“Me? Why, I was with the Clevelands for three years,” answered Dan. “But I’ve been ill, and the doctor thinks I’d better stay out of the game for a while.”
“I see,” answered the other with a laugh. Then he squeezed himself between Bob and Nelson, and asked questions and answered them.
It seemed that the annual game between Laurelville and Mannig had become an event of some importance in that part of the island. They had played each other for six years, during which time each team had won three games. This year’s contest was, therefore, in a way decisive. Each year the merchants and citizens of the rival towns donated a purse of five hundred dollars, four hundred of which went to the victors and one hundred to the vanquished. Each team secured players wherever they could find them, paying such prices for their services as they could afford. And as the residents of the two towns were extremely generous in the matter of donations, some of the prices paid to crack players were pretty high. The umpire, explained the manager—who told them his name was Fultz—was a professional from New York. Their team, Fultz went on to explain, had had rather hard luck this season; two of their best men had deserted them, and their pitcher was ill in bed. As a result they weren’t very hopeful of victory.
“Unless,” he added, observing Nelson anxiously, “you can help us out a good bit.”
But Nelson spoke very modestly of his prowess, and the manager’s hopes dwindled. Presently the Mannig captain, Burns, saw that something was up and came back to them. Introductions were made, and Burns declared himself highly pleased at the prospect of being assisted by Nelson and Bob. But, nevertheless, he didn’t look especially enthusiastic. Perhaps the two, in their travel-stained pedestrian costumes, didn’t look very much like adept ball players.
Laurelville, which they reached at about half-past ten, proved to be quite a fair-sized town; and it was very evident that it was in holiday garb and holiday humor. The windows of the stores were liberally decorated with green and white, and flags and streamers of the same colors were flaunted from the fronts of the buildings. When the coaches reached the hotel the porch of that hostelry was already pretty well crowded with guests. Naturally, the arrival of the Mannig contingent occasioned not a little interest. The adjacent sidewalk was crowded with small boys, and their remarks as the rival players descended from the coaches were more graphic than complimentary. Tom descended to a veritable fusillade of comment.
“Say, look at the fat boy!”
“Bet yer he can run fine!”
“Get out! He ain’t no player; he’s the backstop, he is!”
Tom showed symptoms of annoyance, and to prevent hostilities Dan lugged him quickly up the steps of the hotel. After they had all registered, and the Four had been impressively introduced to almost every Mannigite, they adjourned to a vacant lot back of the house and held an hour’s practice, observed and criticised by most of the younger population of Laurelville. Nelson showed what he could do at twirling, and, although at first he was rather wild and uncertain, after a few minutes he got settled down, and Fultz and Burns looked almost cheerful.