Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 3, 1924 — page 68: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

858 couraging work. Back east, he had been rated the best college catcher of his time, and five big tent teams had been after him with offers. You can imagine what he had to go through, therefore, in trying to select eight other men from among about a score who had never even had a mitt on their fingers. But no manager, no coach, ever had a more willing or earnest band. Cattle was forgotten, poker was neglected, rides to town were given up, swapping lies was given the go-by—everything was cast aside except baseball. They talked it, they ate it, they slept it, they dreamed it—and they worked at it. Tubby certainly made them do the latter, taking them off a couple of miles where they would not be under the eyes of the Birds. In a week, too, he had picked out a team that was about as good as—oh, say about as good as the average small boy aggregation. He realized as well that he could never whip them into a more formidable outfit. But he had one surprise, and that was Freckles. He had seen speed, had Tubby, and he had caught it, yet he knew that he had never seen the horsehide zip as it did when it came from the puncher’s fingers. There wasn’t much control, and curves and breaks were nil, but that pellet surely went through the air like a bullet. Also, for every hour that the rest worked, Freckles put in at least three. Even at night in his bunk, it was said, he gripped a baseball and caressed it with his fingers. News had leaked out by now, and the Birds knew that the Triple Star boys were practicing daily. When this came to Tub- by’s ears, he openly issued the challenge he had been holding back, making it for the last day of their training. “ Sure,’’ accepted Rube Hummer, taking upon himself the job of spokesman. ‘ We don't mind slaughterin’ guys when they come and beg to have it done to ’em.” “Fifty you don’t,” replied Tubby blandly. ‘Easy sugar,” said the Rube, hastily shoving out his bills before the other could have a chance to repent. “Got any more?” pleaded Rabbit Hol- lister, the shortstop. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY, ‘Just thirty-two hard dollars,” Tubby told him, counting out the balance of his capital. ‘ Boy, but don’t I wish it was that many hundred,” sighed the Rabbit, as he accepted the wager. ‘And so do I,” chimed in the puncher. But the Rabbit and the Rube and the rest of the Birds had a chance at some more stray sugar. When the Triple Star boys learned of their catcher’s action, they showed their gameness at least. If Tubby could bet on the team, vou could take it from them that they could. Royally and loyally, to their last two-bit piece, they flocked to the minor leaguers. and were heartily welcomed. : When the old man heard of it, he did some puzzled thinking and made a trip to the bunk house: “ Boys,” he said, “I’m right proud of yo’re sportin’ blood an’ all that, but I shore do feel like I ought to warn yuh that these here Birds are ball players that make their livin’ doin’ it. Boys, go easy!” ‘Too late, boss,” grinned Six-Gun Bates, “we've already done gone an’ shot all our wad!” ‘ Well,” sighed the old gentleman, “ I’m wishin’ yuh luck!”’ ‘“So’m I,” groaned Freckles, the sigh of the boss disturbing him. ‘And we’re going to have it,” put in Tubby cheerfully. ‘I shore hope so,” said Old Man Bassett fervently, as he left for the night. “Come on, Six-Gun, practice that slide a few minutes before we turn in,’ com- manded Tubby. “No, you crazy galoot, without the gun!” Bates obeyed. Wildly, unheedful of his body, he threw himself time after time along the floor. It was a peculiar slide— a slide wherein the chief part seemed to be getting his hand to his hip the instant he struck the ground. After a quarter of an hour of it, he was told to desist till morning. ‘‘ From now on, boys,” said their catcher and manager, “ we work harder. The big game is only three days off, and we want to hit that field in absolutely the old pink of condition. Into the bunks everybody, and up before the sun.” 3 COMIG DOO! (©