“We certainly did, but we must remember that ‘one swallow doesn’t make a summer!’” answered Joe. “We’ll have our own scalps taken many a time before the season’s over. As it was, we had a mighty close call. Those ‘cast-offs,’ as they call them, played like champions, and perhaps Hughson was right when he said that they were the ones we would have to look out for.”
“Perhaps so,” assented Jim. “But I’m rather sweet on Chicago for the runner-up. I see by the bulletin board that they whipped Cincinnati by twelve to three. Those fellows are terrors with the stick. You’ll have to do your prettiest when you stack up against them, Joe.”
“None of the teams are going to be easy meat,” was the answer. “They’re better balanced than they’ve been for several years. There isn’t one of them that can’t be figured to have a chance.”
“That’s the way I like to see them,” declared Jim. “There’s no fun in having one or two teams out in the lead so far that there’s no chance of the others catching up.”
“I wonder whether that trouble with his knee is going to lay Hughson up,” remarked Joe, after they had taken their seats in the elevated train and were being whirled to their hotel downtown. “It would be a pretty serious thing for the nine if he were out of the running. He’s the backbone of the team.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be anything serious,” said Jim. “I overheard Farley, the trainer, telling McRae that Hughson would be as well as ever in a week.”
“I suppose Markwith will go in tomorrow,” remarked Joe.
“Quite likely,” assented Jim. “Although those Bostons just eat up left-handed pitching. I shouldn’t wonder if McRae would put you in again. You only pitched one inning and I don’t suppose that has tired you much.”
“Not a bit,” replied Joe. “Still, I think that Bugs Hartley is more likely to be called on. He warmed up well in practice before the game and seems to be in prime condition. Besides, he might feel slighted if McRae doesn’t start him. He seemed sore when I was called on today.”