Baseball Joe In The Big League Part 17

And so it went on. Joe's name was not mentioned by the admiring throng.

"Our turn will come later," said Rad, with a smile.

"I guess so," agreed his chum, somewhat dubiously.

Reedville was a thriving community, and boasted of a good nine, with whom the St. Louis team expected to cross bats a number of times during the training season. Then, too, in nearby towns, were other teams, some of them semi-professional, who would be called on to sacrifice themselves that the Cardinals might have something to bring out their own strong and weak points.

"Let's go over to the grounds," suggested Joe.

"I'm with you," agreed Rad.

"Say, you fellows won't be so anxious to head for the diamond a little later in the season," remarked "Doc" Mullin, one of the outfielders.

"You'll be only too glad to give it the pa.s.s-up; won't they?" he appealed to Roger Boswell, the trainer and a.s.sistant manager.

"Well, I like to see young fellows enthusiastic," said Boswell, who had been a star catcher in his day. But age, and an increasing deposit of fat, had put him out of the game. Now he coached the youngsters, and when "Muggins," as Mr. Watson was playfully called, was not on hand he managed the games from the bench. He was a star at that sort of thing.

"Go to it, boys," he advised Joe and Rad, with a friendly nod. "You can't get too much baseball when you're young."

The diamond at Reedville was nothing to boast of, but it would serve well enough for practice. And the grandstand was only a frail, wooden affair, nothing like the big one at Robison Field, in St. Louis.

Joe and Rad walked about the field, and longed for the time when they would be out on it in uniform.

"Which will be about to-morrow," spoke Rad, as Joe mentioned his desire.

"We'll start in at light work, batting fungo and the like, limbering up our legs, and then we'll do hard work."

"I guess so," agreed Joe.

The weather could not have been better. The sun shone warmly from a blue sky, and there was a balmy spiciness to the southern wind.

Rad and Joe walked about town, made a few purchases, and were turning back to the hotel when they saw "Cosey" Campbell, the third baseman, standing in front of a men's furnis.h.i.+ng store.

"I say, fellows, come here," he called to the two. They came. "Do you think that necktie is too bright for a fellow?" went on Campbell, pointing to a decidedly gaudy one in the show window.

"Well, it depends on who's going to wear it," replied Rad, cautiously.

"Why, I am, of course," was the surprised answer. "Who'd you s'pose?"

"I didn't know but what you were buying it to use for a foul line flag,"

chuckled Rad, for Campbell's weakness for scarfs was well known. He bought one or two new ones every day, and, often enough, grew dissatisfied with his purchase before he had worn it. Then he tried to sell it to some other member of the team, usually without success.

"Huh! Foul flag!" grunted Campbell. "Guess you don't know a swell tie when you see it. I'm going to get it," he added rather desperately, as though afraid he would change his mind.

"Go ahead. We'll go in and see fair play," suggested Joe, with a smile.

The tie was purchased, and the clerk, after selling the bright scarf, seeing that Campbell had a package in his hand, inquired:

"Shall I wrap them both up together for you?"

"If you don't mind," replied the third baseman. And, in tying up the bundle, the one Campbell had been carrying came open, disclosing three neckties more gaudy, if possible, than the one he had just purchased.

"For the love of strikes!" cried Rad. "What are you going to do; start a store?"

"Oh, I just took a fancy to these in a window down street," replied Campbell easily. "Rather neat; don't you think?" and he held up a red and green one.

"Neat! Say, they look like the danger signals in the New York subway!"

cried Rad. "Shade your eyes, Joe, or you won't be able to see the ball to-morrow!"

"That shows how much taste you fellows have," snapped Campbell. "Those are swell ties."

But the next day Joe heard Campbell trying to dispose of some of the newly purchased scarfs to "Dots" McCann.

"Go ahead, 'Dots,' take one," pleaded the baseman. "You need a new tie, and I've got more than I want. This red and green one, now; it's real swell."

"Go on!" cried the other player. "Why I'd hate to look at myself in a gla.s.s with that around my neck! And you'd better not wear it, either--at least, not around town."

"Why not?" was the wondering answer.

"Because you might scare some of the mules, and there'd be a runaway.

Tie a stone around it, Campbell, and drown it. It makes so much noise I can't sleep," and with that McCann walked off, leaving behind him a very indignant teammate.

That night notice was given that all the players would a.s.semble at the baseball diamond in uniform next morning.

"That's the idea!" cried Joe. "Now for some real work."

CHAPTER XIV

HARD WORK

The rooms of the ball players were all in one part of the hotel, along the same hall. Joe and Rad were together, near the stairway going down.

That night, their first in the training camp, there was considerable visiting to and fro among the members of the team, and some little horse-play, for, after all, the players were like big boys, in many respects.

Rad, who had been in calling on some of his fellow players, came back to the room laughing.

"What's up?" asked Joe, who was writing a letter.

"Oh, Campbell is still trying to get rid of that hideous tie we helped him purchase. He wanted to wish it on to me."

"And of course you took it," said Joe, with a smile.

"Of course I did _not_. Well, I guess I'll turn in. We'll have plenty to do to-morrow."

"That's right. I'll be with you as soon as I finish this letter."