“I’ll tell you, Mac,” replied Joe, who saw the opening he desired. “Jim has heart trouble.”
“What?” cried McRae, in consternation. “Did a doctor tell him so?”
“It isn’t a case for a doctor,” explained Joe. “The only one who can cure Jim’s trouble is a certain girl.”
“Oh, that’s it!” exclaimed McRae with relief. “The girls! The girls! The mischief they make!”
“Don’t forget you were young once yourself, Mac,” said Joe, with a grin. “Now I want to ask you a favor. I have an idea that five minutes’ talk with that girl will set things all right. Why not give Jim a few days off? I don’t ask this simply because Jim is my friend. I think it will be for the good of the team.”
“We’re pretty hard up for pitchers,” said McRae, dubiously.
“I’ll double up while he’s gone,” promised Joe. “I’ll pitch his game as well as my own. I’m as fit as a fiddle.”
“You’re always that,” answered McRae. “Well, have it your own way,” and he walked away muttering again: “The girls! The girls!”
“Jim,” said Joe, later that afternoon, “how about taking a train to-morrow afternoon for Riverside?”