“Well, Sloan, you take my advice and keep right after him. You’ll have to if you want to get anything out of him. Ain’t that so, Jimmy?”
“It’s true as true, my boy. I don’t see, though, what for Chris Farrel sent us an infielder. Can you hit the ball any?”
“I—yes, sir, a little.”
“A little won’t get you anything, my boy. What the boss is lookin’ for is fellers as can swing on ’em hard. Still and all, I ain’t saying you mightn’t develop if Steve’ll take you on. Who was you playing with last?”
“Medfield,” answered Wayne.
“Medfield? I never heard of them,” pondered the trainer.
“It’s an amateur team, sir.”
“Ah, that’s it, eh? You’re one o’ them gentlemen amachoors, are you? Well, Joe, here, was one o’ them things himself till I found him. ’Twas me that rescued him from a life of crime.”
Joe Casey turned a tanned countenance and grinned along the bench. “When you found me, Jimmy,” he said, “I was playin’ with a bunch that knew baseball, take it from me. That team could give us two runs an inning and beat us without trying.”