“How’ll I know when I’m there?” ast Skull.
“You’ll hear a lot o’ yellin’,” says Carey, “the Giants practicin’ what they’re goin’ to say to Klem.”
Skull got lost somewheres, way downtown; he couldn’t tell us just where. It was afternoon when he finally got to the Polo Grounds, and o’ course the polo game was all over.
“You seen the town, though, didn’t you?” says Carey.
“What town?” says Skull.
“Ishpeming,” says Carey.
“No,” says Skull, “I was right here in New York all the wile.”
He made earlier starts the next two mornin’s, but he never did manage to get there in time for polo. He was to pitch the third game and he was restin’ in the clubhouse when I and Carey come in.
“You work today, don’t you?” says Carey.
“Yes,” he says.
“I got a message for you from Cap,” says Carey. “He had to go back to the hotel after the bag o’ close decisions, and he wanted me to be sure and tell you to have a long talk with McGraw before the game.”
“What should I talk to him about?” says Skull.
“Ask him a lot o’ questions,” says Carey. “He’s a grand fella for a young pitcher to talk to. He’ll help you a lot. Ask him what his men can hit and what they can’t hit, and who’s goin’ to work for them. Ask him anything you can think of, and try and remember everything he tells you.”
Skull got right up and went out to look for McGraw. When we was dressed and come on the field, he was over by their bench, obeyin’ instructions. I don’t know what Mac thought of him; probably didn’t think much of anything. Mac’s saw so many nuts that they don’t excite him no more.
Pretty soon Skull come struttin’ back to where we was.
“What’d you learn?” I ast him.
“He told me Mathewson or Marquard or Tesreau was goin’ to pitch,” says Skull. “Then I ast him what his men could hit and he says they can’t hit nothin’. So I ast him what they couldn’t hit and he says everythin’. Then he ast me what I done for my complexion and I told him I didn’t do nothin’ for it. And I couldn’t think o’ nothin’ more to ask him, so I come away.”
Well, after a wile, Cap showed up and Carey stuck round to change the subject if Skull begun tellin’ about his interview with McGraw. They wasn’t nothin’ said till it was time for their fieldin’ practice.
“You work, Scoville,” says Cap.
“All right,” says Skull.
“Well, warm up with somebody,” says Cap.
“I won’t need much warmin’ up,” says Skull.
“Why not?” says Cap.
“These fellas can’t hit nothin’,” says Skull.
“Who told you so?” ast Cap.
“McGraw,” says Skull. “He’s their manager.”
“Is he?” says Cap. “I thought it was George Cohan.”
“No,” says Skull. “It’s McGraw.”
“When was you talkin’ with him?” ast Cap.
Then Carey horned in. “Mac was kiddin’ you,” he says. “He’s got a good hittin’ club.”
“You bet he has!” says Cap. “You get that other idear out o’ your head.”
“What would he kid me for?” says Skull.
“Get out there and warm up!” says Cap. “McGraw’s got three of ’em doin’ it.”
“Yes,” says Skull. “He’s goin’ to work Mathewson or Marquard or Tesreau.”
“I don’t see how you can guess so good,” says Cap.
“No,” says Skull. “It’s one o’ them three.”
Well, McGraw’d either been kiddin’ him or he was mistaken about his own ball club. Skull didn’t know which. But he knowed before he went to the shower that they could hit.
VI
Skull pitched a one-hit game over in Philly. But he wasn’t in there a whole innin’. He pitched to six men and the other five got bases on balls.
He went better up in Boston. He had two men out before Cap yanked him.
“What time can you get a train for Carolina?” says Carey.
“You goin’ down there?” ast Skull.
“No,” says Carey. “I thought maybe you was goin’.”
“Oh, no,” says Skull. “I’m gettin’ more money up here.”
“Did you get your pockets picked in New York?” says Carey.
“I guess not,” says Skull.
“Just plain lost it, huh?” says Carey.
“Lost what?” asts Skull.
“Your control,” says Carey.
“What’s that?” says Skull.
“You had swell control in New York,” says Carey. “You was hittin’ their bats right in the middle. But the way you’ve went the last two games, you’ve got us all guessin’. We don’t know whether you’re goin’ to hit the coacher at third base or kill a reporter. Pretty soon you’ll have the field umpire wearin’ a mask and protector. Is your arm sore?”
“No,” says Skull.
“I didn’t think it could be,” says Carey, “on account o’ the distance you get. But if your arm ain’t sore, what’s the matter?”
“Matter with who?” says Skull.
“You,” says Carey. “You don’t think the umpire’s missin’ ’em all, do you?”
“I’m wild,” says Skull.
“Oh, that’s it!” says Carey. “I’ve been puzzlin’ my brains to find out what it was. But I see now; you’re wild. And what do you s’pose makes you wild?”
“I can’t pitch where I’m aimin’,” says Skull. “I can’t pitch no strikes. I keep givin’ bases on balls.”
“Funny I didn’t think of that,” says Carey. “I knowed they was somethin’ the matter, but I couldn’t put my finger right on it. I’ll tell Cap and maybe we can get them to enlarge the plate.”
“They wouldn’t do that, would they?” says Skull.
“Well,” says Carey, “they probably wouldn’t in most o’ the towns. But they can’t stop us from doin’ it on our own grounds. It’s our own plate there, and I guess we can have any size we want to.”
“But
