“Now,” continued Riley, “knowin’ you as I do, Hutch, I decided to talk it over with ye. Outside of that guy Locke, you’ve got a couple of dead ones for twirlers. Deever’s arm is on the blink, and Skillings is a has-been. Playin’ five games a week, as you do, with only one lay-off besides Sunday, you need three reg’lar dependable pitchers to do the work.”
“What are you driving at?”
“Just this: To win from Fryeburg and Lakeport, you’ve got to use better slabmen than Deever or Skillings. Locke is the only one you’ve got, and so you’ll have to work him in them games. See?”
Hutchinson fancied he saw, but he remained silent.
“Of course,” said Riley, “you’ll make a bluff of workin’ the others, but the minute things look a bit hazy you’ll yank ’em out and run Locke in to save the day. Get me?”
“And no man,” murmured Dyke, “can do that much pitchin’ and keep his flinger in condition to trim Bancroft.”
“I see,” said Hutchinson frostily, “that you do want to put me in bad here. If I overworked Locke that way I’d have the whole town howling like mad dogs. Already I’ve had instructions from old Cope to save the youngster for Bancroft.”
“But you’re manager, ain’t ye?” rasped Riley. “Are you goin’ to run the team or let an old Reuben like him do it? What did they hire ye for?”
“An inquiry I have put to Cope already.”
“Y’u’re s’posed to know your business. When a game’s goin’ to the bad, whether you’re playin’ with Bancroft or any other team, it’s up to you to save it, if ye can, by changin’ pitchers. As I said, Locke’s the only man you can depend on to win games, so you’ll have to use him.”