having trouble getting to sleep at night, a telephone call caught them one evening at the boarding-house. Spike took the call, wondering just which MacManus he would find at the other end. There was MacManus genial and charming; MacManus aroused and crazy mad; MacManus eager and attentive; MacManus keen and sober; MacManus keen and not so sober. He was truly a man of moods. He could be agreeable and friendly, as he had been when they’d first come up, and in two minutes he could be as cold as ice.
To Spike’s relief, MacManus was in his genial mood. “I really oughtn’t to do this, but I’m fond of you boys and, confidentially, I’m going to break one of our club rules. Those raises are back in your contracts.”
Spike was pleased by this generosity but somehow managed to keep his self-control.
“Yessir. Thank you very much indeed, sir.”
“Then it’s settled?”
“Nosir.”
“What d’you mean, no?”
“Insufficient moolah, Mr. MacManus. We got good jobs down here; we can live on what we earn. And I feel we’re worth fifteen to the club, sir.”
Would he get mad? Would he rant and roar?
Would he bellow and call names over the phone? Not at all.
“O.K., Spike,” he replied in his suavest tone. “I’m terribly sorry. I always liked you two boys, fine type of fellows, kind of lads we like to have on the club. But this is your last chance. Come now, don’t you want to take a few days to think things over?”
“We have, sir.”
“All right, all right. That’s everything I’ve got to say then.” Once again the telephone clicked decisively.
More unpleasant was the arrival of a letter which followed immediately. It was a nice letter, too nice in fact. The genial and charming MacManus wrote that they would both be missed next summer on the team. But after all business was business, so he wished them good luck in their new venture.
“What new venture?” snorted Bob. “Now then, see what you’ve done! You sure pulled a boner this time. He’s through with us; he’s washed us up. Because why? Just on account you’re so doggoned stubborn. You held out for a few thousand and where are we? We’re out, that’s where we are!”
Spike, too, was upset this time. He simply wouldn’t have believed it, and somehow even yet it didn’t make sense. He knew enough baseball to realize that Ed Davis with his arm at its best was not as good a man as Bob around second, not from any angle. And they needed a fast pair at that keystone sack if they hoped to overhaul the Pirates or the Cards, who were also improved. The fans liked them, too, the fans were for them, the fans and the writers as well.
“Shucks, I b’lieve he’s stalling. If he isn’t, he isn’t. We must sit tight, Bob. We aren’t through, not by any means. Nine thousand is just fishcakes; so is eleven. Maybe Grouchy will take us on. I hear they’re talking of Grouchy as manager for the Cards next season.”
But both boys spent some bad nights for a week until suddenly a wire arrived from Buffalo, New York. “HAVE A CHANCE TO BUY YOUR CONTRACTS STOP WOULD YOU PLAY WITH US PLEASE REPLY BY WESTERN UNION COLLECT IMMEDIATELY REGARDS STEVE O’HARE MANAGER.”
Bob agreed at once to Spike’s reply, “IF WE WOULDNT PLAY WITH THE DODGERS WE CERTAINLY WOULDNT PLAY WITH BUFFALO SPIKE AND BOB RUSSELL.”
Then followed another week of uncertainty and suspense until the telegram came from MacManus, who was on his way South, saying that he would stop off en route. Now Bob began to feel that possibly Spike’s tactics had been correct. But he was extremely nervous as they both went upstairs in the elevator of the Andrew Jackson that evening to the boss’s room, Spike in his working overalls, Bob in the clothes he wore on his electrical job. This was the older brother’s idea. He wanted the owner of the club to see they weren’t fooling.
That evening it was the genial MacManus, agreeable, affable, putting them at their ease, remembering they
To Spike’s relief, MacManus was in his genial mood. “I really oughtn’t to do this, but I’m fond of you boys and, confidentially, I’m going to break one of our club rules. Those raises are back in your contracts.”
Spike was pleased by this generosity but somehow managed to keep his self-control.
“Yessir. Thank you very much indeed, sir.”
“Then it’s settled?”
“Nosir.”
“What d’you mean, no?”
“Insufficient moolah, Mr. MacManus. We got good jobs down here; we can live on what we earn. And I feel we’re worth fifteen to the club, sir.”
Would he get mad? Would he rant and roar?
Would he bellow and call names over the phone? Not at all.
“O.K., Spike,” he replied in his suavest tone. “I’m terribly sorry. I always liked you two boys, fine type of fellows, kind of lads we like to have on the club. But this is your last chance. Come now, don’t you want to take a few days to think things over?”
“We have, sir.”
“All right, all right. That’s everything I’ve got to say then.” Once again the telephone clicked decisively.
More unpleasant was the arrival of a letter which followed immediately. It was a nice letter, too nice in fact. The genial and charming MacManus wrote that they would both be missed next summer on the team. But after all business was business, so he wished them good luck in their new venture.
“What new venture?” snorted Bob. “Now then, see what you’ve done! You sure pulled a boner this time. He’s through with us; he’s washed us up. Because why? Just on account you’re so doggoned stubborn. You held out for a few thousand and where are we? We’re out, that’s where we are!”
Spike, too, was upset this time. He simply wouldn’t have believed it, and somehow even yet it didn’t make sense. He knew enough baseball to realize that Ed Davis with his arm at its best was not as good a man as Bob around second, not from any angle. And they needed a fast pair at that keystone sack if they hoped to overhaul the Pirates or the Cards, who were also improved. The fans liked them, too, the fans were for them, the fans and the writers as well.
“Shucks, I b’lieve he’s stalling. If he isn’t, he isn’t. We must sit tight, Bob. We aren’t through, not by any means. Nine thousand is just fishcakes; so is eleven. Maybe Grouchy will take us on. I hear they’re talking of Grouchy as manager for the Cards next season.”
But both boys spent some bad nights for a week until suddenly a wire arrived from Buffalo, New York. “HAVE A CHANCE TO BUY YOUR CONTRACTS STOP WOULD YOU PLAY WITH US PLEASE REPLY BY WESTERN UNION COLLECT IMMEDIATELY REGARDS STEVE O’HARE MANAGER.”
Bob agreed at once to Spike’s reply, “IF WE WOULDNT PLAY WITH THE DODGERS WE CERTAINLY WOULDNT PLAY WITH BUFFALO SPIKE AND BOB RUSSELL.”
Then followed another week of uncertainty and suspense until the telegram came from MacManus, who was on his way South, saying that he would stop off en route. Now Bob began to feel that possibly Spike’s tactics had been correct. But he was extremely nervous as they both went upstairs in the elevator of the Andrew Jackson that evening to the boss’s room, Spike in his working overalls, Bob in the clothes he wore on his electrical job. This was the older brother’s idea. He wanted the owner of the club to see they weren’t fooling.
That evening it was the genial MacManus, agreeable, affable, putting them at their ease, remembering they
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