“No, it doesn’t. They might do something else. There are many ways by which a college man can earn money to help himself. If he’s a good player or athlete, he will find hands enough extended to help him. He will be given opportunities of earning money honestly by honest work. The trouble with nine out of ten of the ball players who play for money is that they shirk real work. I said I wouldn’t enter into a discussion over this rule, but you seem to have lured me into one.”
“What did your brother do when he had to leave college and go to work?”
“He started in as an engine wiper in a railroad locomotive roundhouse.”
“Engine wiper! A greasy, dirty, slaving job.”
“Well, pretty near that; but he didn’t stay at it long.”
“Oh! Ho! ho!” laughed Harrison derisively. “It was too much for him, hey? He quit, did he?”
Dick Merriwell flushed a little.
“My brother never quit in his life,” he retorted. “He was promoted. It wasn’t long before he was a locomotive fireman, and the day came when his place was at the throttle.”
“That wasn’t doing so worse,” admitted the baseball manager. “He must be some hustler.”
“He’s a hustler all right. He never yet put his hand to the plow and turned back.”