“Sam. Kid goes into right.”
Steve laughed mirthlessly. “Gee, we’re going to be a wonderful aggregation of ball players, we are!” he said as he followed Ben up the path. “I can see Kid when a fly comes his way!”
“It’s the best we can do,” answered Ben. “And it can’t be helped now.”
“Say, Ben,” said Kid in the hall, later, “I’ve been thinking that maybe if I went to the Doc and told him that dime novel was mine he might let up on you and Bert.”
“He wouldn’t, Kid. You keep your mouth shut tight.”
“But he might. And I’d be glad to do it, Ben. He couldn’t do anything to me to hurt the game.”
“He couldn’t, eh? You’re going to play right field to-morrow, Kid.”
“I am? Honest, Ben?” Kid’s eyes grew round with excitement. “You’re not fooling?”
“No, I’m not fooling. You’ll play right field and bat in Perkins’ place. So shut up now and get out.”