“Toadying, I call it!”
“Tut, tut! Nothing like it. Call it—call it a studied effort to please!”
“Call it what you like,” Dud had replied somberly. “It’s poor business.”
“Some of our greatest citizens have been diplomats, Dud. Look at me!”
Dud’s gaze picked out a number of baseball celebrities whom, under Jimmy’s tutelage, he had come to know well enough to speak to. In every case, if he found himself near enough to speak he spoke, or, failing that, he nodded, trying to look quite at his ease and not succeeding very well. Guy Murtha was there, of course, for Guy was this year’s captain. He was eighteen, a tall, decidedly plain youth with so many likable qualities that one soon forgot about his features. And Bert Winslow and Nick Blake were talking together further on, and near by were Ben Myatt and Pete Gordon and Nate Leddy. And Hugh Ordway was one of a group the rest of whom Dud knew only by sight. Jimmy appeared from somewhere and about that moment Mr. Sargent, the physical director and baseball coach, came in with Tris Barnes, the manager. Mr. Sargent, or “Pete,” as he was called, was short and square, with a beard and mustache and a pair of restless brown eyes behind the big round lenses of his spectacles. He had a nervous, impatient manner of speaking and was quite likely, to the secret amusement and delight of the fellows, to get his words twisted when the least bit excited.
“All out of the cage, please, but team candidates,” was his order. “Close that door, somebody. Better bolt it, Churchill. Now, fellows, if you’ll kindly top stalking—ah—stop talking, we’ll get started. Captain Murtha, want to say anything?”
“I guess not, sir. There’ll be plenty of time to talk later on, won’t there? I’d like to say, though, that we’re going to need more candidates than are here today and I wish you fellows would try and get others to come out. There’s no use waiting until we get outdoors, for this work in the cage is very important and fellows who miss it won’t stand much show. Our season begins pretty early this spring, a week earlier than last year, and we haven’t any too much time to get in shape. I’d like mighty well to see fully twenty more fellows here tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes; this is a very poor showing,” agreed Mr. Sargent. “Well, we’ll make a start, fellows. We’re going to have setting-up work this afternoon and for a few days. How’s that, Barnes? No, no dumb-bells today, thanks. Just get in line, fellows, will you? About four rows will do. That’s it. Now then, follow me, please. And keep your mind on what you’re doing. One, two, three, four! Stretch the arms out as far as they’ll go. All right. Now the wrists; twist! One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight—keep it up! All right!”
It soon became tiresome to Dud, for he hadn’t been in training and the gymnasium work twice weekly had not been strenuous. It was, he reflected, rather remarkable to find so many muscles that creaked in unsuspected places! Almost in front of him, in the second row, Star Meyer was going through the evolutions easily and gracefully and untiringly, and with something of his usual haughty disdain for anything not of his own devising. In gymnasium shirt and trunks Star showed strong and muscular, and Dud felt a warm satisfaction over the fact that he and Star had not come to blows that morning in the bathroom! Star’s legs were things to admire as the muscles played over them like whip-cords and Dud wished that he had paid a little more attention to his physical condition during the past year or two. He imagined that his own thin, elongated body must look strangely out of place there with all those other well-conditioned ones. Further along, where he could just be seen out of the corners of Dud’s eyes, stood Jimmy, sturdy and stocky, loafing a bit when Mr. Sargent’s gaze was not on him. Dud wanted to loaf, too, but didn’t dare.
The calisthenics lasted less than a half-hour, by which time Dud was not the only one breathing hard and perspiring freely, and then Barnes set the candidates’ names down. When it was Dud’s turn to register Star Meyer was nearly at his elbow, a fact which added to Dud’s embarrassment.