“After getting my new men here a whole lot of them threatened to leave unless their regular captain was retained at their head. I had to agree to that. I have done my best to pacify Arlington by explaining that a man who pitches should not play in any game unless he is on the slab, and, therefore, it’s not policy to keep him as captain of the team when he will play in no more than one-third of the games. I honestly believe the fellow’d rather be captain and not pitch at all. He’s a good player, but has a mighty nasty disposition. Drink up, Tom. Here’s luck for both of us to-morrow.”
Fernald had poured a brimming glass of whisky, and he dashed it off at a gulp.
“There,” he said, “perhaps that’ll make me feel better. I’ll tell you something that will surprise you, Benton.”
“Go ahead! Surprises are coming thick lately.”
“I am not manager of the Rockford team now.”
Hammerswell was surprised indeed.
“What are you giving me?” he cried.
“Straight goods.”
“You’re not manager now?”
“No.”