“It wouldn’t have been much luck for the fellow on the receiving end, though,” laughed Jim. “What did you tell him, Larry?”
“Oi told him if he couldn’t hold on to the ball better, he ought to be playin’ checkers instid o’ baseball. ‘Ye’ve got no man’s grip in yer hands, or the ball wouldn’t slip through thim so easy,’ I told him.”
“Who was that, McCarney or Hupft?” asked Joe.
“’Twas the spalpeen of a third baseman,” replied Larry. “If he’d been half a man he’d have answered me back, and maybe started a little scrap, which Oi’d have been thankful for that same. But he only gives me an ugly, sideways look an’ says somethin’ under his breath that Oi cuddn’t hear. Oi should have swung at him, an’ me conscience has been botherin’ me ever since fur not doin’ ut.”
“I never knew you had a conscience,” laughed Joe. “Doesn’t it ever bother you when you argue with the umpire over calling a strike against you, when you know all the time it was a strike?”
“Oh, that’s different,” answered the good-natured Irishman, grinning. “That’s a matter of principle wid me, an’ me conscience would bother me if I didn’t do ut. You’re both ball players yerselves, an’ should realize that widout me havin’ to tell ye.”
“I guess we know how you feel about it,” returned Jim, chuckling. “An umpire has to be kept in his place, or a ball player’s life would be harder than it is.”
Larry stayed with them for some time before taking his departure. Joe and Jim then decided to go back to the manager’s hotel and find out what he intended to do in the matter of the gamblers and their high-handed proceedings.
They found McRae in no very pleasant temper. He was pacing up and down the room, and his face wore the look that members of his team knew boded trouble for some one. He waved them to chairs, and then gave vent to his anger against the crooks who he believed were ruining baseball.