and Lefty never moved off that C. Half a tone up, Lefty.
Now try her again."
We were an hour late into Springfield, and it was past six o'clock when
we pulled out. I had filed my stuff, and when I came back in the car the
concert was over for the time, and Art Graham was sitting alone.
"Where are your pals?" I asked.
"Gone to the diner," he replied.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"No," he said, "I'm savin' up for the steamed clams." I took the seat
beside him.
"I sent in a story about you," I said.
"Am I fired? "he asked.
"No, nothing like that."
"Well," he said, "you must be hard up when you can't find nothin' better
to write about than a old has-been."
"Cap just told me who it was that found Waldron," said I.
"Oh, that," said Art. "I don't see no story in that."
"I thought it was quite a stunt," I said. "It isn't everybody that can pick
out a second Cobb by just seeing him hit a fly ball."
Graham smiled.
"No," he replied, "they's few as smart as that."
"If you ever get through playing ball," I went on, "you oughtn't to have
any trouble landing a job. Good scouts don't grow on trees."
"It looks like I'm pretty near through now," said Art, still smiling. "But
you won't never catch me scoutin' for nobody. It's too lonesome a job."
I had passed up lunch to retain my seat in the card game; so I was
hungry. Moreover, it was evident that Graham was not going to wax
garrulous on the subject of his scouting ability. I left him and sought
the diner. I found a vacant chair opposite Bill Cole.
"Try the minced ham," he advised, "but lay off'n the sparrow-grass. It's
tougher'n a double-header in St. Louis."
"We're over an hour late," I said.
"You'll have to do a hurry-up on your story, won't you? " asked Bill.
"Or did you write it already?"
"All written and on the way."
"Well, what did you tell 'em?" he inquired. "Did you tell 'em we had a
pleasant trip, and Lenke lost his shirt in the poker game, and I'm goin'
to pitch to-morrow, and the Boston club's heard about it and hope it'll
rain?"
"No," I said. " I gave them a regular story to-night--about how Graham
picked Waldron."
"Who give it to you?"
"Ryan," I told him.
"Then you didn't get the real story," said Cole, "Ryan himself don't
know the best part of it, and he ain't goin' to know it for a w'ile. He'll
maybe find it out after Art's got the can, but not before. And I hope
nothin' like that'll happen for twenty years. When it does happen, I want
to be sent along with Art, 'cause I and him's been roomies now since
1911, and I. wouldn't hardly know how to act with him off'n the club.
He's a nut all right on the singin' stuff, and if he was gone I might get a
chanct to give my voice a rest. But he's a pretty good guy, even if he is
crazy."
"I'd like to hear the real story," I said.
"Sure you would," he answered, "and I'd like to tell it to you. I will tell
it to you if you'll give me your promise not to spill it till Art's gone. Art
told it to I and Lefty in the club-house at Cleveland pretty near a nionth
ago, and the three of us and Waldron is the only ones that knows it. I
figure I've did pretty well to keep it to myself this long, but it seems
like I got to tell somebody."
"You can depend on me," I assured him, "not to say a word about it till
Art's in Minneapolis, or wherever they're going to send him."
"I guess I can trust you," said Cole. "But if von cross me, I'll shoot my
fast one up there in the press coop some day and knock your teeth
loose."
"Shoot," said I.
"Well," said Cole, "I s'pose Ryan told you that Art fell for the kid after
just seem' him pop out."
"Yes, and Ryan said he considered it a remarkable piece of scouting."
"It was all o' that. It'd of been remarkable enough if Art'd saw the bird
pop out and then recommended him. But he didn't even see him pop
out."
"What are you giving me?"
"The fac's." said Bill Cole. "Art not only didn't see him pop out, but he
didn't even see him with a ball suit on. He wasn't never inside the
Jackson ball park in his life."
"Waldron?"
"No. Art I'm talkin' about."
"Then somebody tipped him off," I said, quickly.
"No,
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