Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 75: what you’re looking at

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

BARBER SHOP CHORDS. 3 What?” ““ My home.” The unexpectedness of the reply dis- concerted Bill for a moment; then he asked: ‘“‘'Where’ve you been playing this sea- son?” “ Higgins’s Corners, Tioga County.” “Never heard of it,” snapped Bill sus- piciously. “‘ Oh, it’s a pretty place. I was playing around with the cows.” “The Cows? What league is that?” “The Dairymen’s.”’ The players, who, wedged tight along the side seats facing each other, had been lean- ing forward listening, now snickered glee- fully. “‘ Whad’ya mean?”’ demanded Bill. “ Farming it. A hundred acres and thirty head of cattle—that is, I had thirty head till I sold them this week.”’ Bill let out a grunt of disgust. ‘“A farmer! I thought you were a ball player?” “Not as a regular occupation. I chose farming for that, dairy farming, but ‘the milk dealers put the price so low—less than five cents a quart they’ve been paying us, while they sell it to you here in the city for eleven—that a man can’t keep cows and make a living any more. So I sold off my stock and decided to join your baseball club.” “Oh, you made the decision yourself, did you?” said Bill sarcastically. ‘“ Very chum- my of you.” “No,” corrected Taynor, “just prac- ticable. I want a contract for next year, too.” Bill was so dumfounded that he was speechless. Around him the players were nudging each other, delighted. “ That’s the cat’s pyjamas,” commented Pudney. “Ves,” added Scott, the first baseman, ‘and the snake’s hips.” This slang was evidently new to Taynor. He turned to me for an explanation of it, and after I had pointed out that snakes do not have hips and that, therefore, the idea was entertaining as a metaphorical exaggeration, he agreed whole-heartedly. (221 There was no lack of learning in his com- prehension. ““T see, you attribute physical appurten- ances and apparel to creatures that don’t possess them.”’ At this speech Bill’s eyes widened. ‘“ Not a bad idea,” went on Taynor, and then invented a linguistic specimen of his own: “ That’s the oyster’s ankles!” ‘‘ Good boy,” approved Pudney. ‘“‘ You’re elected.” Taynor was further received into cam- araderie by the Blue Sox after the team reached the ball park and he received his tryout. Pudney pitched his fastest ball to him, sending the sphere through the air like a shot, with sizzling heat upon it as it smacked into the catcher’s mitt—phut— phat! But Taynor simply stood with his feet solidly apart and received each pitch with cool dexterity. There was no doubt about it, he could catch anything Pudney hurled. Bill Joslin was so pleased that he signed Taynor at once and sent him in for the afternoon game with the Stars, which we won by the con- vincing score of six to nothing. Taynor not only performed creditably be- hind the bat, but managed to get a hit when it was needed. The fans were joyous, the stockholders proud, and Bill’s hopes of win- ning the pennant rose high again. Pudney and Taynor worked so well to- gether as a battery that already their prowess was being hailed as that of a great pair—Put and Take. Pudney came into the clubhouse full of praise for his catcher. ‘* Taynor, you’re the bee’s knees.” “Thanks, Pudney. It’s a pleasure to catch a pitcher working as you did to-day. That was the mosquito’s eyebrows.” When the bus came to take the players back to the hotel Bill Joslin found that there was no little difficulty in that portion of his managerial duties which demanded that he collect his Blue Sox in time for supper. Five of them were still hovering in a cor- ner of the locker room, making singularly plaintive sounds in which they were so en- grossed that they had halted their dressing at the underwear stage. To his surprise Bill saw that Taynor was one of the lyric comicboooks C©