"Well, not personally," said Joe, "though I can't boast of a superfluity of money myself."
"You've got more than I have!" snapped Shalleg.
"I don't know about that," said Joe, slowly, wondering whither the conversation was leading.
"Your team won the pennant!" cried the man, and Joe, as he caught the odor of his breath, realized what made Shalleg's manner so excited. The man was partially intoxicated. Joe wished he had not come. "Your team won the pennant," Shalleg went on, "and that meant quite a little money for every player. You must have gotten your share, and I'd like to borrow some of you, Matson. I'm down and out, I tell you, and I need money bad—until I can get on my feet again."
Joe did not answer for a moment, but mentally he found a reason for Shalleg's being "off his feet" at present. Bad habits, very likely.
"Can you let me have some money—until Spring opens?" proceeded Shalleg. "You'll be earning more then, whether I am or not, for I don't know that I'm going back with Clevefield. I suppose you'll play with the Pittston team?"
"I don't know," answered Joe, preferring to reply to that question first. He wanted time to think about the other.
"You don't know!" Shalleg exclaimed, in surprise.
"No. I hear I am to be drafted to the St. Louis Nationals."
"The St. Louis Nationals!" cried Shalleg. "That team! Why, that team is the one I——"