“Two or three days. Say three, just to be on the safe side. You get your boss to let you off for that long, beat it over to Harrisville tomorrow night and report to Steve Thursday morning. If he says nothing doing you’ll be back here Saturday. It’s only a two-hour run on the train. How does that strike you?”
“I don’t know,” replied Wayne. “If—if the manager liked me well enough to keep me would I play second?”
“Maybe you would or maybe he’d put you somewhere else. Maybe you’d have to wait around awhile for a position. Our infield’s pretty good as it is and you ain’t had the experience you need, you see. But Steve will treat you right, take it from me.”
“If I didn’t get on the team, though, would I get paid?”
“Sure! Once you put your name to the contract you get paid every month regularly whether you play or just sit on the bench. That’s soft, ain’t it?”
“I suppose it is, but I’d rather play, Mr. Farrel. How much—that is—what would I get?”
“Salary? Oh, you and Steve would have to fix that up. He’s no piker, though. He’ll do the fair-and-square by you. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Well, but, how much do you suppose?”
“I don’t want to quote any figures, Mr. Sloan. That ain’t in my job. All I do is scout. When I see a likely looking chap I say just what I’m saying to you. ‘Go and report to Steve Milburn,’ I says. ‘He’ll talk salary with you when you’ve shown him what you can do.’ More than that I ain’t got the right to say, Mr. Sloan. But we pay good salaries as salaries go on the minors, and, what’s more, we pay ’em! You don’t get promises and an order on the grocer. Old John K. is right there every month with the coin. He don’t waste his money, John K. don’t, but he pays his bills. Now what do you say, Mr. Sloan?”
“Well, I’m much obliged to you and——”