Larry said not a word. It was yet a new proposition, this of earning money as a professional ball player. Somehow it did not strike him pleasantly. But he listened respectfully while Mr. Heaton unfolded the plans that had been slowly matured since the signal defeat of the Catalpas, last October. They must organize a new nine. Some of the old players must be dropped, and two, Al and Lewis Morris, had already declined to play any longer. New men must be found to take their places. Would Larry join the new nine? Did he recommend any other players in the vicinity?
Larry’s ruddy face glowed as he walked up and down the little counting-room, thinking over the situation. Mr. Heaton watched the young man’s well-knit and graceful figure with admiration, and winked at Albert, as if to say, “That is your man. Get him if you can.”
“I’ll consider any offer that you make in behalf of the new nine, Mr. Heaton,” said Larry, “and if I were to suggest any other players from the Jonesvilles, I should like to say a good word for Sam Morrison and Neddie Ellis. Morrison is our first baseman, and Neddie is as good a pitcher as there is in the country, unless it is Charlie King. I hope your men don’t think of letting out Charlie?”
“Oh, no,” replied young Heaton, “they want him to stay, and he says that he’ll not only stay but will give in his share of the gate-money for the use of the club. Oh, Charlie’s clear grit, he is, and he’ll stand by the club,” said the young man, with friendly warmth, dashed with a little regret, perhaps, that family complications forbade him a similar sacrifice.
The details of the bargain could not be settled at once. Mr. Heaton and his son were the representatives of a company of public-spirited citizens who were bent on getting up a good baseball club. They could only secure Larry’s promise to wait for terms from them before accepting any other engagement, and to give them some hint as to what compensation he should expect. This last, however, Larry resolutely declined to do; and, after some debate, young Heaton exclaimed, “Well, hang it all, Larry! What’s the use beating round the bush! I think our folks have made up their minds that they will give you a share of the gate-money, say one eighth, and a salary of a thousand dollars for the season. Does that strike you favorably?”
Larry’s eyes shone as he said, “It strikes me as being more than I am worth.”
“Well, this is all informal and entirely between us, you know,” said Mr. Heaton. “You will keep the matter to yourself until we have reported to the rest of the committee, for there is a committee,” he added with a smile. And so the matter was concluded, and Larry, mounting his horse, with a cheery salutation to father and son standing in the mill-door, rode across the bridge into the November twilight, with a light heart.
The next day, Lewis Morris rode over to Sugar Grove to expostulate with Larry. He had heard that the Heatons had offered Larry one thousand dollars and one-eighth of the gate-money. “Now,” said he to Larry, “I cannot play with the nine, next season, neither can Al Heaton, and the chances are that Will Sprague will drop out, too. Charlie King does not need any pay or any income from the playing to induce him to go. So he will not want any gate-money. Geo. Buckner says he will go along as an extra man, and he will take neither salary nor gate-money. If we get Sam Morrison and Neddie Ellis, we shall have to pay them gate-money at least. But there will be, according to my figuring, only seven out of ten to draw on the gate-money, for Hiram Porter, I am sure, will decline to take anything for his services.”
Larry expressed his entire satisfaction with the terms offered him by Mr. Heaton, on behalf of the new club. He was willing to do what he could, short of any great sacrifice, to make up a strong nine. He would take less salary, or less of the income of the club, if that were necessary to induce the best men to join it.
“That’s very good of you, Larry, old boy,” said Morris, heartily, “but you can’t afford to waste your summer playing baseball for nothing. I want them to take Bill Van Orman from the Dean County boys. How do you think he would do?”
“First-rate! First-rate!” cried Larry, with enthusiasm. “I do not think of another fellow on the river as good as he is as catcher, unless it is Al Heaton, and he is out of the question.”
“Unless it is Larry Boyne,” said Morris, reproachfully. “You are a great sight better catcher than Bill Van Orman, and I should hope you would take that place if you were to go into the new Catalpa Nine.”
Larry protested that he had watched Van Orman’s catching for two seasons, and had made up his mind that he was the best man in that position that could be got, now that Al Heaton was out of the field. Would Van Orman serve at all?
“Oh, yes,” replied Morris. “All of the Dean County boys are just wild to get into the new nine. They are willing to play for Catalpa, and they don’t care whether they are in
