Finally, McRae, wrought to exasperation by the loss of a game that ought to have been won easily, gave Hartley his ten days’ notice of release. And this time, although Hartley begged hard for another chance, the manager was adamant.
“It’s no use, Hartley,” he declared. “You’ve told me the same thing fifty times and you’ve fallen down every time. Here’s where you and I part company.”
Hartley saw that this time McRae was really through with him. He began at once to pull wires to land a berth in some other club. But in the meantime, his unreasonable hate of Joe developed until he could think of little else.
Joe himself, although he had every reason to be glad at Hartley’s departure from the club, was sincerely sorry for the plight in which the latter found himself, and took early occasion to tell him so.
“I hope you’ll land something else right away, Hartley,” he said, heartily. “There ought to be some years of big league pitching in you yet, and some of the other clubs will soon be after you, when they know they can get you.”
“You shut up!” snarled Hartley. “I’m not asking any sympathy from you or anybody else. I was pitching in the big league when you were a busher and I’ll be pitching in it yet when you’re fired back to the minors. You’ve been trying to do me ever since you’ve been on the club. You’ve put on extra steam whenever you’ve followed me in a game, just to show that you could win where I was losing. I’ve been on to you, all right.”
“If you were any one else, I’d ram those words down your throat!” exclaimed Joe, angered at finding his friendly advances met in such fashion. “But you have troubles enough just now without my adding to them. You’re your own worst enemy, Hartley, and it’s time you got wise to it.”
He turned on his heel and left him and did not see the man until noon the next day. Then Hartley approached him as he sat at the hotel table. Joe was slated to pitch that day, and as he did not like to eat a heavy meal immediately before the game, he had come down for a light lunch earlier than the rest of the team.
Hartley came up to him with a pleasant smile.
“I’m sorry I spoke to you the way I did yesterday, Matson,” he said. “But I was feeling sore and wanted to take it out on somebody. I hope there’s no hard feelings.”