“Great Scott, but this is regular baseball weather!” he cried, as he looked out of the window. “Get a move on, Jim, and let’s get outdoors as soon as possible. It’s a crime to waste any minute of a morning like this.”
Barclay, thus adjured, scrambled out of bed and they hurried into their clothes.
“What time was it that McRae wanted us to be ready to start for the park this morning?” asked Jim.
“Nine o’clock sharp, and it’s after seven now. We won’t have more than time to get our breakfast and get into our baseball togs.”
They went down to the dining room where a special section had been reserved for the team. Quite a number were already eating the excellent breakfast and others soon straggled in until all were accounted for. There was a general air of hilarity, especially among the older members of the team. The rookies, however, were on edge with nervousness in anticipation of the coming ordeal that meant so much to them. They gulped down their meal in a preoccupied way and conversation lagged in their corner.
By nine o’clock all had changed into their uniforms and had assembled in front of the hotel.
“Where’s the bus?” asked one of the drafted men.
There was a roar of laughter from the old timers.
“The only bus you’ll have will be those two legs of yours,” chuckled Curry. “You’ll start right in now, my bucko, to learn what they were made for.”