and when I did get him dressed he resembled a
two-legged giraffe decked out in white shirt, gray
trousers and maroon stockings.

Spears, my veteran first baseman and captain
of the team, was the first to see us.

``Sufferin' umpires!'' yelled Spears. ``Here,
you Micks! Look at this Con's got with him!''

What a yell burst from that sore and
disgruntled bunch of ball tossers! My players were
a grouchy set in practice anyway, and today they
were in their meanest mood.

``Hey, beanpole!''

``Get on to the stilts!''

``Con, where did you find that?''

I cut short their chaffing with a sharp order for
batting practice.

``Regular line-up, now no monkey biz,'' I went
on. ``Take two cracks and a bunt. Here, Hurtle,''
I said, drawing him toward the pitcher's
box, ``don't pay any attention to their talk. That's
only the fun of ball players. Go in now and practice
a little. Lam a few over.''