“That fraternity crowd is not back of him,” said Clark. “I’ve noticed that they seem well pleased at your selection of players. They’ve got half the squad. The old sporty crowd seems to be backing him up. If I were you, I’d read the riot act to him, and, if he don’t want to play, tie a can to him.”
The crisis came that same afternoon. Larry had been working with the pitchers at one side of the field, and the regular team was supposed to be at fielding practice on the diamond. Larry, running back to take his turn at bat, saw Jacobs loafing near the bench, in earnest conversation with Harry Baldwin.
“Oh, Jacobs, why aren’t you on the job?” he called.
“I’m talking to a friend,” replied Jacobs sneeringly and not moving to resume practice.
Larry, boiling inwardly, stood still an instant, striving to master his anger. Then he walked toward the pair.
“Baldwin,” he said quickly, “if you will not help the team please do not interrupt the practice.”
“You can’t order me off this field,” retorted Baldwin angrily. “I came here to talk business to Jacobs.”
“His business right now is playing ball,” said Larry steadily. “You have no right here unless you come in uniform as a candidate for the team. I learned that lesson myself—and I believe you were one of the teachers.”
He smiled bitterly at the recollection of the time Haxton had ordered him off the field.
“A fine chance I’d have to make the team with you captain,” sneered Baldwin.