventures +in the land where baseball games begin at +the hour of midnight, I have now set out to prove +my theory, and before I am through I expect to +have all balldom sitting up agog and gasping with +wonderment.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you luck,” replied Lefty. “If you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51'></a>51</span> +don’t do anything else, you ought to get some sport +out of it. I presume you still ascend the mound +as a pitcher?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” was the airy answer, “on rare occasions +I give the gaping populace a treat by propelling +the sphere through the atmosphere. When my +projector is working up to its old-time form, I find +little difficulty in leading the most formidable batters +to vainly slash the vacant ether. The weather +seeming propitious, I may burn a few over this +p.m. I trust you will pitch also.”</p> + +<p>“I think I shall start the game, at least.”</p> + +<p>Bailey Weegman butted in. “But he won’t finish +it, Wiley. Like yourself, he’s not doing as +much pitching as he did once.” His laugh was +significant.</p> + +<p>The owner of the Wind Jammers looked +startled. “Tell me not in mournful numbers that +your star is already on the decline!” he exclaimed, +looking at Locke with regret. “That’s what the +Big Leagues do to a good man; they burn him out +like a pitch-pine knot. I’ve felt all along that the +Blue Stockings were working you too much, Lefty. +Without you on their roster ready to work three +or four times a week in the pinches, they never +could have kept in the running.”</p> + +<p>“You’re more than complimentary,” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52'></a>52</span> +Locke, after giving Weegman a look. “But I +think I’ll be able to shake something out of my +sleeve this season, the same as ever.”</p> + +<p>“Then don’t let them finish you, don’t let them +grind you to a frazzle,” advised Wiley. “For the +first time in recent history you have a chance for +your white alley; the Federals are giving you that. +If you’re not already enmeshed in the folds of a +contract, the Feds will grab you and hand you a +square deal.”</p> + +<p>Weegman rose, chuckling and snapping his fingers. +“All this talk about what the Feds can do +is gas!” he declared. “They’re getting nothing +but the soreheads and deadwood of organized baseball, +which will be vastly better off without the deserters. +Cripples and has-beens may make a +good thing out of the Feds for a short time. Perhaps +Locke would find it profitable to jump.” His +meaning was all too plain.</p> + +<p>Lefty felt like taking the insinuating fellow by +the neck and shaking him until his teeth rattled, +but outwardly he was not at all ruffled or disturbed. +“Mr. Weegman,” he said, “is showing +pique because I have not seen fit to sign up as manager +of the Blue Stockings. He professes to have +authority from Charles Collier to sign the manager, +Collier having gone abroad for his health.”</p> + +<p>“If anybody doubts my authority,” shouted +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53'></a>53</span> +Weegman, plunging his hand into an inner pocket +of his coat, “I can show the documents that +will–”</p> + +<p>The southpaw had turned his back on him. “I +understand you have a clever pitcher in the man +known as Mysterious Jones, Wiley,” he said.</p> + +<p>“A pippin!” was the enthusiastic answer. +“I’ll give you a chance to see him sagaciate to-day.”</p> + +<p>“He is a deaf-mute?”</p> + +<p>“He couldn’t hear a cannon if you fired it right +under the lobe of his ear, and he does his talking +with his prehensile digits. Leon Ames in his best +days never had anything on Jones.”</p> + +<p>“Strange I never even heard of him. Our +scouts have scoured the bushes from one end of +the country to the other.”</p> + +<p>“I never collided with any baseball scouts in +Alaska,” said Wiley.</p> + +<p>“Oh! You found Jones in Alaska?”</p> + +<p>“Pitching for a team in Nome.”</p> + +<p>“But baseball up there! I didn’t know–”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no; nobody ever thinks of baseball up +there, but in the all too short summer season +there’s something doing in that line. Why, even +modern dances have begun to run wild in Alaska, +so you see they’re right up to the present jiffy.”</p> + +<p>“Where did this Jones originally hail from?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54'></a>54</span>“Ask me! I don’t know. Nobody I ever met +knew anything about him, and what he knows +about himself he won’t tell. He’s mysterious, you +understand; but his beautiful work on the slab +has caused my classic countenance to break into +ripples and undulations and convolutions of +mirth.”</p> + +<p>“Where is he? I’d like to give him the once +over.”</p> + +<p>“I think he’s out somewhere prowling around +the town and sizing up the citizens. That’s one +of his little vagaries; he has a combustable curiosity +about strangers. Every place we go he +wanders around for hours lamping the denizens +of the burg. Outside baseball, strange people +seem to interest him more than anything in the +world; but once he has taken a good square look +at a person, henceforth and for aye that individual +ceases to attract him; if he ever gives anybody +a second look, it is one of absolute indifference. +Oh, I assure you with the utmost voracity +that Jones is an odd one.”</p> + +<p>“He must be,” agreed Lefty.</p> + +<p>“Ay tank, cap’n,” said Oleson, the Swede outfielder, +“that Yones now bane comin’ up the +street.”</p> + +<p>Wiley turned and gazed at an approaching figure. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55'></a>55</span> +“Yes,” he said, “that’s him. Turn your +binnacle lights on him, Lefty; behold the greatest +pitcher adrift in the uncharted regions of baseball.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56'></a>56</span><a id='link_6'></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><span class='h2fs'>PECULIAR BEHAVIOR</span></h2> + +<p>Jones was rather tall and almost slender, +although he had a fine pair of shoulders. +His arm was as long as Walter Johnson’s. +His face was as grave as that of the Sphinx, and +held more than a touch of the same somber sadness. +His eyes were dark and keen and penetrating; +with a single glance they seemed to pierce +one through and through. And they were ever +on the move, like little ferrets, searching, searching, +searching. As he approached the hotel, he +met a man going in the opposite direction, and he +half paused to give the man a sharp, lance-like +stare. Involuntarily the man drew aside a trifle +and, walking on, turning to look back with an expression +of mingled questioning and resentment. +But Jones had resumed his habitual pace, his appearance +that of a person who, already overburdened, +had received one more disappointment.</p> + +<p>Barney O’Reilley, the shortstop, laughed. +“Sure,” said he, “it’s a bit of a jump old Jonesy +hands any one he looks at fair and hard.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57'></a>57</span>Lefty Locke felt a throb of deep interest and +curiosity. There was something about the deaf-mute +pitcher of the Wind Jammers that aroused +and fascinated him instantly. His first thought +was that the man might be mentally unbalanced +to a slight degree; but, though he knew not why, +something caused him to reject this conviction almost +before it was formed. Apparently Jones +was well named “Mysterious.”</p> + +<p>“There’s the bird, Lefty,” said Cap’n Wiley +proudly. “There’s the boy who’d make ’em sit +up and take notice if ever he got a show in the +Big League. Yours truly, the Marine Marvel, +knew what he was doing when he plucked that +plum in the far-away land of lingering snows.”</p> + +<p>A queer sound behind him, like a hissing, shuddering +gasp, caused Locke to look around quickly. +The sound had come from Weegman, who, face +blanched, mouth agape, eyes panic-stricken, was +staring at the approaching pitcher. Amazement, +doubt, disbelief, fear–he betrayed all these emotions. +Even while he leaned forward to get a +better view over the shoulder of a man before him, +he shrank back, crouching like one ready to take +to his heels.</p> + +<p>Like a person pleased by the sound of his own +voice, Cap’n Wiley rattled on in laudation of his +mute pitcher. No one save Locke seemed to notice +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58'></a>58</span> +Weegman; and so wholly fascinated by the sight +of Jones was the latter that he was quite oblivious +to the fact that he had attracted any attention.</p> + +<p>“Smoke!” Wiley was saying. “Why, mate, +when he uses all his speed, a ball doesn’t last a +minute; the calorie friction it creates passing +through the air burns the cover off.”</p> + +<p>“Ya,” supplemented Shaeffer, the catcher, +“und sometimes it sets my mitt afire.”</p> + +<p>“Some speed!” agreed Lefty, as Jones, his head +bent, reached the foot of the steps. “He looks +tired.”</p> + +<p>“He’s always that way after he tramps around +a strange town,” said the owner of the Wind +Jammers. “Afterward he usually goes to bed +and rests, and he comes out to the games as full +of fire and kinks as a boy who has stuffed himself +with green apples. I’ll introduce you, Locke.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw looked round again. Weegman +was gone; probably he had vanished into the convenient +door of the hotel. Cap’n Wiley drew +Lefty forward to meet the voiceless pitcher, and, +perceiving a stranger, Mysterious Jones halted at +the top of the steps and stabbed him with a stare +full in the face. Lefty had never looked into +such searching, penetrating eyes.</p> + +<p>Wiley made some deft and rapid movements +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59'></a>59</span> +with his hands and fingers, using the deaf-and-dumb +language to make Jones aware of the identity +of the famous Big League pitcher. Already +the mute had lapsed into disappointed indifference, +but he accepted Locke’s offered hand and +smiled in a faint, melancholy way.</p> + +<p>“He’s feeling especially downcast to-day,” explained +Wiley, “and so he’ll pitch like a fiend this +afternoon. He always twirls his best when he’s +gloomiest; appears to entertain the delusion that +he’s taking acrimonious revenge on the world for +handing him some sort of a raw deal. It would +be a shame to use him against you the whole game, +Lefty; he’d make your Grays look like a lot of infirm +prunes.”</p> + +<p>“Spare us,” pleaded Locke, in mock apprehension.</p> + +<p>Jones did not linger long with his teammates on +the veranda. With a solemn but friendly bow to +Lefty, he passed on into the hotel, Wiley explaining +that he was on his way to take his regular daily +period of rest. Through the open door the southpaw +watched the strange pitcher walk through the +office and mount a flight of stairs. And from the +little writing room Locke saw Bailey Weegman +peer forth, his eyes following the mysterious one +until the latter disappeared. Then Weegman hurried +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60'></a>60</span> +to the desk and interviewed the clerk, after +which he made an inspection of the names freshly +written upon the hotel register.</p> + +<p>The man’s behavior was singular, and Lefty decided +that, for some reason, Weegman did not care +to encounter Jones. This suspicion was strengthened +when, scarcely more than an hour later, +Charles Collier’s private secretary appeared at +the little cottage occupied by Locke and his wife, +and stated that he had made a change from the +Magnolia Hotel to the Florida House, a second-rate +and rather obscure place on the edge of the +colored quarter.</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t stand for Wiley and his gang of bushwhackers,” +Weegman explained. “They made +me sick, and I had to get out, even though I’m going +to leave town at five-thirty this afternoon. +That’s the first through train north that I can +catch. Thought I’d let you know so you could find +me in case you changed your mind about that offer.”</p> + +<p>“You might have spared yourself the trouble,” +said Locke coldly.</p> + +<p>Weegman made a pretense of laughing. “No +telling about that. Mules are obstinate, but even +they can be made to change their minds if you +build a hot enough fire under them. Don’t forget +where you can find me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61'></a>61</span>Lefty watched him walking away, and noted +that his manner was somewhat nervous and unnatural. +“I wonder,” murmured the pitcher, +“why you put yourself to so much discomfort to +avoid Mysterious Jones.”</p> + +<p>Directed by Locke, the Grays put in an hour +of sharp practice that forenoon. As Lefty had +stated, the team was practically comprised of winter +visitors from the North. Some of them had +come South for their health, too. Three were +well along in the thirties, and one had passed +forty. Yet, for all such handicaps, they were an +enthusiastic, energetic team, and they could play +the game. At least five of them had once been +stars on college nines. Having never lost their +love for the game, they had rounded into form +wonderfully under the coaching of the Big League +pitcher. Also, in nearly every game they pulled +off more or less of the stuff known as “inside baseball.”</p> + +<p>They had been remarkably successful in defeating +the teams they had faced, but Locke felt sure +that, in spite of the conglomerate and freakish appearance +of the Wind Jammers, it was not going +to be an easy thing to take a fall out of Cap’n +Wiley’s aggregation of talent. The self-styled +“Marine Marvel” had a record; with players +culled from the brambles as he knocked about the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62'></a>62</span> +country, he had, in former days, put to shame +many a strong minor league outfit that had patronizingly +and somewhat disdainfully consented +to give him an engagement on an off date. Unless +the eccentric and humorously boastful manager +of the Wind Jammers had lost much of his judgment +and cunning during the recent years that he +had been out of the public eye, the fastest independent +team would have to keep awake and get +a fair share of the breaks in order to trounce +him.</p> + +<p>Locke warmed up his arm a little, but, even +though he felt scarcely a twinge of the lameness +and stiffness that had given him so much apprehension, +he was cautious. At one time, when the +trouble was the worst, he had not been able to lift +his left hand to his mouth. A massage expert in +Fernandon had done much for him, and he hoped +that he had done not a little for himself by perfecting +a new style of delivery that did not put so +much strain upon his shoulder. Still, until he +should be forced to the test, he could never feel +quite sure that he would be the same puzzle to the +finest batsmen that he had once been. And it +must be confessed that he had looked forward with +some dread to the day when that test should come.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he resolved that, in a way, he would +meet the test at once. Doubtless the Wind Jammers +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63'></a>63</span> +were batters of no mean caliber, for Wiley +had always got together a bunch of sluggers.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it,” he decided; “I’ll go the limit. If +I can’t do that now, after the rest I’ve had and the +doctoring my arm has received, there’s not one +chance in a thousand that I’ll ever be able to pitch +in fast company again.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64'></a>64</span><a id='link_7'></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE TEST</span></h2> + +<p>Nearly all Fernandon turned out to the +game. Many residents of the town, as +well as a large number of the visitors +from the North, came in carriages and automobiles. +The covered reserved seats were filled, and, +shielding themselves from the sun with umbrellas, +an eager crowd packed the bleachers. On the +sandy grass ground back of third base a swarm +of chattering, grinning colored people sat and +sprawled. Holding themselves proudly aloof +from the negroes, a group of lanky, sallow “poor +whites,” few of whom could read or write, were +displaying their ignorance by their remarks about +the game and the players. The mayor of the town +had consented to act as umpire. At four o’clock +he called “play.”</p> + +<p>“Now we’re off!” sang Cap’n Wiley, waltzing +gayly forth to the coaching position near third. +“Here’s where we hoist anchor and get away with +a fair wind.”</p> + +<p>Nuccio, the olive-skinned Italian third baseman, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65'></a>65</span> +selected his bat and trotted to the pan, grinning at +Locke.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you Lefty!” said he. “We gotta your +number.”</p> + +<p>“Put your marlinespike against the pill and +crack the coating on it,” urged Wiley.</p> + +<p>George Sommers, catcher for the Grays, adjusted +his mask, crouched, signaled. Locke +whipped one over the inside corner, and Nuccio +fouled.</p> + +<p>“Nicked it!” cried the Marine Marvel. “Now +bust it on the figurehead and make for the first +mooring. Show our highly steamed friend Lefty +that he’s got to pitch to-day if he don’t want the +wind taken out of his sails.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw tried to lead Nuccio into reaching, +but the batter caught himself in his swing. “Puta +the ball over, Left,” he pleaded. “Don’t givea +me the walk.”</p> + +<p>The pitcher smiled and handed up a hopper. +The batter fouled again, lifting the ball on to the +top of the covered seats.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you need worry about walking,” +said Sommers, returning after having made a vain +start in pursuit of the sphere. “You’re in a hole +already.”</p> + +<p>Nuccio smiled. “Wait,” he advised. “I spoil +the gooda ones.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66'></a>66</span>Another ball followed, then Lefty warped one +across the comer. Nuccio drove it into right for +a pretty single, bringing shouts of approval from +the bench of the Wind Jammers. Wiley addressed +Locke.</p> + +<p>“Really,” he said, “I fear me much that you +undervalue the batting capacity of my players. +One and all, individually and collectively, they +are there with the healthy bingle. Please, I beg +of you, don’t let them pound you off the slab in +the first inning, for that would puncture a hard-earned +reputation and bring tears of regret to my +tender eyes. For fear that you may be careless +or disdainful, I warn you that this next man can’t +touch anything down around his knees; his arms +being attached to his shoulders at such a dim and +distant altitude, he finds it difficult to reach down +so far, even with the longest bat.”</p> + +<p>Luther Bemis, the player referred to, was the +marvelously tall and lanky center fielder of the +Wind Jammers. He had a queer halting walk, +like a person on stilts, and his appearance was so +ludicrous that the spectators tittered and laughed +outright. Their amusement did not disturb him, +for he grinned cheerfully as he squared away, waving +his long bat.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you pay no ’tention to the cap ’n, Lefty,” +he drawled, in a nasal voice. “I can hit um acrost +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67'></a>67</span> +the knees jest as well as anywhere else. He’s +tryin’ to fool ye.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see about that,” said Locke, putting one +over low and close on the inside.</p> + +<p>Bemis smashed out a hot grounder and went galloping +to first with tremendous, ground-covering +strides. For all of his awkward walk and the fact +that he ran like a frightened giraffe, it would have +required an excellent sprinter to beat him from +the plate to the initial sack.</p> + +<p>Norris, the shortstop, got his hand on the ball +and stopped it, but it twisted out of his fingers. It +was an error on a hard chance, for by the time he +secured the sphere there was no prospect of getting +either runner.</p> + +<p>“Now that’s what I call misfortune when regarded +from one angle, and mighty lucky if viewed +from another,” said Wiley. “Beamy carries a +rabbit’s foot; that’s why he’s second on our batting +disorder. He does things like that when +they’re least expected the most.”</p> + +<p>Schaeffer was coaching at first. “Is it Lefty +Locke against us pitching?” he cried. “And such +an easiness! Took a lead, efrybody, and move +along when the Irisher hits.”</p> + +<p>“I hate to do ut,” protested Barney O’Reilley, +shaking his red head as he walked into position. +“It’s a pain it gives me, Lefty, but I have to earn +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68'></a>68</span> +me salary. No bad feelings, ould man. You understand.”</p> + +<p>“Just one moment,” called Wiley, holding up +his hand. “Sympathy impels me. I have a tender +heart. Lefty, I feel that I must warn you +again. This descendant of the Irish nobility can +hit anything that sails over the platter. If it +were not a distressing fact that Schepps, who follows, +is even a more royal batter, I would advise +you to walk O’Reilley. As it is, I am in despair.”</p> + +<p>The crowd was not pleased. It began to beg +Locke to fan O’Reilley, and when the Irishman +missed the first shoot the pleadings increased.</p> + +<p>“Barney is sympathetic also,” cried Cap’n +Wiley; “but he’d better not let his sympathy carry +him amain, whatever that is. I shall fine him if +he doesn’t hit the ball.”</p> + +<p>Locke had begun to let himself out in earnest, +for the situation was threatening. It would not +be wise needlessly to permit the Wind Jammers to +get the jump. They were a confident, aggressive +team, and would fight to the last gasp to hold an +advantage. The southpaw realized that it would +be necessary to do some really high-grade twirling +to prevent them from grabbing that advantage in +short order.</p> + +<p>Tug Schepps, a tough-looking, hard-faced person, +was swinging two bats and chewing tobacco +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69'></a>69</span> +as he waited to take his turn. He was a product +of the sand lots.</p> + +<p>“Land on it, Barney, old top!” urged Tug. +“Swat it on der trade-mark an’ clean der sacks. +Dis Lefty boy don’t seem such a much.”</p> + +<p>Locke shot over a high one.</p> + +<p>“Going up!” whooped O’Reilley, ignoring it.</p> + +<p>“Get ’em down below the crow’s nest,” entreated +Wiley. “You’re not pitching to Bemis +now.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw quickly tried a drop across the +batter’s shoulders, and, not expecting that the ball +had so much on it, Barney let it pass. He made a +mild kick when the mayor-umpire called a strike. +“It’s astigmatism ye have, Mr. Mayor,” he said +politely.</p> + +<p>The next one was too close, but O’Reilley fell +back and hooked it past third base. Even though +the left fielder had been playing in, Nuccio might +possibly have scored had he not stumbled as he +rounded the corner. Wiley started to grab the +fallen runner, but remembered the new rule just +in time, and desisted.</p> + +<p>“Put about!” he shouted. “Head back to the +last port!”</p> + +<p>The Italian scrambled back to the sack, spluttering. +He reached it ahead of the throw from the +fielder. Cap’n Wiley pretended to shed tears.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70'></a>70</span>“Is it possible,” he muttered, shaking his head, +“that this is the great Lefty Locke? If so, it +must be true that his star is on the decline. Alas +and alack, life is filled with such bitter disappointments.”</p> + +<p>Whether the regret of Wiley was real or pretended, +it was shared by a large part of the spectators, +who were friendly to the local team; for +Locke had become very well liked in Fernandon, +both by the citizens of the place and the Northern +visitors.</p> + +<p>It must not be imagined that, with the corners +crowded and no one down, Locke was fully at his +ease. He had decided to make this game the test +of his ability to “come back,” and already it +looked as if the first inning would give him his answer. +If he could not successfully hold in check +this heterogeneous collection of bush talent, it was +easy to understand what would happen to him the +next time he essayed to twirl for the Blue Stockings. +A sickening sense of foreboding crept over +him, but his lips wore a smile, and he showed no +sign of being perturbed.</p> + +<p>Schepps was at the plate, having discarded one +of the bats he had been swinging. He grinned like +a Cheshire cat. “Always t’ought I could bump a +real league pitcher,” he said. “Put one acrost, +pal, an’ I’ll tear der cover off.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71'></a>71</span>Locke hesitated. He had been using the new delivery +he had acquired to spare his shoulder. In +previous games it had proved effective enough to +enable him to continue four or five innings, but +now–</p> + +<p>Suddenly he whipped the ball to third, sending +Nuccio diving headlong back to the sack. The +crafty little Italian had been creeping off, ready to +make a flying dash for the plate. He was safe by +a hair.</p> + +<p>“Not on your movie film!” cried Cap’n Wiley. +“It can’t be done!”</p> + +<p>Lefty did not hear him. He was gazing past +the Marine Marvel at the face of a man who, taking +care to keep himself unobtrusively in the background, +was peering at him over the shoulders of +a little group of spectators–a grinning, mocking +derisive face.</p> + +<p>It was Weegman. And Weegman knew!</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72'></a>72</span><a id='link_8'></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>AT NECESSITY’S DEMAND</span></h2> + +<p>Even after the ball was thrown back from +third, and Lefty had turned away, that +grinning, mocking face continued to leer +at him. Wherever he looked it hovered before his +mental vision like a taunting omen of disaster. +He was “all in,” and Weegman knew it. The +man had told him, with sneering bluntness, that +his “old soup bone was on the blink.” Yet, entertaining +this settled conviction regarding Locke’s +worthlessness as a pitcher, Weegman had made a +long and wearisome journey in order that he might +be absolutely sure, by putting the deal through in +person, of signing the southpaw for the Blue Stockings +at an increased salary. The very fact that +he had been offered the position of manager, under +conditions that would make him a mere puppet +without any real managerial authority, gave the +proposition a blacker and more sinister look.</p> + +<p>Sommers was signaling. Lefty shook his head +to rid himself of that hateful chimera. Misunderstanding, +the catcher quickly changed the sign. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73'></a>73</span> +The pitcher delivered the ball called for first, and +it went through Sommers like a fine shot through +an open sieve.</p> + +<p>Nuccio scored from third with ease, Bemis and +O’Reilley advancing at the same time. The Wind +Jammers roared from the bench. Cap’n Wiley +threw up his hands.</p> + +<p>“Furl every stitch!” cried the manager of the +visitors. “Batten the hatches! The storm is +upon us! It’s going to be a rip-sizzler. I’m afraid +the wreck will be a total loss.”</p> + +<p>Covering the plate, Lefty took the ball from +Sommers.</p> + +<p>“How did you happen to cross me?” asked the +catcher.</p> + +<p>“It was my fault,” was the prompt acknowledgment; +“but it won’t happen again.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not,” said Sommers. He wanted to +suggest that Locke should retire at once and let +Matthews take up the pitching, but he refrained.</p> + +<p>The southpaw was doing some serious thinking +as he walked back to the mound. However well +his newly acquired delivery had seemed to serve +him on other occasions, he was convinced that it +would not do now; either he must pitch in his own +natural way and do his best, or he must retire and +let Dade Matthews try to check the overconfident +aggressors. If he retired, he would prolong the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74'></a>74</span> +uncertainty in his own mind; he would leave himself +in doubt as to whether or not there was any +prospect of his return to the Big League as a twirler +worthy of his hire. More than doubt, he realized, +he would be crushed by a conviction that he +was really down and out.</p> + +<p>“I’ve pampered my arm long enough,” he decided. +“I’m going to find out if there’s anything +left in it.”</p> + +<p>Perhaps the decision was unwise. The result of +the game with the Wind Jammers was of no importance, +but Locke felt that, for his own peace of +mind, he must know what stuff was left in him. +And there was no one present with authority, no +coach, no counselor, to restrain him. There was a +strange, new gleam in his eyes when he once more +toed the slab. His faint smile had not vanished, +but it had taken lines of grimness.</p> + +<p>Schepps tapped the plate with his bat. “Come +on, pal,” he begged; “don’t blow up. Gimme one +of der real kind, an’ lemme have a swat at it.”</p> + +<p>The crowd was silent; even the chattering darkies +had ceased their noise. Only the Wind Jammers +jubilated on the bench and the coaching lines.</p> + +<p>Poising himself, Locke caught Sommer’s signal, +and nodded. Then he swung his arm with the old +free, supple, whiplash motion, and the ball that left +his fingers cut the air like a streak of white, taking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75'></a>75</span> +a really remarkable hop. Schepps’ “swat” was +wasted.</p> + +<p>“Now, dat’s like it!” cried the sandlotter. +“Where’ve you been keepin’ dat kind, old boy? +Gimme a duplicate.”</p> + +<p>Lefty watched Bemis, the long-legged ground +coverer, working away toward the plate, and drove +him back. But he seemed to have forgotten +O’Reilley, and the Irishman was taking a lead on +which he should have little trouble in scoring if +Schepps drove out a safety. Farther and farther +he crept up toward third.</p> + +<p>Sommers tugged at his mask with an odd little +motion. Like a flash the southpaw whirled about +and shot the ball to second, knowing some one +would be there to take the throw. Mel Gates was +the man who covered the bag, and O’Reilley found +himself caught between second and third. Gates +went after him, and the Irishman ran toward third. +But Locke had cut in on the line, and he took a +throw from Gates that caused O’Reilley to turn +back abruptly. Behind Gates, Norris was covering +the cushion. Tremain came down a little from +third to back Lefty up.</p> + +<p>Colby had raced from first base to the plate in +order to support Sommers, for Bemis was swiftly +creeping down to make a dash. On the coaching +line, Cap’n Wiley did a wild dance. The spectators +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76'></a>76</span> +were thrilled by the sudden excitement of the +moment.</p> + +<p>Lefty ran O’Reilley back toward second, and he +knew Bemis was letting himself out in an attempt +to score. Swinging instantly, Locke made a rifle-accurate +throw to Sommers, who jammed the ball +on to the long-geared runner as he was sliding for +the plate. The affair had been so skillfully managed +that not only was O’Reilley prevented from +advancing, but also the attempt to sneak a tally +while the Irishman was being run down had resulted +disastrously for the Wind Jammers.</p> + +<p>“Dat’s der only way dey can get us out,” said +Schepps. “Dis Lefty person looks to me like a +lemon!”</p> + +<p>Cap’n Wiley was philosophically cheerful. +“Just a little lull in the tornado,” he said. “It’s +due to strike again in a minute.”</p> + +<p>Lefty looked the confident Schepps over, and +then he gave him a queer drop that deceived him +even worse than the swift hopper. The spectators, +who had been worried a short time before, now expressed +their approval; and when, a minute later, +the southpaw whiffed the sandlotter, there was a +sudden burst of handclapping and explosions of +boisterous laughter from the delighted darkies.</p> + +<p>“Wh-who’s dat man said lemon?” cried one. +“Dat Lefty pusson sho’ handed him one dat time!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77'></a>77</span>“Is it possible,” said Cap’n Wiley, “that I’m +going to be compelled to revise my dates regarding +that wreck?” Then he roared at the Swede: +“Get into the game, Oleson! It’s your watch on +deck, and you want to come alive. The wrong +ship’s being scuttled.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, aye, captain!” responded Oleson. +“Mebbe Ay do somethin’ when Ay get on the yob. +Yust keep your eye on me.” Believing himself a +hitter superior to the men who had touched Locke +up so successfully at the beginning of the game, +he strode confidently forth, for all of the failure of +Schepps.</p> + +<p>Sizing up the Swede, Lefty tested him with a +curve, but Oleson betrayed no disposition to reach. +A drop followed, and the batter fouled it. His +style of swinging led the southpaw to fancy that +he had a preference for drops, and therefore Locke +wound the next one round his neck, puncturing his +weakness. Not only did Oleson miss, but he swung +in a manner that made it doubtful if he would +drive the ball out of the infield if he happened to +hit one of that kind.</p> + +<p>“Hit it where you missed it!” implored Wiley. +“Don’t let him bamboozle you with the chin +wipers.” Then he turned on O’Reilley. “Cast +off that mooring! Break your anchor loose and +get under way! Man the halyards and crack on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78'></a>78</span> +every stitch! You’ve got to make port when Ole +stings the horsehide.”</p> + +<p>In spite of himself, Lefty was compelled to laugh +outright at the Marine Marvel’s coaching contortions. +“Calm yourself, cap’n,” he advised. “The +hurricane is over.”</p> + +<p>“How can I calm myself when calamity threatens?” +was the wild retort. “You are a base deceiver, +Lefty. Such chicanery is shameful! I +don’t know what chicanery means, but it seems to +fit the offense.”</p> + +<p>And now the spectators fell to laughing at the +swarthy little man, who did not seem to be so very +offensive, after all, and who was injecting more +than a touch of vaudeville comedy into the game.</p> + +<p>Oleson waited patiently, still determined to hit, +although somewhat dismayed by his two failures +to gauge the left-hander’s slants. But when Lefty +suddenly gave him another exactly like the last, +he slashed at it awkwardly and fruitlessly. The +crowd broke into a cheer, and the Swede turned +dazedly from the plate, wiping beads of perspiration +from his brow.</p> + +<p>“That Lefty he bane some pitcher,” admitted +Oleson. “He got a good yump ball.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79'></a>79</span><a id='link_9'></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><span class='h2fs'>TORTURING DOUBT</span></h2> + +<p>To a degree, Locke had satisfied himself that +he still had command of his speed and +carves; but the experience had also taught +him that his efforts to acquire a new delivery as +effective as his former style of pitching, and one +that would put less strain upon his shoulder, had +been a sheer waste of time. Working against batters +who were dangerous, his artificial delivery +had not enabled him to pitch the ball that would +hold them in check. He had mowed them down, +however, when he had resorted to his natural form.</p> + +<p>But what would that do to his shoulder? Could +he pitch like that and go the full distance with no +fear of disastrous results? Should he attempt it, +even should he succeed, perhaps the morrow would +find him with his salary wing as weak and lame +and lifeless as it had been after that last heart-breaking +game in the Big League.</p> + +<p>Involuntarily, as he left the mound, he looked +around for Weegman, who had disappeared. It +gave Lefty some satisfaction to feel that, for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80'></a>80</span> +time being, at least, he had wiped the mocking +grin from the schemer’s face.</p> + +<p>Cap’n Wiley jogged down from third, an expression +of injured reproof puckering his countenance. +“I am pained to the apple core,” he said. “My +simple, trusting nature has received a severe shock. +Just when I thought we had you meandering away +from here, Lefty, you turned right round and came +back. If you handed us that one lone tally to chirk +us along, let me reassure you that you made the +mistake of your young life; I am going to ascend +the hillock and do some volleying, which makes it +extensively probable that the run we have garnered +will be sufficient to settle the game.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be so unfeeling!” responded Locke. +“Give us Mysterious Jones.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, perchance you may be able to get on the +sacks with me pushing ’em over; but if Jones unlimbered +his artillery on you, he’d mow you down +as fast as you toddled up to the pentagon. You +see, I wish the assemblage to witness some slight +semblance of a game.”</p> + +<p>In action upon the slab, Wiley aroused still +further merriment. His wind-up before delivering +the ball was most bewildering. His writhing, +squirming twists would have made a circus contortionist +gasp. First he seemed to tie himself into +knots, pressing the ball into the pit of his stomach +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81'></a>81</span> +like a person in excruciating anguish. On the +swing back, he turned completely away from the +batter, facing second base for a moment, at the +same time poising himself on his right foot and +pointing his left foot toward the zenith. Then he +came forward and around, as if he would put the +sphere over with the speed of a cannon ball–and +handed up a little, slow bender.</p> + +<p>But he need not have troubled himself to put a +curve on that first one, for Fred Hallett, leading off +for the Grays, stood quite still and stared like a +person hypnotized. The ball floated over, and the +umpire called a strike, which led Hallett to shake +himself and join in the laughter of the crowd.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter? What’s the matter?” +spluttered Wiley. “Was my speed too much for +you? Couldn’t you see it when it came across? +Shall I pitch you a slow one?”</p> + +<p>Hallett shook his head, unable to reply.</p> + +<p>“Oh, vurry, vurry well,” said the Marine Marvel. +“As you choose. I don’t want to be too hard +on you.” Then, after going through with a startling +variation of the former convulsions, he did +pitch a ball that was so speedy that the batsman +swung too slowly. And, a few minutes later, completing +the performance to his own satisfaction, +he struck Hallett out with a neat little drop. “I +preen myself,” said he, “that I’m still there with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82'></a>82</span> +the huckleberries. As a pitcher of class, I’ve got +Matty and a few others backed up against the +ropes. Bring on your next victim.”</p> + +<p>Charlie Watson found the burlesque so amusing +that he laughed all the way from the bench to the +plate. The eccentric pitcher looked at him sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“When you get through shedding tears,” he +said, “I’ll pitch to you. I hate to see a strong +man weep.”</p> + +<p>Then, without the slightest warning, using no +wind-up whatever, he snapped one straight over, +catching Watson unprepared. That sobered Watson +down considerably.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad to see you feeling better,” declared +the manager of the Wind Jammers. “Now that +you’re quite prepared, I’ll give you something +easy.”</p> + +<p>The slow one that he tossed up seemed to hang +in the air with the stitches showing. Watson hit +it and popped a little fly into Wiley’s hands, the +latter not being compelled to move out of his +tracks. He removed his cap and bowed his thanks.</p> + +<p>Doc Tremain walked out seriously enough, apparently +not at all amused by the horseplay that +was taking place. With his hands on his hips, +Wiley stared hard at Tremain.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83'></a>83</span>“Here’s a jolly soul!” cried the pitcher. “He’s +simply laughing himself sick. I love to see a man +enjoy himself so diabolically.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, play ball!” the doctor retorted tartly. +“This crowd isn’t here to see monkeyshines.”</p> + +<p>“Then they won’t look at you, my happy friend. +And that’s a dart of subtle repartee.”</p> + +<p>Wiley’s remarkable wind-up and delivery did +not seem to bother Tremain, who viciously smashed +the first ball pitched to him. It was a savage line +drive slightly to the left of the slabman, but the +latter shot out his gloved hand with the swiftness +of a striking rattlesnake, and grabbed the whistling +sphere. Having made the catch, the Marine Marvel +tossed the ball carelessly to the ground and +sauntered toward the bench with an air of bored +lassitude. There was a ripple of applause.</p> + +<p>“You got off easy that time, cap’n,” said Locke, +coming out. “When are you going to let us have +a crack at Jones?”</p> + +<p>“A crack at him!” retorted Wiley. “Don’t +make me titter, Lefty! Your assemblage of would-bes +never could get anything remotely related to a +crack off Jones. However, when ongwee begins +to creep over me I’ll let him go in and polish you +off.”</p> + +<p>“Colonel” Rickey, leading off for the Wind +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84'></a>84</span> +Jammers in the second, hoisted an infield fly, and +expressed his annoyance in a choice Southern +drawl as he went back to the bench.</p> + +<p>Peter Plum, the fat right fielder, followed, poling +out an infield drive which, to the amazement of +the crowd, he nearly turned into a safety by the +most surprising dash to first. Impossible though +it seemed, the chunky, short-legged fellow could +run like a deer, and when he was cut down by little +more than a yard at the hassock he vehemently +protested that it was robbery.</p> + +<p>Locke was taking it easy now; he almost seemed +to invite a situation that would again put his arm +to the test. There was a queer feeling in his shoulder, +a feeling he did not like, and he wondered if +he could “tighten” in repeated pinches, as he had +so frequently done when facing the best batters +in the business. But, though he grooved one to +Schaeffer, the catcher boosted an easy fly to Watson +in left field.</p> + +<p>Wiley went through the second inning unharmed, +although, with two down, Colby landed on the +horsehide for two sacks. Coming next, Gates bit +at a slow one and lifted a foul to the third baseman.</p> + +<p>“Now give me my faithful bludgeon,” cried the +Marine Marvel, making for the bats. “Watch me +start something! I’m going to lacerate the feelings +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85'></a>85</span> +of this man Lefty. I hate to do it, but I hear +the clarion call of duty.”</p> + +<p>Locke decided to strike Wiley out. Wiley picked +out a smoking shoot, and banged it on a line for one +sack.</p> + +<p>“Nice tidy little bingle, wasn’t it, mate?” he +cried. “I fancied mayhap Dame Rumor had slandered +you, but alas! I fear me you are easy for a +real batter with an eye.”</p> + +<p>Nuccio was up again, and he also hit safely, +Wiley going to third on the drive. Locke’s teeth +clicked together. Was it possible that real batters +could find him with such ease? If so, the Big +League would see him no more; he would not return +to it. If so, his days as a pitcher were surely +ended. For a moment Bailey Weegman’s grinning +face again rose vaguely before him.</p> + +<p>“I must know!” he muttered. “I must settle +these infernal doubts that are torturing me.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86'></a>86</span><a id='link_10'></a>CHAPTER X<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE ONLY DOOR</span></h2> + +<p>Luther Bemis blundered. He had been +given the signal to let Nuccio steal, but he +hit at the ball and raised a foul to Colby, +who stepped back upon first and completed a +double play unassisted, the Italian having made a +break for second. Nuccio was disgusted, and +Cap’n Wiley made a few remarks to Bemis that +caused the lengthy center fielder to retire to the +bench in confusion.</p> + +<p>“There has been a sudden addition to the bone +crop,” concluded the vexed manager of the Wind +Jammers. “Beamy, in order to avoid getting +your dates mixed, you should carry a telescope +and take an occasional survey of the earth’s surface.”</p> + +<p>“Niver mind, cap’n,” called O’Reilley. “I’ll +put ye across whin I hit.”</p> + +<p>With a twinge of apprehension, Locke sought +to trick the confident Irishman into biting at a +curve. And, even as he pitched, he was annoyed +with himself because apprehension prevented +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87'></a>87</span> +him from bending the ball over. O’Reilley stubbornly +declined to bite.</p> + +<p>There was a sudden chorus of warning shouts +as Sommers returned the ball, and the pitcher was +surprised to see Cap’n Wiley running for the registry +station. The foxy old veteran was actually +trying to steal home on the Big League pitcher. +Laughing, Lefty waited for the ball, aware that +Sommers was leaping into position to nail the +runner. Without undue haste, yet without wasting +a second, the slabman snapped the sphere back +to the eager hands of the catcher, who poked it into +the sliding man’s ribs. Wiley was out by four +feet, at least.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you wait for O’Reilley to hit?” +Locke asked.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to spare your already tattered +nerves,” was the instant answer. “You see, sympathy +may be found elsewhere than in the dictionary.”</p> + +<p>Still floundering in the bog of doubt, Lefty was +far from satisfied. He had told himself that he invited +the test which would give him the answer he +sought, yet he realized that, face to face with it, +he had felt a shrinking, a qualm, akin to actual +dread; and he was angry with himself because he +drew a breath of relief when the blundering and +reckless playing of the Wind Jammers postponed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88'></a>88</span> +the ordeal, leaving him still groping in the +dark.</p> + +<p>Sommers led off with a hot grounder, which +O’Reilley booted. Playing the game, Locke +bunted, advancing Sommers and perishing himself +at first.</p> + +<p>“Cleverly done,” admitted Cap’n Wiley, “but +it will avail you naught. I shall now proceed to +decorate the pill with the oil of elusion.”</p> + +<p>A friend called to Lefty in the crowd back of +first, and the pitcher walked back to exchange a +few words with him. He was turning away when a +hand fell on his arm, and he looked round to find +Weegman there. The man’s face wore a supercilious +and knowing smile.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean to attend this game,” said Weegman, +“but, having the time, I decided to watch +part of it, as it would give me a good chance to +settle a certain point definitely in my mind. What +I’ve seen has been quite enough. Your arm is +gone, Locke, and you know it. You’re laboring +like a longshoreman against this bunch of bushers, +and, working hard as you are, you couldn’t hold +them only for their dub playing. I admit that +you struck out some of their weakest stickers, but +you were forced to the limit to do it, and it made +that injured wing of yours wilt. They had you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89'></a>89</span> +going in the last round, and threw away their +chance by bonehead playing.”</p> + +<p>“Weegman,” said Locke, “I’m tired of hearing +you talk. The sound of your voice makes me +weary.”</p> + +<p>But instead of being disturbed the man chuckled. +“The truth frequently is unpleasant,” he returned; +“and you know I am speaking the raw +truth. Now I like you, Locke; I’ve always liked +you, and I hate to see you go down and out for +good. That’s what it means if you don’t accept +my offer. As manager of the Blue Stockings, you +can hold your job this season if you don’t pitch a +ball; it’ll enable you to stay in the business in a +new capacity, and you’ll not be dependent on your +arm. A pitcher’s arm may fail him any time. As +a manager, you may last indefinitely.”</p> + +<p>“It would be a crime if the sort of a manager +you want lasted a month.”</p> + +<p>“If you don’t come at my terms, you may kiss +yourself good-by. The Feds are going to learn +that your flinger is gone; be sure of that.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a threat?”</p> + +<p>“A warning. If their crazy offer has tempted +you, put the temptation aside. That offer will be +withdrawn. Every manager and magnate in the +business is going to know that as a pitcher you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90'></a>90</span> +have checked in. There’s only one door for you +to return by, and I’m holding it open.” He +laughed and placed his hand again ingratiatingly +upon Locke’s arm.</p> + +<p>Locke shook it off instantly. “Were I as big a +rascal as you, Weegman,” he said, with limitless +contempt, “I’d make a dash through that door. +Thank Heaven, I’m not!”</p> + +<p>The baffled man snapped his fingers. “You are +using language you’ll regret!” he harshly declared, +although he maintained his smiling demeanor +to such a degree that any one a few yards +distant might have fancied the conversation between +the two was of the pleasantest sort.</p> + +<p>Lefty returned to the coaching line, taking the +place of Tremain; for Wiley had issued a pass to +Hallett, Watson was at bat, and the doctor followed +Watson. Instantly sizing up the situation, +the southpaw signaled for a double steal, and both +runners started with the first movement of the +pitcher’s delivery. Schaeffer’s throw to third was +not good, and Sommers slid under. Hallett had +no trouble about reaching second.</p> + +<p>“What are you trying to pull off here?” cried +the manager of the Wind Jammers. “Such behavior +is most inconsiderate, or words to that effect. +However it simply makes it necessary for +me to inject a few more kinks into the horsehide.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91'></a>91</span>Admittedly he did hand up some peculiar curves +to Watson, but his control was so poor that none +of the twisters came over and like Hallett, the +left fielder walked. This peopled the corners.</p> + +<p>“Here,” said Wiley, still chipper and undisturbed, +“is that jolly soul who obligingly batted an +easy one into my fin the last time. I passed the +last hitter in order to get at this kind party +again.”</p> + +<p>Tremain let one pitch go by, but the next one +pleased him, and he cracked the ball on the nose. +It was a two-base drive, which enabled the runners +already on to score. As the three raced over the +plate, one after another, Wiley was seen violently +wigwagging toward the bench. In response to +his signal, Mysterious Jones rose promptly and +prepared to warm up with the second catcher.</p> + +<p>“I’m off to-day; perhaps I should say I’m awful,” +admitted the Marine Marvel. “A spazoozum +like that is sufficient to open my eyes to the +humiliating fact that I’m not pitching up to class. +In a few minutes, however, you’ll have an opportunity +to see Mr. Jones uncork some of the real +stuff.”</p> + +<p>Wiley dallied with the next batter for the purpose +of giving the dummy pitcher time to shake +the kinks out of his arm. Apparently Jones did +not need much time in which to get ready, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92'></a>92</span> +when the sailor presently dealt out another pass +the relief twirler signified his willingness to assume +the burden.</p> + +<p>As Jones walked out upon the diamond, Locke +looked around vainly for Weegman. It was possible, +of course, that Collier’s private secretary +had departed at once following his last rebuff, +but somehow Lefty felt that he was still lingering +and taking pains not to be seen by Mysterious +Jones. Suddenly the southpaw felt a desire to +bring the two men face to face, wondering what +would happen. There was more than a possibility +that such a meeting might present some dramatic +features.</p> + +<p>Turning back, Lefty’s eyes followed Jones. +The interest and fascination he had felt at first +sight of the man returned, taking hold upon him +powerfully and intensely. There was something +in the solemn face of the mute that spoke of shattered +hopes, deep and abiding sorrow, despair, +tragedy. He was like one who stood aloof even +while he mingled with mankind. Knowing other +mutes, many of whom seemed happy and contented, +Locke could not believe that the peculiarities +of Mysterious Jones were wholly due to resentment +against the affliction which fate had +placed upon him. Behind it all there must lay a +story with perhaps more than one dark page.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93'></a>93</span><a id='link_11'></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><span class='h2fs'>BURNING SPEED</span></h2> + +<p>As a pitcher, Jones displayed no needless +flourishes. His style of delivery was +simple but effective. Into the swing of +his long arm he put the throwing force of his fine +shoulder and sinewy body. Wiley had exaggerated +in boasting of the mute’s speed; nevertheless +that speed was something to marvel at. Norris, +the clean-up man of the Grays, who preferred +smokers to any other kind, was too slow in striking +at the first two pitched to him by Jones. Norris +looked astounded and incredulous, and the +spectators gasped.</p> + +<p>“That’s his slow one, mates!” cried Wiley. +“Pretty soon, when he gets loosened up, he’ll let +out a link or two and burn a few across. The +daisies are growing above the only man he ever hit +with the ball.”</p> + +<p>Although Norris was not slow in swinging at +the next one, the sphere took a shoot that deceived +him, and the mute had disposed of the first hitter +with three pitched balls.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94'></a>94</span>“And the wiseacres say there are no real heavers +left in the bushes!” whooped Cap’n Wiley.</p> + +<p>Locke was thrilled. Could it be that here was +a discovery, a find, a treasure like a diamond in +the rough, left around underfoot amid pebbles? +The Big League scouts are the grubstakers, the +prospectors, the treasure hunters of baseball; +ceaselessly and tirelessly they scour the country +even to the remote corners and out-of-the-way regions +where the game nourishes in the crude, lured +on constantly by the hope of making a big find. +To them the unearthing of a ball player of real +ability and promise is like striking the outcroppings +of a Comstock or a Kimberly; and among +the cheering surface leads that they discover, a +hundred peter out into worthlessness, where one +develops into a property of value. More and +more the scouts complain that the ground has been +raked over again and again and the prizes are +growing fewer and farther between; yet every +now and then, where least expected, one of +them will turn up something rich that has been +overlooked by journeying too far afield. The +fancy that Mysterious Jones might be one of these +unnoticed nuggets set Locke’s pulses throbbing.</p> + +<p>Jones had appeared to be a trifle slender in +street clothes, but now Lefty could see that he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95'></a>95</span> +was the possessor of fine muscles and whipcord +sinews. There was no ounce of unnecessary flesh +upon him anywhere; he was like an athlete trained +to the minute and hardened for an enduring test +by long and continuous work. There seemed little +likelihood that protracted strain would expose a +flaw. He had speed and stamina; if he possessed +the required skill and brains, there was every reason +to think that he might “deliver the goods.” +With the advent of the silent man upon the mound, +Locke’s attention became divided between doubts +about himself and interest in the performance of +the mute.</p> + +<p>Hampton, who followed Norris, was quite as +helpless against the dazzling speed of Jones; he +could not even foul the ball. “Great smoke, +Locke!” he exclaimed, pausing on his way to center +field. “That man’s a terror! He seems to +groove them all, but you can’t see them come +over.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he can’t keep it up,” said Lefty.</p> + +<p>“I hope not. If he does, we’ve got to win on +the runs we’ve made already; there’ll be no more +scoring for us. It’s up to you to hold them +down.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw held them in the fourth, but he +did so by working his head fully as much as his +arm. By this time he had learned something of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96'></a>96</span> +the hitting weaknesses of the Wind Jammers, and +he played upon those weaknesses successfully. To +his teammates and the spectators the performance +was satisfactory; to him it proved only that his +brain, if not his arm, was still in perfect condition.</p> + +<p>Mysterious Jones came back with two strikeouts; +in fact, he struck Sommers, the third man, +out also; but the whistling, shooting sphere went +through the catcher, and Sommers raced to first +on the error. This brought Locke up, and he was +eager to hit against Jones. He missed the first +one cleanly, but fouled the next two, which was +better than any one else had done. Then the silent +man put something more on the ball, and +Lefty failed to touch it.</p> + +<p>“Nice little pitcher, don’t you think?” inquired +Cap’n Wiley blandly.</p> + +<p>“He behaves well, very well,” admitted the +southpaw.</p> + +<p>The Grays implored Locke to keep the enemy in +hand; the crowd entreated him. This was the +game they desired to win. To them it was a struggle +of vital importance, and the winning or losing +of it was the only question of moment. They did +not dream of something a thousand times more +momentous involving Lefty Locke.</p> + +<p>Loyal to the team and its supporters, the southpaw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97'></a>97</span> +could not take needless chances of losing, no +matter how much he longed to be put upon his +mettle and forced to the last notch. Therefore +he continued to work his head while on the slab. +Schaeffer fouled out, Jones fanned indifferently, +and Nuccio popped to shortstop.</p> + +<p>“Lucky boy!” called Wiley. “But things +won’t always break so well for you. You’ll have +to go your limit before the game is over.”</p> + +<p>“I hope so,” said Lefty.</p> + +<p>Hallett caught one of Jones’ whistlers on the +end of his bat and drove it straight into the hands +of the first baseman.</p> + +<p>“Hooray!” laughed Watson. “At least that +shows that he can be hit.”</p> + +<p>“A blind man might hit one in a million if he +kept his bat swinging,” scoffed Wiley. “Let’s +see you do as much.”</p> + +<p>Watson could not do as much; he fanned three +times. Then Jones pitched four balls to Tremain, +and the doctor placed himself in Watson’s class.</p> + +<p>The game had become a pitchers’ battle, with +one twirler cutting the batters down with burning +speed and shoots, while the other held them in +check through the knowledge he had swiftly acquired +regarding their shortcomings with the +stick. In every way the performance of Jones +was the most spectacular, and in the crowd scores +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98'></a>98</span> +of persons were beginning to tell one another that +the mute was the greater pitcher.</p> + +<p>The truth was, experience in fast company had +taught Lefty Locke to conserve his energies; like +Mathewson, he believed that the eight players who +supported him should shoulder a share of the defensive +work, and it was not his practice to “put +everything on the ball,” with the cushions clean. +Only when pinches came did he tighten and burn +them across. Nor was he in that class of pitchers +who are continually getting themselves into holes +by warping them wide to lure batters into reaching; +for he had found that a twirler who followed +such a method would be forced to go the limit by +cool and heady batters who made a practice of +“waiting it out.” Having that prime requisite of +all first-class moundmen, splendid control, he +sought out an opponent’s weakest spot and kept +the ball there, compelling the man to strike at the +kind from which he was least likely to secure effective +drives. This had led a large number of +the fans who fancied themselves wise to hold fast +to their often-expressed belief that the southpaw +was lucky, but they were always looking for the +opposition to fall on him and hammer him all over +the lot.</p> + +<p>Therefore it was not strange that the crowd, assembled +to watch the game in Fernandon, should +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99'></a>99</span> +soon come to regard the mute, with his blinding +speed and jagged shoots, as the superior slabman. +Apparently without striving for effect, Jones was +a spectacular performer; mechanical skill and +superabundant energy were his to the limit. But +Locke knew that something more was needed for +a man to make good in the Big League. Nevertheless, +with such a foundation to build upon, unless +the fellow should be flawed by some overshadowing +natural weakness that made him impossible, +coaching, training, and experience were the rungs +of the ladder by which he might mount close to the +top.</p> + +<p>Loyal to the core, Lefty was thinking of the +pitching staff of the Blue Stockings, weakened by +deflections to the Federals, possibly by his own inability +to return. For a little time, even Weegman +was forgotten. Anyway, the southpaw had +not yet come to regard it as a settled thing that +Bailey Weegman would be permitted to undermine +and destroy the great organization, if such was +his culpable design; in some manner the scoundrel +would be blocked and baffled.</p> + +<p>The sixth inning saw no break in the run of the +game between the Grays and the Wind Jammers. +Bemis, O’Reilley, and Schepps all hit Locke, but +none hit safely, while Jones slaughtered three of +the locals by the strike-out method. As Wiley had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100'></a>100</span> +stated was the silent man’s custom, he seemed to +be seeking revenge on the world for giving him a +raw deal.</p> + +<p>When Oleson began the seventh with a weak +grounder and “got a life” through an error, Lefty +actually felt a throb of satisfaction, for it seemed +that the test might be forced upon him at last. +But the Swede attempted to steal on the first pitch +to Rickey, and Sommers threw him out. Rickey +then lifted a high fly just back of first base, and +Colby put him out of his misery. Plum batted +an easy one to second.</p> + +<p>“There’s only one thing for me to do,” thought +Locke. “I’ve got to work the strike-out stuff in +the next two innings, just as if men were on bases, +and see if I’ve got it. The game will be over +if I wait any longer for a real pinch.”</p> + +<p>When Jones had polished off Gates and Sommers, +Locke stepped out to face the mute the second +time. Having watched the man and analyzed +his performance, the southpaw felt that he should +be able to obtain a hit. “If I can’t lay the club +against that ball,” he told himself, “then that fellow’s +putting something on it beside speed and +curves; he’s using brains also.”</p> + +<p>Cap’n Wiley jumped up from the bench and did +a sailor’s hornpipe. “This is the life!” he cried. +“The real thing against the real thing! Take +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101'></a>101</span> +soundings, Lefty; you’re running on shoals. +You’ll be high and dry in a minute.”</p> + +<p>Straight and silent, Jones stood and looked at +the Big League player, both hands holding the ball +hidden before him. Wiley ceased his dancing and +shouting and a hush settled on the crowd. To +Locke it seemed that the eyes of the voiceless +pitcher were plumbing the depths of his mind and +searching out his hidden thoughts; there came to +Lefty a ridiculous fancy that by some telepathic +method the man on the slab could fathom his purposes +and so make ready to defeat them. An uncanny +feeling crept upon him, and he was annoyed. +Jones pitched, and the batsman missed a marvelous +drop, which he had not been expecting.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I’ll have to revise my theory about +him not using brains,” was the southpaw’s mental +admission.</p> + +<p>The next two pitches were both a trifle wide, and +Lefty declined to bite at either. For the first time, +as if he knew that here was a test, Jones appeared +to be trying to “work” the batter. Locke fouled +the following one.</p> + +<p>“That’s all there is to it,” declared Wiley, +“and I’m excruciatingly surprised that there +should be even that much. Go ’way back, Mr. +Locke!”</p> + +<p>Again Jones surveyed Lefty with his piercing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102'></a>102</span> +eyes, and for the third time he pitched a shoot that +was not quite across. As if he had known it would +not be over, the batsman made not even the slightest +move to swing.</p> + +<p>“Some guessing match!” confessed the Marine +Marvel. “Now, however, let me give you my +plighted word of dishonor that you’re going to behold +a specimen of the superfluous speed Jonesy +keeps on tap for special occasions. Hold your +breath and see if you can see it go by.”</p> + +<p>The ball did not go by; Lefty hit it fairly and +sent a safety humming to right.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103'></a>103</span><a id='link_12'></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><span class='h2fs'>TOO MUCH TEMPTATION</span></h2> + +<p>“Is it poss-i-bill!” gasped Cap’n Wiley, staggering +and clutching at his forehead. “I +am menaced by a swoon! Water! Whisky! +I’ll accept anything to revive me!”</p> + +<p>Fred Hallett hurried to the pan with his bat. +“It’s my turn now,” he said. “We’ve started on +him, and we should all hit him.”</p> + +<p>Locke signalled that he would steal, and Hallett +let the first one pass. Lefty went down the +line like a streak, but Schaeffer made a throw that +forced him to hit the dirt and make a hook slide. +He caught his spikes in the bag and gave his ankle +a twist that sent a pain shooting up his leg.</p> + +<p>“Safe!” declared the umpire.</p> + +<p>Locke did not get up. The crowd saw him drag +himself to the bag and sit on it, rubbing his ankle. +Schepps bent over him solicitously.</p> + +<p>“Dat was a nice little crack, pal,” said the sandlotter, +“and a nifty steal. Hope youse ain’t +hoited.”</p> + +<p>But Lefty had sprained his ankle so seriously +that he required assistance to walk from the field. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104'></a>104</span> +A runner was put in his place, although Wiley informed +them that they need not take the trouble. +And Wiley was right, for Jones struck Hallett out.</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Locke to continue pitching, +so Matthews took his place. And the southpaw +was left still uncertain and doubtful; the game had +not provided the test he courted. Weegman apparently +had departed; there was no question in +the mind of Charles Collier’s representative, and, +angered by the rebuff he had encountered, he was +pretty certain to spread the report that the great +southpaw was “all in.” He had practically +threatened to do this when he declared that every +manager and magnate in the business would soon +know that Locke’s pitching days were over.</p> + +<p>The Wind Jammers, spurred on by Cap’n +Wiley, went after Matthews aggressively, and for +a time it appeared certain that they were going +to worry him off his feet. With only one down, +they pushed a runner across in the eighth, and +there were two men on the sacks when a double +play blighted their prospect of tying up, perhaps +of taking the lead, at once.</p> + +<p>As Jones continued invulnerable in the last of +the eighth, the visitors made their final assault +upon Matthews in the ninth. But fortune was +against them. The game ended with Wiley greatly +disappointed, though still cheerful.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105'></a>105</span>“A little frost crept into my elbow in the far-away +regions of the North,” he admitted. “I’ll +shake it out in time. If I’d started old Jonesy +against Lefty, there would have been a different +tale to tell.”</p> + +<p>The Wind Jammers were booked to play in +Jacksonville the following afternoon, but they remained +in Fernandon overnight. Seated on the +veranda of the Magnolia, Wiley was enjoying a +cigar after the evening meal, and romancing, as +usual, when Locke appeared, limping, with the aid +of a cane.</p> + +<p>“It grieves me to behold your sorry plight,” +said the Marine Marvel sympathetically. “I cajole +with you most deprecatingly. But why, if +you were going to get hurt at all, weren’t you +obliging enough to do it somewhat earlier in the +pastime? That would have given my faithful +henchmen a chance to put the game away on ice.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t be sure about that,” returned +Lefty. “You collected no more scores off Matthews +than you did off me.”</p> + +<p>“But you passed us six nice, ripe goose eggs, +while he dealt out only one. There was a difference +that could be distinguished with the unclothed +optic. Nevertheless, it seems to me that Jones +had something on you; while he officiated, you +were the only person who did any gamboling on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106'></a>106</span> +the cushions, and what you did didn’t infect the +result. What do you think of Jones?”</p> + +<p>“Will you lend me your ear while I express my +opinion privately?”</p> + +<p>“With the utmost perspicacity,” said Wiley, +rising. “Within my boudoir–excuse my fluid +French–I’ll uncork either ear you prefer and let +you pour it full to overflowing.”</p> + +<p>In the privacy of Wiley’s room, without beating +around the bush, Locke stated that he believed +Jones promising material for the Big League, and +that he wished to size up the man.</p> + +<p>“While I have no scouting commission or authority,” +said Lefty, “if Kennedy should manage +the Blue Stockings this season, he’d stand by my +judgment. The team must have pitchers. Of +course, some will be bought in the regular manner, +but I know that, on my advice, Kennedy would +take Jones on and give him a show to make good, +just as he gave me a chance when I was a busher. +I did not climb up by way of the minors; I made +one clean jump from the back pastures into the Big +League.”</p> + +<p>“Mate,” said Wiley, “let me tell you something +a trifle bazaar: Jones hasn’t the remotest ambition +in the world to become a baseball pitcher.”</p> + +<p>Locke stared at him incredulously. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107'></a>107</span> +swarthy little man was serious–at least, as serious +as he could be.</p> + +<p>“Then,” asked the southpaw, “why is he pitching?”</p> + +<p>“Tell <i>me!</i> I’ve done a little prognosticating +over that question.”</p> + +<p>“You say he does not talk about himself. How +do you–”</p> + +<p>“Let me elucidate, if I can. I told you I ran +across Jones in Alaska. I saw him pitch in a baseball +match in Nome. How he came to ingratiate +himself into that contest I am unable to state. +Nobody seemed able to tell me. All I found out +about him was that he was one of three partners +who had a valuable property somewhere up in the +Jade Mountain region–not a prospect, but a real, +bony-fido mine. Already they had received offers +for the property, and any day they could sell out +for a sum salubrious enough to make them all scandalously +wealthy. They had entered into some +sort of an agreement that bound them all to hold +on until two of the three should vote to sell; Jones +was tied up under this contraction.</p> + +<p>“I had grown weary of the vain search for the +root of all evil. For me that root has always been +more slippery than a squirming eel; every time I +thought I had it by the tail it would wriggle out of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108'></a>108</span> +my eager clutch and get away. I longed for the +fleshpots of my own native heath. Watching that +ball game in Nome, my blood churned in my veins +until it nearly turned to butter. Once more, in my +well-fertilized fancy, I saw myself towering the +country with my Wind Jammers; and, could I secure +Jonesy for my star flinger, I knew I would be +able to make my return engagement a scintillating +and scandalous success. With him for a nucleus, +I felt confident that I could assemble together a +bunch of world beaters. I resolved to go after +Jones. I went, without dalliance. I got him corralled +in a private room and locked the door on +him.</p> + +<p>“Mate, I am a plain and simple soul, given not +a jot or tittle to exaggeration, yet I am ready to +affirm–I never swear; it’s profane–that I had +the tussle of my life with Jones. Parenthetically +speaking, we wrestled all over that room for about +five solid hours. I had supplied myself with forty +reams of writing paper, a bushel basket full of lead +pencils, and two dictionaries. When I finally subdued +Jones, I was using a stub of the last pencil +in the basket, was on the concluding sheet of +paper, had contracted writer’s cramp, and the dictionaries +were mere torn and tattered wrecks. +In the course of that argument, I am certain I +wrote every word in the English language, besides +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109'></a>109</span> +coining a few thousand of my own. I had practically +exhausted every form of persuasion, and +was on the verge of lying down and taking the +count. Then, by the rarest chance, I hit upon the +right thing. I wrote a paregoric upon the joys of +traveling around over the United States from city +to city, from town to town, of visiting every place +of importance in the whole broad land, of meeting +practically every living human being in the +country who was alive and deserved to be met. +Somehow that got him; I don’t know why, but it +did. I saw his eyes gleam and his somber face +change as he read that last wild stab of mine. It +struck home; he agreed to go. I had conquered.</p> + +<p>“Now, mark ye well, the amount of his salary +had not a whit to do with it, and he entertained +absolutely no ambish to become a baseball pitcher. +He was compelled to leave his partners up there +running the mine, and to rely upon their honesty +to give him a square deal. You have been told +how he promulgates around over every new place +he visits and stares strangers out of countenance. +Whether or not he’s otherwise wrong in his garret, +he’s certainly ‘off’ on that stunt. That’s how I’m +able to keep him on the parole of this club of +mine.”</p> + +<p>“In short, he’s a sort of monomaniac?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps that’s it.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110'></a>110</span>Lefty did a bit of thinking. “You’ve been touring +the smaller cities and the towns in which an independent +ball team would be most likely to draw. +In the large cities of a Big League circuit there are +thousands upon thousands of persons Jones has +never met. He could work a whole season in such +a circuit and continue to see hosts of strangers +every time he visited any one of the cities included. +Under such circumstances he would have the same +incentive that he has now. If he can be induced +to make the change, I’ll take a chance on him, and +I’ll see that you are well paid to use your persuasive +powers to lead him to accept my proposition.”</p> + +<p>“But you stated that you had no legal authority +to make such a deal.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t; but I am willing to take a chance, +with the understanding that the matter is to be +kept quiet until I shall be able to put through an +arrangement that will make it impossible for any +manager in organized ball to steal him away.”</p> + +<p>Wiley shook his head. “I couldn’t get along +without him, Lefty; he’s the mainsheet of the +Wind Jammers. It would be like chucking the +sextant and the compass overboard. We’d be +adrift without any instrument to give us our position +or anything to lay a course by.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111'></a>111</span>“If you don’t sell him to me, some manager is +going to take him from you without handing you +as much as a lonesome dollar in return. You can’t +dodge the Big League scouts; it’s a wonder you’ve +dodged them as long as you have. They’re bound +to spot Jones and gobble him up. Do you prefer +to sell him or to have him snatched?”</p> + +<p>“What will you give for him?”</p> + +<p>“Now you’re talking business. If I can put +through the deal I’m figuring on, I’ll give you five +hundred dollars, which, considering the conditions, +is more than a generous price.”</p> + +<p>“Five hundred dollars! Is there that much +money to be found in one lump anywhere in the +world?”</p> + +<p>“I own some Blue Stockings stock, so you see I +have a financial, as well as a sentimental, interest +in the club. I’m going to fight hard to prevent it +from being wrecked. As long as it can stay in the +first division it will continue to be a money-maker, +but already the impression has become current +that the team is riddled, and the stock has +slumped. There are evil forces at work. I don’t +know the exact purpose these forces are aiming at, +but I’m a pretty good guesser. The property is +mighty valuable for some people to get hold of if +they can get it cheap enough.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112'></a>112</span>“They’re even saying that you’re extremely to +the bad. What do you think about it yourself, +Lefty?”</p> + +<p>Locke flushed. “Time will answer that.”</p> + +<p>“You look like a fighter,” said Wiley. “I wish +you luck.”</p> + +<p>“But what do you say to my proposition? Give +me a flat answer.”</p> + +<p>“Five hundred dollars!” murmured the Marine +Marvel, licking his lips. “I’m wabbling on +the top rail of the fence.”</p> + +<p>“Fall one way or the other.”</p> + +<p>Heaving a sigh, the sailor rose to his feet, and +gave his trousers a hitch. “Let’s interview +Jones,” he proposed.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113'></a>113</span><a id='link_13'></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE PERPLEXING QUESTION</span></h2> + +<p>The following morning Lefty Locke received +two letters. One was from the Federal +League headquarters in Chicago, urging +him to accept the offer of the manager who had +made such a tempting proposal to him. The position, +it stated, was still his for the taking, and +he was pressed to wire agreement to the terms +proposed.</p> + +<p>The other letter was from Locke’s father, a +clergyman residing in a small New Jersey town. +The contents proved disturbing. The Reverend +Mr. Hazelton’s savings of a lifetime had been invested +in a building and loan association, and the +association had failed disastrously. Practically +everything the clergyman possessed in the world +would be swept away; it seemed likely that he +would lose his home.</p> + +<p>Lefty’s face grew pale and grim as he read this +letter. He went directly to his wife and told her. +Janet was distressed.</p> + +<p>“What can be done?” she cried. “You must +do something, Lefty! Your father and mother, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114'></a>114</span> +at their age, turned out of their home! It is terrible! +What can you do?”</p> + +<p>Locke considered a moment. “If I had not invested +the savings of my baseball career in Blue +Stockings stock,” he said regretfully, “I’d have +enough now to save their home for them.”</p> + +<p>“But can’t you sell the stock?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, for half what I paid for it–perhaps. +That wouldn’t he enough. You’re right in saying +I must do something, but what can I–” He +stopped, staring at the other letter. He sat down, +still staring at it, and Janet came and put her arm +about him.</p> + +<p>“Here’s something!” he exclaimed suddenly.</p> + +<p>“What, dear?”</p> + +<p>“This letter from Federal League headquarters, +urging me to grab the offer the Feds have made +me. Twenty-seven thousand dollars for three +years, a certified check for the first year’s salary, +and a thousand dollars bonus. That means that I +can get ten thousand right in my hand by signing +a Federal contract–more than enough to save my +folks.”</p> + +<p>Janet’s face beamed, and she clapped her hands. +“I had forgotten about their offer! Why, you’re +all right! It’s just the thing.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder?”</p> + +<p>She looked at him, and grew sober. “Oh, you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115'></a>115</span> +don’t want to go to the Federals? You’re afraid +they won’t last?”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t that.”</p> + +<p>“No?”</p> + +<p>“No, girl. If there was nothing else to restrain +me, I’d take the next train for Chicago, and put my +fist to a Fed contract just as soon as I could. I +need ten thousand dollars now, and need it more +than I ever before needed money.”</p> + +<p>Janet ran her fingers through his hair, bending +forward to scan his serious and perplexed face. +She could see that he was fighting a battle silently, +grimly. She longed to aid him in solving the problem +by which he was confronted, but realizing that +she could not quite put herself in his place, and +that, therefore, her advice might not come from the +height of wisdom and experience, she held herself +in check. Should he ask counsel of her she +would give the best she could.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she said, after a little period of silence, +“that you must think of your financial interest +in the Blue Stockings.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not spending a moment’s thought on that +now. I’m thinking of old Jack Kennedy and +Charles Collier; of Bailey Weegman and his +treachery, for I believe he is treacherous to the +core. I’m thinking also of something else I don’t +like to think about.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116'></a>116</span>“Tell me,” she urged.</p> + +<p>He looked up at her, and smiled wryly. Then +he felt of his left shoulder. “It’s this,” he said.</p> + +<p>She caught her breath. “But you said you were +going to give your arm the real test yesterday. +The Grays won, and the score was three to one +when you hurt your ankle and were forced to quit. +I thought you were satisfied.”</p> + +<p>“I very much doubt if the Grays would have +won had not Cap’n Wiley insisted upon pitching +the opening innings for his team. The man who +followed him did not permit us to score at all. I +was the only one who got a safe hit off him. The +test was not satisfactory, Janet.”</p> + +<p>Her face grew white. It was not like Lefty to +lack confidence in himself. During the past +months, although his injured arm had seemed to +improve with disheartening slowness, he had insisted +that it would come round all right before the +season opened. Yet lately he had not appeared +quite so optimistic. And now, after the game +which was to settle his doubts, he seemed more +doubtful than before. She believed that he was +holding something back, that he was losing heart, +but as long as there was any hope remaining he +would try not to burden her with his worries.</p> + +<p>Suddenly she clutched his shoulders with her +slender hands. “It’s all wrong!” she cried. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117'></a>117</span> +“You’ve given up the best that was in you for the +Blue Stockings. You’ve done the work of two +pitchers. They won’t let you go now. Even if +your arm is bad at the beginning of the season, +they’ll keep you on and give you a chance to get +it back into condition.”</p> + +<p>“Old Jack Kennedy would, but I have my doubts +about any other manager.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean that they’d let you go outright, +just drop you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s possible they’d try to sell me or trade +me. If they could work me off on to some one who +wasn’t wise, probably they’d do it. That’s not +reckoning on Weegman. He’s so sore and vindictive +that he may spread the report that I’ve +pitched my wing off. I fancy he wouldn’t care a +rap if that did lose Collier the selling price that +could be got for me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I just hate to hear you talk about being +traded or sold! It doesn’t sound as if you were +a human being and this a free country. Cattle are +traded and sold.”</p> + +<p>“Cattle and ball players.”</p> + +<p>“It’s wrong! Isn’t there any way–”</p> + +<p>“The Federals are showing the way.”</p> + +<p>“Your sympathy’s with them. You’re not +bound to the Blue Stockings; you’re still your own +free agent.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118'></a>118</span>“Under the circumstances what would you have +me do?”</p> + +<p>At last he had asked her advice. Now she could +speak. She did so eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Accept the offer the Federals have made you.”</p> + +<p>“My dear,” he said, “would you have me do +that, with my own mind in doubt as to whether or +not I was worth a dollar to them? Would you +have me take the ten thousand I could get, knowing +all the time that they might be paying it for +a has-been who wasn’t worth ten cents? Would +that be honest?”</p> + +<p>“You can be honest, then,” she hurriedly declared. +“No one knows for a certainty, not even +yourself, that you can’t come back to your old +form. You can go to the manager and tell him +the truth about yourself. Can’t you do that?”</p> + +<p>“And then what? Probably he wouldn’t want +me after that at any price.”</p> + +<p>“You can make a fair bargain with him. You +can have it put in the contract that you are to get +that money if you do come back and make good +as a pitcher.”</p> + +<p>Lefty laughed. “I think it would be the first +time on record that a ball player ever went to a +manager who was eager to sign him up, and made +such a proposition. It would be honest, Janet; +but if the manager believed me, if he saw I was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119'></a>119</span> +serious, do you fancy he’d feel like coming across +with the first year’s salary in advance and the +bonus? You see I can’t raise the money I need, +and be honest.”</p> + +<p>She wrung her hands and came back to the first +question that had leaped from her lips: “What +can you do?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I’ll make any decisive move until +I find out what sort of queer business is going on +in the Blue Stockings camp. I could get money +through Kennedy if he were coming back. Everything +is up in the air.”</p> + +<p>“How can you find out, away down here? +You’re too far away from the places where things +are doing.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve been looking for a telegram from old Jack, +an answer to mine. I feel confident I’ll get a wire +from him as soon as he reads my letter. Meanwhile +I’ll write to my parents and try to cheer +them up. It’s bound to take a little time to settle +up the affairs of that building and loan association. +Time is what I need now.”</p> + +<p>That very day Locke received a telegram from +Jack Kennedy:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>Meet me at the Grand, Indianapolis, the twenty-third. +Don’t fail.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>A train carried Lefty north that night.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120'></a>120</span><a id='link_14'></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>ONLY ONE WAY</span></h2> + +<p>The registry clerk stated that no Mr. Kennedy +was stopping at the Grand Hotel. +Locke was disappointed, for he had expected +old Jack would be waiting for him. However, +the veteran manager would, doubtless, appear +later. Lefty registered, and the clerk tossed +a room key to the boy who was waiting with the +southpaw’s traveling bag.</p> + +<p>As the pitcher turned from the desk he found +himself face to face with a man whom he had seen +on the train. The man, Locke believed, had come +aboard at Louisville. There was something familiar +about the appearance of the stranger, yet +Lefty had not been able to place him. He had narrow +hips, a rather small waist, fine chest development, +and splendid shoulders; his neck was broad +and swelling at the base; his head, with the hair +clipped close, was round as a bullet; his nose had +been broken, and there was an ugly scar upon his +right cheek. He did not look to be at all fat, and +yet he must have weighed close to one hundred and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121'></a>121</span> +ninety. His hands, clenched, would have resembled +miniature battering-rams.</p> + +<p>This person had not taken a look at the register, +yet he addressed the pitcher by name.</p> + +<p>“How are you, Locke?” he said, with a grin that +was half a sneer, half a menace. “I guessed you’d +bring up here.”</p> + +<p>Lefty knew Mit Skullen the moment he spoke. +One-time prize fighter and ball player, Skullen +now posed as a scout employed by the Rockets; +more often he acted as the henchman and bodyguard +of Tom Garrity, owner of the team, and the +best-hated man in the business. Garrity had so +many enemies that he could not keep track of +them; a dozen men had tried to “get” him at different +times, and twice he had been assaulted and +beaten up. Skullen had saved him from injury on +other occasions.</p> + +<p>Garrity was the most sinister figure in organized +baseball. Once a newspaper reporter, he had +somehow obtained control of the Rockets by chicanery +and fraud. Sympathy and gratitude +were sentiments unknown to him. He would work +a winning pitcher to death, and then send the man +shooting down to the minors the moment he +showed the slightest symptom of weakness. He +scoffed at regulations and bylaws; he defied restraint +and control; he was in a constant wrangle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122'></a>122</span> +with other owners and managers; and as a creator +of discord and dissension he held the belt. And +he snapped his fingers in the face of the national +commission. The league longed to get rid of him, +but could not seem to find any method of doing +so.</p> + +<p>“Been lookin’ ’em over a little down South,” +explained Skullen superfluously. “Not much +doin’ this season, but I spotted one pitcher with a +rovin’ bunch o’ freaks who had more smoke and +kinks than you ever showed before you broke your +arm, old boy. And he won’t cost a cent when we +get ready to grab him. Nobody’s wise to him but +me, either. S’pose you’ve come on to meet Weegman, +hey?”</p> + +<p>“Where’d you run across this find?” asked +Locke casually, endeavoring not to appear curious.</p> + +<p>Skullen pulled down one corner of his mouth, +and winked. “T’ink I’ll tell youse, old boy. But +then Texas is a big bunch o’ the map.”</p> + +<p>Texas! The Wind Jammers had come to Florida +from Galveston.</p> + +<p>“Did you have a talk with this unknown wizard?” +questioned Lefty.</p> + +<p>“He didn’t talk much,” returned the scout. +“Oh, you can’t pump me! I know your old Blue +Stocks ain’t got a pitcher left that’s worth a hoot +in Halifax, or hardly a player, for that matter; +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123'></a>123</span> +but I ain’t goin’ to help you out–you an’ Weegman. +You gotter get together an’ do your own +diggin’.”</p> + +<p>“Weegman is in Indianapolis?”</p> + +<p>“As if you didn’t know! Never had no use for +that guy; but, all the same, I advise you to grab +on with him. It’s your only chanct for a baseball +job; everybody in the game’s wise that you’ll +never do no more hurlin’.”</p> + +<p>Boiling inwardly, Locke permitted himself to +be conducted to the elevator. While he was bathing +he thought, with increasing wrath and dismay, +of the insolent words of Skullen. The question +that perplexed him most was how the bruiser knew +anything of Weegman’s business, especially the attempt +to sign Locke as a manager. And Weegman +was in Indianapolis!</p> + +<p>Coming down, Lefty went again to the desk to +inquire about Kennedy. He was handed a telegram. +Tearing it open, he saw that it was from +the Federal manager who had offered him a three +years’ contract. It stated curtly that the offer +was withdrawn. Skullen was right; the story had +gone forth that the star southpaw of the Blue +Stockings would do no more pitching. Weegman +was getting in his fine work.</p> + +<p>Lefty felt a hand grip his elbow.</p> + +<p>“Locke!” A well-dressed, youngish man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124'></a>124</span> +grasped his hand and shook it. It was Franklin +Parlmee, who, for a long time, had evinced deep +interest in Virginia Collier. Parlmee, with family +behind him, and a moderate income, had shown +a distaste for business and a disposition to live the +life of an idler. Collier had refused to countenance +his daughter’s marriage to Parlmee until +the latter should get into some worthy and remunerative +employment, and make good. For two +years Parlmee had been hustling, and he had developed +into a really successful automobile salesman.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” said Parlmee. “I didn’t expect to +run across you here, old man. I’m mighty glad +to see you. Perhaps you can tell me something +about Virginia. What has Mrs. Hazelton heard +from her?”</p> + +<p>The man seemed worried and nervous, and his +question surprised Lefty.</p> + +<p>“If any one should know about Miss Collier, +you are the person,” returned the pitcher. +“Janet has scarcely heard from her since she +sailed with her father. We supposed you were +corresponding with her regularly.”</p> + +<p>Parlmee drew him toward a leather-covered +settee. “I’m pegged out,” he admitted, and he +looked it. “Business forced me to run on or I’d +not be here now. I’m going back to New York to-night. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125'></a>125</span> +Do you know, I’ve received only two letters +from Virginia since she reached the other +side, one from London, the other from Eaux +Chaudes, in France. The latter was posted more +than a month ago. It stated that Virginia and +her father were leaving Eaux Chaudes for Italy. +Since then no letters have come from her.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say you haven’t an idea where +Miss Collier and her father are at the present +time?”</p> + +<p>Parlmee lighted a cigarette. His hands were +not steady. “I haven’t an idea where Charles +Collier is. As for Virginia, she cabled me that +she was sailing on the <i>Victoria</i>, which reached +New York four days ago. I was at the pier to +meet her, but she didn’t arrive, and her name was +not on the passenger list.”</p> + +<p>Lefty uttered an exclamation. “That was +strange!”</p> + +<p>The other man turned on the settee to face him. +“The whole thing has been queer. I had practically +overcome Mr. Collier’s prejudice and won +his entire approval. Then he broke down; his +health went to the bad, and his manner toward me +seemed to change. I had an idea he went abroad +more to take Virginia away than for any other +reason. Anyway, I knew there was something +wrong, and the two letters I got from her added +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126'></a>126</span> +to that conviction. Her father was trying to get +her to break with me! There was another man +whom he preferred.”</p> + +<p>“Another!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Bailey Weegman.”</p> + +<p>Locke gave a great start, as if he had received +an electric thrust. “Weegman!” he cried guardedly. +“That scoundrel! Collier is crazy, Parlmee!”</p> + +<p>“Now you’ve said something! I believe the +man’s mind is affected. Business reverses may +have done it.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know that he left his baseball interests +practically in the control of Weegman?”</p> + +<p>“No; but it doesn’t surprise me. In some way, +that scoundrel has got a hold on him. Weegman +has tried hard to undermine me with Virginia. +I’ve always disliked him and his detestable laugh. +Who is he, anyway? Where did he come from, +and what are his antecedents?”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to ask somebody else.”</p> + +<p>“It’s Virginia I’m worrying about now,” said +Parlmee, tossing aside his half-smoked cigarette.</p> + +<p>“But if she was contemplating sailing for the +United States with her father–”</p> + +<p>“Her cablegram to me didn’t mention her +father. I got the impression that she was sailing +alone.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127'></a>127</span>“Alone! Great Scott!”</p> + +<p>“And she didn’t sail! Where is she? What +happened to her? Do you wonder I’m rattled? +I’ve made arrangements so that I can have a +month, if necessary, to dig into this business. If +that isn’t enough, I’ll take all the time needed. +It’s the deuce to pay, Locke, as sure as you’re a +foot high.”</p> + +<p>“In more ways than one,” agreed Lefty. “I +could tell you some other things, but you’ve got +enough to worry about. We must arrange to keep +in touch with each other. I presume I’ll go back +to Fernandon when I get through here.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s my New York address,” said Parlmee, +handing over his card, and rising.</p> + +<p>Five minutes after they separated old Jack +Kennedy arrived, dusty and weary from his railroad +journey. His shoulders were a trifle stooped, +and he looked older by years, but his keen eyes +lighted with a twinkle as he grasped Locke’s hand.</p> + +<p>“I knew you’d beat me to it, Lefty,” he said. +“Wouldn’t have called on you to make the jaunt, +but I had to chin with you face to face. Let’s +talk first and feed our faces afterward.”</p> + +<p>The veteran registered, and they took the elevator. +Carrying Kennedy’s traveling bag, a boy +conducted them. A bar boy, bearing a tray that +was decorated with drinks, was knocking on a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128'></a>128</span> +door. Within the room somebody called for him +to enter, and he did so as Locke was passing at +old Jack’s heels. By chance Lefty obtained a +glimpse of the interior of that room before the +door closed behind the boy. Two men, smoking +cigars, were sitting at opposite sides of a table +on which were empty glasses. They were Mit +Skullen and Bailey Weegman.</p> + +<p>Left together in Kennedy’s room, Locke told +the old manager what he had seen, and immediately +Kennedy’s face was twisted into a wrathful +pucker.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure?”</p> + +<p>“Dead sure,” replied Locke.</p> + +<p>“Well, it sorter confirms a little suspicion +that’s been creepin’ inter my noddle. The Blue +Stockings are up against somethin’ more’n the +Feds, and the Feds have chewed the team to +pieces. Within the last three days they’ve nailed +Temple, Dayly, and Hyland. There’s only the +remnants of a ball club left.”</p> + +<p>Locke was aghast. “Gene Temple, too!” he +cried. “The boy I found! I thought he would +stick.”</p> + +<p>“Money gets the best of ’em. Why shouldn’t +it, when them lads ought to have been tied up +before this with Blue Stockings contracts? The +bars have been left down for the Feds, and they’ve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129'></a>129</span> +raided the preserves. Seems just like they’ve +been invited to come in and help themselves. +Why not, with a team without a manager, and +everything left at loose ends? Never heard of +such criminal folly! But mebbe it ain’t folly; +mebbe it’s plain cadougery. I’ve had an idea +there was somethin’ crooked behind it, but couldn’t +just quite nose it out. Now, with Weegman and +Mit Skullen gettin’ together private, I see a light. +Garrity’s the man! You know how he got his +dirty paws on the Rockets. Well, if he ain’t +workin’ to gobble the Blue Stockings I’ll eat my +hat! I’ll bet that right now Tom Garrity’s gathered +in all the loose stock of the club that he could +buy, and he’s countin’ on havin’ enough to give +him control before the season opens. He saw his +chance, with the Feds reachin’ for every decent +player they could lay their hands on, and he went +for it. What if the Blue Stockings do have a +busted team this season? In three years the club +might be built up again, and it’s a sure money-maker +just as long as it can keep in the first +division. Lynchin’ is what a crook like Garrity +deserves!”</p> + +<p>Kennedy’s eyes were flashing, and he was literally +quivering with wrath. Despite the fact +that he was tired, he strode up and down the room.</p> + +<p>“Weegman must be Garrity’s tool, the creature +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130'></a>130</span> +who is helping him do the dirty work,” said +Locke.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got his number! How he came to +pick you for a mark, I don’t know, unless it was +because he thought you let me work you to death, +havin’ no mind of your own. He knew he couldn’t +put anythin’ over with me, and so he decided to +get rid of me; but he had to have somebody for +a manager who would appear to be all right. +He’s got to be blocked. There’s only one way.”</p> + +<p>“How?”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to accept, and sign a contract to +manage the team.”</p> + +<p>Lefty gasped. “But,” he said, “I can’t do +that! You–”</p> + +<p>“I’m out. He wouldn’t have me, even if I’d +do the work for no salary.”</p> + +<p>“But I can’t agree to Weegman’s terms. I +couldn’t do anything of my own accord; I couldn’t +sign a player unless he agreed. He made that +plain.”</p> + +<p>“But he wouldn’t dare put anything like that +in the contract. It would be too barefaced. The +minute you have the authority you can get to work +savin’ the remnants of the team by signin’ up +the players the Feds haven’t grabbed already. I +have a line on a few good youngsters who went +back to the minors last year because there wasn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131'></a>131</span> +room for them. Put proof of Weegman’s treachery +before Collier, and Weegman’s done for! It’s +the one play that’s got to be made in this here +pinch.”</p> + +<p>There was a knock on the door.</p> + +<p>“Come in!” called Kennedy.</p> + +<p>Bailey Weegman entered, smiling.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132'></a>132</span><a id='link_15'></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><span class='h2fs'>SIGNING THE MANAGER</span></h2> + +<p>Weegman came in boldly. His manner +was ingratiating, yet somewhat +insolent, and he chuckled as he saw +the look of surprise on the face of Lefty Locke. +“Well, well!” he said. “Here we are! This is +first rate. Now we can get together and do +things.”</p> + +<p>To the southpaw’s increasing astonishment, +Kennedy stepped forward quickly, seized Weegman’s +hand, and shook it cordially and heartily.</p> + +<p>“I wired for Locke,” said the old manager. +“I felt sure I could talk sense into his head. +Didn’t like to see him make a fool of himself and +let a great opportunity slip through his fingers +just because of a false notion about loyalty to +me. But I didn’t expect you before to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Lefty was a trifle bewildered. Kennedy had +known Weegman was coming to Indianapolis; in +fact, had arranged to meet him there. Collier’s +representative beamed on Locke.</p> + +<p>“Sorry I couldn’t wait to see the finish of that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133'></a>133</span> +game in Fernandon,” he said; “but I saw enough +to satisfy me. You did well to beat the Wind +Jammers with that bunch of half invalids behind +you, and your own arm all to the bad. Still, +Wiley sort of handed you the game.”</p> + +<p>“The score was three to two,” reminded Lefty.</p> + +<p>“The Wind Jammers couldn’t hit. They were +a lot of freaks, a burlesque baseball team.” +Weegman turned again to old Jack. “If you +can talk some sense into Locke, you’ll succeed +where I failed. I wasted time, money, and breath +on him; gave him up then. Let me tell you a +joke.” He began to laugh, and the southpaw +writhed inwardly. “Who do you think wants to +manage the Blue Stockings? You can’t guess? +Well, it’s Skullen; yes, Mit Skullen. Actually +came after the job. Got me cornered and gave +me a great game of talk, trying to convince me +that he could fill the bill. I was listening to his +spiel when I caught a glimpse of you two passing +the door of my room. Called the desk and asked +the number of your room. Then I shook old Mit +and came around. The idea of Mit Skullen managing +a Big League club! Isn’t that funny?” +His whole body shook with merriment as he spoke.</p> + +<p>Kennedy seemed to be amused also, and joined +in Weegman’s laughter. “Wonder what Tom +Garrity would say to that? Skullen must have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134'></a>134</span> +forgotten his old nemesis, John Barleycorn. It +was John that put him down and out as a prize +fighter and a ball player.”</p> + +<p>“He says he hasn’t looked at the stuff for four +months. You should have heard him trying to +convince me that he had the makings of a great +manager.”</p> + +<p>Lefty knew Weegman was lying regarding the +nature of the private consultation that had been +held in a nearby room. But Kennedy seemed to +be unaware of this.</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t take Skullen under any conditions, +would you?” asked old Jack.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t have him if he was ready to pay to +manage the team. Collier would lift my scalp +if I fell for anything like that. But I’ve got a line +on a good man if–if–” He faltered, and looked +at Locke, smiling.</p> + +<p>“We’ll settle that right here,” declared Kennedy, +with a growl. “Locke’s the lad. I haven’t +had time to talk to him much, but I was telling +him before you came in that he’d have to accept. +As for me, a Class AA team ain’t so worse. +You’re dead sure I can hook up with St. +Paul?”</p> + +<p>“I wired you about the proposition from Byers. +He wants you, but he wasn’t going to try to cut in +on us. Did you send him word?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135'></a>135</span>“Not yet. Decided to have my talk with Lefty +first.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve always liked you, Kennedy,” said Weegman. +“You’ve been a great man in your day. +You’re a good man now, but it needs younger +blood, especially in this fight against the Feds, +confound them! About so often a team needs to +change managers, especially when it begins to +slip. The Blue Stockings began to slip last year, +and the Feds have given us a push. Locke’s +young, and he’s got the energy to build the team +up. Working together, we can put it on its feet +again. He’ll have the very best counsel and advice. +He’s a favorite with the fans, and he’ll be +tolerated where you would be blamed. He’ll come +through and win out. Of that I am certain. The +Feds will blow before the season’s over, and the +woods will be full of first-class players begging +for jobs. Next season should see the Stockings +stronger than ever, and the man who’s managing +the team’s bound to be popular. He’ll get a lot of +credit.”</p> + +<p>Lefty had taken a chair. He opened his lips to +speak, but stopped when he caught a warning sign +from old Jack behind Weegman’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Is that contract ready for the boy?” asked +Kennedy.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got it in my pocket.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136'></a>136</span>“Then nail him right now. Push it at him, and +we’ll make him sign. Don’t let him get away.”</p> + +<p>Weegman produced the document. Then, for a +moment, he seemed to hesitate, flashing old Jack a +look and giving Locke a hard stare.</p> + +<p>“You understand the conditions?” he said, addressing +the latter.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Lefty, “you made them plain +enough for a child to understand when you talked +to me in Fernandon.”</p> + +<p>“Course he understands,” cut in Kennedy. +“He told me, and I told him to grab on without +makin’ no further talk. Just as you say, Weegman, +with proper advice he can swing the thing. +It looks pretty big to him, and he’s doubtful. Let +him look at that paper.”</p> + +<p>He took it from Weegman’s hand and looked it +over himself. It was practically the same sort of +an agreement old Jack had signed himself when +he took control of the team, and the name of +Charles Collier, properly witnessed, had already +been affixed to it. With the contract in his possession, +along with Collier’s power of attorney, +Weegman could sign up any one he chose to manage +the Blue Stockings. For a fleeting instant +Kennedy’s face was twisted into an expression of +rage, which, however, Collier’s private secretary +did not catch.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137'></a>137</span>Locke saw that flash of anger and understood; +old Jack was playing the fox, and losing no time +about it.</p> + +<p>“Skullen will do for the other witness,” said +Weegman, going to the room telephone. “He’ll +feel bad, of course, but I told him he didn’t have a +show in the world.” He called the operator and +gave the number of a room.</p> + +<p>While Weegman was engaged, Kennedy handed +the agreement over to Locke. “You sign it just +as it is,” he directed. “You’ve had your talk +with Mr. Weegman, and you know what he said +to you. You don’t have to chin it over any more.”</p> + +<p>By this time Weegman had got Skullen on the +phone and asked him to come round to Kennedy’s +room, giving him the number. Locke sat grimly +reading the contract until Skullen knocked at the +door.</p> + +<p>“Maybe you’ll feel bad, Mit,” said Weegman, +admitting the man, “but you know I told you there +wasn’t a show in the world of me signing you up +as manager. It’s settled with Locke, and I want +you to witness him put his autograph to the paper. +Now don’t make a growl, but do as you’re +wanted.”</p> + +<p>Skullen kept still as directed, but he looked as if +Weegman’s first words had surprised him a trifle.</p> + +<p>Kennedy had produced a fountain pen and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138'></a>138</span> +thrust it into Locke’s hand. “Sign right here, +son,” he urged. “Let’s see how pretty you +write.”</p> + +<p>“Wait!” cried Weegman, his eyes on the southpaw, +who had promptly moved up to the little +table. “You haven’t forgotten our talk? You +understand?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t forgotten a thing,” asserted Lefty, +boldly and swiftly writing his name. “There it +is!”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139'></a>139</span><a id='link_16'></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE WRONG STOOL PIGEON</span></h2> + +<p>Skullen and Kennedy attached their +names as witnesses. The thing was done; +Lefty Locke–Philip Hazelton was the name +he wrote on the contract–was now manager of the +Blue Stockings. He received a duplicate copy, +which he folded and slipped into his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Now we’re all set for business,” said Bailey +Weegman. “I congratulate you, Locke. One +time I was afraid you didn’t have sense enough to +welcome Opportunity when she knocked. I’ll see +you later, Mit, if you’re around. We’ve got to +square away now and have a little conference. +Don’t cry because you didn’t get the job.”</p> + +<p>“Cry–nothin’!” said Skullen. “I wouldn’t +have taken it if you’d handed it to me with twice +the salary.”</p> + +<p>“Old Mit’s disappointed,” chuckled Weegman, +when the door closed behind him, “but he +doesn’t want anybody to know it. He’ll deny he +came looking for the position, of course.”</p> + +<p>Kennedy had seated himself, and Weegman +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140'></a>140</span> +drew a chair up to the table, producing a packet of +papers and running them over until he found the +one he wanted.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a list of the men the Feds have grabbed +off us,” he said. “Grist, Orth, Temple, Nelson, +Hyland, and Lewis. Grist is no particular loss, +but Temple and Orth knock a hole in the pitching +staff. Nelson was our reliance behind the bat. +With Dayly and Lewis gone, the whole side of the +infield is wide open. We ought to be able to fill +Hyland’s place in right garden.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a swell team that’s left!” said Locke. +“And you told me that Dillon was negotiating with +the outlaws.”</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t jumped; he hasn’t had the nerve,” +sneered Weegman, snapping his fingers. “Instead, +he’s been howling for a contract. You’d +find him waiting if you didn’t sign him until the +first of April.” For just a flicker he had actually +seemed to betray annoyance because Pink Dillon +had not followed the example of the deserters, but +he ended with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me,” said the new manager, “that +I’d better get busy and try to save the pieces. The +men who haven’t jumped should be signed up without +delay.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” agreed Weegman blandly. “You +must send out the contracts. Unluckily, I haven’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141'></a>141</span> +any blanks with me, but I’ll see that you are furnished +with them to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Every day counts, perhaps every hour; by to-morrow +we may lose another good man, or more.”</p> + +<p>“Not much danger, and you don’t want to make +the mistake of getting into a panic and trying to +do things in too much of a hurry. We’ve been +farming some clever youngsters, more than enough +to make up a team; but you should consult with +Kennedy about them, and take only the right ones. +You’ll have the most trouble getting hold of +pitchers.”</p> + +<p>“Youngsters,” said Locke, “are all right; but +do you mean to suggest that we should stop the +gaps wholly with men who lack Big League experience? +You know how much show that sort of a +team would have in the race. We’ve got to make +some deals that will give us some players who +have ripened. It’ll cost money, too.”</p> + +<p>“Right there,” said Weegman, “is where you’re +going to need the check-rein. Charles Collier +won’t stand for needless extravagance in that line, +I know, and I shall not countenance the purchasing +of high-priced men.”</p> + +<p>The blood rose into Lefty’s face; he tingled to +tell the rascal something, but again a warning +flicker of Kennedy’s left eye restrained him.</p> + +<p>“There are lots of good youngsters coming on,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142'></a>142</span> +said the veteran soothingly. “There were three +or four I could have used last season if I’d had +room for them. We’ll run over the list and see +how they’ll fit in.”</p> + +<p>For another hour they continued in conclave, +and a dozen times Weegman took occasion to +impress upon Locke that he should do nothing +definite without receiving Weegman’s approval. +When he seemed to feel that he had driven this +into the new manager’s head, he excused himself +on the pretext of attending to a pressing matter, +and departed, leaving old Jack and Lefty together. +Kennedy quietly locked the door. Lefty jumped +to his feet and began pacing the floor like a caged +tiger.</p> + +<p>“Never had such a job to keep my hands off a +man!” he raged. “Only for you, I’d–”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said old Jack, returning and sitting +down heavily. “I wanted to kick him myself, +and I think I shall do it some day soon. He’s +crooked as a corkscrew and rotten as a last year’s +early apple. But he ain’t shrewd; he only thinks +he is. He’s fooled himself. You never agreed to +his verbal terms, and, just as I said, he didn’t dare +put them in writing. According to that contract, +you’ve got as much power as I ever had, and you +can exercise it. It’s up to you to get busy. Don’t +wait for contract forms from Weegman; they’ll be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143'></a>143</span> +delayed. I have plenty. Wire the old players +who are left that contracts will be mailed to them +to-night.”</p> + +<p>Locke stopped by Kennedy’s chair and dropped +a hand on the old man’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“And you’re going to St. Paul?” he said. +“You’ve been handed a wretched deal.”</p> + +<p>“Nix on the St. Paul business, son; there’s +nothing to it. That wolf thought I swallowed that +guff. Byers is Garrity’s friend, and it’s plain +now that Garrity’s mixed up in this dirty business. +It was easy enough to ask if I’d consider +hooking up with St. Paul. By the time I got round +to saying yes, Byers could tell me it was off. +This time, Lefty, I’m out of the game for good.” +His voice sounded heavy and dull, and his shoulders +sagged.</p> + +<p>The southpaw was silent, words failing him. +After a few minutes old Jack looked up into the +face of his youthful companion, and smiled wryly.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got a little glimpse of what goes on behind +the scenes in baseball,” he said. “The fans +that pay their money to see the games look on it, +generally, as a fine, clean sport–which, in one +way, it is. That part the public pays to see, the +game, is on the level. There’s a good reason: the +crookedest magnate in the business–and, believe +me, there’s one who can look down the back of his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144'></a>144</span> +own neck without trying to turn round–knows it +would spell ruin to put over a frame-up on the +open field. By nature the players themselves are +like the average run of human critters, honest and +dishonest; but experience has taught them that +they can’t pull off any double deals without cutting +their own throats. People who talk about +fixed games, especially in the World’s Series, show +up their ignorance. It can’t be done.</p> + +<p>“But when it comes to tricks and holdups, and +highway robberies and assassination, there’s always +somethin’ doing off stage. What you’ve +seen is only a patch. The men who run things are +out for the coin, and they aren’t any better, as a +rule, than the high financiers who plunder railroads +and loot public treasuries. They’ll smile in +a man’s face while they’re whetting the knife for +his back. Some of them have put the knife into +Charles Collier now, and they intend to sink it to +the hilt. You’ve been picked as a cat’s-paw to +help them pull their chestnuts off the coals. They +intend to fatten their batting average at your expense, +and when it’s all over you’ll be knocked out +of the box for good. You’ll get the blame while +they pluck the plums.”</p> + +<p>“Kennedy,” said Locke, his voice hard as +chilled steel, “they’ve picked the wrong stool +pigeon. My eyes aren’t sewed up. With your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145'></a>145</span> +help, I’m going to find a way to spoil their villainous +schemes. I know you’ll help me.”</p> + +<p>The veteran sprang up, a bit of the old-time fire +in his face. “You bet your life, son! That’s why +I wired for you to come on, and that’s why I +wanted you to pretend to take the hook and sign +up with Weegman. I knew we could work together, +and it puts us in position to get the harpoon +into them before they wise up to what’s doing. +Let’s get busy.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146'></a>146</span><a id='link_17'></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>GETTING INTO ACTION</span></h2> + +<p>Locke was for open work and defiance of +Weegman, but Kennedy argued against it.</p> + +<p>“You want to get the jump on that +snake,” said the old man, digging a package of +contract forms for players out of his traveling +bag. “He won’t be looking for you to get into +action so sudden, and you’ll gain a lap before he +knows it. When it comes to fighting a polecat, a +wise man takes precautions. Weegman’s gone to +send word to his pals of the slick job he’s put +over, and he’ll be coming back to bother us pretty +soon. We don’t want to be here when he comes.”</p> + +<p>So, for the purpose of conducting their private +business, another room was engaged, and an arrangement +made whereby no person, no matter +how insistent he might be, should be told where to +find them. Then a telegraph messenger boy was +summoned to that room, and telegrams were sent +to the still loyal Blue Stockings players, stating +that contracts were being mailed for their signatures. +Then the contracts were filled out, sealed, +and dropped into the mail chute.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147'></a>147</span>A square meal was ordered and served in the +private room, and for nearly three hours Lefty +and Jack talked. They had many things to tell +each other, but their principal topic was the filling +of the frightful gaps made in the team by the +Federal raids, and both agreed that the time had +come when the close-fisted financial policy of the +Blue Stockings must be abandoned; players fully +as good as the ones lost, or better, if possible, must +be obtained at any cost. Various team combinations +that seemed to balance to a nicety were made +up on paper, but how to get the men coveted was +the problem.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got two catchers left,” said Kennedy, +“but the best of the pair ain’t in the same class as +the man we’ve lost. We’ve got to have a backstop +as good as Nelson. And when it comes to +pitchers–say, son, is it possible there ain’t any +show at all of your coming back?”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could answer that,” confessed Locke. +“At any rate, we’ve got to have two more first-string +men. If this Mysterious Jones I told you +of is anywhere near as good as he looked to–”</p> + +<p>“Not one chance in a hundred that he’s good +enough to carry a regular share of the pitching +the first season, no matter what he might develop +into with experience. The Wolves have been hurt +least by the Feds, and you might pick something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148'></a>148</span> +worth while off Ben Frazer if you paid his price. +Last fall he offered to trade me that youngster, +Keeper, for Dayly, and since then he’s bought +Red Callahan from Brennan. That’ll put Keeper +on the bench. You know what Keeper is, and +I’ve always regretted letting Frazer get him off +me for five thousand, but it was Collier’s idea. +The boy’d look well on our third cushion about +now. But don’t lose sight of the fact that it’s +pitchers we’ve <i>got</i> to have.”</p> + +<p>Locke took the five-fifty train for New York, +leaving Weegman, whom he had succeeded in +avoiding, frothing around the Grand in search of +him. Kennedy knew how to reach Frazer by +wire, and he had received a reply to his telegram +that the manager of the Wolves would meet Lefty +at the Great Eastern the following night. Between +Kennedy and Frazer there had always existed +a bond of understanding and friendship.</p> + +<p>Despite the burden he had assumed, the new +manager of the Blue Stockings slept well. It was +this faculty of getting sleep and recuperation under +any circumstances that had enabled him to become +known as the “Iron Man.”</p> + +<p>At breakfast the following morning he received +a slight shock. Three tables in front of him, with +his back turned, sat a man with fine shoulders, a +bull neck, and a bullet head. Mit Skullen was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149'></a>149</span> +traveling eastward by the same train. Lefty cut +his breakfast short and left the diner without having +been observed.</p> + +<p>“If he should see me, he’d probably take the +first opportunity to wire back to Weegman,” +thought Locke, “and I’m going to follow old +Jack’s advice about leaving Weegman in the dark +for a while.”</p> + +<p>There was a possibility, of course, that Skullen +would come wandering through the train and discover +him, but, to his satisfaction, nothing of the +kind happened. All the long forenoon he was +whirled through a snow-covered country without +being annoyed by the appearance of Garrity’s +henchman, and he had plenty of time to meditate +on the situation and the plans laid by himself and +Kennedy.</p> + +<p>But it was necessary to eat again, and shortly +before Albany was reached he returned to the +diner, hoping Skullen had already had lunch. +The man was not there when he sat down, but he +had scarcely given his order when the fellow’s +hand dropped on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Hully smokes!” exclaimed Mit, staring down, +wide-eyed, at the southpaw. “What’s this mean? +I can hardly believe me lamps. You must have +left Indianap’ same time I did, and Weeg asked +me twice if I’d seen anything of you.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150'></a>150</span>“Weegman?” said Lefty, startled, but outwardly +serene. “Is he on this train?”</p> + +<p>“Nix. Last I know, he was tearing up the +Grand looking for you. How’s it happened you +skipped without dropping him word?”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to see my folks, who live in Jersey,” +Locke answered, truthfully enough.</p> + +<p>“But you’ll stop in the big town to-night? +Where do you hang out?”</p> + +<p>“Usually at the Prince Arthur.” This was +likewise true, although the southpaw had now no +intention of putting up there on this occasion.</p> + +<p>Mit looked at his watch. “We must be pulling +into Albany,” he said. “I want to get a paper. +See you later.”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead and shoot your telegram to Weegman,” +thought Locke. “Any message sent me +at the Prince Arthur is liable to remain unopened +for some time.”</p> + +<p>He had finished his lunch and was back in the +Pullman when Skullen found him again. The +man planted himself at Lefty’s side and passed +over a newspaper, grinning as he pointed out an +item on the sporting page:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>Even though it was rumored that old Jack Kennedy was to +be let out, the selection of Locke as his successor is a surprise. +As a pitcher Locke has had an amazingly successful career and +has made an enviable reputation, but he has had no +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151'></a>151</span>managerial experience, having come to the Big League directly from +the bushes. Whether or not he has the stuff of which capable +managers are made is a matter of uncertainty; but, with the +Blue Stockings badly chewed to pieces by the Feds, Collier +might have been expected, had he decided to drop Kennedy, to +replace the veteran with a man of some practical knowledge in +that line. The policy of the Stockings for the last year or two +has been rather queer, to say the least, and the effect upon the +team can be seen in its present rating.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>That was the final paragraph. Collier, sick +and absent in Europe, was credited with the deal; +not a word about Weegman. The rascal, pulling +the wires, was keeping himself in the background. +For a moment Lefty thought of Jack +Stillman, a reporter friend, and felt a desire to +give him some inside information which, in cold +type, would be pretty certain to make the interested +public sit up and take notice. But the time +was not ripe for a move like that, and he dismissed +the thought.</p> + +<p>Still grinning, Skullen jammed his elbow into +Locke’s ribs. “How do you like that?” he inquired +gloatingly. “That’s the way them cheap +newspaper ginks pans you out when they get a +chance.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw was suddenly attacked by an intense +distaste for the company of Tom Garrity’s +coarse hireling. He handed the paper back in +silence. But the feeling of dislike and antagonism +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152'></a>152</span> +was evidently felt by Skullen, for, after a few +minutes’ silence, he got up and walked out of the +car; and, to his satisfaction, Lefty saw no more of +him during the remainder of the journey.</p> + +<p>An uncomfortable storm of rain and sleet was +raging when New York was reached shortly after +nightfall. A taxi bore Locke to the Great Eastern, +where he learned that Frazer had not yet arrived. +Having registered, he took the elevator +for his room on the seventh floor, and, as he was +borne upward, a descending car, well filled with +people, slipped silently past, and Lefty caught a +momentary glimpse of their faces through the +iron grillwork. One face he saw quite plainly, +that of a charming young woman in her early +twenties–a face he recognized at once.</p> + +<p>“Virginia Collier!” gasped Lefty, in astonishment.</p> + +<p>He did not leave the car; back to the main floor +he went. After hastily looking around for the +young woman he sought, he made inquiries at the +desk. He was informed that no Miss Collier was +stopping in the hotel. Still confident that he had +not been mistaken, and thinking it probable she +was dining there with friends, he had her paged. +Even when the report came that no one answered +to the name, he did not give up. From various +vantage points, he spent at least twenty minutes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153'></a>153</span> +looking over the people at dinner in the main dining +room, the grill, and the palm room. At the +end of that time he was confident that Charles Collier’s +daughter was not dining at the Great Eastern.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he admitted to himself, “it’s possible +I was mistaken, but I would have sworn it +was Virginia.”</p> + +<p>He went up to his room and prepared for dinner, +burdened by the conviction that he had been +baffled; that fate had played him a trick. He +would have given much for fifteen minutes’ conversation +with the daughter of the Big Chief, +and he was impressed with the belief that he had +passed her almost within an arm’s reach.</p> + +<p>This feeling was followed by one of uncertainty +regarding Frazer. Old Jack had assured him +that the manager of the Wolves would meet him +at the Great Eastern, and he had relied on Kennedy +without attempting to get into direct communication +with Frazer, and perhaps, after all, +he would not come.</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll have to run him down,” considered +Lefty. “And I want to get to him before Weegman +can get to me. If I don’t, he’ll be sure to +try to ball up any deal I attempt to put +across.”</p> + +<p>Choosing to eat in the grill, he notified the desk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154'></a>154</span> +where he could be found should any one ask for +him. But he had scarcely begun on the first course +when he heard his name spoken, and looked up to +find Ben Frazer smiling down upon him.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155'></a>155</span><a id='link_18'></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE FIRST DEAL</span></h2> + +<p>“Just in time to get in on the eats, I see,” +said the manager of the famous Wolves, +shaking hands with Locke. “It’s a rotten +night, my feet are wet, and I’m awfully hungry. +Only for Kennedy’s message I’d be on my way to +Chicago.”</p> + +<p>A waiter placed a chair, and he sat down, took +the menu card, and quickly gave his order. He +was a short, thick-set, shrewd-faced man; his hair +was turning gray on the temples, but he seemed +to have lost little of the nervous energy and alertness +that had been his in the old days when he +had been called the swiftest second sacker in the +business. He had been an umpire baiter then, +but in later years his methods had changed, and +never once since becoming a manager had he been +given the gate. Nevertheless, while he had gained +in diplomacy, he had relaxed no whit in aggressiveness. +Led by old Ben, the Wolves fought to +the last ditch. +“Now, tell me about it,” he requested, turning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156'></a>156</span> +to Lefty. “How in thunder did you happen to +let them rope you into such a mess?”</p> + +<p>“You mean–”</p> + +<p>“Getting tied up as manager of the Blue Stockings. +Boy, you’re the goat; you’ve been chosen +for the sacrifice. Somebody had to fall, of course, +but it’s a shame that you should be the victim. +I’d thought you too wise to tumble into that +trap.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think it is a trap?” asked the southpaw, +feeling the blood hot in his cheeks.</p> + +<p>“Of course it is! The Stockings have been undermined +and blown wide open. They’ve got as +much show this year as a snowball would have in +a baker’s oven. They’ll land in the subcellar with +a sickening thud, and there’s no way of stopping +them.”</p> + +<p>“No way–”</p> + +<p>“No way under heaven, take it from me! I’ve +been in the business long enough to know what +I’m talking about. It takes years to build up such +a fighting machine, and, when it’s torn to pieces, +rebuilding is bound to be another job of years. +The public won’t understand. You’ll get the +kicks and the curses. As a successful pitcher +you’ve been a favorite; as an unsuccessful manager +you’ll be about as popular as a rusty spike +in an automobile tire. Crowds are always fickle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157'></a>157</span> +When a man’s winning they howl their heads off +for him; but let him strike a losing streak and +they scramble like mad to pelt him with mud and +brick-bats.”</p> + +<p>“But somebody has to build up a team.”</p> + +<p>“Somebody has to start it and get the blame. +He’s the goat. Where’s Burkett, who managed +the Wolves before I came in? Out in the Border +League. Where’s Ashton and Gerrish, who +struggled with the Blue Stockings before Kennedy +stepped in on the turn of the tide? One’s running +a cigar store in Kewanee, the other’s drinking +himself to death in Muskegon; both left the +game with busted reputations and broken hearts. +Where’s McConnell, who tried to make a ball team +of the Hornets before Brennan’s day? He took +to the coke, and his friends are paying for his +keep in a private bug-house. Where’s Decker, +who had a crack at the Panthers–But what’s +the use! There’s no surer way for a good man +to ruin his career than to manage a losing ball +team.”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” said Locke, “I’ve got to manage +a winner.”</p> + +<p>Frazer gazed at him pityingly. “Swell chance +you’ve got! About one in fifty thousand. You +haven’t got the makings of an ordinary second-division +team left.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158'></a>158</span>“I know the Feds have copped off some of our +best men, but–”</p> + +<p>“Some! Some! I should so remark! But +don’t blame it all on the Feds. They were practically +invited to come in and take their pick. +The bars were let down. All your players knew +there was trouble. They heard all sorts of rumors +that made them nervous and uncertain. +They didn’t see any contracts coming their way +to be signed. They knew there was something +the matter with Collier. It was even said he’d +gone crazy. They knew Kennedy was going to +get out from under. There was gossip about old +men being shunted and new blood taken on. What +they didn’t know was where they were at. It was +all nicely worked to get them to take the running +long jump.”</p> + +<p>“Then you believe there was a plot to smash +the team?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t have to be a mind reader to get my +opinion, but I’m saying this here private, man to +man. I’m not goin’ round talking for publication.”</p> + +<p>“But you’re wrong about Kennedy getting out; +he was dropped.”</p> + +<p>“Was he?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>Frazer twisted his face into a queer grimace. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159'></a>159</span> +“Old Jack Kennedy was too wise to stick on under +any such conditions. He knew what it meant, +and I’ll guarantee that he wouldn’t have managed +the Blue Stockings this year for twice the salary +he got last. What I’ve got against him is that he +didn’t put you wise before you tied up.”</p> + +<p>“It was on his advice that I consented to manage +the team,” replied Locke.</p> + +<p>“What?” exclaimed Frazer. “Is that straight? +He advised you to–The infernal old scoundrel!”</p> + +<p>Locke warmed immediately in defense of Kennedy. +The manager of the Wolves listened, uncertain, +shaking his head doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“He may not have meant it,” he admitted presently, +“but he’s got you in bad, boy. You +haven’t got a show against the powers you’ll have +to buck, and the conditions that were fixed up for +you in advance.”</p> + +<p>“As to that, time will tell,” said Lefty. “I’m +going to make one almighty try. First, I’ve got +to plug the gaps. What have you got to sell that I +want?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing that you’ll pay the price for. I know +Collier’s policy.”</p> + +<p>“Collier is in Europe, and I’m manager of the +team, with full authority to make any deals I +please. Here’s my contract.” He placed it before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160'></a>160</span> +old Ben. “Collier will have to stand for any +trade I put through. I’ll buy Smoke Jordan off +you.”</p> + +<p>“You won’t! I won’t sell him.”</p> + +<p>“Then how about Jack Keeper? You’ve got +Red Callahan, and I need a third baseman.”</p> + +<p>Frazer finished his soup. “I won’t sell you +Keeper,” he said; “but I’ll trade him. I need +a center fielder in the place of Courtney, who’s +retired. I’ll trade Keeper for Herman Brock.”</p> + +<p>At first Locke had no relish for a trade that +would add to the Blue Stockings infield at the +expense of the outfield, even though in his secret +heart he knew Brock had during last season +shown vague symptoms of slowing down. Then +he remembered the list of reserves given him by +Kennedy, on which there was one fast, hard-hitting +youngster who had been sent back to the Western +Canada League, and had made a brilliant +record covering the middle garden for Medicine +Hat.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to trade, I want to buy,” he persisted. +Then, as if struck by second thought: +“I’ll tell you what I will do; I’ll give you Brock +for two men. That’ll help. We need a catcher. +After King broke his leg you found a great +catcher in Darrow. I’ll trade you Brock for +Keeper and King.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161'></a>161</span>“Brick King!” exploded Frazer indignantly. +“What do you take me for?”</p> + +<p>“A business man. You’ve got three first-string +catchers now; two are all you need. You don’t +even know that King’s leg is all right. I’m willing +to take a chance on him. Brock batted over +three hundred last season. He’s the hitter you +need to fill that vacancy.”</p> + +<p>“Not Brick King,” said the manager of the +Wolves. “If I didn’t use him behind the bat +for the whole season, he’s a fancy pinch hitter. +You’ve gotter have pitchers. How about +O’Brien?”</p> + +<p>But Locke knew that Chick O’Brien, the veteran, +had cracked already. Even though on hot +days, when he could get his wing to work, he +showed flashes of his former brilliant form, and +had, under such conditions, last year pitched +three shut-out games for the Wolves, Chick’s +record for the season showed a balance on the +wrong side. The southpaw held out for King. +Frazer offered one of the second-string catchers. +Lefty waved the offer aside.</p> + +<p>“Hang it!” snapped Frazer. “Give me Brock +and ten thousand dollars, and you may have +Keeper and King.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t want much!” laughed Locke. “I’ll +give you Brock and five thousand.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162'></a>162</span>All the way through to the dessert they dickered +and bargained. Frazer wanted Brock, and +wanted him bad. Sympathetic though he might +feel toward Lefty, he never permitted sympathy +to interfere with business. Brock was the man to +fill the position left vacant by Bob Courtney, and +he was sure the Wolves would not be weakened by +the loss of Keeper. But Brick King–“What salary are you paying King?” Lefty +suddenly asked.</p> + +<p>“Five thousand. The Feds got after him, and +I had to make it that.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw laughed. “With Darrow doing +most of the backstopping, and Larson ready to +fill in any moment he’s needed, you’re going to +keep a five-thousand-dollar catcher on the bench +for a pinch hitter! I just called you a business +man, but I feel like taking it back. Isn’t Madden +likely to kick over a five-thousand-dollar pinch +hitter?” Madden owned the team.</p> + +<p>“Madden be hanged!” rasped Frazer, biting +off the end of a cigar he had taken from his case. +“I’m the manager! Madden isn’t always butting +in and paring down expenses, like Collier.” He +pulled vigorously at the cigar, while the attentive +waiter applied a lighted match.</p> + +<p>Lefty had declined a cigar. He smoked occasionally, +and would have done so now, but to do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163'></a>163</span> +so would indicate an inclination to settle down and +continue the dickering, and he had decided to +make a bluff at bringing the affair to an end. He +called for the check, and insisted on paying the +bill for both.</p> + +<p>“Sorry I’ve put you to so much trouble, +Frazer,” he said. “It was Kennedy’s idea that +I might do business with you, but it’s evident he +was mistaken. I’ve got some other cards to play, +and time is precious.” He settled the bill and +tipped the waiter.</p> + +<p>Old Ben sat regarding Locke thoughtfully, rolling +out great puffs of smoke. The younger man +was about to rise.</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” requested the manager of the +Wolves. “You’re a regular mule, aren’t you? +How do you expect to make a trade without compromising +at all? You won’t even meet me halfway, +confound you! You–”</p> + +<p>“I’ll own up that I was a bit hasty,” said Lefty, +showing a nervous desire to get away. “I made +that five-thousand offer without thinking much, +but you understand I’m rather desperate. If +Collier were here, he’d probably put the kibosh +on it–if he found out before the trade was closed. +After that he’d have to stand for it, no matter +how hard he kicked. Let’s forget it.”</p> + +<p>Then Frazer showed that peculiar trait of human +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164'></a>164</span> +nature that makes a person doubly eager for +something that seems to be on the point of slipping +away. In his mind he had already fitted +Herman Brock into that gap in center field that +had given him more or less worry. The adjustment +had pleased him; it seemed to balance the +team to a hair. It would give him renewed assurance +of another pennant and a slice of the +World’s Series money. It was Courtney’s hitting +in the last series that had enabled the Wolves +to divide the big end of that money; and, like +Courtney, Brock was a terror with the ash.</p> + +<p>“You mule!” said Frazer. “Let’s go up to +your room and fix up the papers. It’s a trade.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165'></a>165</span><a id='link_19'></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><span class='h2fs'>A FLEETING GLIMPSE</span></h2> + +<p>Locke betrayed no sign of the triumph that +he felt. Had Frazer held out, he would +have given the ten thousand asked, and +considered himself lucky to get a catcher and a +third sacker, both young men, and coming, in exchange +for an outfielder who could not possibly +last more than another season or two. Collier +might squirm when he learned of the trade, but +perhaps he could be made to see the desperate +necessity of it. The thought that Bailey Weegman +would gnash his teeth and froth at the mouth +gave Lefty an added thrill of pleasure. The first +move to circumvent Weegman and the scheming +scoundrel behind him, Garrity, had been put +through.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said, with something like a sigh. +“If you hold me to my word, I suppose it’s a +trade. We may as well make out the papers.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that about a trade?” asked a voice at +the southpaw’s back. “What are you two ginks +cooking up? I saw you chinnin’, and thought +there was something in the wind.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166'></a>166</span>Skullen had entered the grill and come up without +being observed. There was nothing thin-skinned +about Mit, and apparently he had forgotten +the rebuff given him by Locke on the +train.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Mit!” said Frazer. “You’re just in +time to be a witness. I’ve traded King and +Keeper for Herm Brock. We’re going up to +make out the papers now. Come on!”</p> + +<p>Locke rose, his eyes on the intruder, repressing +a laugh as he noted the man’s expression of incredulity.</p> + +<p>“Traded!” exclaimed Skullen. “With Locke? +Say, who’s backing Locke in this deal? Weeg +told me–when I talked with him about being +manager–that any trade that was made would +have to be confirmed by him. Has he agreed to +this deal?”</p> + +<p>“He don’t have to,” said Lefty. “There’s +nothing in my contract that gives him any authority +to interfere with any deal I may choose +to make.”</p> + +<p>Mit followed them from the room and to the +elevator. He was bursting to say more, but he +did not know just how to say it. When they were +in Locke’s room he began:</p> + +<p>“Keeper and King for that old skate Brock! +What’s the matter with you, Ben? You’ve got +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167'></a>167</span> +bats in your belfry! Why, you’ve gone clean off +your nut! You’ve–”</p> + +<p>Frazer cut him short. “That’ll be about +enough from you, Mit! Don’t try to tell me my +business. I’m getting five thousand bones in the +bargain.”</p> + +<p>“Hey?” shouted Skullen, turning on the +young manager of the Blue Stockings. “Five +thousand bucks! You’re coughing up that sum +without consulting anybody? Say, you’re going +in clean over your head. You’d better hold up +and wire Weegman what you’re thinking about. +If you don’t–”</p> + +<p>“When I want your advice I’ll ask for it,” interrupted +Locke sharply. “You seem to be +greatly interested in this business, for an outsider.”</p> + +<p>Skullen was choked off, but he gurgled and +growled while the papers were being filled out; he +even seemed disposed to refuse to sign as a witness, +but finally did so, muttering:</p> + +<p>“There’s going to be the devil to pay over this, +you can bet your sweet life on that!”</p> + +<p>Lefty didn’t care; it was settled, and neither +Collier nor his representative could repudiate the +bargain. Let the crooks rage. The only thing +the southpaw regretted was that Weegman would, +doubtless, quickly learn what had been done; for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168'></a>168</span> +it was a practical certainty that Skullen would lose +little time in wiring to him. In fact, Mit soon +made an excuse to take his departure, and, in +fancy, Locke saw him making haste to send the +message.</p> + +<p>Frazer was wise, also. “You’re going to find +yourself bucking a rotten combination, Locke,” he +said. “They’re bound to put it over you before +you’re through.”</p> + +<p>“I should worry and lose my sleep!” was the +light retort. “Give me a cigar now, Ben; I +haven’t felt so much like smoking in a month.”</p> + +<p>Locke slept that night in peace. In the infield +there were two big holes left to be filled, short and +second; but the reserve list afforded a dozen men +to pick from, and it was Lefty’s theory that a certain +number of carefully chosen youngsters, mixed +in with veterans who could steady them, frequently +added the needed fire and dash to a team +that was beginning to slow down. Herman Brock +was gone, but out in Medicine Hat Jock Sheridan +had covered the middle garden like a carpet, and +had batted four hundred and ten–some hitting! +With Welch and Hyland on his right and left, +Sheridan might compel the Big League fans to give +him something more than a casual once over.</p> + +<p>But Locke’s great pleasure lay in the fact that +he had secured a backstop he had not dared to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169'></a>169</span> +hope for. Even now he could not understand +why Frazer had been induced to part with Brick +King, the catcher whose almost uncanny skill in +getting the very limit out of second-rate and faltering +pitchers had lifted the Wolves out of the +second division two years ago, and made them pennant +contenders up to the final game of the season. +There was the possibility, of course, that old Ben +believed that King had not thoroughly recovered +from the injury that had sent him to the hospital +last August; but a broken leg was something that +rarely put an athlete down and out indefinitely.</p> + +<p>“In my estimation,” thought Lefty serenely, as +sleep was stealing over him, “King has got more +brains and uses them better than any backstop in +the league.”</p> + +<p>The morning papers had something to say about +the deal:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>The new manager of the Blue Stockings has been getting +busy. By good authority we are informed that he has traded +Center Fielder Herman Brock for two of Ben Frazer’s youngsters, +King and Keeper. Through this deal he has obtained +a catcher and a third baseman, but has opened up a hole in +the outfield big enough to roll an <i>Imperator</i> cargo of base hits +through. Of course, the gaping wounds of the Stockings must +be plugged, but it seems like bad surgery to inflict further +mutilation in order to fill the gashes already made. And when +it comes to driving in scores when they count, we predict that +old Herman and his swatstick are going to be lamented. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170'></a>170</span>Keeper is more or less of an unknown quantity. It’s true +that Brick King, in condition, is an excellent backstop and a +good hitter, but it must not be forgotten that he has not played +since he was injured last August. And, incidentally, it should +be remembered that Ben Frazer has a head as long as a tape +measure. An expert appraiser should be called in to inspect +any property on which Frazer shows a disposition to relinquish +his grip. It is a good, even-money proposition that old Ben +and the Wolves will get their hooks into the World’s Series +boodle again this year.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>Lefty smiled over this, his lips curling a bit +scornfully. The opening of the real baseball season +was yet a long distance away, but the newspaper +writers were compelled to grind out a required +amount of “dope” each day, and were +working hard to keep up their average. Some of +them were clever and ingenious in their phrasing, +but nearly all of them betrayed a lack of originality +or courage in forming and expressing individual +opinions. The Wolves had won the +pennant and the world’s championship last season, +and up to date they had been damaged less +than any club in organized ball by the raids of the +Federals; some wise pen pusher had therefore +predicted that the Wolves would cop the bunting +again, and was supported in this opinion by all +the little fellows, who ran, bleating, after the wise +one, like a flock of sheep chasing a bellwether.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171'></a>171</span>It was evident that, with no apparent exceptions, +this bleating flock looked on the Blue Stockings +as a drifting derelict that was due to be +blown up and sunk. For Locke they had only pity +and mild contempt because he had permitted himself +to be dragged into the impossible attempt to +salvage the worthless hulk. Even old Ben Frazer, +than whom none was reckoned more keen and +astute, had expressed such a sentiment without +concealment. A weak man would have felt some +qualms; Lefty felt none. He had not sought the +job; in a way, fate had thrust it upon him; and +now the more unsurmountable the difficulties appeared +the stronger he became to grapple with +them. Like a soldier going into battle, exulted +and fired by a high and lofty purpose, his heart +sang within him.</p> + +<p>Before going to bed, Lefty had wired Kennedy +concerning the deal with Frazer, and he believed +Skullen had made haste to telegraph Weegman. +He rose in the morning fully expecting to get a +red-hot message from Collier’s private secretary, +and was surprised when nothing of the sort +reached him. While at breakfast, however, he received +an answer from old Jack:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>Good work! Congratulations. Keep it up. +<span class='sc'>Kennedy</span>.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172'></a>172</span>Weegman’s silence led Locke to do some thinking, +and suddenly he understood. Skullen had +discovered him on the Knickerbocker Special just +before the train had pulled into Albany, and immediately +Mit had hastened away to buy a paper. +Of course he had then sent word to Weegman, +who was now on his way to New York.</p> + +<p>“But he can’t get here before six o’clock to-night,” +thought Lefty, “and my train for the +South leaves at three-thirty-four.”</p> + +<p>He did not relish running away from Weegman, +and it had gone against the grain when, upon +the advice of Kennedy, he had suddenly left Indianapolis. +But he knew old Jack was wise, and +the more he could accomplish without being interfered +with by the rascal he despised, the stronger +his position for open fighting would be when it +became necessary to defy him to his face.</p> + +<p>His first duty that day was to visit his parents, +and, shortly after breakfast, he took the tube for +Jersey. Less than an hour’s journey brought him +to the Hazelton home, and, after something like +an hour spent with them, he left them in a much +more cheerful and hopeful frame of mind.</p> + +<p>On returning to the city he called up the office +of Franklin Parlmee. To his disappointment, he +was informed that Parlmee had not returned since +leaving for Indianapolis. He had expected the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173'></a>173</span> +man could inform him whether or not Virginia +Collier was in New York, and, if she were, how to +find her and obtain the brief interview he desired. +For he was sure that a short talk with Charles +Collier’s daughter would serve to clear away many +of the uncertainties with which he was surrounded.</p> + +<p>But there were other things to be done, and +Lefty was kept on the jump, without time, even, +to snatch a hasty lunch. When a person attempts +to accomplish a great deal in a brief period in New +York, he often finds he has shouldered a heavy +load. By two o’clock in the afternoon he realized +that it would be impossible for him to take the +three-thirty-four southbound from the Pennsylvania +Station. There was a slower train leaving +at nine-thirty; that was the best he could do.</p> + +<p>He believed Weegman would rush to the Great +Eastern as soon as he arrived. Locke had left +the Great Eastern, and there was little chance of +encountering the man elsewhere. Once or twice +he thought of Skullen, and wondered if he had +made an effort to keep track of him.</p> + +<p>“If so,” laughed the southpaw, “he has been +some busy person.”</p> + +<p>At six o’clock he was appeasing a ravenous appetite +in a quiet restaurant. With the exception +of the fact that he had not been able to find Virginia +Collier, he had done everything he had set +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174'></a>174</span> +out to do. And he had wired Cap’n Wiley that he +would soon be on his way with a Blue Stockings +contract for Mysterious Jones to sign.</p> + +<p>In order to pass the time and obtain a little +diversion, he went to a motion-picture show after +dinner, having first secured accommodations on +the train, and checked his bag at the station. He +left the theater shortly before nine o’clock, and +had reached Broadway and Thirty-third Street, +when a lighted limousine, containing two persons +besides the driver, drove past him. He obtained +a good look at both passengers, a man, who was +talking earnestly, and a woman, smiling as she +listened. He knew he was not mistaken this time: +the man was Bailey Weegman; the woman was +Virginia Collier.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175'></a>175</span><a id='link_20'></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><span class='h2fs'>A RIDDLE TO SOLVE</span></h2> + +<p>Locke stood still, staring after the swiftly +receding car. He thought of pursuit, but, +as a heavy rain was falling, there was no +available taxi in the immediate vicinity. By the +time he could secure one the limousine would have +vanished, leaving no possible hope of tracing it.</p> + +<p>Weegman and Virginia Collier together and on +terms plainly more than usually friendly! What +was the explanation? She had arrived in New +York, after all, and it was apparent that Weegman +knew where to find her when he reached the city. +That his company was distinctly agreeable to her +was evident from the fleeting glimpse Lefty had +obtained. As Parlmee’s rival, the man held the +favor of Charles Collier. Had the baseball magnate +at last succeeded in breaking down the prejudice +and opposition of his daughter? Was it possible +that Weegman, not Parlmee, was the magnet +that had drawn the girl back from Europe?</p> + +<p>“Impossible!” exclaimed Lefty. “She’d never +throw over Frank for that chuckling scoundrel.”</p> + +<p>But was it impossible? Vaguely he recalled +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176'></a>176</span> +something like a change in the tone of Virginia’s +last letters to Janet; somehow they had not seemed +as frank and confiding as former letters. And +eventually, to Janet’s worriment and perplexity, +Virginia had ceased to write at all.</p> + +<p>Before Locke flashed a picture of Parlmee as +he had appeared in Indianapolis, nervous, perplexed, +and, by his own admission, greatly worried. +Parlmee had confessed that he had received +only two very unsatisfactory letters from Virginia +since she had sailed for Europe with her father, +and more than a month had elapsed since the second +of these had come to his hands. Of itself, +this was enough to upset a man as much in love +with Miss Collier as Parlmee undoubtedly was. +But, at the time, Lefty had vaguely felt that the +automobile salesman was holding something back, +and now he was sure. Parlmee’s pride, and his +secret hope that he was mistaken, had prevented +him from confessing that the girl had changed in +her attitude toward him.</p> + +<p>True, Virginia had cabled that she was sailing +on the <i>Victoria</i>, and had asked him to meet her, +and although she had not sailed on that ship, yet +she was now in New York. Here was a riddle to +solve. Did the solution lie in the assumption that, +having decided to break her tentative engagement +in a face-to-face talk with Parlmee, the girl’s courage +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177'></a>177</span> +had failed her, leading her to change her +plans? The fact that he was with her now seemed +to prove that Weegman’s information regarding +her movements and intentions had been more accurate +than Parlmee’s.</p> + +<p>It did not appear plausible that such a girl +could be persuaded, of her own free will, to throw +over Franklin Parlmee for Bailey Weegman. +But perhaps she was not exercising her own free +will; perhaps some powerful and mastering influence +had been brought to bear upon her. Was +it not possible, also, that her father, whose singular +behavior had lately aroused comment and +speculation, was likewise a victim of this mastering +influence? While the idea was a trifle bizarre, +and savored of sensational fiction, such things did +happen, if reports of them, to be found almost +daily in the newspapers, could be believed. But +when Locke tried to imagine the chuckling and oily +Weegman as a hypnotist, dominating both Collier +and his daughter by the power of an evil spell, he +failed. It was too preposterous.</p> + +<p>One thing, however, was certain: evil powers of +a materialistic nature were at work, and they had +succeeded in making a decided mess of Charles +Collier’s affairs. To defeat them, the strategy +and determination of united opposition would be +required, and, in view of the task, the opposition +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178'></a>178</span> +seemed weak and insufficient. Even Parlmee, who +might render some aid, was not to be reached. He +had obtained a month’s leave from business in +order to settle his own suspicions and fears, but +he had not returned to New York. Where was +he?</p> + +<p>Lefty glanced over his shoulder as the <i>Herald</i> +clock began to hammer out the hour of nine. +Then he set his face westward and made for the +Pennsylvania Station at a brisk pace. Reaching +his destination, he wrote and sent to Parlmee’s +office address a message that contained, in addition +to the positive assurance that Virginia was +in town and had been seen with Weegman, a +statement of the southpaw’s suspicions, which +amounted almost to convictions, concerning the +whole affair. There didn’t seem to be much more +that he could do. He had secured his accommodations +on the Florida Mail, but he expected to +be back on the field of battle in the North within +the shortest possible time.</p> + +<p>Before going aboard his train, he bought the +latest edition of an evening newspaper, and, naturally, +turned at once to the sporting page. Almost +by instinct his eyes found something of personal +concern, a statement that Manager Garrity +would strengthen the Rockets by securing an unknown +“dummy” pitcher who had been discovered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179'></a>179</span> +by Scout Skullen, and was said to be a wizard. +Skullen, it was intimated, was off with a commission +from Garrity to sign up his find.</p> + +<p>There was no longer any doubt in Locke’s mind +that Skullen had watched the work of Mysterious +Jones, and intended to nail the mute for the +Rockets. Even now, he had departed on his mission. +Probably he had left at three-thirty-four on +the very train Lefty had meant to take. If so, +he would reach Florida many hours ahead of the +southpaw, and would have plenty of time to accomplish +his purpose. True, Locke had made a +fair and square bargain with Wiley and Jones, +but, having been unable to get Jones’ signature +on a Blue Stockings contract at the time, the deal +would not be binding if the mute chose to go back +on it.</p> + +<p>Not a little apprehensive, Lefty sent still another +message to Cap’n Wiley. After which he +went aboard the train, found his berth, and turned +in.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180'></a>180</span><a id='link_21'></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE MAN AHEAD</span></h2> + +<p>Locke was the first passenger to leap off +the train when it stopped at Vienna. He +made for one of the two rickety carriages +that were drawn up beside the station platform. +The white-wooled old negro driver straightened +on his seat, signaling with his whip, and called: +“Right dis way, sah; dis way fo’ the Lithonia +House.”</p> + +<p>“Is there a baseball game in this town to-day, +uncle?” asked Lefty.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sah, dere sho am. Dey’s gwine to be +some hot game, so ever’body say. Our boys gwine +buck up against dem Wind Jabbers, an’ dere’ll be +a reg’ler ruction out to de pahk.”</p> + +<p>“What time does the game begin?”</p> + +<p>“Free o’clock am de skaduled hour fo’ de +obsequies, sah. Dey’s out to de pahk now, sah, +an’ ’most ever’body could git dere has gone, too.”</p> + +<p>Locke looked at his watch. “Thirty minutes +before the game starts. How far is your park?”</p> + +<p>“’Bout a mile, sah, mo’ uh less.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181'></a>181</span>“Two dollars, if you get me there in a hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Two dollahs, sah? Yes, sah! Step right in, +sah, an’ watch dis heah streak o’ locomotion +transpose yo’ over de earth surface. Set tight +an’ hol’ fast.”</p> + +<p>Tossing his overcoat and bag into the rear of +the carriage, Lefty sprang in. The old negro +gave a shrill yell, and cracked his whip with a +pistol-like report. The yell and the crack electrified +the rawboned old nag into making a wild leap +as if trying to jump out of the thills. It was a +marvel that the spliced and string-tied harness +held. The southpaw was flung down upon the +rear seat, and it was a wonder that he did not go +flying over the low back of it and out of the carriage. +He grabbed hold with both hands, and +held fast. Round the corner of the station spun +the carriage on two wabbly wheels, and away it +careened at the heels of the galloping horse, the +colored driver continuing to yell and crack his +whip. Two dollars!</p> + +<p>The ride from the station to the baseball park +was brief but exciting. The distance could not +have been more than half a mile, and, considering +the conveyance, it was made in record time.</p> + +<p>“Whoa, yo’ Nancy Hanks!” shouted the driver, +surging back on the reins and stopping the animal +so abruptly that Lefty was nearly pitched into the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182'></a>182</span> +forward seat. “Did I heah yo’ say you wanted +to git heah in a hurry, sah?”</p> + +<p>Locke jumped out. “That’s the shortest mile +I ever traveled,” he said, handing over the price +promised. “But then, when it comes to driving, +Barney Oldfield has nothing on you.”</p> + +<p>Carrying his overcoat and bag, he hurried to +the gate and paid the price of admission. A +goodly crowd had gathered, and the local team +was practicing on the field. Over at one side some +of the visitors were getting in a little light batting +practice. Mysterious Jones was warming up +with Schaeffer. A short distance behind Jones +stood Cap’n Wiley, his legs planted wide, his arms +folded, his ear cocked, listening to Mit Skullen, +who was talking earnestly. Lefty strode hastily +toward the pair.</p> + +<p>“Sell him!” said the Marine Marvel, in reply +to the scout, as the southpaw approached behind +them. “Of course I will. But you made one miscue, +mate; you should have come straight to me +in the first place, instead of superflouing away +your time seeking to pilfer him off me by stealth. +What price do you respectfully tender?”</p> + +<p>Locke felt a throb of resentful anger. Regardless +of a square bargain already made, Wiley was +ready to negotiate with Skullen. However, Mit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183'></a>183</span> +had not yet succeeded in his purpose, and the +southpaw was on hand to maintain a prior claim. +Involuntarily he halted, waiting for the scout’s +offer.</p> + +<p>“As you aren’t in any regular league,” said Mit, +“by rights I don’t have to give you anything for +him; but if you’ll jolly him into putting his fist +to a contract, I’ll fork over fifty bones out of my +own pocket. Garrity won’t stand for it, so I’ll +have to come through with the fifty myself.”</p> + +<p>“Your magnanimous offer staggers me!” exclaimed +Wiley. “Allow me a moment to subdue +my emotions. However and nevertheless, I fear +me greatly that my bottom price would be slightly +more than that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what is your bottom price?” demanded +Skullen. “Put it down to the last notch.”</p> + +<p>“I will. I’ll give you bed-rock figures. Comprehend +me, mate, I’ll pare it right down to the +bone, and you can’t buy Jones a measly, lonesome +cent less. I’ll sell him to you for just precisely +fifty thousand dollars.”</p> + +<p>The scout’s jaw dropped, and he stared at the +little man, who stared up at him in return, one +eyelid slightly lowered, an oddly provocative expression +on his swarthy face.</p> + +<p>Slowly the look of incredulous disbelief turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184'></a>184</span> +to wrath. The purple color surged upward from +Mit’s bull neck into his scarred face; his huge +hands closed.</p> + +<p>“What are you trying to hand me, you blamed +little runt?” he snarled. “Where’s the joke?”</p> + +<p>“No joke at all, I hasten to postulate,” said +Wiley. “The scandalous fact is that I couldn’t +sell him to you at all without scuttling and sinking +my sacred honor. But human nature is frail +and prone to temptation, and for the sum of fifty +thousand dollars I’d inveigle Jones into signing +with you, even though never again as long as I +should dwell on this terrestrial sphere could I look +my old college chump, Lefty Locke, in the countenance.”</p> + +<p>Skullen’s astonishment was a sight to behold. +He made strange, wheezing, gurgling sounds in his +throat. Presently one of his paws shot out and +fastened on Cap’n Wiley’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“What’s that you’re saying about Lefty +Locke?” he demanded. “What are you giving +me?”</p> + +<p>“Straight goods, Mit,” stated the southpaw +serenely, as he stepped forward. “Too bad you +wasted so much time making a long and useless +trip.”</p> + +<p>Skullen came round with something like his old +deftness of whirling in the ring when engaged in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185'></a>185</span> +battle. Never in all his life had his battered face +worn an uglier look. For a moment, however, he +seemed to doubt the evidence of his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Locke!” he gasped. “Here!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, indeed,” returned the new manager of +the Blue Stockings pleasantly. “I reckoned you +would be ahead of me, Mit; but, as a man of his +word, Wiley couldn’t do business with you. And +without his aid there was little chance for you to +make arrangements with Jones.”</p> + +<p>Skullen planted his clenched fists upon his hips +and gazed at the southpaw with an expression of +unrepressed hatred. His bearing, as well as his +look, threatened assault. Lefty dropped his traveling +bag to the ground, and tossed the overcoat +he had been compelled to wear in the North upon +it. He felt that it would be wise for him to have +both hands free and ready for use.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186'></a>186</span><a id='link_22'></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /><span class='h2fs'>A DOUBTFUL VICTORY</span></h2> + +<p>“Who sent you here?” demanded the +belligerent individual. “What business +have you got coming poking +your nose into my affairs? You’d better chase +yourself sudden.”</p> + +<p>Instead of exhibiting alarm, Lefty laughed in +the man’s face. “Don’t make a show of yourself, +Mit,” he advised. “Bluster won’t get you any +ball players; at least, it won’t get you this one. +I’ve already made a deal for Jones.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t got his name on a contract; you +hadn’t time. If you had, Wiley’d told me.”</p> + +<p>“I made a fair trade for him before I went +North.”</p> + +<p>Into Skullen’s eyes there came a look of understanding +and satisfaction. His lips curled back +from his ugly teeth.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t have any authority to make a trade +then, for you weren’t manager of the Stockings. +You can’t put anything like that over on me. If +you don’t chase yourself, I’ll throw you over the +fence.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187'></a>187</span>Sensing an impending clash, with the exception +of the mute and the catcher, the Wind Jammers +ceased their desultory practice and watched for +developments. A portion of the spectators, also +becoming aware that something unusual was taking +place, turned their attention to the little triangular +group not far from the visitors’ bench.</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t get Jones if you threw me over +into Georgia,” said Locke, unruffled. “It won’t +do you any good to start a scrap.”</p> + +<p>“Permit me to impersonate the dove of peace,” +pleaded Cap’n Wiley. “Lefty is absolutely +voracious in his statement that he made a fair and +honorable compact with me, by which Jones is to +become the legitimate chattel of the Blue Stockings. +Still,” he added, shaking his head and licking +his lips, “flesh is weak and liable to err. If I +had seen fifty thousand simoleons coming my way +in exchange for the greatest pitcher of modern +times, I’m afraid I should have lacked the energy +to side-step them. The root of all evil has sometimes +tempted me from the path of rectitude. +But now Lefty is here, and the danger is over. +It’s no use, Skully, old top; the die is cast. You +may as well submit gracefully to the inveterable.”</p> + +<p>Muttering inaudibly, Skullen turned and walked +away.</p> + +<p>“I have a contract in my pocket ready for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188'></a>188</span> +signature of Jones,” said Lefty. “Will you get +him to put his name to it before the game starts?”</p> + +<p>“It will give me a pang of pleasure to do so,” +was the assurance.</p> + +<p>There on the field, envied by his teammates, +Mysterious Jones used Locke’s fountain pen to +place his signature–A. B. Jones was the name he +wrote–upon the contract that bound him to the +Blue Stockings. What the initials stood for not +even Wiley knew. For a moment the mute seemed +to hesitate, but the Marine Marvel urged him on, +and the deed was done.</p> + +<p>“If you cater to his little giddyocyncracies,” +said the sailor, “you’ll find him a pearl beyond +price. Unless you’re afraid Skully may return +and mar your pleasure, you may sit on the bench +with us and watch him toy with the local bric-a-brac. +It is bound to be a painfully one-sided +affair.”</p> + +<p>“Skullen,” laughed Lefty, “has ceased to cause +me special apprehension. The contract is signed +now.”</p> + +<p>So Locke sat on the bench and watched his new +pitcher perform. When he walked to the mound, +Jones seemed, if possible, more somber and tragic +than usual, and he certainly had his speed with +him. Yet neither the ominous appearance of the +mute nor his blinding smoke was sufficient to faze +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189'></a>189</span> +the Vienna batters, who cracked him for three +clean singles in the last half of the opening inning, +and then failed to score because of foolish +base running.</p> + +<p>“He seems to be rather hittable to-day,” observed +Locke. “What’s the matter, Wiley? This +Vienna bunch doesn’t look particularly good to +me; just a lot of amateurs who never saw real +players, I should say.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it; that’s what ails them, for one +thing,” replied the manager of the Wind Jammers. +“They have accumulated together no +special knowledge of Simon poor baseball talent, +and so they don’t know enough to be scared. +Even the great Mathewson has confessed that +the worst bumping he ever collided with was +handed out by a bunch of bushers who stood up +to the dish, shut their blinkers when he pitched, +and swung blind at the pill. These lobsters don’t +realize that Jonesy’s fast one would pass right +through a batter without pausing perceptibly if it +should hit him, and so they toddle forth without +qualms, whatever they are, and take a slam at the +globule. Next round I’ll have to get out there on +the turf and warn them; I’ll put the fear of death +into their hearts. Get them to quaking and they +won’t touch the horsehide.”</p> + +<p>But such a program didn’t suit Locke. “If +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190'></a>190</span> +all Jones has is his speed and the fear it inspires, +he won’t travel far in fast company. You ought +to know that, Wiley. Big League batters will +knock the cover off the fast one unless a pitcher +puts something else on it. Sit still once, to please +me, and let’s see what Jones can do without the +assistance of your chatter.”</p> + +<p>“It’s hardly a square deal,” objected the Marine +Marvel. “The jinx has been keeping company +with us ever since we struck Fernandon. From +that occasion up to the present date, Anno Domino, +we haven’t won a single consecutive game. Such +bad luck has hurt my feelings; it has grieved me +to the innermost abscess of my soul.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that these country teams +have been trimming you, with Jones in the box?”</p> + +<p>“Alas and alack! I can’t deny it unless I resort +to fabrication, which I never do. The Euray +Browns tapped Jonesy for seventeen heart-breaking +bingles, and the Pikeville Greyhounds lacerated +his delivery even more painfully. My own +brilliant work in the box has been sadly insufficient +to stem, the tide of disaster.”</p> + +<p>Locke frowned. What success, or lack of it, +Wiley had had as a pitcher was a matter of no moment; +but the statement that amateur teams of no +particular standing had found Mysterious Jones +an easy mark was disturbing. Was it possible +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191'></a>191</span> +that he had been led, with undue haste, to fritter +away good money for a pitcher who would prove +worthless in the Big League? True, the mute had +seemed to show something in the Fernandon game, +but in similar contests Lefty had seen many a pinheaded, +worthless country pitcher give a fine imitation +of Walter Johnson in top-notch form. The +test of the bush was, in reality, no test at all.</p> + +<p>Throughout five innings the southpaw succeeded +in restraining Wiley, and during that portion of +the game the Viennas found Jones for nine singles +and two doubles, accumulating four runs. +Only for bad judgment on the paths they might +have secured twice as many tallies. In the same +period the local pitcher, using a little dinky slow +curve, held the visitors to one score. The mute +seemed to be trying hard enough, but he could +not keep his opponents from hitting.</p> + +<p>With the opening of the sixth, Wiley broke the +leash of restraint. “I’ve got to get out and get +under,” he declared. “You can’t expect me to sit +still and watch my barkentine go upon the rocks. +Here’s where we start something. Get into ’em, +Schepps! Begin doing things! We’ll back you +up, for in onion there is strength.”</p> + +<p>Schepps led off with a hit, and immediately the +Wind Jammers, encouraged by Wiley, leaped out +from the bench, dancing wildly and tossing the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192'></a>192</span> +bats into the air. Locke smiled as he watched +them. He had seen Big League teams do the same +thing in an effort to drive away the jinx and break +a streak of bad luck. But although Lefty smiled, +he was not wholly happy.</p> + +<p>“If Jones is a quince,” he thought, “I’ve +wasted my time trying to brace up our pitching +staff. Even Mit Skullen will have the laugh on +me.”</p> + +<p>His anxiety had led him to come straight from +New York to Vienna, without stopping at Fernandon. +He had sent a message to Janet telling her +that he would be home the following day.</p> + +<p>The Wind Jammers kept after the local twirler, +and succeeded in pounding two men round to the +registry station. Then Wiley did some wigwagging +to Jones, and the gloomy mute nodded assurance. +After which he walked out and fanned +three batters in a row.</p> + +<p>“You see, Lefty!” exulted the Marine Marvel. +“That’s what he needs. Give him proper encouragement, +and he’s there with the damsons.”</p> + +<p>“Temperamental or yellow, which?” speculated +the southpaw. “Either sort of a pitcher is worthless +in pinches.”</p> + +<p>The visitors failed to continue their hitting +streak in the seventh. Whether or not Jones was +disheartened by this, he let down in the last half +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193'></a>193</span> +of the inning, and Vienna added another score, +Wiley’s warnings having no impression upon +them. Nor did the mute show any remarkable +form in the remainder of the game, which terminated +with the score six to four in favor of the +locals.</p> + +<p>“The old jinx is still with us,” lamented the dejected +manager of the Wind Jammers. “Wouldn’t +it congeal your pedal extremities!”</p> + +<p>“It is enough to give one cold feet,” admitted +Locke. “But with Jones doing any real pitching +to-day four tallies would have been sufficient for +you.”</p> + +<p>Picking up his overcoat and traveling bag, he +started to follow the well-satisfied crowd from the +field. As he approached the gate, Mit Skullen +stood up on the bleachers and singled him out. +Mit’s face wore a leering grin.</p> + +<p>“You’re welcome to that lemon, Locke!” he +cried. “I wouldn’t take him now for a gift. +You’ve got stung good and proper.”</p> + +<p>Lefty walked on without replying.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194'></a>194</span><a id='link_23'></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>ALL WRONG</span></h2> + +<p>When Locke reached Fernandon, he +found, as he expected, a furious message +from Weegman awaiting him. +In it he was savagely reprimanded, and warned +under no circumstances to make any further deals +without consulting Collier’s private secretary. +He was also commanded to report at the office of +the Blue Stockings baseball club without unnecessary +delay.</p> + +<p>Lefty merely smiled over this, but he did not +smile over a long telegram from Franklin Parlmee, +stating that he had not seen Virginia Collier nor +heard anything further from her. Parlmee +averred that he could not believe Virginia was in +New York; he expressed the conviction that Locke +had not seen her in the limousine with Bailey +Weegman, but had been deceived by a resemblance. +But if she were not in New York, where +was she? And why had he received no word from +her?</p> + +<p>Janet watched Lefty frowning and biting his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195'></a>195</span> +lip over Parlmee’s message. Her own face +showed the anxiety she felt.</p> + +<p>“What do you think?” she asked. “It doesn’t +seem possible that Virginia could have been with +that man, as you thought. You must have been +mistaken.”</p> + +<p>He shook his head. “I’m positive, Janet. I +would be willing to wager anything that I made +no mistake.”</p> + +<p>“Then what does it mean? I can’t imagine +Virginia being in New York without letting Frank +know.”</p> + +<p>“It’s got me guessing,” Locke admitted. +“There’s a snarl that needs to be untangled.”</p> + +<p>She grabbed his arm. “You don’t suppose–”</p> + +<p>“What?” he asked, as she hesitated.</p> + +<p>“You don’t suppose anything terrible could +have happened to Virginia? Perhaps that villain +has carried her off–shut her up somewhere! +Perhaps she is helpless in his power this minute. +He may be trying to force her into marrying him.”</p> + +<p>Lefty laughed. “That sounds too much like a +dime novel, my dear. Scoundrel though he is, +Weegman would scarcely have the nerve to try +anything like that with the daughter of Charles +Collier. That’s not the answer.”</p> + +<p>“But something’s wrong,” insisted Janet.</p> + +<p>“No doubt about that,” her husband replied. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196'></a>196</span> +“A lot of things seem to be wrong. Somebody is +dealing the cards under the table.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said Janet, “that Virginia didn’t +care for Mr. Weegman, and the more her father +sought to influence her the less she thought of him. +She was proud of Franklin because he had proved +his business ability, and she thought Mr. Collier +would give in soon. But I can’t understand why +she stopped writing to me. She hasn’t written +since arriving on this side.”</p> + +<p>“We’re not getting anywhere by speculating +like this,” said Lefty. “Can you be ready to go +North with me to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>“You are going back so soon?”</p> + +<p>“Just as soon as we can start. I’m thinking I +ought to have remained there. I only came South +at all in order to make sure of Mysterious Jones, +and now it looks as though I wasted both time and +money by doing so. Perhaps I would have been +better off if Skullen had succeeded in getting +Jones away from me.”</p> + +<p>“But the cottage–our lease runs another full +month.”</p> + +<p>“It can’t be helped. We’ll have to pay the +rental and give it up.”</p> + +<p>“And your arm–you thought another month +down here might give you time to work it back +into condition.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197'></a>197</span>“I’ve got plenty to worry about besides my arm. +I’ve been told plainly that I’ve been picked to be +the goat by a set of scoundrels who are trying to +put over a dirty piece of work, and, if I fool them, +I’ll have to do it with my head, not my arm. I’m +going to stake everything on my ability to put the +kibosh on their crooked game, and to stand any +chance of succeeding I must be on the field of battle. +So we must leave Fernandon to-morrow, my +dear.”</p> + +<p>To accomplish this necessitated no small +amount of hustling, but Janet did her part. With +the assistance of her maid and a colored man, the +work was speedily done. There were tears in +Janet’s eyes when she looked back at the deserted +little cottage, as they drove away in a carriage to +catch the train.</p> + +<p>“It has been pleasant here,” she said. “I’ll +never forget it. We were so quiet and so happy. +Now, somehow, I have a feeling that there’s nothing +but trouble ahead of us. You’ve taken a big +contract, Phil.”</p> + +<p>“Are you afraid?” he asked.</p> + +<p>She looked up at him and smiled proudly. “Not +a bit. You are not the sort of man who fails. I +know you’ll win out.”</p> + +<p>His cheeks glowed and a light leaped into his +eyes. “After hearing you say that, I couldn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198'></a>198</span> +fail, Janet, dear,” he said quietly but earnestly. +“It’s going to be some fight, but let it come–I’m +ready.”</p> + +<p>The journey northward was uneventful. Locke +had wired both Kennedy and Parlmee when he +would arrive in New York, asking them to meet +him at the Great Eastern. He did not stop off at +the home town of the Blue Stockings, choosing to +disregard for the present Weegman’s imperative +order for him to report at once at the office of +the club. By mail he had formally notified the +secretary of the club of the trade with Frazer and +the purchase of Mysterious Jones, directing that +checks be sent immediately to the manager of the +Wolves and to Cap’n Wiley. He had done this as +a matter of formality, but he felt sure that Weegman +would interfere and hold up the payments, +even though they could, sooner or later, be legally +enforced. Delay matters as he might, the rascal +could not bring about the repudiation of business +deals entered into by the properly authorized manager +of the team. Locke hoped to have the situation +well in hand before he should find it necessary +to beard the lion in all his fury. The showdown +must come before long, but ere that time the +southpaw hoped to fill his hand on the draw.</p> + +<p>When he had sent out the players’ contracts +from Indianapolis he had instructed the men, after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199'></a>199</span> +signing, to mail them directly to him in New York. +He had made this request emphatic, warning each +man not to return his signed contract to the office +of the Blue Stockings. He had Kennedy to thank +for suggesting this procedure.</p> + +<p>“If the contracts go back to the club office,” +old Jack had said, “Weegman may get hold of +them and hold out on you. That would leave you +in the dark; you wouldn’t know who had signed up +and who hadn’t, and so you couldn’t tell where +you stood. It would keep you muddled so you +wouldn’t know what holes were left to be plugged. +If you undertook to find out how the land lay by +wiring inquiries to the players, you’d make them +uneasy, and set them wondering what was doing. +Some of them might even try belated dickering +with the Feds, and, while you could hold them by +law, it would complicate things still more. If the +newspapers got wise and printed things, the stock +of the club would slump still more, which would +help the dirty bunch that’s trying to knock the +bottom out of it.”</p> + +<p>Beyond question, Kennedy was foxy and farseeing, +and Locke looked forward expectantly to +another heart-to-heart talk with the old man at the +Great Eastern.</p> + +<p>A big bundle of mail was delivered to Lefty +after he registered at the hotel. Immediately on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200'></a>200</span> +reaching his rooms he made haste to open the letters.</p> + +<p>“Look, Janet!” he cried exultantly, after he had +torn open envelope after envelope. “Here are the +contracts–Grant, Welsh, Hyland, Savage, Dillon, +Reilley, and Lumley all have signed, as well as the +youngsters who didn’t attract special attention +from the Feds. Not a man lost that the outlaws +hadn’t gobbled up before Weegman so kindly +forced the management upon me. We’ve got the +makings of a real team left. Some of the deadwood +has been cleared away, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>With scarcely an exception, the players had +sent, along with their contracts, brief, friendly +letters congratulating Locke and expressing confidence +in his ability to manage the Blue Stockings +successfully. He had won the regard of them +all; in some cases that regard fell little short of +genuine affection. With him as their leader they +would fight with fresh spirit and loyalty.</p> + +<p>“It’s fine, Lefty!” exclaimed Janet, as she read +some of those cheery letters. “There was a time +when I could not have believed professional ball +players were such a fine lot of men.”</p> + +<p>“I might have had some doubts myself before I +was associated with them,” he admitted; “but experience +has taught me that they measure up in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201'></a>201</span> +manhood as well as any other class. Of course, +black sheep may be found in every business.”</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he hurriedly opened a letter that +had just attracted his attention among those remaining. +He read it aloud:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p><span class='sc'>My Dear Hazelton</span>: I am writing in haste before sailing +for Liverpool on the <i>Northumberland</i>. As I thought, you +were wrong about having seen Virginia in New York. She is +in London, and in trouble. I’ve had a cablegram from her +which, however, explains very little. She needs me, and I am +going to her at once. If you should wish to communicate with +me, my address will be the Cecil. As I know that both you +and Mrs. Hazelton feel some anxiety about Virginia, I shall +let you hear from me as soon as I have any news.</p> + +<p>Wishing you the success and good fortune you deserve as +a baseball manager, I remain, sincerely yours, +<span class='sc'>Franklin Parlmee</span>.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>When he had finished reading, he stood staring +at the letter in surprise.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202'></a>202</span><a id='link_24'></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>WHEELS WITHIN WHEELS</span></h2> + +<p>“Well, now, what do you know about +that?” cried Lefty. “Sailed for +Liverpool! The man’s crazy!”</p> + +<p>“But he says he has had a cable message from +Virginia,” said Janet. “She is in trouble in London. +You were mistaken.”</p> + +<p>“Was I?” queried the southpaw, as if not yet +convinced.</p> + +<p>“You must have been. All along I have thought +it likely, but you persisted–”</p> + +<p>“I saw her distinctly in that passing limousine, +which was brightly lighted. True, I obtained only +one passing glance at her, but it was enough to +satisfy me.”</p> + +<p>“You are so persistent, Phil! That’s your one +fault; when you think you’re right, all the argument +and proof in the world cannot change you.”</p> + +<p>“In short, I’m set as a mule,” he admitted, +smiling. “Well, there are worse faults. A mistake +may prove costly or humiliating to an obstinate +person who persists in his error, but, when +he is right, such a person is pretty well qualified +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203'></a>203</span> +to win over all opposition. If I did not see Virginia +Collier in that car, she has a perfect double +in New York. I have great confidence in the reliability +of my eyes.”</p> + +<p>Janet, however, thoroughly convinced that her +husband had been deceived by a resemblance, made +no reply.</p> + +<p>Lefty had looked for some word from Kennedy, +but had found nothing from him in his bundle of +mail. It was possible, of course, that old Jack +had found it inconvenient to make the trip to New +York just then; but, naturally, if he could not +come on he would have let Locke know.</p> + +<p>Lefty and Janet had not dined on the train, +preferring to do so after reaching their destination. +As they were passing the desk on their way +to the dining room, Locke stopped short, staring +at the back of a slender, well-dressed young man +who was talking to one of the clerks. Then the +southpaw sprang forward and clapped a hand on +the young man’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Jack Stillman!” he exclaimed impulsively.</p> + +<p>The man turned quickly.</p> + +<p>“If it isn’t Lefty Locke!” he cried, grabbing +the pitcher’s hand. “And you’re the one man I’ve +been palpitating to get hold of. You’re like the +nimble flea. But I’ve got you now!”</p> + +<p>“Murder!” said the southpaw. “My joy at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204'></a>204</span> +spotting you caused me to forget. I should have +passed you by, old man. For the moment I completely +forgot your profession, and your knack of +digging a column or so of sacred secrets out of +any old ball player who knows anything he +shouldn’t tell.”</p> + +<p>Stillman was the baseball man of the <i>Blade</i>, a +newspaper with a confirmed habit of putting over +scoops. With the exception of Phil Chatterton, +who was more of a special writer than reporter, +Stillman was almost universally acknowledged to +be the best informed pen pusher who made a specialty +of dealing with the national game. He possessed +an almost uncanny intuition, and was credited +with the faculty of getting wise in advance to +most of the big happenings in the baseball world.</p> + +<p>“So you would have ducked me, would you?” +said the reporter reprovingly. “Well, I didn’t +think that of you!”</p> + +<p>“I believe I should, if I’d stopped to figure out +the proper play in advance,” confessed Lefty. +“I don’t care to do much talking for the papers–at +present.”</p> + +<p>“Hang you for an ungrateful reprobate!” exclaimed +Stillman, with a touch of earnestness, although +he continued to laugh. “Why, I made you, +son! At least, I’m going to claim the credit. +When you first emerged from the tangled undergrowth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205'></a>205</span> +I picked you for a winner and persistently +boosted you. I gave you fifty thousand dollars’ +worth of free advertising.”</p> + +<p>“And made my path the harder to climb by getting +the fans keyed up to look for a full-fledged +wonder. After all that puffing, if I’d fallen down +in my first game, Rube Marquard’s year or two +of sojourning on the bench would have looked like +a brief breathing spell compared to what would +have probably happened to me.”</p> + +<p>“But you didn’t fall down. I told them you +wouldn’t, and you didn’t. Let the other fellows +tout the failures; I pick the winners.”</p> + +<p>“Modest as ever, I see,” said Locke. “Here’s +Mrs. Hazelton waiting. We’re just going to have +a late dinner. Won’t you join us?”</p> + +<p>Janet knew Stillman well, and she shook hands +with him. “Mrs. Hazelton!” he said, smiling. +“By Jove! I looked round to see who you meant +when you said that, Lefty. Somehow I’ve never +yet quite got used to the fact that your honest-and-truly +name isn’t Locke. I’ll gladly join you +at dinner, but a cup of coffee is all I care for, as I +dined a little while ago. Shan’t want anything +more before two or three o’clock in the morning, +when I’m likely to stray into John’s, where the +night owls gather.”</p> + +<p>When they had seated themselves at a table in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206'></a>206</span> +the almost deserted dining room, Lefty warned +Janet.</p> + +<p>“Be careful what you say before him, my dear,” +he said. “He’s looking for copy every minute +that he’s awake, and nobody knows when he +sleeps.”</p> + +<p>Stillman became serious. “Locke,” he said, +“I’ve never yet betrayed a confidence. Oh, yes, +I’m a reporter! But, all the same, I have a +method of getting my copy in a decent fashion. +My friends don’t have to be afraid of me, and +close up like clams; you should know that.”</p> + +<p>“I do,” declared the southpaw promptly. “I +didn’t think you were going to take me quite so +seriously. You have been a square friend to me, +Jack.”</p> + +<p>“Then don’t be afraid to talk. I’ll publish only +what you’re willing I should. You can tell me +what that is. And if you’ve seen the <i>Blade</i> right +along you must be aware that it’s the one paper +that hasn’t taken a little poke at you since you +were tagged to manage the Blue Stockings. +Nevertheless, here to your face I’m going to say +that I’m afraid you’ve bitten off more than you +can chew.”</p> + +<p>Lefty shrugged his shoulders. “As to that, +time will tell. For once your judgment may be +at fault.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207'></a>207</span>“I don’t mean that you couldn’t manage the +team successfully if you were given a half-decent +show,” the reporter hastened to make clear. “I +think you could. But I’m afraid you’re going to +find yourself in a mess that no man living could +crawl out of with credit to himself.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw gave the waiter the order. Then +he turned to Stillman.</p> + +<p>“I thought I might hear something new from +you, Jack,” he said, “but you’re singing the same +old song. To be frank with you, it’s getting a bit +tiresome. If I were dull enough not to know I’d +been picked for a fall guy, I could have obtained +an inkling of it from the newspapers. It’s plain +every baseball scribe knows the fact that there’s +a put-up job, although none of them has had the +nerve to come out flat and say so.”</p> + +<p>“They’ve said all they really dared to–without +absolute proof of a conspiracy. If you know so +much, take my advice, hand me the proof, and give +me permission to publish it. But it must be real +proof.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t do it yet. Perhaps, when the time +comes, I’ll pass you what you’re asking for. Just +now, considering your statement that you never +double cross a friend, I’m going to talk freely and +tell you how much I know.”</p> + +<p>Sipping his coffee, Stillman listened to Locke’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208'></a>208</span> +story. That there was sufficient interest in it the +attention of the reporter attested. Janet watched +the newspaper man closely, and once or twice she +caught the flicker of an incredulous smile that +passed over his face, giving her the impression +that Stillman had a notion that there were holes in +Lefty’s narrative.</p> + +<p>“Do you mind if I smoke?” asked the reporter, +when dinner was over, and the dessert had been +placed on the table.</p> + +<p>Having received Janet’s permission, Stillman lit +a cigarette, and for a few moments said nothing, +being apparently engrossed with his thoughts.</p> + +<p>Presently he said: “I wonder.”</p> + +<p>“Wonder what?” Lefty wanted to know. +“What I’ve told you is the straight fact. Weegman’s +the crook. Kennedy knew it. I knew it +when I took the position of manager. Garrity’s +behind Weegman. What ails Collier, and why +he was crazy enough to run away and bury himself +while his team was wrecked, is the unexplained +part of the mystery. But if we can block Weegman +we may be able to put the whole game on the +fritz.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder,” repeated Stillman, letting the +smoke curl from his mouth.</p> + +<p>Locke felt a touch of irritation. “What are you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209'></a>209</span> +wondering over? I’ve talked; now I’m ready to +listen.”</p> + +<p>The reporter gave Locke a steady look. “Evidently +the possibility hasn’t occurred to you that +you may not even suspect the real crook who is at +the bottom of the affair.”</p> + +<p>“Weegman conceived it,” replied Lefty. “He +knew Garrity’s reputation. He was sure Garrity +would jump at the chance to help, and to grab a fat +thing at the same time, by stepping in and gobbling +the Stockings when the moment came. Of course, +Weegman will get his, for without his undermining +work in our camp the thing couldn’t be pulled off. +And Weegman’s looking to cop the big chief’s +daughter when he gets the chief pinched just where +he wants him.”</p> + +<p>“Wheels within wheels,” said Stillman, “and +Weegman only one of the smallest of them. He’s +one of those egotistical scoundrels who can easily +be flattered and fooled into doing scurvy work for +a keener mind.”</p> + +<p>“You mean Garrity?”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t thinking of him when I spoke.”</p> + +<p>“Then who–”</p> + +<p>“I had a man named Parlmee in mind,” stated +the reporter.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210'></a>210</span><a id='link_25'></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /><span class='h2fs'>HIDDEN TRACKS</span></h2> + +<p>His lips parted, his eyes wide and incredulous, +Locke sat up straight on his chair +and stared at Stillman. Janet, who had +been listening attentively, gave a little cry, and +leaned forward, one slim, protesting hand uplifted. +The reporter drew his case from his pocket and lit +another cigarette.</p> + +<p>Presently Lefty found his voice. “You’re +crazy, Jack!” he declared resentfully.</p> + +<p>“Am I?” inquired Stillman.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s impossible!” exclaimed Janet.</p> + +<p>“Absolutely ridiculous!” affirmed the southpaw.</p> + +<p>“Very likely it seems so to you both,” admitted +the newspaper man, his calm and confident manner +proclaiming his own settled conviction. “I +listened to Lefty’s story, and I know he’s wise to +only a small part of what’s been going on.”</p> + +<p>“But Parlmee–Oh, it’s too preposterous! +For once in your career, at least, you’re way off +your trolley, Jack.”</p> + +<p>“Prove it to me.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211'></a>211</span>“Why, it isn’t necessary. Franklin Parlmee is +a white man, as square as there ever was, and as +honest as the day is long.”</p> + +<p>“There are short days in midwinter.”</p> + +<p>“But his object–he couldn’t have an object, +even if he were scoundrel enough to contemplate +such a thing.”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t he?” asked Stillman, in that odd, +enigmatical way of his. “Why not?”</p> + +<p>“Why, he’s practically engaged to Virginia Collier.”</p> + +<p>“But without the consent of her father.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but–”</p> + +<p>“Bailey Weegman is said to have a great liking +for Miss Collier. It was your theory that part of +his object in seeking to wreck the Blue Stockings +was to get old man Collier in a tight place and +force his hand. Why couldn’t Parlmee make the +same sort of a play?”</p> + +<p>The persistence of the reporter began to irritate +Locke, who felt his blood growing hot. Was his +life beginning to tell on Stillman? Was it possible +the pace he had traveled had begun to weaken +his naturally keen judgment?</p> + +<p>“Even if Parlmee had conceived such a foolish +scheme, he was in no position to carry it out, Jack. +On the other hand, Weegman was. Furthermore, +it’s perfectly impossible to imagine Weegman acting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212'></a>212</span> +as the tool and assistant of his rival, whom he +hates bitterly. Forget it!”</p> + +<p>Unmoved, Stillman shook his head. “Didn’t I +say that Weegman was an egotistical dub, and an +easy mark? He is naturally a rascal, and he +thinks himself very clever, and so is just the sort +to fall for a still cleverer rascal.”</p> + +<p>Janet’s cheeks were hot and her eyes full of resentful +anger. It was difficult for her to sit there +and hear Parlmee maligned, and she was confident +that that was what she was doing. She could not +remain quiet.</p> + +<p>“I know Frank Parlmee, Mr. Stillman,” she asserted, +“and Lefty is right about him. There’s +not a squarer man living.”</p> + +<p>“How is it possible for Parlmee to use Weegman +as a tool?” asked Locke.</p> + +<p>“Through Garrity,” answered the reporter +without hesitation.</p> + +<p>“But I don’t see–”</p> + +<p>Stillman leaned forward. “Listen: I am not +at liberty to disclose the sources of my information, +but it has come to me that this idea of wrecking +the Blue Stockings originated in Parlmee’s +brain. He saw himself losing out in the fight for +Virginia Collier, and he became desperate. Conditions +were ripe. Collier had hit the toboggan, +financially and otherwise. A man of considerable +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213'></a>213</span> +strength of will, he had begun to break down. +Parlmee knew of his plan to go abroad for his +health, and of the arrangement to leave Bailey +Weegman in charge of affairs. Collier had a +great deal of confidence in Weegman’s ability, and +this would now be put to the test. If Weegman +should make a grand failure, as Parlmee intended +he should, Collier would lose all faith in him; and +probably, in his disappointment, he would hand +him the g. b. That, above all things, was most +to be desired by Parlmee, as it would get out of +the way the rival who threatened to defeat him. +How to put the thing across was the question. I +am willing to give Parlmee the credit of a long-headed +piece of work. He knew Weegman must +be kept in the dark, must never be permitted to +suspect that he was being used as a tool by his +hated enemy.”</p> + +<p>“It sounds altogether too impossible,” said +Locke. But, to his annoyance, in spite of his persistently +expressed faith, a shadowy uncertainty, +a tiny, nagging doubt, was creeping into his mind. +Stillman seemed so absolutely confident of his +ground.</p> + +<p>“Through his long association with Miss Collier,” +the reporter pursued calmly, “Parlmee had +learned much about inside conditions in baseball. +He had plenty of opportunities to get at things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214'></a>214</span> +entirely hidden from, or merely suspected by, the +general public. He knew Garrity was a grasping +scoundrel, who had long regarded the Blue Stockings +with a covetous eye, and that, being utterly +unscrupulous, he would do anything, as long as he +could keep in the background, to break Collier’s +grip and get his own soiled paws on the property. +Therefore, Garrity was the man to deal with, and +to Garrity Parlmee went. They met under cover +in Chicago, and the deal was fixed up between them. +Then Garrity got at Weegman, the real stool +pigeon and the fall guy of the whole plot.”</p> + +<p>Locke was listening without protest now. In +spite of his desire not to believe, Stillman’s theory +seemed possible; he would not yet admit, even to +himself, that it was probable. Janet, too, was +silent. The color had left her face, and beneath +the table her hands were tightly clenched.</p> + +<p>“Weegman was just ass enough to fall for it,” +continued Stillman contemptuously. “What Garrity +promised him I can’t say, but certainly it must +have been a satisfactory percentage of the loot–maybe +an interest in the team when Garrity got +control; and Weegman would sell his soul for +money. The moment Collier was out of the way +he got to work. You know as well as I do what +success he’s had. In order to cover his tracks as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215'></a>215</span> +far as possible, he has picked you for the goat, +and he’ll try to shunt all the blame on you.”</p> + +<p>Lefty’s face was grim. He was endeavoring to +look at the matter fairly and without bias. To +himself he was compelled to admit that his knowledge +of Parlmee had been obtained through casual +association with the man, not through business +dealings, and in no small degree, he, as well as +Janet, had doubtless been influenced by the sentiments +of Virginia Collier. A girl in love may be +easily deceived; many girls, blinded by their own +infatuation, have made heroes of thoroughbred +scoundrels. It was practically impossible, however, +for Locke to picture Parlmee as a scoundrel.</p> + +<p>“You have made a statement, Jack,” he said, +“without offering a particle of corroborating +proof. How do you know all this to be true?”</p> + +<p>“I have the word of a man I trust that Parlmee +and Garrity had that secret meeting in Chicago, +just as I have stated. A few days ago Parlmee +made a flying trip to Indianapolis, and–”</p> + +<p>“I know that,” interrupted Lefty. “I was in +Indianapolis at the time. I met him there and +had a brief talk with him.”</p> + +<p>“On his way back,” resumed Stillman, “he +stopped off at Cleveland to see Garrity, who happened +to be in that city.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216'></a>216</span>“How do you know that?”</p> + +<p>“My own business chanced to call me out to +Cleveland at that time, and I saw Parlmee and +Garrity together at the American House.”</p> + +<p>Locke took a long breath, recalling the fact that +Parlmee, although professing to be in great haste +when in Indianapolis, had not returned to his New +York office as soon as expected.</p> + +<p>“That may have been an accidental meeting,” +said the southpaw. “Your proof has holes in it.”</p> + +<p>The reporter lighted a fresh cigarette. “How +does it happen,” he asked, “that Parlmee is buying +up all the small blocks of the club stock that he +can get hold of?”</p> + +<p>Lefty started as if pricked by the point of a +knife. Parlmee, an automobile salesman, a man +who had found it necessary to get out and show +that he could make good in the business world, +buying the stock of the club!</p> + +<p>“Is he?” asked the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“He is,” asserted Stillman positively. “I +know of three lots that he has purchased, and in +each instance he has paid a little more than it was +supposed to be worth.”</p> + +<p>“He–he may have bought it as an investment,” +faltered Janet.</p> + +<p>The reporter smiled at her. “As far as I can +learn, Franklin Parlmee is not situated, financially, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217'></a>217</span> +to invest much money in stock of any kind. +With his stock depreciating, and bound to go +lower in value, he would be a chump to purchase +it as an investment. The man who pays more +than its market value in order to get hold of it +knows something about the doings behind the +scenes that is not known to the general public. +Apparently that man is Parlmee. Who’s furnishing +him the money to buy the stock? My own +guess is that it is the man who’s looking to get +control of the club, and that man is Garrity.”</p> + +<p>Still Janet protested that it was impossible, but +she looked questioningly at Lefty, the doubt that +she was fighting against was now beginning to +creep into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“Parlmee,” said the southpaw, “has gone to +Europe. I have a message from him stating that +he would sail on the <i>Northumberland</i>. If he’s behind +the plot to wreck the Blue Stockings, why +should he leave the field of action at this time?”</p> + +<p>“If I’ve got his number,” returned Stillman, +“he’s a liar in various ways. Perhaps he has +sailed for Europe; perhaps he hasn’t. His message +may be nothing more than a little dust for +your eyes. But if he has sailed, there’s only one +answer to that.”</p> + +<p>“Out with it!” urged Locke. “Of course, you +think it another move in the rotten game?”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218'></a>218</span>“Sure as death and taxes. He believes the +time is ripe to get at Collier. He’s gone across +to get at him and twist the control of the club out +of his hands. Probably he’ll appear before Collier +in the guise of a friend anxious to save him +from complete financial disaster. He’s got just +about enough time to make the trip comfortably, +get that business through with, and return before +the regular meeting of the league magnates here +in New York. Then, at the meeting, Tom Garrity +will bob up serenely as the real owner of the Blue +Stockings.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219'></a>219</span><a id='link_26'></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>NOT MUCH SHOW</span></h2> + +<p>Tired out, Janet went to bed shortly after +Stillman left, but Locke, knowing he +could not sleep, sat up to think the situation +over. The difficulties and problems of his +own position seemed greater than ever. If the +plot was as deep and intricate as the reporter believed, +and if the men behind it were moving with +haste and certainty to the accomplishment of their +designs, there seemed scarcely a ghost of a chance +for him, practically alone and unaided, to block +them.</p> + +<p>For Lefty now felt that, in a way, he was standing +alone. Even Kennedy, having no power, +could do little more than offer advice. And where +was Kennedy?</p> + +<p>The southpaw had fancied that he would be +given more time to muster his opposing forces for +the battle. He had even imagined, at first, that +the man he would need to contend against and defeat +was Weegman. But now Weegman, the blind +tool of craftier creatures, looked insignificant and +weak. In order to defeat him it would be necessary +to strike higher.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220'></a>220</span>How was he to strike? That was the question. +Locke had suggested to Stillman complete exposure +of the plot by newspaper publicity. And right +there the reporter, who had seemed so confident of +his ground, had betrayed that, after his usual +method, he was working by intuition, and had no +positive and unassailable verification of his conclusions. +It would not do for his paper to charge +criminal conspiracy without proper evidence to +back up such an indictment.</p> + +<p>Recalling this, Lefty remembered that Stillman, +having heard all the southpaw could tell, had +ended by giving his own theory, and had offered +proof to substantiate it. And then he had been +compelled to acknowledge that the proof he had +to offer was not sound enough to base exposure +and open action upon.</p> + +<p>If Stillman were right, doubtless Parlmee had +gone abroad with full knowledge of Charles Collier’s +whereabouts. That knowledge being denied +Lefty, he could not warn Collier, and the plot +would be carried through as arranged. Then, as +the reporter had predicted, at the annual meeting +of the magnates, shortly to be held, Garrity would +appear as owner of the Blue Stockings. When +that happened, the fight would be over, and the +conspirators would be triumphant.</p> + +<p>With the door to Janet’s chamber closed, Locke +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221'></a>221</span> +walked the floor, striving for a clear conception +of what ought to be done. He felt like a man +bound hand and foot. Of course, he could go on +with his project to strengthen the team, but the +harvest of his success would be reaped by the +plotters, if they, too, were successful. There was +little uncertainty about what would happen to him, +for he knew that his conscience would not permit +him to become an understrapper for Garrity. He +had left Fernandon with courage and high hope +to do battle; but now the helplessness of the situation +threatened to appall him.</p> + +<p>If there were only some way to get into communication +with Collier. Again he thought of his +somewhat shaken conviction that Virginia was in +New York. If that were true, some of her family +or friends must know it, and, of course, Virginia +would know how to communicate without delay +with her father.</p> + +<p>With this thought came the conviction that in +Virginia lay his only hope. If he had been mistaken, +and she were not in the United States, his +chance of doing anything to foil the conspirators +was not one in a thousand. His work for the morrow +was cut out for him; he must learn positively +if Charles Collier’s daughter was on American +soil, and, if so, he must find her.</p> + +<p>The telephone rang, and when he answered it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222'></a>222</span> +he was informed that Kennedy was calling. The +faithful old veteran had come, after all! Lefty +said that he was to be sent up at once.</p> + +<p>“Well, son,” said old Jack, as he came in, “how +are things moving?”</p> + +<p>“None too well,” answered Lefty, shaking his +hand.</p> + +<p>“So?” grunted Kennedy. “I wondered just +what was up, and I came right along in answer to +your call, but my train was delayed. What are the +new developments?”</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” said Locke, “and I’ll tell you. +Since I sent you that message I’ve heard something +that’s got me guessing–and worried.”</p> + +<p>“The contracts?” questioned old Jack, sitting +down. “The boys signed up, didn’t they?”</p> + +<p>“Every one of them. That’s not the trouble. +I’ve had a talk with Jack Stillman.”</p> + +<p>“The only reporter I know with a noodle +screwed on right,” said Kennedy. “His bean’s +packed with sound sense. When he gets an idea +it’s generally correct.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, unless he’s made a bobble this +time, the situation’s worse than we suspected, +Jack.”</p> + +<p>“Give me the dope,” urged Kennedy.</p> + +<p>The old man listened to Locke without comment, +and when Lefty had finished, he sat thoughtfully +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223'></a>223</span> +plucking at his under lip with his thumb and forefinger.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, after a time, “Stillman usually +puts them in the groove when he shoots.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think he’s hit it right in this case?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t said so. If anybody else had passed +this one up, I’d have said it missed the plate by a +rod. With Stillman doing the pitching, I’m not +so ready to give a decision against him. But you +say he finished a lot more confident than he began?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Instead of seeking information, he finished +up by giving it.”</p> + +<p>“Just as though he had talked himself into a +settled conviction as he went along?”</p> + +<p>“That’s it.”</p> + +<p>“Then we won’t accept his statement as fact +until he gets some kind of proof, son. You know +more about Parlmee than I do, and you’ve always +figured that gent on the level, haven’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but I’m compelled to admit that I haven’t +had sufficient dealings with him to feel certain that +my estimation of his character is correct. Furthermore, +my first impression was unfavorable.”</p> + +<p>“First impressions are sometimes the best.”</p> + +<p>“But at that time, as you know, my judgment +could hardly be unprejudiced. It was when Collier +first took over the team and I had trouble with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224'></a>224</span> +Carson, the manager he put in your place. Everything +seemed going wrong then.”</p> + +<p>A grin broke over Kennedy’s face, and he +chuckled softly, a reminiscent expression in his +keen old eyes.</p> + +<p>“Those were some stirring times, boy,” he said. +“Collier fired me for Al Carson, and Carson made +a mess of it. He’s managing a dub league team +now. He thought he could get along without you, +just as Collier reckoned he could dispense with +me; but at the finish it was you and me that came +back and saved the day for the Stockings. You +pitched the game of your life that last day of the +season. Now it’s up to you to come back again, +and I’ve got a hunch that you will. You’ll return, +better than ever. You’re going to make the wiseacres +that think you’re down and out look foolish.”</p> + +<p>Locke shook his head. “Knowing what I do, +do you suppose I could do that if Garrity got hold +of the team? I wouldn’t have the heart to work +for that scoundrel. Back in the time we’re speaking +of, it was Stillman’s cleverness that straightened +things out. Not another newspaper man got +wise to the real situation. With his usual uncanny +intuition, he saw through it all, and, as usual, he +made no mistake.”</p> + +<p>“Right you are,” admitted old Jack.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225'></a>225</span>“All the more reason to suppose he is right now. +We can’t dodge that fact. To-morrow I’m going +to make every effort to find some method of getting +into communication with Charles Collier. It’s +my only play in this game. If it fails–good +night!”</p> + +<p>Again Lefty began pacing the floor; it seemed +that he could not wait patiently for the coming +day; he was burning with a desire to get to work +at once. It had been his purpose to seek Kennedy’s +advice on other matters, but these now +seemed secondary and unimportant for the time +being. His talk with Stillman had led him to alter +completely his plan of immediate action. To prevent +the control of the team from falling into the +clutches of the conspirators was now his sole purpose, +as the problem of rebuilding it and restoring +it to its former strength and prestige could be +solved later.</p> + +<p>Kennedy sat thinking, plucking at his under lip, +as was the old man’s habit when perplexed. “Yes, +son,” he said, after a time, “that’s what you’re up +against. Old P. T. Barnum had a show; but it +doesn’t look like you have.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226'></a>226</span><a id='link_27'></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE SUSPENDED AX</span></h2> + +<p>All the next forenoon, Locke kept the +wires hot. He ’phoned and telegraphed +to every one he could think of who +might be able to give him the information he desired +so desperately. He met with one disappointment +after another. In each instance the +reply came back that both Charles Collier and his +daughter were somewhere in Europe, but no one +appeared to know just where. If his efforts established +anything at all, it seemed to be the fact +that Lefty had been mistaken in thinking he had +seen Virginia in New York; for if she were there, +surely some of these people would know of it. +The feeling of helplessness, of fighting against +greedy and remorseless forces too strong for him +to checkmate, pressed upon him heavily.</p> + +<p>It was a little after noon when he called the +office of the <i>Blade</i>. He wanted to talk to Stillman +again. If anybody in New York could find a person +wanted, the reporter was the man to do it, and +Locke believed that for friendship’s sake Stillman +would attempt it.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227'></a>227</span>Near the telephone switchboard in the hotel +were two long shelves, situated a little distance +apart, at which patrons could consult the different +directories. At one of these, several persons were +looking up numbers, so Locke took his book to the +other shelf and found the call for the editorial +rooms of the <i>Blade</i>. A man at the next shelf +turned, saw the pitcher, and listened when Lefty +gave the number to the operator. Instead of giving +his own number, which he had found, the man +noted down the southpaw’s call on a card. It was +the fourth time during the day that this same man +had made a record of a number asked for by +Locke.</p> + +<p>Returning the card to his pocket, the man pretended +to busy himself again over one of the directories, +keeping his back partly turned toward +the pitcher. Soon he heard the switchboard girl +repeat Lefty’s number, and direct him to booth +No. 1.</p> + +<p>The man closed his book and turned round +slowly. The southpaw was disappearing into a +booth at the end of one of the rows, and, in closing +the door behind him, he unintentionally left it +slightly open. The watching man moved quietly +forward until he was close to this booth, through +the glass of which he could see that Lefty’s back +was partly turned toward him. There he paused, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228'></a>228</span> +taking some letters and papers from his pocket +and running them over as if searching for something. +While appearing to be absorbed in his own +affairs, he could hear every word that the pitcher +spoke into the receiver.</p> + +<p>Getting the editorial rooms of the <i>Blade</i>, Locke +asked for Stillman. After a slight delay, he was +informed that the reporter was not there. No +one could say just when he would be in.</p> + +<p>“This is important,” stated Lefty; “a matter +in which he is greatly interested. I must talk with +him as soon as possible. Will you ask him, as soon +as he comes in, to call Philip Hazelton at the Great +Eastern? Yes, Hazelton; that’s right. Why, +yes, I’m Lefty Locke. All right; don’t fail to tell +him immediately he arrives.”</p> + +<p>The man outside slipped the letters and papers +into his pocket, and turned away after the manner +of a person who has suddenly decided upon something. +He had not walked ten steps, however, before +he turned back. The southpaw was paying +for the call. The man watched him now without +further effort to avoid notice, and when the +pitcher turned from the switchboard he stepped +forward deliberately to meet him.</p> + +<p>“Hello!” said the man in a voice distinctly +husky and unpleasant. “How are you, Locke?”</p> + +<p>Lefty stopped short and stared. It was Garrity, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229'></a>229</span> +coarse, complacent, patronizing. The owner +of the Rockets grinned, showing the numerous +gold fillings in his teeth. His features were large, +and his jaw was square and brutal. His clothes +were those of a common race-track follower.</p> + +<p>“Quite well, thank you,” answered Lefty coldly, +thinking of the pleasure it would be to tell Garrity +his private opinion of him.</p> + +<p>“Seems to me you look worried. I don’t wonder, +though, considering the job they’ve handed +you. Some job piecing together the tattered remnants, +hey? It’s going to make you a busy little +manager.”</p> + +<p>“I’m busy now,” said the southpaw, moving as +if to pass on; but Garrity detained him. “You’ve +got some positions to fill. The Feds got at you +hard. Shame to see a team like the Stockings +shot to pieces. You’ve got three or four bad +holes, and I’d like to help you.”</p> + +<p><i>“You</i> would?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. I’ve got the very lads you need, too–Mundy +and Pendexter. Both fast men. They +work together like two parts of a machine. Mundy +covers the short field like Maranville, and Pendexter +sure can play that keystone cushion. They’re +the boys for you.”</p> + +<p>“How’s it happen you are willing to let go of +them?” asked Locke, feeling some curiosity to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230'></a>230</span> +know what lay behind this particular proposition.</p> + +<p>“Well, this is between us, mind? I’d just about +as soon give up an eye as part with either Mundy +or Pendexter, but it’s easier to lose them than +dispense with Pressly, my third sacker. That’s +been the trouble with my team. Pressly loves +Mundy and Pendexter as he loves aconite, and they +reciprocate. You know what a feud like that +means. It knocks the bottom out of any team. I +can’t fill Pressly’s place, but I’ve got a couple of +youngsters that I can work in at short and second. +I’m not going through another season with those +three scrapping. You need the very players I’m +willing to part with, and there we are.”</p> + +<p>Locke knew the man was not honest, and that +he was holding something up his sleeve. In order +to make him show his hand, the southpaw asked:</p> + +<p>“What do you want for Mundy and Pendexter?”</p> + +<p>Garrity considered for a minute. “Well,” he +answered slowly, “I’ll trade them with you for +Spider Grant–and cash.”</p> + +<p>Lefty stared at him in amazement. Was it possible +the man could think he was such a soft mark? +He laughed loudly.</p> + +<p>“You don’t want much, do you, Garrity? The +‘and cash’ was a capper! Man, I wouldn’t trade +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231'></a>231</span> +you Spider Grant for your whole team–and +cash!”</p> + +<p>The owner of the Rockets scowled, glaring at +Locke, the corners of his thick-lipped mouth drooping.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you wouldn’t, hey?” he growled huskily. +“I suppose you think that’s a joke?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all; it’s serious. I couldn’t use the +players you offer, anyhow. Mundy does cover the +short field like Rabbit Maranville–sometimes; but +he’s got a yellow streak, and he quits. Pendexter +knows how to play second, and at the beginning of +last season he hit like old Sockalexis when the Indian +first broke into the league. But the pitchers +all got wise to his weak spot, close and across the +knees, and from a three-hundred-and-sixty batter +he slumped into the two-hundred class. You were +thinking of asking for waivers on him. Spider +Grant–and cash–for that pair! I didn’t imagine +that even you could think me such a boob.”</p> + +<p>As he listened, Garrity’s face showed his anger; +his breath came short and quick; his eyes were +blazing with the fury of a wild animal.</p> + +<p>“Have you got that all out of your system?” he +asked, when Lefty stopped. “You’re a wise +gazabo, ain’t you? You know all about baseball +and players and such things! You’ve got a head +bigger than a balloon. But it’ll shrink, give it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232'></a>232</span> +time. It’s plain you think you really know how +to manage a team. By the middle of the season, +and maybe considerable before that, your head will +be about the size of a bird shot. And you’ll know +a lot more then than you do now, believe me!”</p> + +<p>The southpaw laughed in his face. “Don’t lose +your temper,” he advised, “just because you +couldn’t put a raw one over on me. Go ahead and +ask waivers on Pendexter. You’ll get mine. I +wouldn’t carry him on my team if you agreed to +pay his season’s salary for me. My trade with +Frazer gave you the notion that you could pick +another good man off me, and weaken the Stockings +still more. You fooled yourself that time, +Garrity. Perhaps you’ll find out before long that +you are fooling yourself in other ways.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by that?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll let you guess. But just remember what +Bobby Burns said about ‘the best-laid plans o’ +mice and men.’”</p> + +<p>With this, Locke passed on, leaving the wrathy +owner of the Rockets glaring after him.</p> + +<p>“You poor fool!” muttered Garrity. “I’ll +have you whimpering like a whipped dog before +I’m done with you. Your head’s liable to roll into +the basket before the season opens. When the +time comes, I’ll lift my finger, and the ax’ll fall.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233'></a>233</span><a id='link_28'></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE GAGE OF WAR</span></h2> + +<p>Janet had let some friends know that she +was in the city, and had been invited out +to a matinée performance at one of the +theaters. Lefty urged her to go. “That’s better +than sitting around the rooms alone,” he said, +“and I’ll be so busy that I can’t be with you.”</p> + +<p>So when, shortly after lunch, her friends appeared +in a comfortable limousine, they had little +trouble in persuading her to join them.</p> + +<p>Kennedy dropped in a little later, and Locke +told him of Garrity’s proposed trade.</p> + +<p>“He sure did pick you for a mark,” said the +ex-manager. “You handed it to him straight +about Mundy and Pendexter. You’re going to +need a pair of fast boys to stop the holes, but +there’s better men in the minors than those two. +You’ve got better ones on the reserve list. Besides +that, I’m doin’ a little free scouting on my +own hook. I’ve got friends scattered all over the +country. Whenever an old player, gone to the +scraps, has touched me up for a five or a ten, I’ve +stood for the touch, asking him to keep his eyes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234'></a>234</span> +open for anything good he might run across in the +sticks. That way I’ve got a good deal of inexpensive +scouting done for me. Maybe it’ll be +worth something in this pinch. I’m going to interview +an old friend over in Jersey this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not worrying over players just now,” said +Lefty. “I’m anxious to get hold of Stillman.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll hear from him in time–and Weegman, +too. What Garrity knows Weegman knows, and +so he’s wise that you’re right here. Be ready for +him when he shows up.”</p> + +<p>Kennedy had only just gone when Weegman +appeared. He laughed when he saw Locke, but it +was an ugly laugh.</p> + +<p>“What do you think you’re trying to do?” he +demanded. “Didn’t you get my telegram ordering +you to report at the office of the club?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why didn’t you obey? What did you +mean by coming right through without even sending +me word?”</p> + +<p>“I had immediate business here in New York.”</p> + +<p>“Business! I had business for you to attend +to. You’ve been doing a lot of things without +consulting me. Why didn’t you wait until I gave +you the contracts for the old players?”</p> + +<p>“There had been too much waiting, and time +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235'></a>235</span> +was precious. Kennedy had plenty of blanks, so +I got them from him, filled them out, and sent them +to the boys without further delay. It was the +proper thing to do.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t tell me what’s proper to do! I’ll tell +you. That was the distinct understanding, and +you know it. Sent out the contracts, did you? +Well, some of them ought to be coming back by +this time.”</p> + +<p>“They’ve all come back.”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>“Every one of them. The Federals’ll get no +more players off us this year.”</p> + +<p>Weegman choked, and the sound that came from +his lips was not a laugh.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t seen anything of them. They didn’t +come to the office.”</p> + +<p>“No, certainly not.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not! Then where–where are +they?”</p> + +<p>“I have them in my pocket.”</p> + +<p>Lefty said it quietly, not at all disturbed by the +wrath of the outraged schemer. It gave him much +satisfaction to see Bailey Weegman shake and +squirm.</p> + +<p>“In your pocket!” spluttered the rascal. “You +had them returned to a different address? Confound +your crust! How’d you ever have the nerve +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236'></a>236</span> +to do a thing like that? Let’s see them. Hand +them over!”</p> + +<p>Locke made no move to obey. “I think I’ll keep +them a while,” he answered coolly. “I’ll deliver +them personally to be locked in the club safe.”</p> + +<p>For a moment it seemed that Weegman would +lose all control of himself and attack the southpaw.</p> + +<p>“You fool!” he raged. “Do you think you’re +going to get by with this stuff?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve made a pretty fair start at it.”</p> + +<p>“So you never meant to stand by the private +agreement between us when you signed as manager? +That’s it, eh?”</p> + +<p>“There never was any private agreement between +us. I signed to handle the team, but I did +not agree to become your puppet.”</p> + +<p>“You did. You said that–”</p> + +<p>“That I understood the conditions you had proposed, +but I did not say that I consented to them. +I had no intention of letting you dictate to me.”</p> + +<p>“Fool! Fool!” snarled Weegman. “How +long do you think you’ll last? And you made that +crazy trade with Frazer! Do you know what I’ve +done? Well, I’ve notified Frazer that the deal was +irregular, and won’t be recognized by the club. +Not a dollar of that five thousand will he ever +get.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237'></a>237</span>“You know better than that. The trade was +legitimate, and it will stand. Frazer can collect +by law. Any other deal that I make will go +through, too, whether you are aware of it at the +time or not. Until Charles Collier himself takes +away my authority, I’m manager of the team with +the legal right to carry out my own plans, and I +intend to do so. I shall ask no advice from you, +and any suggestion you may make I shall look +upon with distrust.”</p> + +<p>They fought it out, eye to eye, and presently +Weegman’s gaze wavered before that of the unawed +southpaw. The man he had sought to make +his blind tool was defying him to his face.</p> + +<p>“I see your finish!” he declared.</p> + +<p>“And I see yours,” countered Locke. “You +think you’re a clever crook. You’re merely an instrument +in the hands of a bigger and cleverer +scoundrel who doesn’t care a rap what happens to +you if he can put his own miserable scheme +over. Your partnership with him will be your +ruin, anyhow. If you had half the sense you think +you possess, you’d break with him without losing +any time.”</p> + +<p>“What are you talking about? I’ve only +planned to do my best to save a team that has +been raided by the Feds. You’re killing the last +chance for the Blue Stockings.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238'></a>238</span>“Tell it to Sweeny!” exclaimed Lefty. +“You’re trying to deliver the team into the hands +of Tom Garrity. Deny it if you wish, but it isn’t +necessary to lie. You’ve played Judas with Collier.”</p> + +<p>“Be careful! Better take that back!”</p> + +<p>Lefty laughed. “I’m ready to add more to it. +I haven’t told you half what I know. If I were +to do so, you’d realize what a dumb fool you have +made of yourself. You think you’re wise to all +that was planned, but you’ve been let in on only a +very little of it. You’ll tear your hair when you +get a squint at the foundation stone of this neat +little conspiracy.”</p> + +<p>“I–I don’t know what you mean.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right, you don’t; but you will know in +time. You’ll be kept in the dark as long as it +suits Tom Garrity.”</p> + +<p>“What’s Garrity got to do with it?”</p> + +<p>Locke smiled on him pityingly. “Don’t be +childish, Weegman. That sort of a bluff is too +thin. I was wise when I signed to manage the +team.”</p> + +<p>In vain the man stormed, threatened, coaxed, +cajoled; he could not bend Lefty in the least, and +at last he realized that he had made a big blunder +in estimating the character of the southpaw.</p> + +<p>“So it’s war between us, is it?” he finally asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239'></a>239</span>“I have looked for nothing else,” answered the +pitcher.</p> + +<p>Weegman snapped his fingers in Locke’s face. +“All right!” he cried. “You would have it! Just +you wait! You’re going to regret it! We’ll see +how long you last!” And, turning round, he +strode away, muttering to himself.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240'></a>240</span><a id='link_29'></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE JAWS OF THE TRAP</span></h2> + +<p>Lefty had defied Weegman. Henceforth +it was to be open war, and he was glad of +it. What the rascal would attempt to do +he did not know, and cared less. It did not seem +likely that he could do much, if anything, that he +had not already made preparations to do. Of +course, he might call Collier into the affair, and +that, should it bring the owner of the Blue Stockings +back to his own country, was something +earnestly to be desired. Could he but get Collier +in private for twenty minutes, Locke felt sure he +could make him realize that he was the victim of a +conspiracy, and that his trusted private secretary +had sought to sell him out into the hands of a rival +owner.</p> + +<p>The telephone rang, and, thinking Stillman was +calling at last, he hastened to answer. It was not +the reporter’s voice that he heard, but he was informed +that some one was speaking from the office +of the <i>Blade</i>, and that, after making a fruitless +effort to get Locke on the wire, Stillman had found +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241'></a>241</span> +it necessary to hustle away to keep an important +appointment.</p> + +<p>“But where can I find him?” asked the disappointed +pitcher. “How can I get hold of him?”</p> + +<p>“He wants to talk to you as much as you do to +him,” was the answer. “Said it was absolutely +necessary. That’s why he had me call you. Says +he has something to tell you, personally and privately. +He’ll try to be at Mike’s saloon, Thompson +Street, near Broome, at three o’clock. If you +get there first, wait for him. And don’t fail to +come, for he’ll have important information. Got +that straight?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but–”</p> + +<p>“All right. I’ve done my duty. Good-by.” +There was a click, and the wire was silent.</p> + +<p>Lefty looked at his watch as he left the phone. +It was twenty-two minutes to three.</p> + +<p>“Just about time enough to make it comfortably,” +he decided. “Stillman must be on the track +of something.”</p> + +<p>The subway being convenient, he chose it instead +of a taxi, getting off at Spring Street. Five +minutes ahead of time, he found Mike’s saloon, a +somewhat disreputable-looking place when viewed +from the exterior. The neighborhood, likewise, +seemed sinister. However, a reporter’s business, +thought Locke, carried him into all sorts of places.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242'></a>242</span>Within the saloon a single patron, who looked +like a vagrant, was picking at the crumbs of a +sickly free lunch in a dark corner. A husky-looking, +red-headed bartender was removing an emptied +beer schooner and mopping up the counter. +He surveyed the southpaw from head to foot with +apparent interest.</p> + +<p>“I’m looking for a man named Stillman who +made an appointment to meet me here at three,” +explained Lefty. “I was to wait for him if I got +here first.”</p> + +<p>“Jack’s here,” stated the man behind the bar, +in a manner that bespoke considerable familiarity +with the reporter. “Came in three or four minutes +ago. Reckon you’re Lefty Locke?”</p> + +<p>“That’s right.”</p> + +<p>“He told me you might come round. He’s in +the back room. Walk right in.” The speaker +jerked a heavy thumb toward a closed door at the +far end of the bar.</p> + +<p>At the sound of Locke’s name the vagrant, who +had been picking at the free lunch, turned to look +the famous pitcher over with apparent curiosity +and interest.</p> + +<p>“Lefty Locke,” he mumbled huskily. “Lemme +shake han’s. Ruther shake han’s with Lefty +Locke than any man livin’.”</p> + +<p>Locke pushed past him and placed his hand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243'></a>243</span> +on the knob of the door. The fellow followed, +insisting upon shaking hands, and, as Lefty +opened the door, the vagrant staggered, lurched +against the pitcher, and thrust him forward, the +door closing behind him with the snap of a spring +lock.</p> + +<p>It is remarkable how seldom any one ever heeds +premonitions. Even as he opened that door, Lefty +was aware that ever since the telephone call had +come to him some subtle intuition, thus far wholly +disregarded, had been seeking to sound a warning. +It had caused him to hesitate at last. Too late! +The push delivered by the vagrant had pitched him +forward into the snare, while the sound of the +clicking spring lock notified him that his retreat +was cut off.</p> + +<p>Through a dirty skylight above another door +that probably opened upon a back alley some weak +and sickly rays of daylight crept into the room. +A single gas jet, suspended from the center of the +cracked and smoky ceiling, gave a feeble, flickering +light, filling the corners with fluttering shadows. +The furniture in the room consisted of a +table and a few chairs.</p> + +<p>At the table three men were sitting, drinking and +smoking. Locke, recovering from the push he had +received, stepped back against the closed door, +and looked at them.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244'></a>244</span>“Hello!” said Mit Skullen. “Don’t hurry +away, Lefty. Folks that come in by that door +sometimes go out by the other one.”</p> + +<p>He was grinning viciously, triumphantly. The +look upon his face was one of satisfaction and +brutal anticipation, and amply proclaimed his purpose.</p> + +<p>Skullen’s companions were tough characters, fit +associates and abettors of such a man. That they +were thugs of the lowest type, who would not hesitate +at any act of violence, there could be no question. +One looked like a prize fighter who had +gone to the bad, his drink-inflamed face and bleary +eyes advertising the cause of his downfall. The +other had the appearance of a “coke” fiend, and +the criminally bent habitual user of that drug has +neither scruples nor fear of consequences.</p> + +<p>Locke regarded them in silence. His pulses +were throbbing somewhat faster, yet he was cool +and self-possessed, and his brain was keenly +active. He knew precisely what he was up against. +Slipping one hand behind him, he tried the knob +of the door; but, as he had expected, the door held +fast.</p> + +<p>Skullen continued to grin gloatingly, fancying +that Locke’s inactivity was evidence that he was +practically paralyzed by amazement and fear.</p> + +<p>“Your friend Stillman was too busy to come,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245'></a>245</span> +he said, “and so I kept the appointment for him. +Maybe I’ll do just as well. Anyhow, I’ll do–for +you!”</p> + +<p>He had risen to his feet, and the light of the +flickering gas jet played over his evil face. Lefty +flashed another look around, taking in the surroundings. +To his ears came the distant, muffled +sound of an elevated train rumbling along the +trestle. Behind him, in the front of the saloon, +all was still. Probably the door leading to the +street was now also locked to prevent any one +from entering and hearing any disturbance that +might take place in the back room. The jaws of +the trap held him fast.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it ain’t any use to think about runnin’ +away, Lefty,” croaked Mit. “Not a chance in the +world. I fixed it so’s we could have our little settlement +without any one buttin’ in to bother us. +You remember I told you I had a score to settle +with you?”</p> + +<p>As Locke spoke, his voice was calm and steady. +“And you engaged a pair of worthy pals to assist +you! You’re a brave man, Skullen!”</p> + +<p>“Aw, these lads are only here to see fair play, +that’s all. They won’t mix in. They won’t have +to. Last time we met you reckoned you put it +all over me, didn’t you? Maybe I ought to thank +you for keepin’ me from gettin’ a rotter on me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246'></a>246</span> +hands, for that’s what you got in Dummy Jones. +You’re welcome to that piece of cheese.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw made no retort. He was measuring +his chances against all three of the ruffians, +having no doubt that he must soon find himself +pitted against such odds.</p> + +<p>“Some baseball manager, that’s what you are!” +scoffed Mit, taking keen delight in prolonging the +suspense that he fancied must be getting the +nerve of the intended victim. “You’re rattlin’ +around like a buckshot inside a bass drum. A +busy little person, you are, but you won’t be so +busy after I finish with you. You’ll find it convenient +to take a nice long rest in a hospital.”</p> + +<p>“You fight a lot with your mouth, Mit,” said +Locke contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“Go ahead an’ sail inter him, Skully,” urged +the ruffian who looked like a broken-down prize +fighter. “You been itchin’ fer him to show up so +you could get inter action. Go to it!”</p> + +<p>“Plenty of time, Bill. I enjoy seein’ him try +to push that door down with his back. Wasn’t he +a mut to walk right into this? I’m goin’ to change +the look of his face so that his handsome wife won’t +know him when she sees him next.”</p> + +<p>He began to remove his coat, and Lefty knew +the time for action had come. For an instant his +imagination had sought to unnerve him by presenting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247'></a>247</span> +a vivid picture of himself as he would +appear, battered, bleeding, beaten up, if the trio +of thugs carried out their evil design; but he put +the vision aside promptly. In cases where a +smaller force is compelled to contend with a +greater, the advantage is frequently obtained +through swift and sudden assault. Knowing this, +Locke did not wait to be attacked. He hurled himself +forward with the spring of a panther and the +force of a catapult.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248'></a>248</span><a id='link_30'></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /><span class='h2fs'>ONE AGAINST THREE</span></h2> + +<p>Skullen, in the act of removing his coat, +was caught unprepared. Before he could +fling the garment aside Locke was upon him, +aiming a well-meant blow for the point of Mit’s +jaw.</p> + +<p>Skullen realized that it was no trifling thing to +stop such a blow as that, and he jerked his head +aside, as he dropped his coat. The blow caught +him glancingly and sent him staggering, upsetting +the chair from which he had recently risen. Locke +grabbed the edge of the table and pitched it against +the ruffian’s two companions, who had hastily +started to get up. They fell over, with the table +on top of them.</p> + +<p>Lefty followed up his advantage, and kept right +on after Skullen. Uttering a snarl of astonished +rage, the latter sought to grapple, but the southpaw +knew that he could not afford to waste time +in that sort of a struggle. Whatever he did must +be done swiftly, effectively, and thoroughly. Delay +meant only disaster to him. Avoiding the clutching +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249'></a>249</span> +hands of his antagonist, he struck Mit on the +neck, below the ear, staggering him again.</p> + +<p>Skullen had not looked for such a whirlwind +assault. He had fancied the trapped man would +wait until set upon, and he had believed he would +have little trouble in beating Lefty to the full satisfaction +of his revengeful heart. He was strong +and ponderous, and he could still strike a terrible +blow, but years had slowed him down, his lack of +exercise had softened his muscles, his eye had lost +its quickness, while indulgence in drink and dissipation +had taken the snap and ginger out of him. +He had not realized before how much he had +deteriorated, but now, witnessing the lightning-like +movements of Lefty Locke, he began to understand, +and sudden apprehension overcame him.</p> + +<p>“Bill! Snuff!” he roared. “Get into it! Get +at him, you snails! Soak him!”</p> + +<p>His appeal to his companions was an unintentional +admission that he suddenly realized he was +no match for the man he had attempted to beat. +The flickering gaslight had given him a glimpse of +a terrible blazing look in Locke’s eyes. Once, in +the ring, he had seen a look like that in the eyes +of an opponent who had apparently gone crazy. +And he had been knocked out by him!</p> + +<p>Scrambling up from beneath the capsized table, +Bill and Snuff responded. Lefty knew that in a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250'></a>250</span> +moment they would take a hand in the fight, and +then the odds would be three against one, and +none of the three would hesitate at any brutal +methods to smash the one. Once he was beaten +down, they would kick and stamp him into insensibility; +and later, perhaps, he would be found outside +somewhere in the back alley, with broken +bones, possibly maimed and disfigured for life.</p> + +<p>The knowledge of what would happen to him, +if defeated, made him doubly strong and fierce. +He endeavored to dispose of Skullen first, believing +that by doing so he would have half the battle +won.</p> + +<p>Skullen’s howls to his companions came to an +abrupt termination. Like an irresistible engine +of destruction, Locke had smashed through the +defense of the ruffian, and, reaching him with a +terrible blow, sent him spinning and crashing into +a corner of the room. At the same instant, Bill, +joining in, was met by a back kick in the pit of +his stomach, and, with a grunt, he doubled up, +clutching at his middle with both hands.</p> + +<p>This gave the southpaw a chance to turn on +Snuff, who had not, so far, shown any great desire +to help his pals. The creature had seemed physically +insignificant, sitting at the table, but now, +in action, he moved with the quickness of a wild +cat, in great contrast to the ponderousness of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251'></a>251</span> +Skullen. And he had a weapon in his hand–a +blackjack!</p> + +<p>The southpaw realized that, of his three antagonists, +the creature springing at him like a +deadly tarantula was the most to be dreaded. Insanity +blazed in the fellow’s eyes. He struck with +the blackjack, and Lefty barely avoided the +blow.</p> + +<p>Locke snapped out his left foot, and caught the +toe of the man plunging past him, sending him +spinning to the floor. Snuff’s body struck a leg +of the overturned table and broke it off short, but +the shock of the fall seemed to have absolutely no +effect upon him; for he rebounded from the floor +like a rubber ball, and was on his feet again in a +flash, panting and snarling.</p> + +<p>“Get him, Snuff–get him!” urged Skullen, +coming up out of the corner where he had been +thrown.</p> + +<p>Bill, recovering his breath, was straightening +up. All three of the thugs would be at the southpaw +again in another jiffy. Lefty darted round +the table, avoiding the blackjack, but realizing +what a small chance he had with his bare hands. +He could not keep up the dodging long. Then he +saw the broken table leg, and snatched it up. +With an upward swing, he landed a blow on +Snuff’s elbow, breaking his arm. The blackjack +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252'></a>252</span> +flew to the smoky ceiling, and then thudded back +to the floor.</p> + +<p>Feeling sure he had checked his most dangerous +antagonist, Lefty turned, swinging the table +leg, and gave Skullen a crack on the shoulder that +dropped him to his knees. He had aimed at Mit’s +head, but the fellow had partially succeeded in +dodging the blow.</p> + +<p>Another blow, and the cry of alarm that rose +to Bill’s lips was broken short. Bill went down, +knocked senseless.</p> + +<p>But Snuff, in spite of his broken arm, was +charging again. He was seeking to get at the +southpaw with his bare left hand! The pitcher, +however, had no compunction, and he beat the +madman down instantly.</p> + +<p>Groaning and clinging to his injured shoulder, +Skullen retreated hastily to the wall, staring in +amazement and incomprehension at the breathless +but triumphant man he had lured into this trap. +In all his experience he had never encountered +such a fighter.</p> + +<p>There being no one to stop him now, Lefty +walked to the door leading into the alley, found +the key in the lock and turned it. One backward +look he cast at the two figures on the floor and the +man who leaned against the wall, clutching at his +shoulder.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253'></a>253</span>Policemen seemed to be scarce in that neighborhood, +and Locke found one with difficulty. The +officer listened incredulously to Lefty’s story. +“Mike’s is a quiet place,” he said. “Didn’t +make a mistake about where this happened, did +you? Well, come on; we’ll go round there and +see about it.”</p> + +<p>The saloon was open when they reached it. The +red-headed bartender was serving beer to an Italian +and a Swede. The vagrant had vanished. +The man behind the bar listened with a well-simulated +air of growing indignation when the policeman +questioned him. He glared at the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“What are you tryin’ to put across, bo?” he +demanded fiercely. “You never were in here before +in your life. Tryin’ to give my place a bad +name? Nothin’ like what you say ever happened +around here. Nice little yarn about bein’ decoyed +here by some coves that tried to beat you up! +Say, officer, is this a holdup?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve told you what he told me,” said the policeman.</p> + +<p>“In my back room!” raged the barkeeper. +“There ain’t been nobody in there for the last two +hours. Come here an’ have a look.” He walked +to the door and flung it open.</p> + +<p>Skullen and his partners were gone. Even the +broken table had been removed. There was nothing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254'></a>254</span> +to indicate that a desperate encounter had +taken place there a short time before.</p> + +<p>“You cleaned up in a hurry,” said Lefty.</p> + +<p>At this the barkeeper became still more furious, +and was restrained by the officer, who scowled at +the pitcher even as he held the other back.</p> + +<p>“You don’t look like you’d been hitting the pipe, +young feller,” growled the representative of the +law; “but that yarn about being attacked by three +men looks funny. Don’t notice any marks of the +scrap on you. They didn’t do you much damage, +did they? Say, you must have had a dream!”</p> + +<p>Locke saw the utter folly of any attempt to press +the matter. “As long as you insist upon looking +at it in that way, officer,” he returned, with a +touch of contempt that he could not repress, +“we’ll have to let it go at that. But I’ll guarantee +that there are three men somewhere in this +neighborhood who’ll have to have various portions +of their anatomies patched up by a doctor as the +aftermath of that dream.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255'></a>255</span><a id='link_31'></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br /><span class='h2fs'>LIGHT ON A DARK SPOT</span></h2> + +<p>Janet returned from the matinée in a state +of great excitement. “She’s here!” she +cried, bursting in on Lefty. “You were +right about it! I’ve seen her!”</p> + +<p>The southpaw gazed in surprise at the flushed +face of his charming wife. “You mean–”</p> + +<p>“Virginia! I tell you I’ve seen her!”</p> + +<p>“When? Where?”</p> + +<p>“As we were leaving the theater. The lobby +was crowded, and we were in the back of the jam. +Suddenly I saw her over the heads of the people. +She was just getting into an auto that was occupied +by a handsome woman with snow-white hair. +I wasn’t mistaken; it was Virginia. I couldn’t +get to her. I tried to call to her, but she didn’t +hear me. I’ll never say you were mistaken again, +Lefty. Somehow you seem always to be right.”</p> + +<p>Locke scarcely heard these final words. He +was thinking rapidly. A sudden ray of hope had +struck upon him. Confound it! Where was Stillman? +He sprang to the telephone and called the +<i>Blade</i> office again.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256'></a>256</span>“Jack is the one best bet in this emergency,” he +said, as he waited for the connections to be made.</p> + +<p>He got the reporter on the wire, and Stillman +stated that he had not been in the office ten minutes, +and was about to call Lefty. Could he come +up to the Great Eastern right away? Sure.</p> + +<p>The feeling of depression and helplessness that +had threatened to crush Locke began to fall away. +The door he had sought, the one door by which +there seemed any chance of passing on to success, +appeared to be almost within reach of his hand. +In her excitement at the theater, Janet had not +possessed the presence of mind to call the attention +of her friends to the snowy-haired woman, +but he knew that she could describe her with some +minuteness.</p> + +<p>“Stillman knows everybody,” Lefty said. “It +may be clew enough for him.”</p> + +<p>There was a rap on the door. A messenger boy +appeared with a telegram. Locke ripped it open +and read:</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>Jones sick. Team busted. I’m busted. Signal of distress. +How about that five hundred? I knead the dough. Don’t +shoot! Wire cash. <span class='sc'>Wiley.</span></p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>“Trouble in another quarter,” muttered Lefty, +handing the message over to Janet. “How am I +going to send him that money? I can’t force +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257'></a>257</span> +Weegman to do it. Wiley has a right to demand +it. If I don’t come across, he’ll have a right to +call the deal off.”</p> + +<p>“But Jones is sick,” said Janet.</p> + +<p>“Still it was a square bargain, and I mean to +stand by it. Jones is sick. He was sick that day +in Vienna; that was what ailed him. He showed +flashes of form when he braced up, but he was too +ill to brace up long. I’ve wondered what was the +explanation, now I have it. Get him on his feet +again, and he’ll be all right. I’ve got to hold my +grip on Jones somehow.”</p> + +<p>Kennedy and Stillman appeared at the Great +Eastern together. First, Lefty showed them the +message from Cap’n Wiley. Over it the former +manager screwed up his face, casting a sharp look +at his successor.</p> + +<p>“If you can trust this Wiley,” he said, “send +him two hundred, and tell him to bring Jones north +as soon as Jones can travel. Don’t worry. +Wiley’s outfit didn’t come under the national +agreement, and Jones’ name on a Stockings contract +ties him up.”</p> + +<p>“But without drawing money from the club I +haven’t the two hundred to spare now. I can’t +draw.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll fix that. I’ve got two hundred or more +that you can borrow. After the training season +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258'></a>258</span> +opens, you’ll pretty soon find out whether or not +you’ve picked a dill pickle in your dummy +pitcher.”</p> + +<p>Janet told Stillman about seeing Virginia Collier, +and gave him a fairly minute description of +the woman Virginia was with. The reporter +smoked a cigarette, and considered.</p> + +<p>“I think I can find that lady with the snow-white +hair,” he said, after a time. “Leave it to +me. You’ll hear from me just as soon as I have +something to tell.”</p> + +<p>With a promising air of confidence, he took his +departure, leaving Kennedy and Locke to attend +to the matter of Wiley and Mysterious Jones. Of +course, the southpaw told the old manager all +about Skullen’s attempt at revenge, but he did not +do so within the hearing of Janet, whom he did +not care to alarm. The veteran chuckled over the +result of the encounter in the back room of Mike’s +saloon.</p> + +<p>“Right from the first,” he said, “you was +picked for something soft and easy. I knew +you was a fighter, son, but Weegman and his gang +didn’t know it. Mebbe they’ll begin to guess the +fact pretty soon.”</p> + +<p>A few minutes after eight that evening, Stillman +returned to the hotel and found Locke waiting +with what patience he could command. The +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259'></a>259</span> +reporter wore a smile, but he declined to answer +questions.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. James A. Vanderpool’s private car is +waiting for us at the door,” he said. “Bring +Mrs. Hazelton, Lefty. We’re going to make a +call.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Vanderpool? The widow of the traction +magnate? Why, what–”</p> + +<p>“Now don’t waste time! Somebody else can +gratify your curiosity a great deal better than I. +In fact, I know so little about the facts at the bottom +of this queer business that any explanations +I’d make would be likely to ball things up.”</p> + +<p>The magnificent residence of the late James +Vanderpool was on upper Fifth Avenue. They +were ushered into a splendid reception room. In +a few minutes an aristocratic-looking woman with +white hair entered, her appearance bringing an +involuntary exclamation to Janet’s lips.</p> + +<p>“It’s the very one!” she breathed excitedly, her +fingers gripping Lefty’s arm. Stillman introduced +them to Mrs. Vanderpool, who met them +graciously.</p> + +<p>“Virginia will be down in a minute or two,” +said the lady. “For reasons, she has been staying +with me since she returned from abroad. I’ll let +her tell you about it.” She regarded Locke with +frank interest, yet in a manner that was not at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260'></a>260</span> +all embarrassing, for it plainly contained a great +deal of friendliness. “Virginia has told me much +about you,” she stated. “It has never before +been my good fortune to meet a professional baseball +player. My niece is very fond of Mrs. Hazelton.”</p> + +<p>“Your niece!” exclaimed Lefty.</p> + +<p>“Virginia is my niece, although I have scarcely +seen her since she was a very small child. Here +she is now.”</p> + +<p>Virginia ran, laughing, to meet Janet. After +the manner of girl friends, they hugged and kissed +each other.</p> + +<p>“Really,” said Virginia, “I should give you a +good shaking for not answering all my letters!”</p> + +<p>“Your letters!” cried Janet. “I’ve received +only two letters from you in goodness knows how +long! I answered them; and wrote you a dozen +to which I got not a word of reply.”</p> + +<p>They gazed at each other in blank uncertainty +for a minute or two, and every trace of laughter +died from Miss Collier’s face. Her blue eyes began +to flash.</p> + +<p>“Then,” she said, “our letters were intercepted. +I can’t remember whether I posted any of mine +or not, but I was so worried over father that it is +doubtful if I did. I let my maid attend to that. +She nearly always brought the mail to me, too. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261'></a>261</span> +When I obtained positive proof that she was dishonest, +I discharged her. Even now it’s hard to +believe she was so treacherous.”</p> + +<p>“But why should she intercept our letters? I +don’t understand, Virginia.”</p> + +<p>“There has been a dreadful plot to ruin my +father. You’ll hardly believe it when I tell you. +I find it difficult to believe, even now.” She +shivered, some of the color leaving her face. “It +was necessary to cut us off from any true information +of what was happening to his business interests. +Letters from you might have given me +an inkling, Janet, and so they were secured and +destroyed before they ever reached my hands. +Other letters met the same fate. Mr. Weegman +declared he wrote several which I know my father +never got.”</p> + +<p>“Weegman!” exclaimed Locke incredulously. +“Why, he–”</p> + +<p>“Doctor Dalmers warned Mr. Weegman that +father must not be disturbed or excited in the least +over business matters. He said such a thing +might have a fatal effect on his heart. Still Weegman +says he wrote guardedly several times, mildly +hinting that things were not going right.”</p> + +<p>“The liar!” whispered Lefty to himself.</p> + +<p>A bit in the background, Jack Stillman was listening +with keen interest, thinking what a sensational +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262'></a>262</span> +special article the truth regarding this affair +would make.</p> + +<p>“We were surrounded by wretches who had no +compunction,” declared Virginia Collier. “It +was I who first suspected them. My father was +too ill, and the doctor kept him under opiates +almost all the time, so that his mind was dulled. +After I discharged Annette I became suspicious +of the nurse. I spoke to Doctor Dalmers about +her, but he insisted that she was all right. He +insisted too earnestly. I began to watch him +without letting him realize I was doing so. Once +or twice I found a chance to change father’s medicine +for harmless powders and clear water, and +it seemed to me that he was better than when he +took the medicine. He was very weak and ill, but +his mind seemed clearer. I kept the medicine +away from him for two days in succession, and +got an opportunity to talk to him alone. I succeeded +in convincing him that the change of climate, +the baths, and the stuff the doctor had given +him were doing him no good at all. In London +there was a physician whom he knew and in whom +he had confidence, Doctor Robert Fitzgerald. I +urged him to go to Doctor Fitzgerald, but not to +tell Doctor Dalmers of his intention, and I begged +him to refuse to take any more of Doctor Dalmers’ +medicine. We were in Luchon, and all the way +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263'></a>263</span> +to London I had to watch like a hawk to keep that +medicine from father, but I succeeded, although +I became extremely unpopular with Doctor Dalmers. +The minute we reached London, I went to +Doctor Fitzgerald and told him all that I suspected. +Although he could not believe such a +thing possible, he accompanied me at once to our +hotel. Doctor Dalmers was taken by surprise, +for he had not anticipated this move. When I +discharged both him and the nurse, he gave me +a terrible look. Of course, I could not have carried +this through, had not Doctor Fitzgerald been +a close friend of my father. Dalmers called Fitzgerald’s +action unprofessional, and made threats, +but we got rid of him.”</p> + +<p>Despite the fact that she was such a mere slip +of a girl, it was evident that she possessed brains +and the courage and resourcefulness to use them. +Mrs. Vanderpool seemed very proud of her. +Lefty expressed his admiration.</p> + +<p>“I knew,” Virginia continued, “that there must +be something behind such a plot. I did not believe +Dalmers had put it through merely to bleed +my father while keeping him ill. I was worried +over the fact that we knew so very little concerning +how father’s affairs were going over here. +What information we could get by cable or otherwise +might be unsatisfactory. So I determined +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264'></a>264</span> +to come home and investigate for myself. I got +father’s consent, and I left him in Doctor Fitzgerald’s +care. I intended to sail by the <i>Victoria</i>, +but there was a misunderstanding about accommodations, +and I was forced to take a later ship. +I find father’s affairs involved, and I’ve sent a +statement of conditions as they appear to be.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” she concluded, smiling a little, “I +was greatly relieved to learn from Mr. Weegman +that he felt sure he had blocked the contemptible +efforts to smash the Blue Stockings. He felt +highly elated over signing Lefty Locke as manager.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Collier,” said the pitcher, “did Weegman +offer an explanation of the raid on the team? +Did he say who was at the bottom of it?”</p> + +<p>Instantly a little cloud came to her face, and an +expression of regret appeared in her eyes. +“Yes,” she answered. “He told me. At first I +could not believe it.”</p> + +<p>Stillman leaned forward, listening, his lips +slightly parted. Locke turned toward him, but +turned back quickly, with another question on his +lips. Virginia was speaking again, however.</p> + +<p>“I can scarcely believe it now,” she said sadly. +“It seems too utterly impossible! I can’t imagine +any one being such a scoundrel–much less him! +But Weegman has made sure; he has the proof. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265'></a>265</span> +Of course, he has told you all about it, Lefty; it +was necessary that you should know.” Her manner +had grown deeply dejected.</p> + +<p>“What did Weegman tell you?” asked the +southpaw. “Who did he say was responsible for +what had happened to the Blue Stockings?”</p> + +<p>With an effort the girl answered: “Franklin +Parlmee!”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266'></a>266</span><a id='link_32'></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br /><span class='h2fs'>ONE CHANCE</span></h2> + +<p>It was like a staggering blow. While it confirmed +Stillman’s theory that Parlmee was +the chief rascal of the conspiracy, it shattered +the supposition that Weegman, a blind dupe, +wholly unaware of the truth, was being cleverly +manipulated as an unconscious tool. The foundation +of that hypothesis melted away like sand before +hydrolytic force.</p> + +<p>Locke turned again and looked at the reporter. +The latter, standing like an image of stone, was +staring questioningly and incredulously at Virginia +Collier. He, too, realized that this confirmation +of his belief had brought a portion of the +postulation fluttering down like a house of cards, +and he was seeking a mental readjustment.</p> + +<p>Janet, frozen with lips slightly parted and eyes +wide, was aware of it also. She was about to +speak impulsively when Lefty detected her and +made a repressing gesture.</p> + +<p>Miss Collier felt that she knew the reason for +the sudden silence that had fallen on every one, +and a faint flush crept back into her cheeks. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267'></a>267</span> +appeared to be humiliated and ashamed, as well as +sorrowful.</p> + +<p>“I understand,” she said, in a low tone, “how +it must seem to you to hear me say such a thing +about Mr. Parlmee. I have trusted him. I believed +in him, even when my father was losing +faith and confidence. I clung to my own faith, and +it hasn’t been easy to abandon it, even in the face +of proof. My conscience or something taunts me +occasionally. I–I’ve cried over it, and I’ve +fought against it. I haven’t dared see him since +my return–since I found out the truth–for I +knew I should listen to him and believe in him in +spite of everything. I wanted to face him and +accuse him, but Weegman persuaded me to wait. +He said it would merely hasten the crash if we let +the scoundrels know they were suspected.”</p> + +<p>“The scoundrels!” exclaimed Locke. “Then +he told you that more than one was concerned?”</p> + +<p>“He claims that a man named Garrity is operating +in conjunction with Franklin Parlmee.”</p> + +<p>Another staggerer. To Virginia, Weegman +had accused Garrity. Mutely the southpaw appealed +to Stillman. The reporter’s forehead was +puckered in a puzzled manner; he caught Lefty’s +glance, and shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>“When did he name Garrity, Miss Collier?” he +asked.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268'></a>268</span>“When he called on me to-day–this afternoon,” +was the answer. “He has been at work trying to +get at the truth.”</p> + +<p>Locke improved the opportunity to whisper in +Janet’s ear: “Keep still! Don’t say a word–now.”</p> + +<p>Although she did not understand why he wished +her to keep silent, she nodded. He had been right +in other matters; it was best to let him have his +way in this.</p> + +<p>“My niece has been very much upset,” said +Mrs. Vanderpool. “It has practically made her +ill. She hasn’t felt much like seeing people, and +therefore Mr. Weegman’s advice to keep quiet was +easy to follow.”</p> + +<p>Weegman had urged Virginia to remain in obscurity, +not to let her friends know she was in New +York; that was evident. He had convinced her +that by doing so she could best assist him in his +pretended task of trapping the conspirators. And +while she kept quiet, those conspirators were hastening +to carry through the work they had planned.</p> + +<p>“Miss Collier,” said Lefty, “do you think it +would be possible for your father to come home +at once? Do you think he is strong enough to +stand the voyage? If he can do so, he had better +come. He should be here now.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” she replied.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269'></a>269</span>“Give me his address and let me communicate +with him,” Locke urged. “He should know something +of the truth, at least.”</p> + +<p>Virginia was persuaded, for Mrs. Vanderpool +agreed that it was the best course to pursue. The +southpaw was elated; he felt that at last he was +getting a grip that would enable him to accomplish +something. If he could baffle the rascals now, it +would be a feat worth while.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Vanderpool was called away to the telephone.</p> + +<p>“Auntie has been very kind to me, in spite of +her quarrel with father,” said Virginia, when the +lady had left the room. “They have not spoken +to each other for years. It is so ridiculous, so +childish, for a brother and sister who have been +devoted! Both are stubborn. And yet Aunt +Elizabeth is the kindest, gentlest woman in the +world. She lost an only daughter, and she says +I seem to fill the vacant place. She has made me +feel very much at home.”</p> + +<p>Then she began chatting with Janet about things +of mutual interest. Locke joined Stillman, who +had walked to the far end of the room.</p> + +<p>“This Weegman is either a fool or much cleverer +than we thought him,” said the reporter swiftly, +in a low tone. “I don’t believe he’s a fool.”</p> + +<p>“How have you figured it out?” Lefty questioned. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270'></a>270</span> +“It was a mistake to think him not wise +to Parlmee. And why, if he is hand in glove with +Garrity, did he tell her that Garrity was concerned +in the miserable business?”</p> + +<p>“He told her that to-day?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t he tell her before? Weegman is +in town. Have you seen him?”</p> + +<p>The pitcher told of his meeting with both Weegman +and Garrity, and how he had defied them. +Stillman’s face cleared a little.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Locke, that fellow Weegman will +double cross any one. You put him next to the +fact that you were wise to Garrity. The whole +bunch must know that Collier has fired his crooked +doctor. Of course, Dalmers notified them. After +talking with you, Weegman began to realize that +the whole plot might fall through. He lost no time +in beginning to hedge his bets. He’s trying to fix +it so that he’ll fall safe if the business blows up.”</p> + +<p>“But why did he tell her of Parlmee? We +thought he didn’t know about that.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not as sure about Parlmee as I was,” admitted +the reporter frankly. “Weegman has been +trying to blacken him to her right along. I’ll own +up now that it was an anonymous communication +that first put me on the track of Parlmee. There +have been others of the same sort tending to incriminate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271'></a>271</span> +him. I’ve wondered where they came +from. Now I think I know. Weegman is the answer.”</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” exclaimed Lefty. “You believe it +was he who directed suspicion toward Parlmee in +the first place?”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got me. That being the case, instead +of being a dupe, this Weegman has put something +over that we didn’t suspect him of. He’s after +Collier’s daughter, and it would help him if he +could turn her against his rival.”</p> + +<p>Locke’s face cleared. His relief was evident.</p> + +<p>“This is all speculation,” said the reporter +hastily. “Don’t be too quick to accept it as a settled +fact. Parlmee’s behavior has been suspicious +enough to require some explaining from him. Perhaps +he can clear it up. We know Weegman has +tried to put the Blue Stockings on the blink, and +we’re dead certain he hasn’t knowingly done so as +the assistant of Parlmee. Now how do you figure +on that?”</p> + +<p>“Parlmee’s innocent, as I fancied. Weegman +is the chief rascal.”</p> + +<p>Stillman smiled. “In which case he’s beginning +to find himself caught in a quicksand, and he’s +trying to save himself by climbing out over his +pal, Garrity. He’ll swear he had no finger in it. +Garrity won’t dare accuse Weegman of being an +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272'></a>272</span> +accomplice, for by doing that he would acknowledge +that there was a conspiracy. Weegman is in +no danger in that direction of anything further +than such private revenge as Garrity may seek to +take.”</p> + +<p>Lefty turned back and approached Virginia and +Janet, addressing the former:</p> + +<p>“Miss Collier, I want you to promise me that, +for the present, at least, you’ll say nothing to +Bailey Weegman about having seen and talked +with me.”</p> + +<p>The girl looked surprised. “I was just proposing +that Janet should leave the hotel and stay +here with me. I know my aunt will approve.”</p> + +<p>“I approve anything you may wish, my dear,” +said Mrs. Vanderpool, reëntering the room. “It +would give me great pleasure to have Mrs. Hazelton +visit us and remain as long as possible.”</p> + +<p>Locke looked doubtful, for should that arrangement +be carried out Janet might easily be led into +telling Virginia more than it seemed advisable for +her to know at the present time. But Mrs. Vanderpool +made her invitation most cordial, and +Janet gave him a beseeching glance. He wavered.</p> + +<p>“Weegman calls here. If he should–”</p> + +<p>Janet’s hand fell on his arm. “Trust me,” she +urged significantly. “You can’t hope to keep him +long in the dark. For the present, if he calls, I’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273'></a>273</span> +not be in evidence. You’re so busy that I see very +little of you during the day, anyway.”</p> + +<p>So he was won over. Janet returned with him +to the hotel to gather up the belongings she would +need, and Stillman accompanied them. Lefty +made his wife understand how desirous it was to +keep Weegman blinded as long as possible, explaining +that he feared Miss Collier’s indignation +would lead her into betraying everything should +she learn the whole truth regarding the two-faced +schemer.</p> + +<p>“If you can get Collier home quickly enough, +Locke,” said Stillman, “there’s a chance that you +may be able to spike the enemy’s guns, even at +this late hour.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to make a swift play for that +chance,” returned Lefty.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274'></a>274</span><a id='link_33'></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br /><span class='h2fs'>ONE IN A MILLION</span></h2> + +<p>The clerk of the Great Eastern surveyed +with interest the swarthy small man in +the bright green suit and the plaid raglan +overcoat, who leaned an elbow on the desk and +jauntily twirled a light cane, puffing at an excellent +Havana cigar.</p> + +<p>“Beyond a modicum of a doubt you have me, +your excellency,” said the stranger. “I’m the +real thing, the only and original Cap’n Wiley. It +is frequently embarrassing to be encumbered by +fame, and my modesty often compels me to travel +incog-nit-o; but just now, having a yearning desire +to hobnob with my old college chump, Lefty +Locke, I am blushingly compelled to reveal my +identity. When Lefty learns that I am here he +will fly like a bird to greet me. Notify one of yon +brass-buttoned minions to inform him of my immediate +proximity.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Locke is out at present,” said the man +behind the desk, winking slyly at a fellow clerk; +“but if you will leave your card–”</p> + +<p>“If one isn’t sufficient, I’ll leave the whole pack +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275'></a>275</span> +of fifty-two. It is my habit to carry a deck with +me for emergencies. Perchance, however, you can +tell me when Lefty is liable to return.”</p> + +<p>At that moment Locke, coming in, saw the sailor, +and hurried forward. The Marine Marvel teetered +to meet him, beaming broadly. They shook +hands, and Locke drew the sailor toward two vacant +chairs.</p> + +<p>“Jones?” questioned Lefty as they sat down. +“Where is he? How is he?”</p> + +<p>“He’s right here in this little old burg,” was the +answer. “Nothing short of his demise could have +prevented me from keeping my agreement to deliver +him to you. He is on the mend, and it is +probable that he’ll soon be as frisky and formidable +as ever. But I have qualms. I fear greatly +that something has happened to cause Jonesy to +lose interest in baseball forever and for aye. +Were I in his boots, I’d go on one long spree that +would reach from here to Hongkong, and even +farther. Hold your breath, Lefty, and hold it +hard. Jones has come into a modest little fortune +of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars or thereabouts.”</p> + +<p>“Quite a joke!” said the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you for doubting me. In your +place I’d have made a remark a shade more violent. +But the seal of voracity is on my lips. I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276'></a>276</span> +didn’t know it when I saw you last, but at that +time he had practically sold his interest in his +Alaska possessions. I have stated the sum he received +for his share in that pretty bit of property.”</p> + +<p>“Enough to keep him in pin money for some +time,” replied Lefty, still skeptical.</p> + +<p>“If he could be induced to use it for his own +wants he could dodge becoming a pauper for quite +a while. But, Lefty, you can’t guess what he’s +going to do with it. Excuse me while I sigh. I +have argued and pleaded until my fingers became +tongue-tied; but I’ve failed to move him from his +fixed determination. He is going to give every +dollar of that money away!”</p> + +<p>Of course, Locke thought that Wiley was drawing +the long bow, as usual. “I hope he won’t +overlook his friends when he passes it around,” +he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>“His friends won’t get a dollar!” declared +Wiley. “He’s going to give it to his enemies.”</p> + +<p>This was too much for the southpaw. “Let’s +cut the comedy,” he urged.</p> + +<p>The sailor gave him a chastening look. “It +isn’t comedy; it’s tragedy, Lefty. He believes it +his duty. He believes he is bound, as a man of +honor, to do it. Listen and I will elucidate. Did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277'></a>277</span> +you ever hear of the Central Yucatan Rubber Company?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was a fraudulent concern that flourished +like a green bay tree some seven or eight +years ago, and withered like a fragile plant when +the government got after it for fraudulent use of +the mails. Like many such grafting stock-selling +companies, it had a dummy board of officers who +appeared to be in control, while the real rogues +who were harvesting the coin kept in the background. +Jones was president of that company. +He believed it to be on the level, and he had invested +some of his own money–superficially all +he had–in it. When the government got busy, +Jones was indicted as the head of the concern. +He was thought to be the originator of the scheme. +The real crook had fixed it so that he seemed to +be one of the innocent victims, and he helped swear +Jones into prison. Jones got five years. He +served his time.”</p> + +<p>At last Locke was impressed. He had never +seen Wiley so serious. For once, the flippant and +superficial manner of the swarthy little man had +been discarded; his flamboyant style of speech had +been dropped. Ordinarily he gave one the impression +that he was gleefully fabricating; now, of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278'></a>278</span> +sudden, the listener was convinced that he was +hearing the naked truth. It explained the atmosphere +of somber sadness, the appearance of brooding +over a great injustice, which had infolded the +mysterious dumb pitcher of the Wind Jammers. +For Jones Lefty felt a throb of genuine sympathy.</p> + +<p>“With the unclothed eye I can perceive that you +get me,” the sailor continued. “You can imagine +how you would feel if you had been sent to the +jug for five years, as punishment for a crime perpetrated +by somebody else. What if the one who +concocted the scheme and benefited by it swore +your liberty away and escaped scot-free himself?”</p> + +<p>“It was monstrous!” exclaimed the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Precisely so. In prison Jones took a foolish +oath. He registered a vow to pay back every dollar +to those who had lost their good money in that +fake rubber company. He didn’t know how he +was going to do it, but he was determined that he +would. In a way, they were his enemies, for they +had helped prosecute him; the courts had adjudged +him guilty, and he felt that he could never hold +up his head as an honest man until those who had +been defrauded got the last cent of coin back. In +some way he must acquire a huge amount of filthy +lucre, and acquire it honestly. He dreamed of +gold mines. When the prison spat him forth he +made his way up into Alaska. There his dream +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279'></a>279</span> +came true, for, with his partners, he located and +developed a great mine. They could have sold out +a dozen times, but never for a sum that would +permit Jones to accomplish his purpose with his +share of the price. So he held on. And at last +a syndicate made an offer that was sufficient. +Jones was notified by his partners. He accepted. +But not until the deal was put through and he had +the certified check for his interest in his clutches +did he breathe a word of it to any one. Then he +told me. He was sick, but his success helped cure +him. He was eager to hurry North and set into +action the machinery for distributing that money +to the rubber company’s victims. At this very moment +he is interviewing a reputable firm of lawyers +and giving them instructions to proceed about +the work. He can supply a full list of the persons +defrauded. They’ll get back what they lost, and +Jones will find himself poor again–but satisfied.”</p> + +<p>Lefty’s eyes were shining. “In these days of +the great American idea of grafting and fraud,” +he said, “a man with a conscience like Jones’ is +one in ten thousand.”</p> + +<p>“Say, rather, one in a million, mate. I have +reviled him extemporaneously. I have told him +that he is a fool. I’m honest myself–when it’s +absolutely necessary. But to part with a scandalous +sum like two hundred and fifty thousand without +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280'></a>280</span> +being positively compelled to do so–oh, pardon +me while I sob!”</p> + +<p>“A man with such principles, and Jones’ ability +to pitch, will not come to grief. He has a job before +him with the Blue Stockings.”</p> + +<p>Wiley shook his head. “Apprehension percheth +upon me, Lefty. Jones has accomplished the +great purpose of his life. It was what fired him +and spurred him on. I regret to elucidate that +since that money came to him he has displayed no +interest whatever in baseball. When I sought to +make him talk about it he wouldn’t even wigwag +a finger on the subject. Something seems to tell +me that he’ll never again ascend the mound and +shoot the horsehide over the pentagon.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281'></a>281</span><a id='link_34'></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /><span class='h2fs'>WEEGMAN’S PROPOSAL</span></h2> + +<p>For four days Weegman had not troubled +Locke, four days during which Lefty +sought in vain to get some word from +Charles Collier. His cablegrams remained unanswered. +At the time when he had felt the most +sanguine he seemed to find himself blocked again. +He did not seek to delude himself with the belief +that silence on the part of the conspirators meant +they were inactive. Doubtless they were at work +harder than ever. What were they doing? He +confessed that he would give a great deal to know.</p> + +<p>Then Weegman reappeared. His manner was +ingratiating. His chuckle seemed intended to be +genial and friendly.</p> + +<p>“A private room where we can talk without the +slightest chance of being overheard, that’s what +we want,” he said. “Your own room should be +all right, as long as your wife is stopping with +Miss Collier and her aunt.” He knew about that. +How long he had known was a question.</p> + +<p>Locke felt like turning the rascal down flatly. +He was on the verge of doing so when something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282'></a>282</span> +led him to decide differently. Perhaps a little patience +and cleverness would enable him to get an +inkling of what the enemy was doing. He took +Weegman to his room, and shot the door bolt behind +them when they had entered.</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” said Collier’s private secretary. +“We don’t want to be interrupted by anybody. +I took a great deal of pains that no one who knew +me should see me come here. Garrity mustn’t +get wise. He ordered me to keep away from +you.” Laughing, he flung himself down on a +chair.</p> + +<p>“Garrity!” cried Lefty, astonished at the confession. +“Then you admit that you are taking +your orders from him?”</p> + +<p>“He thinks I am,” was the grinning answer. +“Perhaps he’ll find himself fooled. If you and I +can get together, I’m sure he will.”</p> + +<p>Locke stifled a sense of repulsion. The man +was more detestable than ever. It did not appear +possible, and yet he still seemed to think that Locke +would accept a proposal from him.</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?” asked the pitcher, with +masterly self-control. “Get together how?”</p> + +<p>“I hope you realize you can’t do anything alone. +The combination against you is too strong, and too +much had been done before you began to get wise +to the situation. Let me tell you now that I didn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283'></a>283</span> +expect this affair would go as far as it has when +I entered into it.”</p> + +<p>The creature was shamelessly acknowledging +his participation in the plot, chuckling as he did +so. Lefty waited.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” pursued Weegman, “you’ve been +aware for some time of my unbounded admiration +and regard for Miss Collier. The old man favored +me, but I couldn’t bring her round. To do so, I +decided, it would be necessary for me to accomplish +a coup. If I could apparently save her +father from ruin she might alter her views. Out +of gratitude she might marry me. I’m a man who +gets what he wants, by hook or crook. Garrity approached +me with a scheme. I listened to it. I +believed I saw a way to turn that scheme to my +own advantage with Virginia. But I’ll tell you +now that it never was my intention to put Charles +Collier wholly on the blink. At that time even I +didn’t know how badly involved he was.”</p> + +<p>Even while he told the truth in a way, Weegman +was lying in the effort to palliate his act to some +degree. His conscience was warped to such an +extent that he seemed to believe there could be an +excuse for the milder forms of conspiracy and +crime. In a bungling way he was actually making +a bid for Locke’s sympathy.</p> + +<p>“You must have known of the dastardly arrangement +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284'></a>284</span> +with a crooked doctor to keep Mr. Collier +drugged into apparent illness and detain him +in Europe beyond reach of the friends who might +tell him, Weegman. Who got to that doctor and +bought him up?”</p> + +<p>“Not I,” was the denial. “I didn’t have the +money.”</p> + +<p>“Was it Garrity?”</p> + +<p>“Of course. Garrity had something on Dalmers, +who was concerned in some mighty shady +practices at one time. But he told me that Dalmers +was simply going to keep watch of the old +man. I didn’t know anything about the drugging +business. When I found that out I was mad as +blazes.”</p> + +<p>The southpaw fought to prevent his lips from +curling with scorn, and to suppress a look of triumph +in his eyes. “What’s your proposition to +me, Weegman?”</p> + +<p>The self-acknowledged rascal seemed to hesitate. +“You’re sure no one can hear us?” he +asked, his eyes roving around the room.</p> + +<p>“You can see that we’re quite alone.”</p> + +<p>Weegman drummed nervously on the arm of his +chair. “I’m sorry this thing has gone so far,” +he protested. “I didn’t look for it to, at first. I +got involved and couldn’t back out. In fact, Garrity +threatened me when I showed signs of holding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285'></a>285</span> +back. That,” he declared, with an attempt at +indignant resentment, “made me sore. Without +my help in the beginning he never could have done +a thing. Now he thinks he’s got me foul, he’s +going to gobble everything. We’ll see about that! +Perhaps it isn’t too late to stop him. Maybe we +can do it, you and I. I’d like to show him.”</p> + +<p>So the rascals had quarreled over the division +of the spoils, as rascals so often do. And now +one of them was ready to betray the other, if he +could do so without disaster to himself. At the +same time, he hoped to make an alliance with Lefty +by which he might reap some actual benefit from +his underhanded work. Suddenly Locke thought +of another man who had been suspected of complicity.</p> + +<p>“How about Parlmee?” he asked. “Where +does he fit in? Did Garrity send him over the +pond to wrench the control of the Blue Stockings +from Collier?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what Garrity has been doing with +Parlmee,” Weegman confessed. “It was natural +that I should want to turn Virginia against Parlmee, +but I swear I didn’t know he was in this +thing when I got the idea of making her believe +he was. That was an inspiration that came to me +all of a sudden. I had to keep her away from him. +I faked up some evidence. She refused to believe +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286'></a>286</span> +at first. Then, by Jove, I found out that Garrity +and Parlmee were really up to something. +They’ve had dealings.”</p> + +<p>Lefty’s heart, which had bounded high for a +moment, sank heavily. After all, could it be true +that two cleverer scoundrels had combined to work +Weegman as a dupe? Had the confirmation of +this fact helped Weegman to make up his mind to +go back on Garrity? Was it not possible that +this was the real cause of the quarrel between the +worthy pair?</p> + +<p>The southpaw continued to lead the other on. +“What is Garrity’s scheme? What has he told +you that he proposed to do?”</p> + +<p>“Unless Collier receives outside assistance, +Garrity’s got him cornered. Collier has met reverses +generally. Garrity has got hold of a certain +amount of Blue Stocking stock. Collier still +holds enough to keep the balance of power, but he +won’t hold it long. If he tries to his interest in +the Northern Can Company will go to glory. Garrity +has placed himself in a position to shake the +old man out of that concern. If Collier loses that, +he’s broke–a pauper. He can’t hang on, because +he hasn’t the ready resources. He’ll have to sell +his Blue Stockings stock to save Northern Can. +If he had a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in +ready cash he could pull through. It’ll take half +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287'></a>287</span> +of that to oust Garrity from Northern Can, and +the other half is needed for the team. Garrity +will put it up to him to-morrow. In the meantime, +can you and I raise one hundred and fifty +thousand?”</p> + +<p>“You and I!” cried Lefty. “Not a dollar! +Not a cent! How will Garrity put it up to Collier +to-morrow? Collier is in–”</p> + +<p>“Philadelphia!” cut in Weegman sharply.</p> + +<p>The southpaw stared, thunderstruck. “Philadelphia! +You mean that he’s in this country?”</p> + +<p>“He arrived to-day, and took a train at once for +Philadelphia. I cabled him to come, and to keep +his coming secret. Those were Garrity’s orders.”</p> + +<p>Locke sat down heavily, still staring at Weegman.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288'></a>288</span><a id='link_35'></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE SHATTERING STROKE</span></h2> + +<p>That explained it. Now Lefty knew why +he had received no answer to his cablegrams. +Before the first was sent, +Charles Collier was on the high seas, bound for +America. He was home, and Garrity held him in +the hollow of his hand. On the morrow the owner +of the Blue Stockings was to feel the crushing grip +of the triumphant schemer.</p> + +<p>Weegman watched the southpaw’s face, noting +the look of consternation upon it. Suddenly snapping +his fingers, he began speaking again: +“That’s why I came to you, Locke. What’s done +must be done quickly. After eleven o’clock to-morrow +it will be too late. You know what that +means for you. Garrity hates you like poison, +and you won’t last any time after he gets control. +You can raise that money.”</p> + +<p>“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars! You’re +crazy!”</p> + +<p>“You can do it, and save yourself. If you’ll do +the right thing by me, I’ll tell you how to raise the +needful. Together we’ll hand Garrity his bumps. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289'></a>289</span> +What do you say? Is it a go?” He sprang up +and approached, his hand extended.</p> + +<p>Locke rose and faced him. The scorn and contempt +upon his face would have withered a man +less calloused. Weegman recoiled a little, and his +hand dropped to his side.</p> + +<p>“Weegman,” Lefty said, “you’re the most +treacherous scoundrel I ever had the bad fortune +to meet. You’re just about as trustworthy as a +rattlesnake. Heaven knows I need money, and I +certainly want to hold my job, but not even to save +my own father and mother from being turned out +of the home that has sheltered them so long would +I enter into any sort of partnership with you.”</p> + +<p>A look of astonished wrath contorted Weegman’s +features, and a snarling laugh broke from +his lips. “You poor fool!” he cried. “You’ve +thrown away your last chance! I did think you +would know enough to save yourself, but I see you +haven’t an atom of sense in your head.”</p> + +<p>There was something almost pitying in the +smile Lefty gave him. Something, also, that +caused the man a sudden throb of apprehension.</p> + +<p>“You’re the fool, Weegman,” returned the +southpaw. “You have confessed the whole rotten +scheme. You have betrayed yourself and your +fellow conspirator, Garrity.”</p> + +<p>“Bah!” the rascal flung back, snapping his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290'></a>290</span> +fingers again. “What good will it do you? I’ll +deny everything. You can’t prove a thing. I was +careful that there should be no witnesses, no one +to hear a word that passed between us.”</p> + +<p>Locke grabbed him by the wrist, and snapped +him round with a jerk, facing one wall of the room. +“And I,” he cried, “took care that every word +we uttered should be heard by two reliable persons. +I set the trap for Garrity, but I have been +unable to decoy him into it. You walked into it +unbidden. Look!”</p> + +<p>With two strides he reached a dresser that stood +against the wall. He seized it and moved it aside. +With one finger he pointed to a small, square, +black object that clung to the wall two feet from +the floor.</p> + +<p>“Look!” he commanded again.</p> + +<p>Weegman stared uncomprehendingly, yet with +the perspiration of dread beginning to bead his +forehead.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he asked huskily.</p> + +<p>“A dictograph!” answered Lefty. “I had it +put in two days ago. When you met me a short +time ago and asked for a private interview I +started to turn you down. Then I saw old Jack +Kennedy and Stillman, the reporter, in the background. +They gave me a signal. Thirty seconds +after we entered this room they were in the room +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291'></a>291</span> +adjoining, listening by means of that dictograph to +every word that passed between us. We’ve got +you, Weegman, and we’ve got Garrity, too. Criminal +conspiracy is a rather serious matter.”</p> + +<p>All the defiance had faded from Bailey Weegman’s +eyes. He trembled; he could not command +even a ghost of a laugh. He started violently, +and gasped, as there came a sharp rap on the door.</p> + +<p>“They want to take another good look at you to +clinch matters so that they can make oath to your +identity,” said Locke, swiftly crossing and flinging +the door open. “Come in, gentlemen!”</p> + +<p>Kennedy and Stillman entered. Weegman cowered +before them. They regarded him disdainfully.</p> + +<p>“You beaned him all right, Lefty,” said the ex-manager. +“He wasn’t looking for the curve you +put over that time.”</p> + +<p>The reporter paused to light a cigarette. +“After your arrest, Weegman,” he said, “I advise +you to make haste to turn State’s evidence. It’s +your only chance to escape doing a nice long bit in +the stone jug.” He turned, closed the door behind +him, and shot the bolt again. “In the meantime,” +he added, “I think we can persuade you to +refrain from warning Garrity regarding what is +coming to him shortly after eleven o’clock to-morrow.”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292'></a>292</span>Looking feeble and broken, Charles Collier sat +at his desk in the office of the Blue Stockings Baseball +Club. On the desk before him lay the books +of the club and a mass of letters and documents. +At one end of the desk sat Tom Garrity, smoking +a big cigar and looking like a Napoleon who +dreamed of no impending Waterloo. He was +speaking. His words and manner were those of a +conqueror.</p> + +<p>“You can see how the land lies, Collier. You +should have sold out your interest in the team +before going abroad. Weegman made a mess of +it. To-day you can’t realize fifty cents on the dollar. +I’ve offered you my Northern Can stock for +your holdings. That’s the best way out for you +now. If you refuse you’ll lose Northern Can and +the team, both. Better save one by sacrificing the +other.”</p> + +<p>Collier wearily lifted a protesting hand. “You +don’t have to repeat it, Garrity; I know you’ve +got me cornered. I’m merely waiting for Weegman. +He promised to be here at eleven. It’s past +that hour.”</p> + +<p>Without asking permission, Garrity reached for +the desk phone. “I’ll call in my lawyers,” he +said. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”</p> + +<p>Before he could lift the receiver from the hook +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293'></a>293</span> +the door swung open, and Weegman came in, pale +and shrinking. At his heels followed Locke, Kennedy, +and Stillman. With an astonished exclamation, +Garrity put the instrument down.</p> + +<p>“I hope we don’t intrude,” said Lefty, smiling +on the startled owner of the Rockets. “Having +learned from Weegman of this little business meeting, +we decided to drop in. I’m very glad to see +that you have arrived home in time, Mr. Collier.”</p> + +<p>“Too late!” sighed the hopeless man at the desk. +“Too late! You’re just in time to witness the +transference of the Blue Stockings to Garrity.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary,” returned the southpaw easily, +“we have come to purchase Mr. Garrity’s Blue +Stockings stock at the prevailing price. Likewise +his interest in Northern Can.”</p> + +<p>Garrity rose, his face purple with wrath. A tremendously +explosive ejaculation burst from his +lips. “What in blazes do you mean?” he roared.</p> + +<p>“Just what I have said,” Locke answered +calmly. “Since arriving in town I have made arrangements +for this little business matter. I have +opened an account with the New Market National +by depositing a certified check for one hundred +and fifty thousand dollars, which is more than +enough to make the purchases mentioned. Mr. +Collier’s attorney will arrive in ten minutes or so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294'></a>294</span> +to see that everything is done in a legal manner.”</p> + +<p>“But you can’t buy a dollar’s worth of my holdings +in either concern.”</p> + +<p>“You may think so now. I’m sure you’ll change +your mind in a few moments. It is also reported +that, for the good of the game, you’ll get out of +organized baseball. Have you brought a copy of +the second edition of the <i>Morning Blade</i> with you, +Stillman? Show it to Mr. Garrity, please.”</p> + +<p>The reporter drew a newspaper from his pocket, +opened it, passed it to Garrity. One finger indicated +a half-column article, with headlines.</p> + +<div class='bquote'> +<p>GARRITY TO GET OUT.</p> + +<p>WILL DISPOSE OF HIS INTERESTS IN THE ROCKETS AND +ABANDON BASEBALL. +HINTS OF A CONSPIRACY TO WRECK THE BLUE +STOCKINGS.</p> +</div> <!-- block quote --> + +<p>Garrity’s eyes glared. His breath whistled +through his nostrils. His wrath was volcanic. +“Somebody’ll pay for that!” he shouted, swinging +his ponderous fist above his head like a sledge +hammer. “What’s it mean?”</p> + +<p>“It means,” answered Stillman, “that more will +follow, giving complete details of the conspiracy–unless you decide to quit baseball for the good +of the game.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll institute a suit for libel!”</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295'></a>295</span>“No, you won’t. You won’t dare. We’ve got +the goods on you. Let me tell you how it happened.” +He did so with unrepressed satisfaction, +and the man’s air of bluster gradually evaporated +as he listened. But he gave Weegman a murderous +look.</p> + +<p>The door swung open again, and a sharp-faced +little man entered briskly.</p> + +<p>“Here’s Mr. Collier’s attorney,” said Lefty. +“Now we can get down to real business.”</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296'></a>296</span><a id='link_36'></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE TEST OF MYSTERIOUS JONES</span></h2> + +<p>The unscrupulous Garrity had long been a +menace to organized baseball, but such efforts +as had been made to jar him loose +from it had failed. At last, however, like a remorseless +hunter, he was caught in a trap of his +own setting. Twist and squirm as he might, the +jaws of that trap held him fast. Even when the +representatives of a syndicate met him by agreement +to take the team over at a liberal price, he +showed a disposition to balk. Stillman was there. +He handed Garrity a carbon copy of a special article +giving a complete and accurate statement of +the conspiracy.</p> + +<p>“If you own the Rockets to-morrow morning,” +said the reporter, “that will appear, word for +word, in the <i>Blade</i>. Criminal action against you +will be begun at the same time.”</p> + +<p>Upon the following day Garrity was no longer +interested in the Rockets.</p> + +<p>The <i>Blade</i> had put over a scoop by being the +first paper to announce that Garrity would retire. +It could have created a tremendous sensation by +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297'></a>297</span> +publishing the inside facts relative to the method +by which he had been forced out. But organized +baseball was under fire, and already the suspicious +public was beginning to regard it askance. The +menacing Federals were making no end of trouble. +The cry of “rottenness” was in the air. Through +the publication of the story thousands of hasty, +unthinking patrons could be led to believe that, +square and honest though it seemed to be on the +field, the game was really rotten at the core. Stillman +knew how that would hurt, and he loved the +game. He was tempted to the limit, but he resisted. +Not even his editor ever found out just +how much he knew and suppressed.</p> + +<p>On the usual date the Blue Stockings went South +for spring training. Old Jack Kennedy was +among the very first to arrive at the camp. He +had been engaged as coach and trainer.</p> + +<p>The newspapers had a great deal to say about +how the Federals had taken the heart out of the +once great machine Collier controlled. Few of +them seemed to think that Locke, the new manager, +could repair the damages in less than a year or two. +He would do well, they declared, if he could keep +the club well up in the second division. For it +was said that Lefty himself would pitch no more, +and the rest of his staff, filled out with new men +and youngsters, must necessarily be weak and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298'></a>298</span> +wabbly. Occasionally a new deaf-mute pitcher, +Jones, was mentioned as showing great speed, but +who had ever heard of Jones? Of course he would +lack the experience and steadiness a pitcher must +possess to make good in fast company.</p> + +<p>Behind the bat the Stockings seemed all right, +for Brick King would be there. Still, it was +strange that Frazer had let King go. Old Ben +was wise as the serpent, and he certainly had his +reasons. The Stockings were trying out a young +fellow named Sheridan in center field, but surely +Herman Brock was worth a dozen ordinary youngsters. +Some of the papers had a habit of speaking +of all youngsters as “ordinary.”</p> + +<p>Jack Keeper, who seemed slated to hold down +the far cushion for the Stockings, was also a +youngster Frazer had not seen fit to retain. In +the few games he had played with the Wolves +Keeper had made a good showing, but the general +impression was that the manager had not considered +him quite up to Big League caliber. Various +other youngsters who had been farmed out to the +minors were being used at second and short, and +two of them, Blount and Armstrong, from the Cotton +States League, seemed to be the most promising. +But what an infield it would be, with three-fourths +of the players “unripened”! The interest +of the fans who read this sort of “dope” turned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299'></a>299</span> +to the Wolves, who were almost universally picked +as probable pennant winners.</p> + +<p>All this was natural enough. The Wolves had +held together before the Federal raids better than +any team in the league. Certainly no one who +knew much about baseball would have chosen the +Blue Stockings in advance for a come-back. But +in baseball, and nearly everything else, there is no +fixed rule of reckoning that can’t be smashed. +Plenty of old-timers will say this is not so, just +as men assert that there is nothing like luck in the +game. The Stockings continued to attract little +attention during their tour North, although they +won exhibition games regularly and with ease. +Jones pitched in some of these games. Locke did +not.</p> + +<p>All the same, no day passed that Lefty failed +to get out and warm up with his pitchers. Dillon, +Reilley, Lumley, and Savage were the old flingers +left with the staff. The “Glass Arm Brigade,” it +was called. Savage was regarded as the only one +of the quartet who possessed the stamina to work +through nine hard innings. Counting him out, the +team would have to depend on young twirlers. Of +course, Locke warmed up merely from habit and +as an example for the others. Otherwise he would +try to pitch sometimes in a game.</p> + +<p>The season opened with the Blue Stockings playing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300'></a>300</span> +against the Dodgers, away from home. Mysterious +Jones pitched and shut the Dodgers out, +his team making five runs behind him. Even that +created no more than a slight flurry, for the +Dodgers were chronic subcellar champions. Jones +had speed, and it had dazzled them. But wait until +he went up against real batters!</p> + +<p>Reilley and Lumley, taking turns on the mound, +succeeded in handing the Dodgers the second game +by a one-sided score. Savage went in and captured +the third contest, but Pink Dillon dropped +the fourth after making a fight for it up to the +eighth inning. If that was the best the Blue Stockings +could get, an even break, when facing the +habitual tailenders, what would happen to them +when they tackled the Wolves in the series to +follow?</p> + +<p>The crowd turned out loyally to witness the +opening game on the home grounds, but even the +most hopeful among the fans permitted their courage +to be tinged with pessimism. They were in +that state of mind that would lead their sympathies +easily to turn to the opposition. True, they hailed +Lefty cheerfully and encouragingly from the +stands and bleachers, but they could not have the +faith in him as a manager that they had had as a +pitcher. They were stirred, however, by the sight +of old Jack Kennedy, and they gave him a rousing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301'></a>301</span> +cheer. It warmed the cockles of the veteran’s +heart. He doffed his cap to them.</p> + +<p>Frazer came over from the visitors’ bench and +shook hands with Locke and Kennedy.</p> + +<p>“I hope,” said Ben, “that you’re going to give +us a crack at that dummy speed merchant to-day, +Lefty. We want to see if he is a real pitcher.”</p> + +<p>Coming forth from the home team’s dugout, a +swarthy small man, who wore knickerbockers and +a wrist watch, overheard these words.</p> + +<p>“Bo-lieve me, Frazy,” said Cap’n Wiley, +“you’ll never ask for him again with any great +avidity after you face him once. I hope you’ll excuse +me for butting in and making that statement +without the polite formality of an introduction to +you, but I am so impetuous! I’m the proud party +who sold Jonesy to Lefty. Shortly after that little +transaction I was unnecessarily worried lest he +should decide to abandon baseball, but he has just +informed me that, having succeeded in giving away +the last of an infinitesimal fortune of two hundred +and fifty thousand dollars, he is now excruciatingly +happy and ready to follow pitching as a profession.”</p> + +<p>Frazer looked the odd character over tolerantly. +“So you’re the party who bunkoed Lefty, are +you?” He laughed. “You’re very much in evidence +before the game begins, but I fancy it’ll be +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302'></a>302</span> +difficult to find you with a microscope when it’s +finished–if Locke has the nerve to pitch your +dummy wonder.”</p> + +<p>“I think I’ll start him on the hill, at any rate,” +said the manager of the Blue Stockings.</p> + +<p>Apparently Wiley started to cheer, but checked +himself abruptly. “I’ll conserve my vocal cords,” +he tittered. “I doubt not that my voice will be +frazzled to a husky whisper before the contest terminates. +Take a tip from me, Mr. Frazer, and +send your premier twirler on to the firing line. +Smoke Jordan’s the only pitcher you have who can +make the game interesting with Jones pastiming +for the Stockings.”</p> + +<p>“Jordan has asked to pitch,” returned Ben, +“but I have half a dozen others who would do just +as well.”</p> + +<p>Locke was passing in front of the section occupied +by the newspaper men when Stillman called +to him. “I don’t see your wife here, nor Miss +Collier,” said the reporter. “I looked for both +to be on hand for the opening game on the home +grounds.”</p> + +<p>“Unfortunately neither was able to get here, +although they planned to do so,” explained Lefty. +“You know they have been spending the past eight +weeks in Southern California with Virginia’s aunt, +who invited them to accompany her and would not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303'></a>303</span> +take no for an answer. They’ll be on hand to-morrow, +however.”</p> + +<p>Stillman leaned toward the wire netting and +lowered his voice. “Has Collier ever caught on to +the fact that the sister with whom he had quarreled +furnished the capital to save him from going to +smash?” he questioned.</p> + +<p>“Not yet. It’s still a mystery to him how I was +able to come forward at the psychological moment +with that loan.”</p> + +<p>The newspaper man laughed softly. “He came +near passing away from heart failure that day. +He was shocked almost as much as Garrity, but in +a different way.” His manner changed to one of +concern. “You’re going to use Jones to-day, +aren’t you? Think you have any chance to win?”</p> + +<p>“Unless I’ve made a mistake in estimating that +man,” replied Locke, “it won’t be his fault if we +lose. But it’ll be a test for the whole team as well +as Jones.”</p> + +<p>It was truly a test. A pitcher who was merely +a “speed merchant” could not have lasted three innings +against the Wolves, who “ate speed.” It +was not long, however, before the anxious crowd, +and the visiting team as well, began to realize that +the mute twirler had something more than speed. +Now and then he mixed in a sharp-breaking curve, +and his hopper was something to wonder at, something +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304'></a>304</span> +that made the batters mutter and growl as +they slashed at it fruitlessly. But, best of all, besides +coolness and judgment, he had that prime essential +of all pitchers, control. With never-failing +and almost monotonous regularity, he seemed +to put the sphere precisely where he tried to put it.</p> + +<p>In Brick King, Jones had a valuable aid. King +knew his old associates; if any one of them had a +batting weakness, he was aware of it. And not +once during the game did Jones question a signal +given him by King. What Brick called for he +pitched, and put it just where it should be put. +With such rifle accuracy, the work of the man behind +the bat seemed easy, save for the fact that +occasionally Jones’ smokers appeared almost to +lift the backstop off his feet. But King held them +as if his big mitt had been smeared with paste.</p> + +<p>Smoke Jordan was also in fine fettle. It was a +pitcher’s battle, with the crowd watching and +gasping and waiting for “the break.” It must +not be imagined that the Wolves did not hit the +ball at all, but for a long time they could not seem +to hit it safely, and for four innings they could not +get a runner on. In the first of the fifth, however, +a cracking single and two errors permitted them to +score an unearned run.</p> + +<p>“If I know what I’m talking about,” said Ben +Frazer, “we had no license to get that tally. Now, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305'></a>305</span> +Smoke, you’ve got to hold ’em. If that dummy +don’t crack, I’ll acknowledge that he’s a real +pitcher.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll hold ’em,” promised Jordan.</p> + +<p>But he couldn’t keep his promise. In the sixth, +with one down, King beat out an infield hit, reaching +the initial sack safely by an eyelash. He stole +second on the catcher for whom he had been discarded, +to the disgust of Frazer. The crowd +seemed to forget that Jones was deaf and dumb, +for it entreated him to smash one out, and Cap’n +Wiley, from his place in a box, howled louder than +any ten others combined. Jones drove a long fly +into left, but the fielder was there, and King was +held at second.</p> + +<p>Hyland followed. Jordan, a bit unsteady, +bored him in the ribs.</p> + +<p>Then Keeper, another Wolf discard, came up +and singled to right field. Covering ground like a +hundred yards’ sprinter, King registered from second +on that hit, tying the score up.</p> + +<p>The crowd went wild. The Blue Stockings and +Mysterious Jones had the fans with them after +that. Constantly that great gathering rooted for +another run–just one more. Hyland perished on +third when Spider Grant popped weakly.</p> + +<p>If possible, the Wolves were fiercer than ever. +In the first of the eighth they got Jones into a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306'></a>306</span> +hole again through another hit and errors which +peopled the corners, with not a man down. Then +Jones won a roaring ovation from the standing +multitude by striking out three men in succession.</p> + +<p>The game was settled in the last of the ninth, +and again Jack Keeper figured in the play. He +had reached second, with one out, when Grant hit +into the diamond. The ball took an amazingly +high bound. The shortstop went for it, at the +same time seeing Keeper scudding for third, and +realizing that it would be impossible to get him at +that sack. The moment he got the ball, the shortstop +whipped it to first, catching Grant by a foot.</p> + +<p>There was a shout of warning. Keeper had not +stopped at third. Over the sack at full speed he +had flashed, and on toward home. The first baseman +lined the sphere to the catcher, who had +leaped into position. Keeper hit the dirt, twisting +his body away from the catcher, who got the +ball and jabbed at him–a fraction of a second too +late.</p> + +<p>Keeper had accomplished a feat that is the desire +of every base runner’s heart. He had scored +from second on an infield out. And that performance +gave the Blue Stockings the game.</p> + +<p>While the crowd was still shouting its rejoicing, +Cap’n Wiley found Frazer shaking hands with +Lefty.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307'></a>307</span>“I demand an apology!” croaked Wiley, barely +able to speak.</p> + +<p>“I apologize,” said Frazer. “Your dummy <i>can</i> +pitch! But a team with one real pitcher is +scarcely equipped to cut much figure in the race. +Who’ll you use to-morrow, Locke?”</p> + +<p>“I am thinking of trying out another one of our +uncertainties,” answered the southpaw, with an +enigmatical smile.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> +<h2><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308'></a>308</span><a id='link_37'></a>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /><span class='h2fs'>THE RETURN OF LEFTY</span></h2> + +<p>The work of patching up his team and whipping +it into shape had kept Lefty Locke +busy pretty nearly every minute of his +time while awake, since the beginning of the training +season. With that task before him, and knowing +how little attention he could spare for Janet, +he had raised no objections when she had asked +to accompany Mrs. Vanderpool and Virginia on +the California trip. While he was not foolish +enough to believe that the reconstructed team could +become a pennant contender that season, he did +have hopes of finishing in the first division, which, +under the circumstances, would be a triumph indeed.</p> + +<p>He had found Janet’s letters interesting +enough, but his concentration on other matters had +prevented him from giving them much thought +once they were read through. She had told him +of the rumor that Bailey Weegman, having been +lucky in escaping prosecution for his part in the +conspiracy, had started some sort of mail-order +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309'></a>309</span> +business and was said to be taking in money “hand +over fist.”</p> + +<p>Far more interesting, however, although almost +as quickly forgotten, was the gossip about Virginia +and Franklin Parlmee. Having returned +from his hasty and fruitless voyage across the +pond, Parlmee had felt not only injured but outraged +by the treatment he had received. It was +impossible for Virginia honestly to deny that she +had been led to distrust him–and by Weegman! +That cut the deepest. She had kept him ignorant +of the fact that she had returned home, thus allowing +him to go rushing off to Europe in an attempt +to find her. That had been his sole purpose; +he had been in no way concerned with Garrity +in a scheme to wrest the control of the Blue +Stockings from Collier. It was true that, having +come into a limited inheritance, he had purchased +two or three small lots of the club’s stock. His +judgment had told him that the price to which it +had dropped made it a good investment. Garrity +had been anxious to get hold of that stock. He +had pursued Parlmee and endeavored to buy the +certificates at a price that would have permitted +the holder of them to realize a good profit. But +what Garrity had wanted so badly Parlmee had +considered still more valuable, and he had refused +to part with a single share.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310'></a>310</span>A sense of injury on one side and shame and +false pride on the other had prevented complete +reconciliation between Parlmee and Virginia. But +Janet wrote that Miss Collier was not happy, although +she made a brave pretense of being so. +Once or twice Janet had detected her alone, crying.</p> + +<p>Lefty had practically forgotten about these +things until, on that second day of battle with the +Wolves, only a few minutes before the game was +to begin, he looked toward the club owner’s box, +occupied as he knew by Virginia and Janet, and +made the discovery that Franklin Parlmee was +likewise there. The southpaw stood still in his +tracks, and stared, smiling; for he saw that Parlmee +and Virginia were chatting and laughing, +while Janet watched them with an expression of +complete satisfaction and pleasure.</p> + +<p>“Patched it up at last, thank goodness!” muttered +Locke. “I think I’ll keep away until after +this game is over. Plenty of time to congratulate +them then.”</p> + +<p>He had been warming up, as usual, but to-day it +was observed that he did so alone with Brick King. +Many of those who took note of this were led to +speculate. Jack Stillman saw it, and smiled +wisely to himself.</p> + +<p>A crowd, bigger than that of the previous day, +had turned out. The Blue Stockings’ unexpected +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311'></a>311</span> +opening victory over the Wolves was the cause. +Perhaps that had been no more than a flash in the +pan, but the fans wanted to see for themselves. +Deep down in the hearts of most of them was +a sprouting hope that it presaged something +more.</p> + +<p>Practice was over. The home team was spreading +out on the field and making ready. Scrappy +Betts, first man up for the visitors, was swinging +two bats, prepared to drop one of them and advance +to the plate. The announcer lifted his megaphone, +and, sitting forward on the edges of their +seats, the crowd strained their ears to catch the +names of the battery men. “Who’s going to pitch +for <span class='sc'>us?”</span> was the question they had been asking.</p> + +<p>Through the megaphone came the usual hoarse +bellow. For an instant it seemed to strike the +great gathering dumb. Then a wild yell of astonishment +and delight went up. Everywhere in the +stands and on the bleachers fans turned to their +neighbors and shouted:</p> + +<p>“Locke! It’s Lefty! Good old Lefty! Yow! +Ye-ee!”</p> + +<p>They rose as one person and roared at him in +a mighty chorus when he walked out to the mound. +If he believed in himself, if he had the courage to +go in there against Frazer’s hungry Wolves, they +believed in him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312'></a>312</span>The umpire adjusted his wind pad. Betts +dropped one bat and came forward, pausing a +moment a few feet from the plate while Locke +sent two or three across to get the range. That +good left arm swung free and unrestrained, without +a single sign to indicate that there had ever +been anything the matter with it. Smiling, the +southpaw nodded to Betts as King pulled on the +wire cage.</p> + +<p>“You can patch up crockery, Lefty, old man,” +said Scrappy as he stepped into the box, “but you +never can make it as good as new.” Then, having +tried to work the portsider to the limit, he finally +whaled out a safety. “I knew it!” he cried from +first. “Bluff won’t mend a busted wing, old boy!”</p> + +<p>Whether or not Locke was nervous, he passed +the next man.</p> + +<p>The cheering of the crowd died away. Disappointment +and apprehension brought silence, save +for the confident chattering of the Wolf coachers +and the attempted encouragement of the players +behind the southpaw. Hope began to sicken and +wilt.</p> + +<p>Cool and unruffled, Brick King smiled. “An +accidental hit and a pass won’t count in the result +to-day,” he said. “Show Kipper the ball in your +hand. He won’t see it again.”</p> + +<p>Kipper whiffed three times without making as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313'></a>313</span> +much as a foul tip. The crowd began to wake up +again.</p> + +<p>Herman Brock sauntered out. Frazer had +given him Bob Courtney’s position in the batting +order, the “clean-up” place. No man knew +Herman better than Lefty, and the efforts of the +German were quite as futile as those of Kipper.</p> + +<p>The crowd was cheering again as Brock retired +disgustedly. Confidence had been restored suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you Lefty!” was the cry. “You’re +there!”</p> + +<p>Locke easily forced the following batter to pop +to the infield. He had settled into his stride. If +he could keep it up, the shouting throng knew he +had indeed “come back” as strong as ever. Already +they were telling one another what that +meant. With three first-string pitchers like Lefty +and Jones and Savage, the team would have a +fighting chance. The principal question was +whether the southpaw could “go the distance.”</p> + +<p>Not only did Lefty make it, but as the game +progressed he seemed to take it more and more +easily. The desperate Wolves could not get at +him effectively. He certainly had everything he +had ever possessed; some claimed that he had +more. His arm showed no sign of weakening. +But he used his head quite as much as his arm. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314'></a>314</span> +With the support of a catcher who also had brains, +and who worked with him perfectly, he made the +snarling, snapping Wolves appear about as dangerous +as tame rabbits. Before the ninth inning +was reached he knew that in Brick King he had +found the one catcher with whom he could do the +best work of his career.</p> + +<p>The Blue Stockings won by a score of two to +nothing. What fortune the season brought them +in their fight for the pennant is told in the following +volume of the Big League Series, which is entitled, +“Guarding the Keystone Sack.”</p> + +<p>The moment it was over Locke made a dash for +the clubhouse, getting away from the furiously +rejoicing fans who came pouring down upon the +field. Jones was there ahead of him. As he +panted in, Lefty saw the man of mystery standing +in a peculiar attitude not far from the closed door +of Charles Collier’s office. He seemed to be <i>listening</i>. +Involuntarily the southpaw paused and +listened himself.</p> + +<p>From beyond the door came the sound of voices. +He heard a man speaking, and then, suddenly, another +man who appeared to be both excited and +distressed. Then he saw Jones spring like a +panther toward that door and hurl it open. Astonished, +Lefty quickly followed Jones into the +office.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315'></a>315</span>They burst in upon four persons. Two of them, +who looked like plain-clothes officers, seemed to +have a third in charge. This man was desperately +and wildly appealing to Charles Collier. It was +Bailey Weegman.</p> + +<p>“It’s an outrage, I tell you!” Weegman was +crying. “It’s a lie! I haven’t used the mails to +defraud. I learned an hour ago that officers were +after me on that charge, and I hurried to you, Mr. +Collier. They followed me here. You must help +me! I served you–”</p> + +<p>“You served me a crooked turn,” interrupted +Collier coldly. “You have your nerve to come to +me!”</p> + +<p>Locke’s eyes were on Jones. The man’s face +was aflame with triumph and joy and fathomless +satisfaction. He flung out his hand, his finger +pointing like a pistol at Weegman.</p> + +<p>“Hanson Gilmore!” he cried in a terrible voice.</p> + +<p>The mute had spoken! Frozen with amazement, +Lefty saw Weegman twist round, saw a light +of terror come into his eyes, saw him cower and +cringe, pale as death and shaking like an aspen.</p> + +<p>“You swore away my liberty, you dog!” the +voice of Jones rang through the room. “You +were the scoundrel who conceived the Central +Yucatan Rubber Company, and profited by it! +When the prison doors closed upon me I swore I’d +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316'></a>316</span> +never speak again until every dollar you had taken +from the victims of that concern was paid back–until +you were brought to book for your crime. +I’ve kept that vow. I’ve searched for you, determined +to bring you to justice somehow. Now +you have brought justice upon yourself.”</p> + +<p>Crouching like a creature stung by the pitiless +lashing of a whip, the accused wretch appealed +chokingly to the officers who had arrested him: +“Don’t let him touch me! Look at his eyes! +He’s mad! Keep him off! Take me away!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, take him away,” said Jones. “And if he +doesn’t get a prison sentence for this last piece of +work, I’ll keep after him until he’s punished for +his other crimes.”</p> + +<p>“Take him away!” said Charles Collier, with a +wave of his hand.</p> + +<p>Tottering weakly, the rascal who had met retribution +at last was led out.</p> + +<p>The rejoicing players were stripping for their +showers. Locke and Jones appeared among them.</p> + +<p>“Boys,” said Lefty, “let me introduce Martin +Bowman, whom you have hitherto known as Jones. +For reasons of his own, he made a vow never to +speak until a certain thing should happen. Happily, +events now make it possible for him to talk.”</p> + +<p>“For which I am very thankful,” said Martin +Bowman quietly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317'></a>317</span>They stared at him in limitless astonishment. +At last Spider Grant said:</p> + +<p>“Well, this game to-day was enough to make a +deaf-and-dumb man talk!”</p> + +<p>Eph, the colored rubber, touched Locke on the +arm.</p> + +<p>“Yo’ wife and a pahty o’ frien’s am outside, +sah,” he said. “Dey said as how dey’d wait fo’ +you.”</p> + +<p>“Tell them I’ll join them as soon as possible,” +directed Lefty.</p> + +<p style='text-align:center; margin-top:20px; margin-bottom:15px;'>THE END</p> + +<p>The next title in this series is “Guarding the Keystone Sack.”</p> + +<p style='margin-top:30px;'>SEE REVERSE SIDE OF COLORED JACKET FOR LIST OF +TITLES IN THIS SERIES AND MANY OTHER SERIES FOR BOYS +AND GIRLS OF ALL AGES.</p> + +<hr class='pb' /> + +<div class='front'> +<p style='font-size:1.4em;'>THE BIG LEAGUE SERIES</p> +<p style='font-size:smaller'>(Trade Mark Registered)</p> + +<p style='margin-bottom:20px'>By BURT L. STANDISH</p> + +<p style='font-size:smaller'>Endorsed by such stars as Christy Mathewson,<br /> +Ty Cobb and Walter Johnson.</p> +</div> + +<div> +<img src='images/illus313.jpg' alt='' style='float:left' /> +</div> + +<p>An American boy with plenty of grit–baseball at its finest–and the girl +in the case–these are the elements +which compose the most successful of +juvenile fiction. You don’t have to be +a “fan” to enjoy these books; all you +need to be is really human and alive +with plenty of red blood in your veins.</p> + +<p>The author managed a “Bush League” +team a number of years ago and +is thoroughly familiar with the actions +of baseball players on and off the field. +Every American, young or old, who +has enjoyed the thrills and excitement +of our national game, is sure to read +with delight these splendid stories of +baseball and romance.</p> + +<p>Cloth Large 12 mo. Illustrated</p> + +<div class='poetry'> +<p>1. LEFTY O’ THE BUSH.</p> +<p>2. LEFTY O’ THE BIG LEAGUE.</p> +<p>3. LEFTY O’ THE BLUE STOCKINGS.</p> +<p>4. LEFTY O’ THE TRAINING CAMP.</p> +<p>5. BRICK KING, BACKSTOP.</p> +<p>6. THE MAKING OF A BIG LEAGUER.</p> +<p>7. COURTNEY OF THE CENTER GARDEN.</p> +<p>8. COVERING THE LOOK-IN CORNER.</p> +<p>9. LEFTY LOCKE, PITCHER-MANAGER.</p> +<p>10. GUARDING THE KEYSTONE SACK.</p> +<p>11. THE MAN ON FIRST.</p> +<p>12. LEGO LAMP, SOUTHPAW.</p> +<p>13. THE GRIP OF THE GAME.</p> +<p>14. LEFTY LOCKE, OWNER.</p> +<p>15. LEFTY LOCKE WINS OUT.</p> +<p>16. CROSSED SIGNALS.</p> +</div> + +<div class='center'> +<p>Publishers<br /> +BARSE & CO.<br /> +New York, N. Y. Newark, N. J.</p> +</div> <!-- centered --> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LEFTY LOCKE PITCHER-MANAGER***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 34100-h.txt or 34100-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/1/0/34100">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/1/0/34100</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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