"I don't want to trade, I want to buy," he persisted. Then, as if struck by second thought: "I'll tell you what I will do; I'll give you Brock for two men. That'll help. We need a catcher. After King broke his leg you found a great catcher in Darrow. I'll trade you Brock for Keeper and King."

"Brick King!" exploded Frazer indignantly. "What do you take me for?"

"A business man. You've got three first-string catchers now; two are all you need. You don't even know that King's leg is all right. I'm willing to take a chance on him. Brock batted over three hundred last season. He's the hitter you need to fill that vacancy."

"Not Brick King," said the manager of the Wolves. "If I didn't use him behind the bat for the whole season, he's a fancy pinch hitter.

You've gotter have pitchers. How about O'Brien?"

But Locke knew that Chick O'Brien, the veteran, had cracked already.

Even though on hot days, when he could get his wing to work, he showed flashes of his former brilliant form, and had, under such conditions, last year pitched three shut-out games for the Wolves, Chick's record for the season showed a balance on the wrong side. The southpaw held out for King. Frazer offered one of the second-string catchers. Lefty waved the offer aside.

"Hang it!" snapped Frazer. "Give me Brock and ten thousand dollars, and you may have Keeper and King."

"You don't want much!" laughed Locke. "I'll give you Brock and five thousand."

All the way through to the dessert they d.i.c.kered and bargained. Frazer wanted Brock, and wanted him bad. Sympathetic though he might feel toward Lefty, he never permitted sympathy to interfere with business. Brock was the man to fill the position left vacant by Bob Courtney, and he was sure the Wolves would not be weakened by the loss of Keeper. But Brick King--"What salary are you paying King?" Lefty suddenly asked.

"Five thousand. The Feds got after him, and I had to make it that."

The southpaw laughed. "With Darrow doing most of the backstopping, and Larson ready to fill in any moment he's needed, you're going to keep a five-thousand-dollar catcher on the bench for a pinch hitter!

I just called you a business man, but I feel like taking it back. Isn't Madden likely to kick over a five-thousand-dollar pinch hitter?" Madden owned the team.

"Madden be hanged!" rasped Frazer, biting off the end of a cigar he had taken from his case. "I'm the manager! Madden isn't always b.u.t.ting in and paring down expenses, like Collier." He pulled vigorously at the cigar, while the attentive waiter applied a lighted match.

Lefty had declined a cigar. He smoked occasionally, and would have done so now, but to do so would indicate an inclination to settle down and continue the d.i.c.kering, and he had decided to make a bluff at bringing the affair to an end. He called for the check, and insisted on paying the bill for both.

"Sorry I've put you to so much trouble, Frazer," he said. "It was Kennedy's idea that I might do business with you, but it's evident he was mistaken. I've got some other cards to play, and time is precious."

He settled the bill and tipped the waiter.

Old Ben sat regarding Locke thoughtfully, rolling out great puffs of smoke. The younger man was about to rise.

"Hold on," requested the manager of the Wolves. "You're a regular mule, aren't you? How do you expect to make a trade without compromising at all? You won't even meet me halfway, confound you! You--"

"I'll own up that I was a bit hasty," said Lefty, showing a nervous desire to get away. "I made that five-thousand offer without thinking much, but you understand I'm rather desperate. If Collier were here, he'd probably put the kibosh on it--if he found out before the trade was closed. After that he'd have to stand for it, no matter how hard he kicked. Let's forget it."

Then Frazer showed that peculiar trait of human nature that makes a person doubly eager for something that seems to be on the point of slipping away. In his mind he had already fitted Herman Brock into that gap in center field that had given him more or less worry. The adjustment had pleased him; it seemed to balance the team to a hair. It would give him renewed a.s.surance of another pennant and a slice of the World's Series money. It was Courtney's. .h.i.tting in the last series that had enabled the Wolves to divide the big end of that money; and, like Courtney, Brock was a terror with the ash.

"You mule!" said Frazer. "Let's go up to your room and fix up the papers. It's a trade."

CHAPTER XIX

A FLEETING GLIMPSE

Locke betrayed no sign of the triumph that he felt. Had Frazer held out, he would have given the ten thousand asked, and considered himself lucky to get a catcher and a third sacker, both young men, and coming, in exchange for an outfielder who could not possibly last more than another season or two. Collier might squirm when he learned of the trade, but perhaps he could be made to see the desperate necessity of it. The thought that Bailey Weegman would gnash his teeth and froth at the mouth gave Lefty an added thrill of pleasure. The first move to circ.u.mvent Weegman and the scheming scoundrel behind him, Garrity, had been put through.

"All right," he said, with something like a sigh. "If you hold me to my word, I suppose it's a trade. We may as well make out the papers."

"What's that about a trade?" asked a voice at the southpaw's back.

"What are you two ginks cooking up? I saw you chinnin', and thought there was something in the wind."

Skullen had entered the grill and come up without being observed. There was nothing thin-skinned about Mit, and apparently he had forgotten the rebuff given him by Locke on the train.

"h.e.l.lo, Mit!" said Frazer. "You're just in time to be a witness.

I've traded King and Keeper for Herm Brock. We're going up to make out the papers now. Come on!"

Locke rose, his eyes on the intruder, repressing a laugh as he noted the man's expression of incredulity.

"Traded!" exclaimed Skullen. "With Locke? Say, who's backing Locke in this deal? Weeg told me--when I talked with him about being manager--that any trade that was made would have to be confirmed by him. Has he agreed to this deal?"

"He don't have to," said Lefty. "There's nothing in my contract that gives him any authority to interfere with any deal I may choose to make."

Mit followed them from the room and to the elevator. He was bursting to say more, but he did not know just how to say it. When they were in Locke's room he began:

"Keeper and King for that old skate Brock! What's the matter with you, Ben? You've got bats in your belfry! Why, you've gone clean off your nut! You've--"

Frazer cut him short. "That'll be about enough from you, Mit! Don't try to tell me my business. I'm getting five thousand bones in the bargain."

"Hey?" shouted Skullen, turning on the young manager of the Blue Stockings. "Five thousand bucks! You're coughing up that sum without consulting anybody? Say, you're going in clean over your head. You'd better hold up and wire Weegman what you're thinking about. If you don't--"

"When I want your advice I'll ask for it," interrupted Locke sharply.

"You seem to be greatly interested in this business, for an outsider."

Skullen was choked off, but he gurgled and growled while the papers were being filled out; he even seemed disposed to refuse to sign as a witness, but finally did so, muttering:

"There's going to be the devil to pay over this, you can bet your sweet life on that!"

Lefty didn't care; it was settled, and neither Collier nor his representative could repudiate the bargain. Let the crooks rage. The only thing the southpaw regretted was that Weegman would, doubtless, quickly learn what had been done; for it was a practical certainty that Skullen would lose little time in wiring to him. In fact, Mit soon made an excuse to take his departure, and, in fancy, Locke saw him making haste to send the message.

Frazer was wise, also. "You're going to find yourself bucking a rotten combination, Locke," he said. "They're bound to put it over you before you're through."

"I should worry and lose my sleep!" was the light retort. "Give me a cigar now, Ben; I haven't felt so much like smoking in a month."

Locke slept that night in peace. In the infield there were two big holes left to be filled, short and second; but the reserve list afforded a dozen men to pick from, and it was Lefty's theory that a certain number of carefully chosen youngsters, mixed in with veterans who could steady them, frequently added the needed fire and dash to a team that was beginning to slow down. Herman Brock was gone, but out in Medicine Hat Jock Sheridan had covered the middle garden like a carpet, and had batted four hundred and ten--some hitting! With Welch and Hyland on his right and left, Sheridan might compel the Big League fans to give him something more than a casual once over.

But Locke's great pleasure lay in the fact that he had secured a backstop he had not dared to hope for. Even now he could not understand why Frazer had been induced to part with Brick King, the catcher whose almost uncanny skill in getting the very limit out of second-rate and faltering pitchers had lifted the Wolves out of the second division two years ago, and made them pennant contenders up to the final game of the season. There was the possibility, of course, that old Ben believed that King had not thoroughly recovered from the injury that had sent him to the hospital last August; but a broken leg was something that rarely put an athlete down and out indefinitely.

"In my estimation," thought Lefty serenely, as sleep was stealing over him, "King has got more brains and uses them better than any backstop in the league."

The morning papers had something to say about the deal:

The new manager of the Blue Stockings has been getting busy.

By good authority we are informed that he has traded Center Fielder Herman Brock for two of Ben Frazer's youngsters, King and Keeper. Through this deal he has obtained a catcher and a third baseman, but has opened up a hole in the outfield big enough to roll an _Imperator_ cargo of base hits through.

Of course, the gaping wounds of the Stockings must be plugged, but it seems like bad surgery to inflict further mutilation in order to fill the gashes already made. And when it comes to driving in scores when they count, we predict that old Herman and his swatstick are going to be lamented. Keeper is more or less of an unknown quant.i.ty. It's true that Brick King, in condition, is an excellent backstop and a good hitter, but it must not be forgotten that he has not played since he was injured last August. And, incidentally, it should be remembered that Ben Frazer has a head as long as a tape measure. An expert appraiser should be called in to inspect any property on which Frazer shows a disposition to relinquish his grip. It is a good, even-money proposition that old Ben and the Wolves will get their hooks into the World's Series boodle again this year.

Lefty smiled over this, his lips curling a bit scornfully. The opening of the real baseball season was yet a long distance away, but the newspaper writers were compelled to grind out a required amount of "dope" each day, and were working hard to keep up their average.