“Good! He won’t regret it. There’s money in it, as sure as you’re a living man. If we don’t last more than three weeks, we can make money while we do last, providing, of course, that you’re able to keep your part of the agreement, and get a game in Hoboken with one of the three big-league teams we’ve mentioned; either New York team or the Boston champs. Why, we can pack ’em into the field over at Hoboken like sardines in a box!” “I know I can make good what I’ve promised.” “Tell us what players you can gather up, Mr. Hurley,” urged Gowan. “I’m rather skeptical in regard to the strength of the team.” “Don’t you be skeptical for a moment. Listen. I have O’Neill for the principal pitcher, with Boliver Bimm for change pitcher and the outfield. The Athletics let Bimm go because their sore-armed men came round all right and their list of pitchers was complete. Bimm can hit at a three-hundred clip, and they were dopey over in Quakertown when they let him slide. I can get Bill Brackett, who came so near making the Brooklyn team. He’s a good utility man, as well as a fair pitcher. We can keep him on the bench and use him in the box against ordinary teams. He can pitch three games a week right along—four, if necessary. How is that for a pitching staff?” “Huah!” grunted Gowan, in his usual noncommittal manner. “Go on. Who’s behind the plate?” “Cy Swatt.” “Why, I thought he had signed with Chicago.” “He’s been cast adrift on the cold world.” “I don’t understand why!” exclaimed McGann. “Nobody else. I’ve got him on the string. We can land him, and he’ll make ’em go some. He’s one of the handsomest throwers to bases I ever saw. I played with him out on the Coast two years ago.” “Go on,” wheezed Gowan, showing some signs of interest. “I’ll be on first.” “And that corner of the diamond will be well covered,” nodded McGann. “Thank you,” said Hurley quietly. “We’ll have Jack Roden at second. The Yankees gave him a show in one game. He accepted seven chances without an error and made a three-bagger out of three times at bat. He drew a pass once and was hit by a pitched ball once. He stole two bases. But there wasn’t room for him on the team, and he never got another show.” “Sounds pretty good, doesn’t it, Gowan?” asked McGann. “Uh-huh,” grunted Gowan. “For third,” continued Hurley, “I can land Hoke Marcey, who threw his arm out in practice while the Giants were on their Southern trip. His arm is back in shape again, but that accident lost him a chance to make the team.” “Marcey’s my own particular pet,” wheezed Gowan. “I recommended him to McGraw. Mugsey didn’t treat him right.”