"Whew!" whistled Cooney, as he swung his southpaw arm about. "I sure will be lame to-morrow."
"You can have a rest," the manager informed him. "And be sure to have your arm massaged well. This is going to be a stiffer proposition than I thought."
"Did you see him at the game?" asked Rad of Joe, as they walked along together.
"See who?"
"Shalleg."
"No. Was he there?"
"He sure was! I had a glimpse of him over in the bleachers when I ran after that long drive of Mitchell's. He was with that Wessel, but they didn't look my way."
"Humph!" mused Joe. "Well, I suppose he's got a right to come to our games. If he bothers me, though, I'll take some action."
"What?"
"I don't know, yet. But I'm through standing for his nonsense."