Further conversation was interrupted by a sizzling grounder that reminded “Sailor” of his duties.
The morning’s work-out ended with practice on the bases and Wayne went back to the bench. He didn’t have it to himself now, for Jimmy Slattery, very warm and puffing from his recent exertions, was there, as were four of the pitching staff, “Hop” Nye amongst them. “Hop” recognised Wayne and nodded. The others viewed him with mild curiosity. Only Jimmy challenged his presence there.
“How do you happen to be in here, kid?” he asked when Wayne had seated himself on the bench.
“I’m waiting for a try-out,” answered the boy as casually as he could. “Mr. Farrel sent me.”
“Oh.” But the trainer was still evidently puzzled. After a minute, spent in surreptitious examination of the boy, he inquired with a trace of sarcasm: “And what might you be? A pitcher or a catcher or what?”
“Infielder, sir. Second baseman, for choice.”
“Huh! You’ve got a choice, have you? That’s fine! What’s the boss say?”
“He hasn’t decided yet.”
Nye, who had overheard the conversation, leaned forward and spoke to the trainer. “He’s all right, Jimmy,” said “Hop.” “Chris sent him up and Steve won’t give him a look-over. Says he won’t, anyway. What’s your name, kid?”
“Sloan, sir.”