"So that would have been your way of doing it! Grist has had hard luck with all his investments; I understand he's saved very little. He's a poor man." Weegman lolled back again, puffing at his cigar. "That's his lookout. Anyway, he's not much loss. But these confounded Feds aren't through; they're after Dirk Nelson, too. What d'ye know about that! Our best catcher! They seem to be trying to strip our whole team." "Knowing something about the salaries our players get, probably they figure it should be easy stripping." Suddenly the visitor leaned forward again, and gazed hard at Locke. He was not laughing now. "Have they been after you?" he asked. "Yes." "I thought likely. Made you a big offer?" "Yes." "What have you done?" "Nothing." "Good!" exclaimed Weegman. "It's a good thing for you that you kept your head. They're outside organized ball, and any man who jumps to them will be blacklisted. All this talk about the money they have behind them is pure bluff." "Think so?" "I know it. They're plunging like lunatics, and they'll blow up before the season's over. They haven't got the coin." "Then how does it happen they are signing players for three years, and handing over certified checks in advance for the first year, besides guaranteeing salaries by bank deposits for the full tenure of contracts?" "Oh, they've got some money, of course," admitted Weegman lightly; "but, as I say, they're spending it like drunken sailors. When the Feds explode, the fools who have jumped to them will find themselves barred from organized ball for all time; they'll be down and out. The outlaws may hurt us a little this year, but after that--nothing doing. Just the same, I own up we've got to put a check on 'em before they rip the Blue Stockings wide open. That's what brings me down here to Fernandon to see you." "Really!" said Lefty interestedly. "You seem to be shouldering a lot of responsibility." "I am," chuckled Charles Collier's private secretary. "It was all arranged with Mr. Collier before he sailed. He left me with proper authority. I am to sign up the manager for the team." "Is that right?" exclaimed Locke, surprised. "Then, according to your own statement, if you want to save the Blue Stockings from being riddled, you'd better be about it." "I am," said Weegman. "That's why I've come to you." "For advice?" "Oh, no!" He laughed heartily. "I don't need that. I know what I'm about. I've brought a contract. I want you to put your name to it. Your salary will be advanced fifteen hundred dollars." "The Feds offered to double it. As a pitcher--" "You're not getting this extra money on account of your pitching," interposed Weegman promptly. "I'm offering you the increase of salary to assume the additional duties of manager." CHAPTER II SOMETHING QUEER The expression of amazement that leaped into the eyes of Lefty Locke was masked by a shadow. He stiffened, and sat bolt upright, speechless.