“All right, Iredell,” returned McRae, after he had scanned the paper carefully and stowed it away in his pocket. “I’ll accept this, and I won’t say anything more about that play, because I know how sore you’re feeling and I don’t want to rub it in. I’ll admit that at the time it happened, I saw red. But what’s past is past, and there’s no use crying about spilled milk.”
“You can have my resignation as shortstop too, if you want it,” growled Iredell, who was evidently in a nasty humor.
“I don’t want it,” said McRae, kindly. “You’re a good shortstop, and I’ve no fault to find with your work as such. And now that you’ve got nothing to think about except playing your position, I hope you’ll do better than ever. One thing I’m counting on, too, is that you cherish no grudges and give full loyalty to the man I’m going to make captain. Is that a go?”
Iredell grunted something that McRae chose to accept as an affirmative. But he would have changed his opinion if he had seen the ugly glare in Iredell’s eyes and the clenched fist that Iredell shook at the manager’s back as the latter walked away.
“Give me a dirty deal and expect me to take it lying down, do you?” he snarled. “You’ve got another guess coming, and don’t you forget it!”
[CHAPTER IX]
THE NEW CAPTAIN
Although Iredell had himself offered his resignation, he had only done it to take the wind out of McRae’s sails and put himself in a better strategic position. If worst came to worst, he could save his pride by saying that he had resigned of his own accord instead of being “fired.”
But he had hoped, nevertheless, that the resignation would be refused and that McRae, after perhaps giving him a lecture, would accord him another chance. The prompt acceptance had caught him off his balance, and he was full of rage at the conviction that McRae had sought him out for the express purpose of displacing him.