"Good! I hope I'm in my best form, for I hear that Riley has had his men batting industriously in practice against a left-handed pitcher. Being left-handed helped me against his left-handed hitters at first before I had them sized up; but I've made a study of them for weak spots, and, though they are called sluggers, he has no Wagners or Lajoies—men who can bump any kind of a ball that comes within reach of their bats. They have their failings, every one of them, and, with good control and good support, I should be able to take another fall out of them."
The door of the room had been left slightly ajar by Cope. Outside that door a hesitating bell boy stood listening to the talk of the two men. Hearing some one turn the knob of a door farther along the corridor, the boy hastily lifted his hand and knocked. At Locke's call, he pushed the door open, and entered.
"Hello, Sam," said the pitcher. "On the bed there—that suit needs pressing; take it to the tailor, will you, and tell him I want it back tonight? Here!"
He extended a silver half dollar, but the boy, who had gathered up the suit of dark-blue serge from the bed, drew back, looking confused.
"What's the matter, Sam?" asked Locke, a bit
