never been egotistical enough to put that estimate on myself.”
“Well, that’s what lots of the sharps call you. The arm’s as good as ever?”
“If you stop over to-morrow you’ll have a chance to judge for yourself. We’re scheduled to play a roving independent nine known as the Wind Jammers, and I hear they’re some team, of the kind. I shall pitch part of the game, anyhow.”
“You’ve been pitching right along?”
“A little in every game lately. I pitched four innings against the Jacksonville Reds and five against the Cuban Giants. We’ve lost only one game thus far, and that was our second one. The eccentric manager and owner of the Wind Jammers, who calls himself Cap’n Wiley, threatens to take a heavy fall out of us. He has a deaf-mute pitcher, Mysterious Jones, who, he claims, is as good as Walter Johnson.”
Weegman laughed derisively. “There’s no pitcher as good as Johnson anywhere, much less traveling around with a bunch of hippodromers and bushwhackers. But about your arm–is it all right?”
“I hope to win as many games with it this year as I did last.”
“Well, the team’s going to need pitchers. The loss of Orth is bound to be felt, and if Dillon jumps–Look here, Locke, we’ve got to get busy and dig up two or three twirlers, one of top-notch caliber.”
“We!”
“Yes, you and I. Of course we can’t expect to get a first-stringer out of the bushes; that happens only once in a dog’s age. But perhaps Kennedy has some good youngsters up his sleeve. You should know about that. I’m wise that he has consulted you regularly. He’s sought your advice, and listened to it; so, in a way, you’ve had considerable to do with the management of the team. You say you’ve corresponded with him right along. You ought to know all about his plans. That’s one reason why I came to figure on you as the man to fill his place.”
“I wondered,” murmured Locke.
“That’s one reason. For another thing, you’ve got modesty as well as sense. You don’t think you know it all. You’re not set in your ways, and probably you’d listen to advice and counsel. Old Jack is hard-headed and stiff; when he makes up his mind there’s no turning him. He takes the bit in his teeth, and he wants full swing. He’s always seemed to feel himself bigger than the owners. He’s butted up against Mr. Collier several times, and Collier’s always had to give in.”
“As I understand it,” said Lefty smoothly, “you think the manager should be a man with few fixed opinions and no set and rigid policy.”
“In a way, that’s something like it,” admitted Weegman. “He mustn’t go and do things wholly on his own initiative and without consulting anybody, especially those who have a right to say something about the running of the team. Mr. Collier has placed me in a position that makes it imperative that I should keep my fingers on the pulse of things. I couldn’t conscientiously discharge my duty unless I did so. I know I could never get along with Kennedy. The manager must work with me; we’ll work together. Of course, in most respects he’ll be permitted to do about as he pleases as long as he seems to be delivering the goods; but it must be understood that I have the right to veto, as well as the right to direct, policies and deals. With that understanding to start with, we’ll get along swimmingly.” He finished with a laugh.
Lefty rose to his feet. “You’re not looking for a manager, Weegman,” he said. “What you want is a putty man, a figurehead. Under any circumstances, you’ve come to the wrong market.”
CHAPTER III
THE FEDERAL POLICY
Weegman was startled. “What–what’s that?” he spluttered, staring upward at the towering figure in white. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I’ve said,” replied the pitcher grimly. “Under no circumstances would I think of stepping into old Jack Kennedy’s shoes; but even if he were a perfect stranger to me you could not inveigle me into the management of the Blue Stockings on the conditions you have named. Management!” he scoffed. “Why, the man who falls for that will be a tame cat with clipped claws. It’s evident, Mr. Weegman, that you’ve made a long journey for nothing.”
For a moment the visitor was speechless. Lefty Locke’s modest, unassuming ways, coupled with undoubted ambition and a desire to get on, had led Charles Collier’s secretary to form a very erroneous estimate of him.
“But, man alive,” said Weegman, “do you realize what you’re doing? You’re turning down the chance of a lifetime. I have the contract right here in my pocket, with Collier’s name properly attached and witnessed. If you doubt my authority to put the deal through, I can show you my power of attorney from Mr. Collier. In case sentiment or gratitude is holding you back, let me tell you that under no circumstances will Kennedy again be given control of the team. Now don’t be a chump and–”
“If I were in your place,” interrupted Locke, “I wouldn’t waste any more breath.”
Weegman snapped his fingers, and got up. “I won’t! I didn’t suppose you were quite such a boob.”
“But you did suppose I was boob enough to swallow your bait at a gulp. You thought me so conceited and greedy that I would jump at the chance to become a puppet, a manager in name only, without any real authority or control. It’s plainly your purpose to be the real manager of the team, for what reason or design I admit I don’t quite understand. Just how you hypnotized Charles Collier and led him to consent to such a scheme I can’t say; but I do say that no successful ball team has ever been run in such a way. You’re not fit to manage a ball club, and you wouldn’t dare assume the title as well as the authority; probably you know Collier wouldn’t stand for that. Yet you intend to force your dictation upon a pseudo-manager. Such meddling would mean muddling; it would knock the last ounce of starch out of the team. If the Blue Stockings didn’t finish a bad tailender it would be a miracle.”
Bailey Weegman was furious all the way through, but still he laughed and snapped his fingers.
“You’re a wise guy, aren’t you?” he sneered. “I didn’t dream you were so shrewd and discerning. Now let me tell you something, my knowing friend: I’ve tried to save your neck, and you won’t have it.”
“My neck!” exclaimed the pitcher incredulously. “You’ve tried to save my neck?”
“Oh, I know your old soup bone’s on the blink; you didn’t put anything over me by dodging and trimming when I questioned you about your arm. You knocked it out last year, and you’ve been spending the winter down here trying to work it back into shape. You can pitch a little against weak bush teams, but you can’t even go the whole distance against one of them. That being the case, what sort of a figure do you expect to cut back in the Big League? Up against the slugging Wolves or the hard-hitting Hornets, how long would you last? I’ve got your number, and you know it.”
“If that’s so, it seems still more remarkable that you should wish to hold me. Certainly I’d be a great addition to a pitching staff that’s smashed already!”
“Did I say anything about your strengthening the pitching staff? I offered to engage you in another capacity. Think I didn’t know why you declined to dicker with the Feds when they made you a big offer? You didn’t dare, for you know you couldn’t deliver the goods. Having that knowledge under my hat, I’ve been mighty generous with you.” Weegman descended to the top step, chuckling.
“Good
