Frazer twisted his face into a queer grimace. “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.”
“It was on his advice that I consented to manage the team,” replied Locke.
“What?” exclaimed Frazer. “Is that straight? He advised you to–The infernal old scoundrel!”
Locke warmed immediately in defense of Kennedy. The manager of the Wolves listened, uncertain, shaking his head doubtfully.
“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.”
“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?”
“Nothing that you’ll pay the price for. I know Collier’s policy.”
“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 old Ben. “Collier will have to stand for any trade I put through. I’ll buy Smoke Jordan off you.”
“You won’t! I won’t sell him.”
“Then how about Jack Keeper? You’ve got Red Callahan, and I need a third baseman.”