“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–”
“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 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 got to have.”
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.
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.”
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 traveling eastward by the same train. Lefty cut his breakfast short and left the diner without having been observed.
“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.”
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.
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.
“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.”
“Weegman?” said Lefty, startled, but outwardly serene. “Is he on this train?”