“No, I think not. Good work, Healey! That boy can handle them mighty well for a youngster. That’s two down. Tom Pollock hasn’t got his stride yet, or else he isn’t working. Those two chaps make a great team.”
“Pollock and Craig? What sort of a fellow is this Craig boy?”
“Just what you see. Quiet, straightforward, honest as they make them. Not exactly brilliant—Look at that for a drop!—not brilliant exactly, but sensible and brainy. Pollock said Sam was a friend of yours, I thought.”
“He is. I met him yesterday.”
Mr. Talbot smiled. “Not of long standing, then.”
“No, the fact is we have a mutual friend, Craig and I. We’re just getting acquainted. I like him, though, so far.”
“You’ll keep on then, for Sam doesn’t change much. That’s one thing that makes him a mighty good catcher. He’s as steady as a rock. Plays the same game to-day he did yesterday, except that he probably gets a little better all the time. He isn’t the sort who have flashes of fine form one day and then slump the next. That’s the stuff, Tom! Who’s scoring? You, Steve? When does that pitcher of theirs come up? Fifth on the list? I thought so. I guess he’s going to make trouble for us. What’s his name?”
“Smith,” replied Steve Arbuckle.
“Smith! I’ll wager he has another name at home,” said Mr. Talbot. “If he gets too gay I’ll go in there myself, unless you will, Hall.”
“I would if I thought I could do any good. We’ll see how things turn out. There goes the last man. That’s three, isn’t it? Now then, Amesville, show what you can do!”