“Of course, Weatherby, I can’t guarantee that you’ll be made welcome by the other candidates; you can understand that. They may act unpleasantly, or say ugly things. I’m not able to restrain them. You’ll have to risk that, you know.”
“I understand,” answered Jack calmly. “They’ve already called me a coward. I don’t believe they can say anything worse.”
“No, I guess not.” Joe looked curiously at the other. Then, “I say, Weatherby,” he exclaimed, impulsively, “what was the trouble, anyway, the other day? I’ve only heard one side of it, and I fancy there’s another, eh?”
“I’d rather not talk about it, if you please,” answered Jack coldly.
“Oh, all right! I beg pardon.” Joe felt somewhat huffed. His sympathy for the other was for the moment snuffed out. Jack moved toward the door.
“By the way,” said Joe, in business-like tones, “I think you told me you’d played ball some. Where was it?”
“At home, on the high-school team. I played three years.”
“What position?”
“I pitched the last year. Before that I played in the outfield, generally at right.”