Siebold merely said: “Hold on, fellows!” He walked straight up to Gus, caught him by the arm and pulled him over toward Bill and Mr. Gay.
“See here,” said Siebold; “I’m no piker. I’ve been dead wrong and nobody has to tell me. So, Grier, honestly I never saw such pitching outside of the national leagues. And if you’ll let me, I want to be friends, and I want you on the team. Mr. Gay, you’re right: Maxwell on first and you, Grier, in the box. Are you with us?”
Siebold extended his hand and Gus shook it warmly. The captain turned to Bill. “You, too. We have to thank you for this business, the best stroke of luck we have ever had.”
Bill shook Siebold’s hand with as much gusto as he would have that of any downright hero. A fellow who could muzzle his pride and do the square thing in this manner, especially after he had been licked in a way that hurt, was a real man.
“And look here, Brown! I’ve generally messed up this captain business and the managing too; and you have got together a team in short order that I wouldn’t have believed could have slammed us for six runs. Will you manage us? I’ll see that you are elected. Grier can be cap——”
“No, sir,” said Bill. “Gus doesn’t want to be captain. You’ll remain captain, Siebold, or we’ll both take our doll clothes and go home. But I will try my hand at advising, if you wish. ‘Two heads,’ you know——”
“Hurrah!” shouted Siebold. “Brown is manager! And we’ve got a pitcher now! We’re going to lick those Guilford fellows so bad they’ll think they’ve got brain fever!”