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“Pollock said you were captain of the baseball team, didn’t he?” he questioned.

Sam nodded. “Yes. Tom could have had it, but he wouldn’t. So they hit on me.”

“Pollock, you mean?”

“Yes. He has charge of the sporting goods department there at Cummings and Wright’s and thought he wouldn’t have time to look after the team. Where have you played?”

“In Akron. Oh, you mean what position? Last Spring I played first base for our Second Team. How—how did you know I played at all?”

“Felt that crooked finger of yours. Break it?”

“Yes, and didn’t know it for a couple of days. Thought it was just a strain. Then when it came out of the splints it had an out-curve. I guess I’ll have to have it broken again some day and set right.”

“Well, it didn’t look so bad,” said Sam judicially. “I happened to notice it when we shook hands. We’ll be glad to have another candidate for the bases. You’ll have a couple of pretty good fellows to fight, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you made good somewhere. How are you at the bat?”