CHAPTER XIHANDSOME FRANK
The Saturday forenoon following their conversation regarding Frank Foley found Joe and his chum leaning against the counter in Cummings and Wright’s hardware store. Jack was purchasing a new sweater and Joe was assisting at the task. Joe would have liked just such a garment as Jack was choosing, himself, but the next division of profits was a long way off and until that occurred he was bound to be in straitened circumstances. Jack had virtually decided on a handsome brown sweater with a broad band of blue across the chest and Tom Pollock, who had momentarily absented himself to sell a “Junior League” ball to a grammar school youth, returned to inquire:
“This one, Jack?”
Jack nodded doubtfully. “I guess so, Tom. It’s sort of heavy for spring, but I suppose I’d better buy one that’ll be all right for next fall, too.”
Tom agreed, adding: “The new uniforms will be along next week, I think. They’re going to be the best ever. I’m getting them from a different maker this year and he’s putting a lot better material into them. You’ll need one, I suppose, Faulkner.”
Joe smiled “I’d like to think so,” he replied, “but I’m not counting on it.”
“You might as well,” said Jack. “You’ll get in as a sub, anyway. Don’t you say so, Tom?”
“I hope so. I haven’t seen Faulkner work, as a matter of fact, Jack. Anyhow, with all due respect to Bat, I think it’s the outdoor work that shows a chap up.”
“That’s what I say,” agreed Jack. “Fellows who can lay down the cutest, darlingest little bunts on the cement floor swing like gates when they get out on the turf and have the sky in front of them instead of the wall of the cage. I’ve seen it happen often.”
“Still,” demurred Joe, “it seems to me all that work indoors must be of some value. Don’t you consider it is, Pollock?”
“Oh, yes, I do. I think it’s fine for getting fellows in shape and on edge, especially for the new chaps. What I mean is that when it comesto actual playing the conditions out of doors are so different that a fellow has to practically start all over again. At least that’s been my experience. I’m talking of batting and fielding, you understand, and not pitching. A pitcher can get his wing in shape anywhere there’s room. Although, at that, I think working in the air is away ahead of working down there with the steam pipes.”
“Do you think we’ll get out next week?” inquired Jack.
“Yes, I wouldn’t be surprised if we started Monday. Sam tells me the field’s in pretty good shape; a bit soft in places, but nothing much.” Tom chuckled as he snapped the string around the bundle and laid it in front of Jack. “Mr. Hall told a funny yarn one day in here, fellows. You don’t know him, maybe, Faulkner, but you will soon. He’s a dandy chap, and a double-dyed ‘fan.’”
“I’ve seen him,” replied Joe. “He knows the right place to buy cigars.”
“Well, he told one day about a coach they had at college when he was a freshman. I forget what college he went to; Sam could tell you. But it seems that they had an awfully wet spring that year and the diamond was on a rather lowpiece of ground, anyway, and it wouldn’t dry out for them. So this coach got the idea of having the players wear rubbers! Said it would be dangerous to have them work on such wet ground without them because they might get rheumatism and sciatica and grippe and various other things, and he didn’t intend to lose half his team through illness just when it was needed most. So he sent in a requisition to the athletic committee or whoever attended to purchasing supplies—probably the manager—for three or four dozen pairs of rubbers of assorted sizes. There was a lot of argument about the expense and finally the coach got his dander up and bought the rubbers himself, and one day the fellows put them on and went out for their first practice on the field. The field was as soft as mush and whenever you put your foot down it went out of sight as far as your shin-bones! Mr. Hall said it was the funniest thing he ever saw. About every man in college was out to see what they called the ‘Gumshoe Nine,’ and they almost laughed themselves to death. Every time a fielder started after a ball he’d leave one or both of his rubbers sticking in the mud and have to go back and hunt for them. Mr. Hall said that at one time there were three pairs of rubbers sticking out of the base-pathbetween second base and the plate where the runners had left them in their hurry to get around! Finally the coach sent back to town and got a box of elastic bands and made the fellows snap them around their ankles over the rubbers. Practice went better after that, but there was almost a riot once, when one chap, who had stolen second, went back to get his rubbers and the second baseman tagged him out!”
The laughter of Tom’s audience was interrupted by the opening of the door and the advent of Frank Foley. Handsome Frank quite deserved the title this morning. For a day or two there had been unmistakable indications of spring, and Foley had responded to them today by donning a Norfolk suit of very light homespun material with knickerbockers, a pair of very green golf stockings, and a cap that matched his suit. A pale heliotrope “sport shirt” from under whose flaring collar emerged a vividly green scarf completed the costume, except that he was, naturally, appropriately shod with brown rubber-soled shoes. Even Tom was a bit taken back by the radiance of the vision which sought the athletic goods department, and his “Hello, Frank,” sounded rather feeble. The other boys nodded, Jack adding a murmured salutation to the nod. Foleyreturned the greetings with a remarkable absence of self-consciousness and joined the group.
“What about a baseman’s glove, Tom?” he asked. “Anything new in that line this spring?”
“No, nothing much different,” was the answer as Tom pulled some boxes from a shelf. “You had one of these last year, didn’t you?” he continued, placing a glove on the counter. Foley examined it indifferently.
“Yes, that’s like the one I’ve got now. I thought maybe there was something new on the market. How’s everything, Jack?”
“Pretty good, Frank. My eyes are troubling me a bit, though.”
“What’s the matter with them? They seemed all right at practice yesterday.”
“I don’t know.” Jack gravely blinked. “They seem sort of weak. I guess it’s the glare that hurts them, Frank. You couldn’t turn your coat collar up, could you?”
“Oh, that’s the idea?” said Foley calmly. “Don’t you like what I wear, Jack?”
“Oh, I like it, all right, but my eyes sort of go back on me. What are you impersonating, Frank, a custard pie?”
“You chaps have a lot of fun with my clothes, don’t you?” inquired Foley good-naturedlyenough. “I don’t mind, though. I’d certainly hate to go around looking like a tramp, the way some of you do.” Foley seated himself on the counter, swinging his brightly-hued legs, and viewed Jack smilingly. “Any come-back to that?” he inquired.
“There’s a come-back from me,” said Tom quietly. “Gentlemen will not, others must not, sit on the counters, Frank.”
“Oh, all right; I’ll try to stand up a bit longer. I don’t believe you’ve got anything there I want, Tom.” He glanced unenthusiastically at the several gloves displayed. “I’ll use the one I’ve got. It went all right last year and I guess it’s still good.”
“You won’t need a glove much this spring,” said the irrepressible Jack. “They’re not worn on the bench, Frank.”
Foley winked untroubledly. “Don’t worry about me, old chap. I may not be any McInnes, you know, but I never noticed much resemblance between you and Tris Speaker. You watch out that you don’t keep that bench warm yourself.”
“Frank, you know very well,” replied Jack severely, “that when it comes to playing baseball I’ve got it all over you. You’re not a bad first baseman when you’ve got time for it, butyou know mighty well you can’t bat over a hundred. I like you, Frank; I appreciate your many fine qualities, and I just love your picturesqueness, but I don’t just see you holding down that first sack beyond the middle of March. I’m saying this to you so you won’t be too awfully disappointed when you lose your job.”
“Thanks.” Foley laughed amusedly. “Just who is the coming wonder that gets my position, Jack? Is it Faulkner here? Is he telling you how good you are, Faulkner?”
“He’s just talking,” replied Joe uncomfortably.
“I’m not saying who it is, Frank,” said Jack. “There are two or three who look good to me in your place. I’d be sorry to see you go, though. I certainly do like you, Frank.”
“Yes, you do—like poison,” responded Foley with a grin. “Tell you what I’ll do, Jack. I’ll bet you anything you like that I’ll play in more games—contests with outside teams, I mean—than you do this spring. Want to take that?”
“Ger-ladly, old sport! I’ll bet you”—Jack’s eyes twinkled about the cases and shelves—“I’ll bet you one of those nice leather bat-cases, Frank. I’ve always wanted a bat-case. How much are they, Tom?”
“A dollar and a quarter and two seventy-five.”
“I mean the all-leather ones.”
“Two seventy-five.”
“That’s the idea. How does that strike you, Frank? Feel like spending that much to make me happy?”
“Yes, but I don’t happen to want a bat-case, thanks. Think of something else.”
“Then I’ll buy you a couple of pairs of lavender gloves to wear to the parties.”
“Quit fooling and say something. What do I get if I win?”
“What do you want that doesn’t cost more than the bat-bag?”
“I don’t know. Leave it that I’m to pick out anything I like up to that amount, eh?”
“Certainly. Gentlemen, you’ve heard the terms of the wager. If, at the end of the season, Frank has played in more games than I have he comes in here and goes the limit—up to two dollars and three-quarters. If, on the other hand——”
“Why do I have to buy the thing here?” asked Frank.
“Because I want to see my friend Mr. Pollock make a little money. Tom ought to get something out of it, Frank.”
“Oh, all right. I’ll find something I want, I guess.”
“As I was saying when so rudely interrupted,” resumed Jack, “if, on the other hand, Frank plays in no more games than I do he comes across with one of those perfectly beautiful and useless bat-bags which Tom prices at two dollars and seventy-five cents and which you can get from the mail-order house for a dollar sixty-nine.”
“You try it,” laughed Tom.
“I don’t need to. The cost doesn’t interest me a bit. Well, that is the wager, gentlemen. May the best man win—so long as it’s me. Come on, Joey. So long, Tom. Bye, Frank. By the way, which way are you going from here?”
“You wait around and find out, old chap.”
“Won’t tell? Sorry. I wanted to stand on the corner and see you go by.”
“What did you do that for?” remonstrated Joe when they were on the sidewalk again.
“Do what? Make that bet? Oh, just for fun. Besides, I’m pretty sure to win it.”
“I didn’t mean the bet, you chump. I meant why did you rag him like that? He thinks you meant that I’m the one who’s to beat him out at first.”
“So you are,” answered Jack calmly. “As for why I did it, I did it because I couldn’t help it, Joey. Frank gives me a severe pain every time I meet him and I just can’t resist the temptation to have a little fun with him.”
“He took it all right,” said Joe. “He’s good-natured, I guess.”
“You guess again,” said Jack grimly. “He’s good-natured when he knows it would look silly to get mad, but he’s got a disposition like a—a—What is it that has a disposition?”
“You!” laughed Joe. “You’ve got a nasty one at times.”
“Meaning just now? Was I specially rude, Joey? Maybe I was a bit nasty. Well, never mind. You can’t really hurt Handsome Frank’s feelings. If you could he’d be black-and-blue by this time!”
“Black and blue are the only things he wasn’t,” said Joe. “He was about every other colour; buff and green and purple and lavender——”
“Shucks! He was dressed real quietly today; almost unostentatiously, so to speak! You ought to see him when he’s really dolled up! Now, look here, Joey. If you don’t buckle down and play ball and beat him out of his position at first I’ll never forgive you.”
“But, Jack, I can’t play first the way he can!”
“How do you know? You’ve never seen him play. Besides, you can out-hit him. Leastways, if you can’t you ought to be ashamed. And it’s batting that’s going to count this spring, old man. Petersburg has got a line of good pitchers this year and Bat will be going on the policy that hits mean runs. So you get your eye peeled, Joey, and win that bet for me.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be much of a batter,” said Joe sadly.
“Poppycock and piffle! You can hit the merry sphere just as well as anyone can if you’ll only tell yourself so. Look here, what you want to do is to go out there and when the ball comes say to yourself, ‘It’s so big I can’t miss it if I try! Why, it’s a cinch.Bing!That for you, Mr. Ball!’ Try it and see how well it will work.”
“You’re great on the psychology stuff, aren’t you?” laughed Joe.
“I don’t know the gentleman,” answered Jack serenely. “I only know that no chap ever became a decent batsman by telling himself that he was no good! Confidence, my friend, confidence! That’s the—er—the password, no, the keynote, to success! Think it over. Now, let’s go in andsee how much money we’ve taken in this morning. Ah, as usual, Young has his Roman mob around the place. If he doesn’t make those loafers stay away we’ll get notice to quit, I’m thinking.”