"We'll settle that right here," declared Kennedy, with a growl. "Locke's the lad. I haven't had time to talk to him much, but I was telling him before you came in that he'd have to accept. As for me, a Class AA team ain't so worse. You're dead sure I can hook up with St. Paul?" "I wired you about the proposition from Byers. He wants you, but he wasn't going to try to cut in on us. Did you send him word?" "Not yet. Decided to have my talk with Lefty first." "I've always liked you, Kennedy," said Weegman. "You've been a great man in your day. You're a good man now, but it needs younger blood, especially in this fight against the Feds, confound them! About so often a team needs to change managers, especially when it begins to slip. The Blue Stockings began to slip last year, and the Feds have given us a push. Locke's young, and he's got the energy to build the team up. Working together, we can put it on its feet again. He'll have the very best counsel and advice. He's a favorite with the fans, and he'll be tolerated where you would be blamed. He'll come through and win out. Of that I am certain. The Feds will blow before the season's over, and the woods will be full of first-class players begging for jobs. Next season should see the Stockings stronger than ever, and the man who's managing the team's bound to be popular. He'll get a lot of credit." Lefty had taken a chair. He opened his lips to speak, but stopped when he caught a warning sign from old Jack behind Weegman's shoulder. "Is that contract ready for the boy?" asked Kennedy. "I've got it in my pocket." "Then nail him right now. Push it at him, and we'll make him sign. Don't let him get away." Weegman produced the document. Then, for a moment, he seemed to hesitate, flashing old Jack a look and giving Locke a hard stare. "You understand the conditions?" he said, addressing the latter. "Yes," answered Lefty, "you made them plain enough for a child to understand when you talked to me in Fernandon." "Course he understands," cut in Kennedy. "He told me, and I told him to grab on without makin' no further talk. Just as you say, Weegman, with proper advice he can swing the thing. It looks pretty big to him, and he's doubtful. Let him look at that paper." He took it from Weegman's hand and looked it over himself. It was practically the same sort of an agreement old Jack had signed himself when he took control of the team, and the name of Charles Collier, properly witnessed, had already been affixed to it. With the contract in his possession, along with Collier's power of attorney, Weegman could sign up any one he chose to manage the Blue Stockings. For a fleeting instant Kennedy's face was twisted into an expression of rage, which, however, Collier's private secretary did not catch. Locke saw that flash of anger and understood; old Jack was playing the fox, and losing no time about it.