THE RIVAL TEAMS
Robbie, who had come up just in time to hear Joe's last words, gave him a
resounding thump on the back.
"That's the way to talk, Joe, old boy!" he cried. "I've been telling Mac
all along that no matter who else weakens he could bet his last dollar on
you."
"Not that I needed any bracing up," declared McRae. "I know a man when I
see one, and I count on you to the limit. I didn't send that telegram
because I had any doubt, but I knew that they'd make a break for you first
of all and I didn't want you to be taken by surprise. By the way, have any
of them turned up yet?"
"A chap named Westland came to see me the very day I got your telegram,"
replied Joe.
"And he came well heeled, too," put in Jim. "Money was fairly dripping
from him. He just ached to give it away. It was only up to Joe to become a
bloated plutocrat on the spot."
"Offered good money, did he?" asked McRae, with quickened interest.
"Twenty thousand dollars right off the bat," replied Jim. "Fifteen
thousand dollars a year for a three-year contract. And as if that weren't
enough, he offered to put the money in the bank in advance and let Joe
draw against it as he went along."
McRae and Robbie exchanged glances. Here was proof that the new league
meant business right from the start. It was a competitor to be dreaded and
it was up to them to get their fighting clothes on at once.
"That's a whale of an offer," ejaculated Robbie.
"They've thrown their hat into the ring," remarked McRae. "From now on
it's a fight for blood."
"There's no need of asking what Joe said to that," said Robbie.
"I wish you'd been behind the door to hear it," grinned Jim. "The way Joe
lighted into him was a sin and a shame. He fairly skinned him alive. It
looked at one time as if there would be a scrap sure."
"It would have been a tremendous card for them to get the star pitcher of
the World's Series," said McRae with a sigh of relief. "And in these days,
when so many rumors are flying round it's a comfort to know there's one
man, at least, that money can't buy. There isn't a bit of shoddy in you,
Joe. You're all wool and a yard wide."
At this moment, Hughson, the famous pitcher who had been a tower of
strength to the Giants for ten years past, came strolling up, and Joe and
Jim fell upon him with a shout.
"How are you, Hughson, old man?" cried Joe. "How's that wing of yours
getting along?"
"All to the good," replied Hughson. "I stopped off for a day or two at
Youngstown and had it treated by Bonesetter Reese. I tell you, that old
chap's a wonder. He tells me it will be as good as ever when the season
opens."
"I'm mighty glad you're going along with us on this trip," said Jim,
heartily. "It wouldn't seem like the Giant team with you out of it."
"I'm going through as far as the coast anyway," answered Hughson. "More
for the fun of being with the boys than anything else. But I don't think
I'll make the trip around the world. I made a half promise some time ago
to coach the Yale team this coming spring, and they don't seem inclined to
let me out of it. And I don't know if after all it may not be best to rest
up this winter and get in shape for next year."
The three strolled on down the corridor, leaving McRae and Robbie in
earnest conversation.
"How many of the boys is Mac taking along?" asked Joe.
"I think he figures on about fourteen men," replied Hughson. "That will
give him three pitchers, two catchers, an extra infielder and outfielder,
besides the seven other men in their regular positions. That'll allow for
accident or sickness and ought to be enough."
"Just as I doped it out," remarked Joe.
"On a pinch, McRae could play himself," laughed Jim. "No better player
ever held down the third bag than Mac when he was on the old Orioles. The
old boy could give the youngsters points even now on winging them down to
first."
"For that matter, Robbie himself might go in behind the bat," grinned Joe.
"No ball could get by him without hitting him somewhere."
"It would be worth the price of admission to see Robbie running down to
first," admitted Hughson, with a smile.
"What kind of a team has Brennan got together for the All-American?" asked
Joe.
"Believe me; it's a good one," replied Hughson. "He's got a bunch of the
sweetest hitters that he could get from either league. They're a bunch of
fence breakers, all right. When those birds once get going, they're apt to
send any pitcher to the shower. You'll have all you want to do, Joe, to
keep them from straightening out your curves."
"I don't ask anything better," replied Joe, with a laugh. "I'd get soft if
they were too easy. But who are these ball killers? Let me know the
worst."
"Well," said Hughson, "there's Wallie Schalk behind the bat--you know how
he can line them out. Then there's Miller at first, Ebers at second,
McBride at short and Chapman at third. The outfielders will probably be
Cooper and Murray and Lange. For pitchers Brennan will have Hamilton,
Fraser and Ellis,--although Ellis was troubled with the charley-horse
toward the end of the season, and Banks may take his place."
"It's a strong team," commented Jim, "and they can certainly make the ball
scream when they hit it. They're a nifty lot of fielders, too. I guess
we'll have our work cut out for us, all right."
"Both Mac and Brennan have got the right idea," said Hughson. "Too many of
these barnstorming trips have been made up of second string men, and when
people came to see the teams play and didn't find the real stars in the
line-up they naturally felt sore. But they're going to get the simon-pure
article this time and the games are to be for blood. Anyone that lays
down on his job is going to get fired. It'll be easy enough to pick up a
good man to take his place."
"What's the scheme?" asked Joe. "Are we two teams to play against each
other all the time, or are we to take on some of the local nines?"
"I don't think that's been fully worked out yet," replied Hughson. "I know
we're going to play the Denver nine and some of the crack California
teams."
"Easy meat," commented Jim with a grin.
"Don't you believe it," rejoined Hughson. "Don't you remember how the Waco
team trimmed us last spring? Those fellows will play their heads off to
beat us--and they'll own the town if they succeed. They figure that
they'll catch us off our guard and get the Indian sign on us before we
wake up."
"Yes. But do you think they can get the Indian sign so easily?"
"No, I don't."
"Of course, those minor teams will play their very best, because it would
be a feather in their cap if they could take a game away from us. They'll
probably look around and pick up the very best players they can, even if
they have to put up some money for the purpose. Just the same, we ought to
be able to polish them off with these."
"Well, of course, we've got to expect to lose some games. It would be a
remarkable thing to go around the world and win every game."
"Yet it might be done," broke in Jim.
"I suppose there'll be quite a party going along with the teams, just for
the sake of the trip," observed Joe.
"You've said it," replied Hughson. "At least half of the men will have
their wives along, and then there's a whole bunch of fans who have been
meaning to go round the world anyway who will think this a good chance to
mix baseball and globe trotting. Altogether I shouldn't wonder if there
would be about a hundred in the party. Some of the fellows will have their
sisters with them, and you boys had better look out or you'll lose your
hearts to them. But perhaps," he added, as he saw a look of quick
intelligence pass between the chums, "you're already past praying for."
Neither one of them denied the soft impeachment.
"By the way," said Hughson, changing the subject, "while I think of it,
Joe, I want to give you a tip to be on your guard against 'Bugs'
Hartley."
"Why, what's he up to, now?" inquired Joe.
"I don't know," Hughson replied. "But I do know that he's sore at you
through and through. He's got the idea in that twisted brain of his that
you got him off the Giant team. I met him in the street the other
day----"
"Half drunk, I suppose," interjected Jim.
"More than half," replied Hughson. "He's got to be a regular
panhandler--struck me for a loan, and while I was getting it for him, he
talked in a rambling way of how he was going to get even with you. Of
course I shut him up, but I couldn't talk him out of his fixed idea. He'll
do you a mischief if he ever gets the chance."
"He's tried it before," said Joe. "He nearly knocked me out when he doped
my coffee. Poor old 'Bugs'--he's his own worst enemy."
"But he's your enemy too," persisted Hughson. "And don't forget that a
crazy man is a dangerous man."
"Thanks for the tip," replied Joe. "But 'threatened men live long' and I
guess I'm no exception to the rule!"