[CHAPTER XII]
THE QUEER VALISE
“Matson, I hope you didn’t misunderstand me,” remarked the manager as he walked beside Joe to the dressing rooms. “I mean in regard to that Dutton. He’s an intolerable nuisance, and I didn’t want you to get mixed up with him. Perhaps I spoke stronger than I should, but I’m exasperated with him. I’ve tried—and so have lots of us—to get him back on the right road again, but I’m afraid he’s hopeless.”
“It’s too bad!” burst out the young pitcher. “Yes, I thought you were a little severe with him.”
“I have to be. I don’t want him hanging around here. I haven’t seen him for some time. He drifts all about—beating his way like a tramp, I guess, though he’s better dressed now than in a long while. What’s that he said about you saving his life?”
“Well, I suppose I did, in a way,” and Joe told of the freight train episode. “But that happened a long distance from here,” he added. “I was surprised to turn around and see him.”
“Oh, Pop travels all over. You’ve probably heard about him. In his day there wasn’t a better pitcher in any league. But he got careless—that, bad companions and dissipation spelled ruin for him. He’s down and out now, and I’m sure he can never come back. He lives off what he can borrow or beg from those who used to be his friends. Steer clear of him—that’s my advice.”
Joe did not respond and after a moment Gregory went on with: