THE OUTLAWS.
Bob Harrison, manager of the famous “Outlaws,” was angry. His swarthy
face expressing intense exasperation, he glared at the tall, quiet
young man before him and flourished a huge fist in the air.
“Now, look here, Loring,” he rasped, “what do you take me for? Do you
think I’m an easy mark? I’m carrying around the greatest independent
baseball team ever organized, every man a star with a reputation, and
it costs me money. The expense is terrific. The terms on which I agreed
to play your old Colorado Springs bunch were perfectly understood
between us when we made arrangements over the phone--two-thirds of
the gate money to the winner; one-third minus local expenses, such as
advertising, the sum paid for the use of the park and so forth, to the
losers. You know this was distinctly understood; now you’re trying to
squeal. You’ve got us here in Colorado Springs ready to play to-morrow,
and you think you can force me into divvying up with you.”
“I deny,” retorted the manager of the Colorado Springs team, “that
I entered into such an arrangement as you claim I did. If you can
prove----”
“Blazes! You know I can’t prove it. I took you for a man of your word.
I had an open date for to-morrow; so did you. I phoned you, and after
we had fixed it up you said to come on. Now we’re here, and you want to
make it dead certain that you’re going to get one-half the pie. You’ve
got something of a team, haven’t you? You think your bunch can play
baseball, don’t you? Well, if you can beat us, I’m willing you should
lug off two-thirds of the gate money. Such an arrangement as that makes
an object to work for. With an equal division, either of us will be as
well off financially whether he wins or loses.”
“You called me on the phone, Harrison. You were mighty anxious for
the game; I wasn’t particular. The open date to-morrow meant an
opportunity for my boys to rest up, and they know it. Hot weather and
a long, grilling pull at the game threatens to make ’em go stale. My
pitching staff is on the blink. There’s only one slabman left in good
condition--and he might be better.”
Harrison looked the local manager up and down, as if taking his measure.
“You’re just about built to run a third-rate bush league team,” he
sneered. “This is the first time I’ve got bitten by anything as small
as you.”
Loring flushed to the roots of his hair.
“You’re an insolent, coarse-grained bully, Harrison,” he said hotly;
“but you’ll find you can’t browbeat me. The Springs will rest
to-morrow, and you’ll do the same as far as I am concerned. It’s off.”
“Quitter!” snarled Harrison, choking with excess of anger.
With a shrug of his shoulders Loring turned and left the furious man
there in the lobby of the hotel, spluttering and snarling his wrath.
The Outlaws, managed by Harrison, was indeed a famous baseball
organization, being composed entirely of men who had worn Big League
uniforms. Harrison had been the manager of the Menockets in a certain
Middle Western League, which had blown up in the midst of a season,
the cause of the disaster being reckless extravagance and astonishing
lack of business methods on the part of various managers in the league.
The rivalry had been intense, and the salaries paid not a few of the
players who had deserted the Big League teams, something to gasp at.
Stories of these “plums” waiting to be plucked had caused a host of
fast players on the leading teams of the country to disregard contracts
and hike for the land of promise. In most instances, it is true, these
men had been disgruntled and fancied they were justified in their acts.
Some claimed to have escaped from a slavery almost as bad as that which
once nearly disrupted the Union. In almost every instance, doubtless,
the lure which drew them like a magnet was the prospect of big money
quickly and easily obtained. The get-rich-quick microbe lurks in the
blood of almost every human being.
But the bubble had burst. The Outlaw League had gone to smash. Nearly a
hundred clever baseball players had found themselves out of a job, with
frosty weather and the end of the season far away.
Then it was that Harrison had conceived the idea of making up a nine
picked from the cream of the different teams; and to encourage him he
had been able to arrange in advance a game with St. Louis, in case he
could bring such an organization of stars. Of the Menocket players he
had retained Smiling Joe Brinkley, Nutty McLoon, and South-paw Pope,
the latter being a wizard who had made an amazing record in giving his
opponents only one hit in the two games which he had pitched for the
New York “Yankees.”
Then, with his head swelled, Pope had quarreled with nearly every man
on the team, finishing up in a fist fight with two of them, which
resulted in his suspension. Raw to the bone, he grabbed at the bait
which Bob Harrison flung in his direction at that psychological moment.
Smiling Joe had worn a Boston uniform, and had declined to go back to
the bush for another season when a veteran second sacker had crowded
him out.
McLoon, a great hitter and wonderful centre fielder, was said to be a
bit off in the top story, and for three seasons the brand of the Outlaw
had been upon him, while he wandered from one unrecognized league to
another. He was remembered, however, for his remarkable hitting and
base running one season with St. Louis.
The other men, gathered up from the various disbanded teams, were Long
Tom Hix, once with Cleveland; Gentle Willie Touch, who had worn a
Louisville uniform; Grouch Kennedy, a former New York “Giant”; Buzzsaw
Stover, from smoky Pittsburg; and Dead-eye Jack Rooney, who pretended
to be not over-proud of the fact that he was an ex-“Trolley Dodger.”
Among the reserves were Biff Googins, pinch hitter from Boston and
general all-round man; Strawberry Lane, a pitcher who had lost his
trial game for the Quaker City Americans and found it impossible to
endure the gruelling of his teammates; and Wopsy Bill Brown, who had
spent a season on the bench with the Chicago Nationals without being
given a chance to pitch a ball over the plate.
With this aggregation Harrison had proceeded to make monkeys of St.
Paul’s representative nine. Indeed, the “Outlaws” simply toyed with
their opponents in that game, winning at will.
Then it was that Harrison conceived the idea of touring with his team
of wonders. Being a clever advertiser and press agent, he managed to
get a great deal of space in the newspapers, and it was not long before
immense crowds of baseball enthusiasts turned out wherever the Outlaws
appeared.
To his deep satisfaction, Harrison found himself pocketing more money
than he had dreamed of looking upon while representing Menocket. He
was able to make a good thing, financially, while paying his players
salaries which satisfied them.
In the matter of winning games the Outlaws seemed almost invincible.
It is true that they dropped a game occasionally, but even then it was
suspected that this came about through design rather than necessity.
Through the Middle West, the Southwest, and along the Pacific Coast
they toured triumphantly, boosted not only by Harrison’s clever
advertising, but by sporting writers everywhere.
Several times, through the efforts of minor league managers to gobble
up certain men desired from the Outlaws, Harrison found it necessary
to fight in order to hold his team together. He sought to impress upon
the men the belief that by sticking to him they would eventually do far
better than by accepting the bait of the minor league magnets. He was
continually hinting of a “plum” that was coming to them.
Furthermore, he satisfied them that, one and all, they were Big League
timber, and that he possessed the ability to put them back into the
company where they belonged.
While Harrison stood there, snarling and glaring at the back of the
departing manager, he was approached by Dick Merriwell, who was
stopping at the hotel, in Colorado Springs, which was the first stop,
after Denver.
“I beg your pardon,” said Dick.
“Yah!” rasped the manager of the Outlaws, turning fiercely.
The other smiled upon him with serene good nature.
“I chanced to overhear a little of your conversation with Charlie
Loring,” said he. “It was quite without intent upon my part, I assure
you; you were both speaking somewhat loudly. As your subject was
baseball, I couldn’t help feeling some interest, for I’m a baseball
enthusiast.”
“Yah!” repeated Harrison. “Perhaps you’re one of Loring’s cubs?”
“No, indeed.”
“Belong here?”
“No, sir.”
“Sorry. I wanted to tell you what I thought of that yellow quitter,
for is he a quitter. I’ve been to the trouble and expense of bringing
my team here to play a game of baseball to-morrow. Now it’s off--off
because that man won’t stand by his verbal agreement. It will cost me a
tidy little sum.”
This thought added fuel to his rage, and he swore again, causing the
hotel clerk to glower upon him from the desk. Fortunately, there were
few guests in the lobby of the hotel.
The young man seemed more amused than disturbed by this burst of
violent language.
“The best-laid plans of mice and men go wrong,” he observed.
“I hope you don’t call Loring a mouse,” rasped Harrison. “He isn’t big
enough to be a mouse; he’s a worm. If we could play every day it would
be different; but I’m under heavy expense, and these long jumps add
to the drain. I counted on doing fairly well here at the Springs, for
the place is full of tourists who must be sick of seeing scenery and
itching for diversion of a different sort. Think of that man going back
on his word and trying to get an even split on the gate money! I told
him over the phone that I would only play on the agreement that the
winning team took two-thirds. That was pretty fair, too, considering
that in lots of cases the contract has been for the winners to take
three-fourths and the losers the remainder.”
“Evidently you felt certain of winning.”
Harrison’s lips curled.
“There’s nothing west of the Mississippi we can’t beat three times out
of four,” he declared, “and I’d take my chances on an even break with
anything the other side of the river.”
“You must have a great team.”
“Haven’t you ever heard about us?”
“I think I’ve seen something in the papers about you.”
“I’ve got the fastest independent team ever pulled together in this
country. There isn’t a man in the bunch who can’t step into any of the
Big Leagues and make good. They have played on the big teams, every one
of them.”
“Has-beens?” questioned the young man smilingly.
For a moment it seemed that the manager of the Outlaws would explode
with indignation.
“Has-beens!” he rasped. “Not on your life! Comers, every one.”
“But I inferred they had been canned by the big teams.”
“Canned! Wow! You don’t know what you’re talking about. Not one
big-league manager out of ten knows how to handle an eccentric or
sensitive player. Most of them have the idea that the way to get
baseball out of a man is to pound it into his head that he’s a slob.
They are afraid the new player will get chesty and conceited. Now,
there’s another way to take the conceit out of a youngster without
breaking his spirit. I know how to do it.
“Never mind; it’s my secret. You’ll find my boys pulling together like
clockwork if you ever see them play. They’re fighters, just the same.
They’re out to win, you bet. Sometimes to see them you would think
they were going to eat one another up. ’Sh! It’s all a bluff. They do
that, so they can turn on the opposing players the same way, and it
generally gets the other team going.”
Dick lifted a protesting hand.
“Don’t let me in on too many of your secrets,” he smiled; “for I am
contemplating challenging you to play a game with a team of my own
organizing.”
Bob Harrison was astonished. He stepped back and surveyed the speaker
from head to foot, an amused, incredulous grin breaking over his face.
“You?” he exclaimed. “You were thinking of challenging us?”
“So I said.”
“I thought maybe I misunderstood you.”
“Evidently you didn’t.”
“Where’s your team?”
“Right here in Colorado Springs.”
“Oh, some amateur organization, eh?”
“You might call it that; we wouldn’t call ourselves professionals.”
“Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Harrison. “Why, my boy, it would be a joke.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I have an idea that I can get together
nine college baseball players who will make it a fairly interesting
game, if you dare accept my challenge.”
“Dare!” spluttered Harrison. “Why, young fellow, I’d jump at the
opportunity, if there was anything in it. It wouldn’t be worth my time,
however, to play a bunch of kids.”
“You won’t find them kids--not exactly. I presume you’ll admit that
there are some college men who can play baseball.”
“In every way. But the finest college teams have no business with
professionals; in proof of which, consider the result of the regular
yearly Yale-New York game. The ‘Giants’ always have a snap with the
college boys.”
Dick nodded.
“That’s the natural order of things,” he confessed. “The New York team
is made up of the best professionals in the country, and those men
play together year after year until they become a machine. Yale picks
from her undergraduates, and the personnel of the team is constantly
changing. This prevents the collegians from working out a team
organization with the fine points of a big professional nine.
“Nevertheless, year after year New York spots certain promising
youngsters on the college team and attempts to get a line on them. If
those same youngsters could play together season after season under a
crackajack coach, it wouldn’t be long before the Giants would have to
hustle in order to take that spring exhibition game.”
“You seem to know something about baseball,” admitted the manager of
the Outlaws, nodding his head slowly, “and there’s more or less sense
in what you say; but you’re talking about picking up a team here in
Colorado Springs to butt against the acknowledged fastest independent
nine the country has ever seen. You haven’t practiced together, and you
would be rotten on team work.”
“By chance,” said the young man, “I happened to come to Colorado
Springs. With me came some players from my own college team. To our
surprise and pleasure, we found here at the Springs some other men from
the same college team. We’ve nearly all played together. I’m confident
that we can get together a nine that will acquit itself with a certain
amount of credit. In fact. I think we can make you hustle to beat us.”
“You don’t look like a chap with a swelled head; but I’m afraid you’ve
got a touch of it.”
“In that case,” was the laughing retort, “you might do me an eternal
favor by reducing the swelling.”
“I’m not working for the benefit of humanity in general; I work for Bob
Harrison’s pocket.”
“You might be doing that at the same time. You have been well
advertised. Wherever you go people turn out especially to get a look
at your wonderful aggregation of stars. They would do it here, even if
they felt pretty sure that the game might be one-sided. It’s better
than lying idle to-morrow.”
“What’s your name?” demanded Harrison suddenly.
“You may call me Dick.”
“Dick what?”
“Well, Richard Dick--let it go at that for the present.”
“Richard Dick? Odd name. Mr. Dick, what do you reckon you’re going to
get out of this?”
“Sport--that’s my object. If we could beat you, we would get a little
glory also.”
“I should say so! Beat us? Why, boy, you couldn’t pick up a bunch of
college men in America who could do that trick once out of ten times.”
“Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Harrison, that you might possibly have a
slight touch of the swelled head yourself?”
The manager of the Outlaws gasped, frowned, and grinned.
“Of all sassy youngsters, you are certainly the smoothest.”
“I’m not insinuating that you have; but such a thing is possible for a
man of any age and station in life. It is true that young men are far
more often afflicted by it. Now, look here, Mr. Harrison, you’re up
against the necessity of lying idle, accepting Charlie Loring’s terms,
or playing with some other team. I don’t think Loring is anxious to
play for some reason or other. He may have been; perhaps he was when he
phoned you. Isn’t it likely that advisers got at him after he phoned
and made it apparent that he would place the Springs in a ridiculous
light if the game was pulled off and your Outlaws buried him alive?
If he could be sure of the soothing balm of an equal division and a
big pull at the gate money, he might afford to let them laugh; but
to be walloped and get the short end of the finances would make him
ridiculous. Now I’m not afraid of anything of that sort.”
“I should say not! Apparently you’re not afraid of anything at all.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll guarantee to pick up a team to play
you to-morrow, and the winners shall pocket three-fourths of the gate
money, the losers paying all expenses. Can you ask anything more
satisfactory?”
“Nothing except an additional guarantee of two hundred and fifty
dollars.”
“Indeed, you are modest!” scoffed Richard Dick. “You seem to want it
all, and a little something more. But if you think you’re dealing with
a blind sucker, we had better drop the business at once. I’ve told you
I was out for sport, and that will satisfy me. Whatever share of the
gate money might come to me, I’d agree in advance to donate to the
Collins’ Home for Consumptives. I don’t want a dollar above expenses,
and our expenses will be light.”
“You’re certainly not working this deal as a business proposition,”
agreed Harrison. “How do I know you’ll get up the team? How do I know
you’ll play at all? Perhaps you’ll squeal, as Loring did.”
“I’ll agree to place a hundred dollars in the hands of the proprietor
of this hotel, as a forfeit to be paid you in case we don’t play. I
shall ask that you put up a similar amount as a forfeit. The game
shall be advertised at once--as soon as I can make arrangements for
the field. The announcement shall be spread broadcast that a team of
college players will meet your Outlaws to-morrow afternoon. What say
you?”
“It sounds better than nothing,” admitted Harrison slowly. “Of course,
you chaps wouldn’t be much of a drawing card, but we might get out a
fair crowd to see my boys work. Yes, it’s better than nothing.”
“Do you accept?”
“Three-fourths to the winners, and the losers to pay all expenses?”
“Yes.”
“But the grounds--how can you get them?”
“Leave it to me. I happen to know Charlie Loring personally. The local
team will not use the grounds to-morrow. I’m confident I can secure
them.”
“All right,” snapped the manager of the professionals sharply, “it’s
a go. We’ll sign an agreement right away. I have a regular blank
form, which can be filled out in less than a minute. I accept your
proposition that each of us shall place one hundred dollars with the
proprietor of this hotel to stand as a forfeit in case either party
backs down. Come ahead into the writing room.”