"It's mighty cold standing here talking on the bridge, Larry, and I don't know that I have any right to give Al's reasons, but I have a notion that his mother objects to his going around the country playing base ball. She's got high and mighty airs since her Uncle George was elected to Congress from the Sangamon District, and I reckon that that is what is the matter with Al's base ball business. Pity 'tis, too, for Al is a first-rate catcher. Nobody like him, unless it is Larry Boyne," he added with a kindly smile.
Larry thanked the 'Squire, and, with a hearty "good-bye," went thoughtfully on his way across the bridge. As his steed climbed Bridge Street, Larry was conscious that he had several new ideas in his head. And when, his little errands done, he found his way to Mr. Heaton's counting-room in the mills near the dam, he had made up his mind that Jonesville had no claim on him and that he belonged no more to Jonesville than he did to Catalpa. In other words, he was in the market for employment. The mortgage on the farm must be paid off; his sisters and the little brother must be kept at school, and he had his own way to make in the world. To take one season's compensation as a base ball player would help matters at home very much. It was a gleam of hope in an otherwise gloomy outlook for the young man.
"Glad to see you, Larry," said Mr. Heaton, heartily. "Al's been waiting for you this some time, and we may as well go right to business. The boys are talking of getting up a first-class nine, and as my son cannot very well go into it, next year, he has coaxed me to turn in and help the others. And so I will, for I want to see old Catalpa come out ahead at the end of the season."
Young Heaton, with evident regret, told Larry that he would be unable to play in the Catalpa nine, but that it was his dearest wish that the club should be the champion club of the state. "So," said he, "with my father's consent, I have agreed to give my monthly allowance for the benefit of the club, and that will help make up a pool to pay expenses. We can't get good players (I mean players to compete with Chicago and Springfield, and other large cities), without paying them something—gate-money anyhow, and perhaps more."
Larry said not a word. It was yet a new proposition, this of earning money as a professional ball player. Somehow it did not strike him pleasantly. But he listened respectfully while Mr. Heaton unfolded the plans that had been slowly matured since the signal defeat of the Catalpas, last October. They must organize a new nine. Some of the old players must be dropped, and two, Al and Lewis Morris, had already declined to play any longer. New men must be found to take their places. Would Larry join the new nine? Did he recommend any other players in the vicinity?
Larry's ruddy face glowed as he walked up and down the little counting-room, thinking over the situation. Mr. Heaton watched the young man's well-knit and graceful figure with admiration, and winked at Albert, as if to say, "That is your man. Get him if you can."
"I'll consider any offer that you make in behalf of the new nine, Mr. Heaton," said Larry, "and if I were to suggest any other players from the Jonesvilles, I should like to say a good word for Sam Morrison and Neddie Ellis. Morrison is our first base man, and Neddie is as good a pitcher as there is in the country, unless it is Charlie King. I hope your men don't think of letting out Charlie?"
"Oh, no," replied young Heaton, "they want him to stay, and he says that he'll not only stay but will give in his share of the gate-money for the use of the club. Oh, Charlie's clear grit, he is, and he'll stand by the club," said the young man, with friendly warmth, dashed with a little regret, perhaps, that family complications forbade him a similar sacrifice.
The details of the bargain could not be settled at once. Mr. Heaton and his son were the representatives of a company of public-spirited citizens who were bent on getting up a good base ball club. They could only secure Larry's promise to wait for terms from them before accepting any other engagement, and to give them some hint as to what compensation he should expect. This last, however, Larry resolutely declined to do; and, after some debate, young Heaton exclaimed, "Well, hang it all, Larry! What's the use beating round the bush! I think our folks have made up their minds that they will give you a share of the gate-money, say one eighth, and a salary of a thousand dollars for the season. Does that strike you favorably?"