CHAPTER III
A FLATTERING INVITATION.
Jim Phillips, his reputation firmly established as the best college pitcher in the East, and, since his defeat of the Michigan team, in the whole United States, was hardly surprised when, the day after the conference between Parker and the two sophomores, of which, of course, he knew nothing, he was asked by the captain of the team of the New Haven Country Club to pitch for that nine against the Boston Athletic Association nine the next day.
Jim, like many other Yale athletes, had been elected an honorary member of the country club, and so was eligible to play on any of its teams. But he had not taken the time to make use of the club since his election, as he had been busy in practice for Yale teams. His first impulse was to decline outright Captain Hasbrook’s request, and he even started to do so. But Hasbrook pleaded so hard that Jim finally agreed to reconsider and to consult Dick Merriwell on the subject.
“I’m under Mr. Merriwell’s orders, of course,” said Jim, “and I can’t do anything of this sort without his permission. Frankly, I don’t think he will let me play for you. This game with Harvard is pretty important, you know, and we aren’t going to have an easy time with them, by any means.”
“I’ve thought of that, of course,” said Hasbrook. “I’m an old Yale man myself, you know, and I played on the team when Merriwell was captain. So I think I may have some weight with him. I’ll try, anyhow. And I really think it will do you good to run up against that Boston bunch. They’ve got a lot of old Harvard men on their team, and I’ve heard that there will be one or two of this year’s team. They won’t have this man Briggs that they’re counting on so heavily, but they’re better off than we are in pitchers. Holmes, the only man I could count on to do any really good pitching, has hurt his arm, and that’s why I’m so keen about getting you. Winston’s a member of the club and I suppose there’ll be no difficulty about getting him to pitch, if you can’t help us out. But I’d rather have you, naturally, because old Winston, while he’s willing enough, wouldn’t last three innings against that bunch of sluggers that’s coming down from Boston.
“They’ve got to look on this game every year as a sort of alumni game between Yale and Harvard, you know, and, of course, they’ve got a lot more men to draw on than we have—Boston being big enough to swallow New Haven and a couple of other towns our size. So they’ve been beating us for the last three years.”
Jim, as he had told Hasbrook, had little hope of being allowed to play. But he was anxious enough to do so. He remembered Hasbrook well as a member of the good-government party that had helped the Yale students mightily when the city had tried to stop the cheering at Yale Field, and the idea of giving Harvard men a chance to crow, even if they were out of college, was displeasing to him.
Brady, it seemed, had received a similar invitation from Hasbrook. He came, soon after the country club man had left Jim, to tell him about it. He, it seemed, had accepted, making only the provision that Merriwell’s consent would have to be obtained. But Bill was a horse for work, and there was not the same reason for saving him that tended to make it unlikely that Jim would be allowed to play.
They went to see Merriwell together, Jim’s anxiety to play being greatly increased when he found that Bill Brady would be his catcher. The idea of pitching to a strange catcher had been one of the things that had prompted his first refusal.