“A little,” answered Dud.
“Dud’s the coming Mathewson,” said Jimmy. “Got to watch him, we have. Some twirler!”
“Really?” asked Bert, evidently not much impressed. “That’s fine, Baker. The second rather needed pitchers last spring.”
“He’s going out for the first,” said Jimmy. “Dud’s like me, you know. When Duty calls——” Jimmy smiled eloquently.
“I say, though, Logan, who is this Johnnie you spoke of? Mathews, wasn’t it?”
“Not Johnnie; Christopher,” replied Jimmy gravely. “I referred to Mr. Christopher Mathewson, better known as ‘Matty,’ the Dean of American Pitchers. Dud and ‘Matty’ are as thick as thieves; that is, Dud is! Dud reads everything ‘Matty’ writes and can tell you off-hand how many games ‘Matty’ pitched last year and all the other years, and how many he won, and what his averages are and all the rest of it. He has a gallery of Mathewson pictures and he’s the proud possessor of a ball that Mathewson used in a game with Philadelphia back in 1760 or thereabouts. I don’t know how he got that ball, but I suspect that he swiped it.”
“It was given to me,” said Dud defensively. Then he added, embarrassed: “You mustn’t mind what Jimmy says. He talks a lot of nonsense.”
“I say, though,” exclaimed Hugh, “I do hope you get on the first, Baker. It must be a lot of fun to do the pitching, eh? More fun than fielding, I fancy.”
“Have you pitched much?” inquired Bert politely.
“I’ve been trying to for a couple of years,” answered Dud. “I don’t suppose I’ll make the first this year, of course, but Murtha said he’d be glad to have me try, and so——”