Baseball Joe Around the World Part 10

"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 pa.s.s 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!"

CHAPTER IX

THE UNDER DOG

"Talking of angels!" exclaimed Jim, giving Joe a sharp nudge in the ribs.

Joe looked up quickly and saw Hartley coming down the corridor.

"It's 'Bugs,' sure enough," he said. "And, for a wonder, he's walking straight."

"Guess he's on his good behavior," remarked Hughson. "There's a big meeting of the American League here just now, winding up the affairs of the league, now that the playing season is over. Maybe Hartley thinks he has a chance to catch on somewhere. Like everybody else that's played in the big leagues, he hates to go back to the bushes. He'd be a find, too, if he'd only cut out the booze--there's lots of good baseball in him yet."

"He's a natural player," said Joe, generously. "And one of the best pitchers I ever saw. You know how Mac tried to hold on to him."

"I don't think he has a Chinaman's chance, though, of staying in big league company," observed Jim. "After the way he tried to give away our signals in that game at Boston, the Nationals wouldn't touch him with a ten-foot pole, and I don't think the American has any use for him either.

You might forgive him for being a drunkard, but not for being a traitor."

Hartley had caught sight of the group, and at first seemed rather undecided whether to go on or stop. The bitter feeling he had for Joe, however, was too strong to resist, and he came over to where they were. He paid no attention to Jim, and gave a curt nod to Hughson and fixed a malignant stare on Joe.

"All dolled up," he said, with a sneer, as he noted the quiet but handsome suit that Joe was wearing. "I could have glad rags, too, if you hadn't bilked me out of four thousand dollars."

"Cut out that talk, Bugs," said Joe, though not unkindly. "I never did you out of anything and you know it."

"Yes, you did," snarled Hartley. "You got me fired from the Giants and did me out of my share of the World's Series money."

"You did yourself out of it, Bugs," said Joe, patiently. "I did my best to have Mac hold on to you. I never was anything but your friend. Do you remember how Jim and I put you to bed that night in St. Louis when you were drunk? We took you up the back way so Mac wouldn't get next. Take a fool's advice, Bugs--cut out the liquor and play the game."

"I don't want any advice from you!" sneered Hartley. "And take it from me, I'll get you yet."

"Beat it, Bugs!" Jim broke in sternly, "while the going's good. Roll your hoop now, or I'll help you."