Early on the Monday morning following, I went over to Burke Hall to see if the bulletin had been posted on the great board fastened against the wall of the main hallway. I found not only our bulletin, but a large crowd of students assembled in front of it, and from their comments I soon became convinced that both our notice and our selection of men for the competition were satisfactory. The college was always generous and sympathetic in its support of the nine, and followed its progress with interest and encouragement. At noon a large number of the students accompanied the competitors down to the baseball field, which was situated about a quarter of a mile from the college, eager to witness the first day’s practice, and to speculate on the merits of the respective men.
The club house had been opened a week or so before, and had been thoroughly renovated and cleaned, preparatory to the beginning of the season. The two assistants who kept things in order about the place, looked after the bats and other articles, and rubbed us down after exercise, had also been re-engaged.
This latter expense had cost Tony a good deal of uneasiness.
“Just think of my nerve,” he confided to me. “Here I was re-engaging those two fellows, with only about forty dollars in the treasury. I hardly dared look them in the face. If the college doesn’t back us up handsomely, the nine will have to go into pawn before the first month has passed.”
“Nonsense; don’t fret about that,” I answered. “We had to have the men, and the college knows it. The money will come fast enough. Have you started that subscription list yet?”
“Indeed I have,” was Tony’s prompt response. “I could hardly wait till this morning to begin canvassing. I was up about half past seven, posting those bulletins, and then I set out at once for victims. There weren’t many fellows up at that hour, but I saw one lone creature making his way across the campus, and I swooped down on him like a wolf, subscription list in one hand and pencil in the other. Well, who do you think it was? Nobody but Reddy Weezner. You know what an old skinflint he is. How was that for a tough nut to begin with. You ought to have seen his face when he heard my errand. He turned fairly green. You see he hadn’t had his breakfast, and I suppose he felt kind o’ weak to run up against a subscription fiend. I determined to hang to him, however, and get some money out of the encounter. And what do you think? I made him shell out!”
“Do you mean to say that Reddy Weezner contributed something?” I exclaimed in amused astonishment.
“Yes, sir,” answered Tony in high glee. “The first time on record. Reddy Weezner contributed, and what is more astonishing, he gave three dollars. Think of that! I suppose if he had eaten his breakfast he might have had the courage to refuse, but he didn’t stand any show with me at that hour of the morning. Oh, Reddy Weezner is all right. He may be a hard nut to crack, but when he does crack he cracks wide open. But it was fun to see him totter off when I got through with him. I suppose he will kick himself for a month for his generosity.”
“How does your list stand?” I asked.