“Both wrong—as usual,” laughed Ned, clapping a strong hand on the disputants and pushing his broad shoulders between them. “Now here’s how I see it,” he continued. “Slade is a wicked hitter and a tough man in the field. He’ll be a big help to Bedford, but he can’t play the whole game. Keep that in mind, Bony. On the other hand, Red, remember that plenty of teams are world-beaters before the season starts. We’ve got some good material, but it will take a lot of hard work to make a winning nine out of it. That’s what it’s up to us to do. I’ve just posted a notice for the squad to show up for practice this afternoon. The field is drying fast and I want every man on the job.”
“All except the pitchers, I suppose,” yawned Dave Wilbur. “I’ll be around the first of next week and work on the batting practice.”
“You’ll be right on the job at two p.m. this afternoon, Dave,” replied Ned, firmly. “I’m depending on you to set a good example to the new men.”
“Do you hear that, Weary?” gibed Tommy Beals. “You’re expected to set the old alarm for one forty-five p.m. and be made an example of.”
“That’s the idea, Fatty,” laughed Ned. “Anybody going my way?”
“I am, if you don’t walk too darned fast,” replied Beals.
Dick Somers also rose to his feet and joined the two as they shouldered their way out of the group and strode down the street.
“Bony Jones is an awful knocker,” remarked Tommy, when they were out of hearing.
“He’s that all right,” agreed Ned, “and yet for the good of the team right now, I’d rather they’d hear Bony’s knocking than Red’s boasting. Over-confidence at the start of the season is a mighty bad thing, and as captain of the team, it’s up to me to kill it if I can.”
“What’s the real dope on this fellow Slade?” asked Dick. “I don’t have any very pleasant recollections of him myself, but how about his playing?”