“I don’t think your protest is a fair one,” said Darrell at length.
“I don’t think so either,” added Captain George Rankin. “Just because Matson is a newcomer in town is no reason why he can’t play with us.”
“Sure, that’s right!” put in Seth Potter. “You weren’t born here yourself, Sam, and neither were lots of us. We moved here.”
“I’ve lived in Riverside nearly all my life,” snapped the pitcher, “and I like to see a representative team. If we need a new member why not pick one who has been living here longer than a couple of weeks?”
“Look here!” exclaimed Darrell. “I don’t think this is fair to me.”
“How do you mean?” asked Sam, for the manager had spoken with some warmth.
“Just this much. You elected me manager and the captain and I were to select the players. Now, when we make our choice, there comes a kick. It isn’t right. Rankin and I decided to give Matson a chance, and he gets it. That goes, too!” and the manager looked straight at Sam.
“Oh, well, if you put it that way I suppose I might as well keep still about it,” and Sam, shrugging his shoulders, turned away. He had not yet shaken hands with Joe.
“As for there being other players just as good and who have lived here longer, that may be true,” went on Darrell. “I’m not saying Matson is the only fellow I could pick for centre field, and I’m not saying anything against any of the fellows on the scrub when I don’t take them. We want the best team we can get to represent the Silver Stars and Matson is my choice for the place. If you want to go over my head——”
“No! No!” came a chorus of objections. “It’s all right!”