“Because we haven’t money enough to take the team out of town, and back again. Besides, Dutch needs a new catching mitt. I don’t see how it happened. I thought we were making money.”
“So did I. Let’s go have a talk with Snowden.”
The treasurer of the nine could only confirm his statement. He showed by figures that the amount of money taken in had not met the expenses, so far.
“The crowds haven’t been what they ought to have been,” Snowden explained. “Randall isn’t drawing as it used to.”
“We’re playing better ball,” fired Tom at him.
“That may be. I’m only talking from a money standpoint. We’re in debt ten dollars. Not that I mind, for I don’t need the money, but I thought Kerr ought to know. I can’t advance any more, and the team can’t go to Richfield without cash for railroad fare.”
“That’s right,” agreed Tom, scratching his head. “Well, the only thing to do is to call a meeting and ask for subscriptions. The fellows will easily make up the deficit, and give enough over to provide for traveling expenses. Dutch can use his old glove for a few games yet, and we ought to get enough out of this Richfield game to put us on our feet. After that we have a number of contests that will draw big crowds. Then comes the final whack at Boxer Hall, and that is always a money-maker. We’ll come out right yet, Ed. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not, only it looks as if I hadn’t managed things right.”
“Nonsense! Of course you have. The fellows will go down in their pockets. I’ll call a meeting for this afternoon.”