“I’m not keen about losing the game,” Fargo returned. “But I shouldn’t shed tears if Elgin was hammered out of the box.”
Up on the reporters’ bench a telegraph instrument had suddenly ceased clicking, and a rush and bustle followed as a slim fellow in a long tan coat and rakish soft hat pushed hurriedly past his fellow reporters.
He paid no heed to their comments and questions, but, reaching one of the gates, thrust it open, and hastened out upon the field. A moment later he, too, was shaking hands with Lefty and upbraiding him in unmeasured terms.
Presently several more of the Hornets’ players strolled up and joined the little group about the young twirler. The fans, realizing that something was doing which they did not understand, gave vent to caustic comments and various sarcastic remarks about the folly of delaying the game.
Brennan, still scowling, called peremptorily to his men, and sent them loping on to the diamond for preliminary practice. Locke took a position over to one side, and commenced warming up. The field was soon a picture of animated motion.
“What kind of a game is this you’re giving me, Ken?” Brennan inquired tartly as Kennedy strolled up a moment later. “You told me you’d thrown down that fellow Locke when he applied for a job.”
“No, I didn’t, Jim,” retorted the Blue Stockings’ manager mildly, a faint twinkle in his dark eyes. “I said he didn’t stay with me long. He didn’t. I let the Badgers have him. Hadn’t time to bother with him myself, so I shipped him to them for a try-out, with one of my scouts to keep an eye on him. The boy won every game he pitched, and did such brainy work that I pulled him in. The reason I didn’t tell you his name was because he asked me this morning not to say anything about him to any of your crowd.”
“Humph!” growled Brennan. “Thought he was goin’ to jar me, I suppose. So this is the bush wonder you were telling me about. I wish you joy with that quitter. Better have an anchor ready to hitch to him about the third inning. You’ll need it.”
“We’ll see if you’re right,” smiled Kennedy.
Brennan turned away, grumbling incoherently. Evidently he was still feeling somewhat sore. The gingery fielding practice continued to the delight of the spectators, who applauded every snappy throw or pretty catch.