Alibi Ike
IHIS right name was Frank X. Farrell, and I guess the X stood for"Excuse me." Because he never pulled a play, good or bad, on oroff the field, without apologizin' for it."Alibi Ike" was the name Carey wished on him the first day hereported down South. O' course we all cut out the "Alibi" part ofit right away for the fear he would overhear it and bustsomebody. But we called him "Ike" right to his face and the restof it was understood by everybody on the club except Ike himself.He ast me one time, he says:"What do you all call me Ike for? I ain't no Yid.""Carey give you the name," I says. "It's his nickname foreverybody he takes a likin' to.""He mustn't have only a few friends then," says Ike. "I neverheard him say 'Ike' to nobody else."But I was goin' to tell you about Carey namin' him. We'd beenworkin' out two weeks and the pitchers was showin' somethin' whenthis bird joined us. His first day out he stood up there so goodand took such a reef at the old pill that he had everyonelookin'. Then him and Carey was together in left field, catchin'fungoes, and it was after we was through for the day that Careytold me about him."What do you think of Alibi Ike?" ast Carey."Who's that? " I says."This here Farrell in the outfield," says Carey."He looks like he could hit," I says."Yes," says Carey, "but he can't hit near as good as he canapologize."Then Carey went on to tell me what Ike had been pullin' outthere. He'd dropped the first fly ball that was hit to him andtold Carey his glove wasn't broke in good yet, and Carey says theglove could easy of been Kid Gleason's gran'father. He made awhale of a catch out o' the next one and Carey says "Nice work!"or somethin' like that, but Ike says he could of caught the ballwith his back turned only he slipped when he started after itand, besides that, the air currents fooled him."I thought you done well to get to the ball," says Carey."I ought to been settin' under it," says Ike."What did you hit last year?" Carey ast him."I had malaria most o' the season," says Ike. "I wound up with.356.""Where would I have to go to get malaria?" says Carey, but Ikedidn't wise up.I and Carey and him set at the same table together for supper. Ittook him half an hour longer'n us to eat because he had to excusehimself every time he lifted his fork."Doctor told me I needed starch," he'd say, and then toss ashoveful o' potatoes into him. Or, "They ain't much meat on oneo' these chops," he'd tell us, and grab another one. Or he'd say:"Nothin' like onions for a cold," and then he'd dip into theperfumery."Better try that apple sauce," says Carey. "It'll help yourmalaria.""Whose malaria?" says Ike. He'd forgot already why he didn't onlyhit .356 last year.I and Carey begin to lead him on."Whereabouts did you say your home was?" I ast him. "I live withmy folks," he says. "We live in Kansas City--not right down inthe business part--outside a ways.""How's that come?" says Carey. "I should think you'd get rooms inthe post office."But Ike was too busy curin' his cold to get that one."Are you married?" I ast him."No," he says. "I never run round much with girls, except toshows onct in a wile and parties and dances and roller skatin'.""Never take 'em to the prize fights, eh?" says Carey."We don't have no real good bouts," says Ike. "Just bush stuff.And I never figured a boxin' match was a place for the ladies."Well, after supper he pulled a cigar out and lit it. I was justgoin' to ask him what he done it for, but he beat me to it."Kind o' rests a man to smoke after a good work-out," he says."Kind o' settles a man's supper, too.""Looks like a pretty good cigar," says Carey."Yes," says Ike. "A friend o' mine give it to me--a fella inKansas City that runs a billiard room.""Do you play billiards?" I ast him."I used to play a fair game," he says. "I'm all out o' practicenow--can't hardly make a shot."We coaxed him into a four-handed battle, him and Carey againstJack Mack and I. Say, he couldn't play billiards as good asWillie Hoppe; not quite. But to hear him tell it, he didn't makea good shot all evenin'. I'd leave him an awful-lookin' layoutand he'd gather 'em up in one try and then run a couple o'hundred, and between every carom he'd say he'd put too much stuffon the ball, or the English didn't take, or the table wasn'ttrue, or his stick was crooked, or somethin'. And all the time hehad the balls actin' like they was Dutch soldiers and him KaiserWilliam. We started out to play fifty points, but we had to makeit a thousand so as I and Jack and Carey could try the table.The four of us set round the lobby a wile after we was throughplayin', and when it got along toward bedtime Carey whispered tome and says:"Ike'd like to go to bed, but he can't think up no excuse."Carey hadn't hardly finished whisperin' when Ike got up andpulled it:"Well, good night, boys," he says. "I ain't sleepy, but I gotsome gravel in my shoes and it's killin' my feet."We knowed he hadn't never left the hotel since we'd came in fromthe grounds and changed our clo'es. So Carey says:"I should think they'd take them gravel pits out o' the billiardroom."But Ike was already on his way to the elevator, limpin'."He's got the world beat," says Carey to Jack and I. "I've knewlots o' guys that had an alibi for every mistake they made; I'veheard pitchers say that the ball slipped when somebody crackedone off'n 'em; I've heard infielders complain of a sore arm afterheavin' one into the stand, and I've saw outfielders tooken sickwith a dizzy spell when they've misjudged a fly ball. But thisbaby can't even go to bed without apologizin', and I bet heexcuses himself to the razor when he gets ready to shave.""And at that," says Jack, "he's goin' to make us a good man.""Yes," says Carey, "unless rheumatism keeps his battin' averagedown to .400."Well, sir, Ike kept whalin' away at the ball all through the triptill everybody knowed he'd won a job. Cap had him in thereregular the last few exhibition games and told the newspaper boysa week before the season opened that he was goin' to start him inKane's place."You're there, kid," says Carey to Ike, the night Cap made the'nnouncement. "They ain't many boys that wins a big league berththeir third year out.""I'd of been up here a year ago," says Ike, "only I was bent overall season with lumbago."
IIIt rained down in Cincinnati one day and somebody organized alittle game o' cards. They was shy two men to make six and ast Iand Carey to play."I'm with you if you get Ike and make it seven-handed," saysCarey.So they got a hold of Ike and we went up to Smitty's room."I pretty near forgot how many you deal," says Ike. "It's been along wile since I played."I and Carey give each other the wink, and sure enough, he wasjust as ig'orant about poker as billiards. About the second hand,the pot was opened two or three ahead of him, and they was threein when it come his turn. It cost a buck, and he throwed in two."It's raised, boys," somebody says."Gosh, that's right, I did raise it," says Ike."Takeout a buck if you didn't mean to tilt her," says Carey."No," says Ike, "I'll leave it go."Well, it was raised back at him and then he made another mistakeand raised again. They was only three left in when the draw come.Smitty'd opened with a pair o' kings and he didn't help 'em. Ikestood pat. The guy that'd raised him back was flushin' and hedidn't fill. So Smitty checked and Ike bet and didn't get nocall. He tossed his hand away, but I grabbed it and give it alook. He had king, queen, jack and two tens. Alibi Ike he musthave seen me peekin', for he leaned over and whispered to me."I overlooked my hand," he says. "I thought all the wile it was astraight.""Yes," I says, "that's why you raised twice by mistake."They was another pot that he come into with tens and fours. Itwas tilted a couple o' times and two o' the strong fellas drawedahead of Ike. They each drawed one. So Ike throwed away hislittle pair and come out with four tens. And they was four treysagainst him. Carey'd looked at Ike's discards and then he says:"This lucky bum busted two pair.""No, no, I didn't," says Ike."Yes, yes, you did," says Carey, and showed us the two fours."What do you know about that? " says Ike. "I'd of swore one was afive spot."Well, we hadn't had no pay day yet, and after a wile everybodyexcept Ike was goin' shy. I could see him gettin' restless and Iwas wonderin' how he'd make the get-away. He tried two or threetimes. "I got to buy some collars before supper," he says."No hurry," says Smitty. "The stores here keeps open all night inApril."After a minute he opened up again."My uncle out in Nebraska ain't expected to live," he says. "Iought to send a telegram.""Would that save him?" says Carey."No, it sure wouldn't," says Ike, "but I ought to leave my oldman know where I'm at.""When did you hear about your uncle?" says Carey."Just this mornin'," says Ike."Who told you? "ast Carey."I got a wire from my old man," says Ike."Well," says Carey, "your old man knows you're still here yetthis afternoon if you was here this mornin'. Trains leavin'Cincinnati in the middle o' the day don't carry no ball clubs.""Yes," says Ike, "that's true. But he don't know where I'm goin'to be next week.""Ain't he got no schedule?" ast Carey."I sent him one openin' day," says Ike, "but it takes mail a longtime to get to Idaho.""I thought your old man lived in Kansas City," says Carey."He does when he's home," says Ike."But now," says Carey, "I s'pose he's went to Idaho so as he canbe near your sick uncle in Nebraska.""He's visitin' my other uncle in Idaho.""Then how does he keep posted about your sick uncle?" ast Carey."He don't," says Ike. "He don't even know my other uncle's sick.That's why I ought to wire and tell him.""Good night!" says Carey."What town in Idaho is your old man at?" I says.Ike thought it over."No town at all," he says. "But he's near a town.""Near what town?" I says."Yuma," says Ike.Well, by this time he'd lost two or three pots and he wasdesperate. We was playin' just as fast as we could, because weseen we couldn't hold him much longer. But he was tryin' so hardto frame an escape that he couldn't pay no attention to thecards, and it looked like we'd get his whole pile away from himif we could make him stick.The telephone saved him. The minute it begun to ring, five of usjumped for it. But Ike was there first."Yes," he says, answerin' it. "This is him. I'll come rightdown."And he slammed up the receiver and beat it out o' the doorwithout even sayin' good-by."Smitty'd ought to locked the door," says Carey."What did he win?" ast Carey.We figured it up--sixty-odd bucks."And the next time we ask him to play," says Carey, "his fingerswill be so stiff he can't hold the cards."Well, we set round a wile talkin' it over, and pretty soon thetelephone rung again. Smitty answered it. It was a friend ofhis'n from Hamilton and he wanted to know why Smitty didn't hurrydown. He was the one that had called before and Ike had told himhe was Smitty."Ike'd ought to split with Smitty's friend," says Carey."No," I says, "he'll need all he won. It costs money to buycollars and to send telegrams from Cincinnati to your old man inTexas and keep him posted on the health o' your uncle in CedarRapids, D. C."
IIIAnd you ought to heard him out there on that field! They wasn't aday when he didn't pull six or seven, and it didn't make nodifference whether he was goin' good or bad. If he popped up inthe pinch he should of made a base hit and the reason he didn'twas so-and-so. And if he cracked one for three bases he ought tohad a home run, only the ball wasn't lively, or the wind broughtit back, or he tripped on a lump o' dirt, roundin' first base.They was one afternoon in New York when he beat all records. BigMarquard was workin' against us and he was good.In the first innin' Ike hit one clear over that right fieldstand, but it was a few feet foul. Then he got another foul andthen the count come to two and two. Then Rube slipped one acroston him and he was called out."What do you know about that!" he says afterward on the bench. "Ilost count. I thought it was three and one, and I took a strike.""You took a strike all right," says Carey. "Even the umps knowedit was a strike.""Yes," says Ike, "but you can bet I wouldn't of took it if I'dknew it was the third one. The score board had it wrong.""That score board ain't for you to look at," says Cap. "It's foryou to hit that old pill against.""Well," says Ike, "I could of hit that one over the score boardif I'd knew it was the third.""Was it a good ball? " I says."Well, no, it wasn't," says Ike. "It was inside.""How far inside?" says Carey."Oh, two or three inches or half a foot," says Ike."I guess you wouldn't of threatened the score board with itthen," says Cap."I'd of pulled it down the right foul line if I hadn't thoughthe'd call it a ball," says Ike.Well, in New York's part o' the innin' Doyle cracked one and Ikerun back a mile and a half and caught it with one hand. We wasall sayin' what a whale of a play it was, but he had to apologizejust the same as for gettin' struck out."That stand's so high," he says, "that a man don't never see aball till it's right on top o' you.""Didn't you see that one? "ast Cap."Not at first," says Ike; "not till it raised up above the roofo' the stand.""Then why did you start back as soon as the ball was hit?" saysCap."I knowed by the sound that he'd got a good hold of it," saysIke."Yes," says Cap, "but how'd you know what direction to run in?""Doyle usually hits 'em that way, the way I run," says Ike."Why don't you play blindfolded?" says Carey."Might as well, with that big high stand to bother a man," saysIke. "If I could of saw the ball all the time I'd of got it in myhip pocket."Along in the fifth we was one run to the bad and Ike got on withone out. On the first ball throwed to Smitty, Ike went down. Theball was outside and Meyers throwed Ike out by ten feet.You could see Ike's lips movin' all the way to the bench and whenhe got there he had his piece learned."Why didn't he swing?" he says."Why didn't you wait for his sign?" says Cap."He give me his sign," says Ike."What is his sign with you?" says Cap."Pickin' up some dirt with his right hand," says Ike."Well, I didn't see him do it," Cap says."He done it all right," says Ike.Well, Smitty went out and they wasn't no more argument till theycome in for the next innin'. Then Cap opened it up."You fellas better get your signs straight," he says."Do you mean me? " says Smitty."Yes," Cap says. "What's your sign with Ike?""Slidin' my left hand up to the end o' the bat and back," saysSmitty."Do you hear that, Ike?" ast Cap."What of it?" says Ike."You says his sign was pickin' up dirt and he says it's slidin'his hand. Which is right?""I'm right," says Smitty. "But if you're arguin' about him goin'last innin', I didn't give him no sign.""You pulled your cap down with your right hand, didn't you? " astIke."Well, s'pose I did," says Smitty. "That don't mean nothin'. Inever told you to take that for a sign, did I?""I thought maybe you meant to tell me and forgot," says Ike. Theycouldn't none of us answer that and they wouldn't of been no moresaid if Ike had of shut up. But wile we was settin' there Careygot on with two out and stole second clean."There!" says Ike. "That's what I was tryin' to do and I'd of gotaway with it if Smitty'd swang and bothered the Indian.""Oh!" says Smitty. "You was tryin' to steal then, was you? Ithought you claimed I give you the hit and run.""I didn't claim no such a thing," says Ike. "I thought maybe youmight of gave me a sign, but I was goin' anyway because I thoughtI had a good start."Cap prob'ly would of hit him with a bat, only just about thattime Doyle booted one on Hayes and Carey come acrost with the runthat tied.Well, we go into the ninth finally, one and one, and Marquardwalks McDonald with nobody out."Lay it down," says Cap to Ike.And Ike goes up there with orders to bunt and cracks the firstball into that right-field stand! It was fair this time, andwe're two ahead, but I didn't think about that at the time. I wastoo busy watchin' Cap's face. First he turned pale and then hegot red as fire and then he got blue and purple, and finally hejust laid back and busted out laughin'. So we wasn't afraid tolaugh ourselfs when we seen him doin' it, and when Ike come ineverybody on the bench was in hysterics.But instead o' takin' advantage, Ike had to try and excusehimself. His play was to shut up and he didn't know how to makeit."Well," he says, "if I hadn't hit quite so quick at that one Ibet it'd of cleared the center-field fence."Cap stopped laughin'."It'll cost you plain fifty," he says."What for? " says Ike."When I say 'bunt' I mean 'bunt,'" says Cap."You didn't say 'bunt,'" says Ike."I says 'Lay it down,'" says Cap. "If that don't mean 'bunt,'what does it mean?""'Lay it down' means 'bunt' all right," says Ike, "but Iunderstood you to say 'Lay on it.'""All right," says Cap, "and the little misunderstandin' will costyou fifty."Ike didn't say nothin' for a few minutes. Then he had anotherbright idear."I was just kiddin' about misunderstandin' you," he says. "Iknowed you wanted me to bunt.""Well, then, why didn't you bunt?" ast Cap."I was goin' to on the next ball," says Ike. "But I thought if Itook a good wallop I'd have 'em all fooled. So I walloped at thefirst one to fool 'em, and I didn't have no intention o' hittin'it.""You tried to miss it, did you?" says Cap."Yes," says Ike."How'd you happen to hit it?" ast Cap."Well," Ike says, "I was lookin' for him to throw me a fast oneand I was goin' to awing under it. But he come with a hook and Imet it right square where I was swingin' to go under the fastone.""Great!" says Cap. "Boys," he says, "Ike's learned how to hitMarquard's curve. Pretend a fast one's comin' and then try tomiss it. It's a good thing to know and Ike'd ought to be willin'to pay for the lesson. So I'm goin' to make it a hundred insteado' fifty."The game wound up 3 to 1. The fine didn't go, because Ike hitlike a wild man all through that trip and we made pretty near aclean-up. The night we went to Philly I got him cornered in thecar and I says to him:"Forget them alibis for a wile and tell me somethin'. What'd youdo that for, swing that time against Marquard when you was toldto bunt?""I'll tell you," he says. "That ball he throwed me looked justlike the one I struck out on in the first innin' and I wanted toshow Cap what I could of done to that other one if I'd knew itwas the third strike.""But," I says, "the one you struck out on in the first innin' wasa fast ball.""So was the one I cracked in the ninth," says Ike.
IVYou've saw Cap's wife, o' course. Well, her sister's about twictas good-lookin' as her, and that's goin' some.Cap took his missus down to St. Louis the second trip and theother one come down from St. Joe to visit her. Her name is Dolly,and some doll is right.Well, Cap was goin' to take the two sisters to a show and hewanted a beau for Dolly. He left it to her and she picked Ike.He'd hit three on the nose that afternoon--off'n Sallee, too.They fell for each other that first evenin'. Cap told us how itcome off. She begin flatterin' Ike for the star game he'd playedand o' course he begin excusin' himself for not doin' better. Soshe thought he was modest and it went strong with her. And shebelieved everything he said and that made her solid withhim--that and her make-up. They was together every mornin' andevenin' for the five days we was there. In the afternoons Ikeplayed the grandest ball you ever see, hittin' and runnin' thebases like a fool and catchin' everything that stayed in thepark.I told Cap, I says: "You'd ought to keep the doll with us andhe'd make Cobb's figures look sick."But Dolly had to go back to St. Joe and we come home for a longserious.Well, for the next three weeks Ike had a letter to read every dayand he'd set in the clubhouse readin' it till mornin' practicewas half over. Cap didn't say nothin' to him, because he wasgoin' so good. But I and Carey wasted a lot of our time tryin' toget him to own up who the letters was from. Fine chanct!"What are you readin'?" Carey'd say. "A bill?""No," Ike'd say, "not exactly a bill. It's a letter from a fellaI used to go to school with.""High school or college?" I'd ask him."College," he'd say."What college?" I'd say.Then he'd stall a wile and then he'd say:"I didn't go to the college myself, but my friend went there.""How did it happen you didn't go?" Carey'd ask him."Well," he'd say, "they wasn't no colleges near where I lived.""Didn't you live in Kansas City?" I'd say to him.One time he'd say he did and another time he didn't. One time hesays he lived in Michigan."Where at? "says Carey."Near Detroit," he says."Well," I says, "Detroit's near Ann Arbor and that's where theygot the university.""Yes," says Ike, "they got it there now, but they didn't have itthere then.""I come pretty near goin' to Syracuse," I says, "only they wasn'tno railroads runnin' through there in them days.""Where'd this friend o' yours go to college?" says Carey."I forget now," says Ike."Was it Carlisle? "ast Carey."No," says Ike, "his folks wasn't very well off.""That's what barred me from Smith," I says."I was goin' to tackle Cornell's," says Carey, "but the doctortold me I'd have hay fever if I didn't stay up North.""Your friend writes long letters," I says."Yes," says Ike; "he's tellin' me about a ball player.""Where does he play?" ast Carey."Down in the Texas League--Fort Wayne," says Ike."It looks like a girl's writin'," Carey says."A girl wrote it," says Ike. "That's my friend's sister, writin'for him.""Didn't they teach writin' at this here college where he went?"says Carey."Sure," Ike says, "they taught writin', but he got his hand cutoff in a railroad wreck.""How long ago?" I says."Right after he got out o' college," says Ike."Well," I says, "I should think he'd of learned to write with hisleft hand by this time.""It's his left hand that was cut off," says Ike; "and he waslefthanded.""You get a letter every day," says Carey. "They're all the samewritin'. Is he tellin' you about a different ball player everytime he writes?""No," Ike says. "It's the same ball player. He just tells me whathe does every day.""From the size o' the letters, they don't play nothin' butdouble-headers down there," says Carey.We figured that Ike spent most of his evenin's answerin' theletters from his "friend's sister," so we kept tryin' to date himup for shows and parties to see how he'd duck out of 'em. He wasbugs over spaghetti, so we told him one day that they was goin'to be a big feed of it over to Joe's that night and he wasinvited."How long'll it last?" he says."Well," we says, "we're goin' right over there after the game andstay till they close up.""I can't go," he says, "unless they leave me come home at eightbells.""Nothin' doin'," says Carey. "Joe'd get sore.""I can't go then," says Ike."Why not?" I ast him."Well," he says, "my landlady locks up the house at eight and Ileft my key home.""You can come and stay with me," says Carey."No," he says, "I can't sleep in a strange bed.""How do you get along when we're on the road?" says I."I don't never sleep the first night anywheres," he says. "Afterthat I'm all right.""You'll have time to chase home and get your key right after thegame," I told him."The key ain't home," says Ike. "I lent it to one o' the otherfellas and he's went out o' town and took it with him.""Couldn't you borry another key off'n the landlady?" Carey asthim."No," he says, "that's the only one they is."Well, the day before we started East again, Ike come into theclubhouse all smiles."Your birthday?" I ast him."No," he says."What do you feel so good about?" I says."Got a letter from my old man," he says. "My uncle's goin' to getwell.""Is that the one in Nebraska?" says I"Not right in Nebraska," says Ike. "Near there."But afterwards we got the right dope from Cap. Dolly'd blew infrom Missouri and was goin' to make the trip with her sister.
VWell, I want to alibi Carey and I for what come off in Boston. Ifwe'd of had any idear what we was doin', we'd never did it. Theywasn't nobody outside o' maybe Ike and the dame that felt worseover it than I and Carey.The first two days we didn't see nothin' of Ike and her exceptout to the park. The rest o' the time they was sight-seein' overto Cambridge and down to Revere and out to Brook-a-line and allthe other places where the rubes go.But when we come into the beanery after the third game Cap's wifecalled us over."If you want to see somethin' pretty," she says, "look at thethird finger on Sis's left hand."Well, o' course we knowed before we looked that it wasn't goin'to be no hangnail. Nobody was su'prised when Dolly blew into thedinin' room with it--a rock that Ike'd bought off'n Diamond Joethe first trip to New York. Only o' course it'd been set into alady's-size ring instead o' the automobile tire he'd beenwearin'.Cap and his missus and Ike and Dolly ett supper together, onlyIke didn't eat nothin', but just set there blushin' and spillin'things on the table-cloth. I heard him excusin' himself for nothavin' no appetite. He says he couldn't never eat when he wasclost to the ocean. He'd forgot about them sixty-five oysters hedestroyed the first night o' the trip before.He was goin' to take her to a show, so after supper he wentupstairs to change his collar. She had to doll up, too, and o'course Ike was through long before her.If you remember the hotel in Boston, they's a little parlor.where the piano's at and then they's another little parloropenin' off o' that. Well, when Ike come down Smitty was playin'a few chords and I and Carey was harmonizin'. We seen Ike go upto the desk to leave his key and we called him in. He tried toduck away, but we wouldn't stand for it.We ast him what he was all duded up for and he says he was goin'to the theayter."Goin' alone?" says Carey."No," he says, "a friend o' mine's goin' with me.""What do you say if we go along?" says Carey."I ain't only got two tickets," he says."Well," says Carey, "we can go down there with you and buy ourown seats maybe we can all get together.""No," says Ike. "They ain't no more seats. They're all sold out.""We can buy some off'n the scalpers," says Carey."I wouldn't if I was you," says Ike. "They say the show'srotten.""What are you goin' for, then?" I ast."I didn't hear about it bein' rotten till I got the tickets," hesays."Well," I says, "if you don't want to go I'll buy the ticketsfrom you.""No," says Ike, "I wouldn't want to cheat you. I'm stung and I'lljust have to stand for it.""What are you goin' to do with the girl, leave her here at thehotel?" I says."What girl?" says Ike."The girl you ett supper with," I says."Oh," he says, "we just happened to go into the dinin' roomtogether, that's all. Cap wanted I should set down with 'em.""I noticed." says Carey, "that she happened to he wearin' thatrock you bought off'n Diamond Joe.""Yes." says Ike. "I lent it to her for a wile.""Did you lend her the new ring that goes with it?" I says."She had that already," says Ike. "She lost the set out of it.""I wouldn't trust no strange girl with a rock o' mine," saysCarey."Oh, I guess she's all right," Ike says. "Besides, I was tired o'the stone. When a girl asks you for somethin', what are you goin'to do?"He started out toward the desk, but we flagged him."Wait a minute!" Carey says. "I got a bet with Sam here, and it'sup to you to settle it.""Well," says Ike, "make it snappy. My friend'll be here anyminute.""I bet," says Carey, "that you and that girl was engaged to bemarried.""Nothin' to it," says Ike."Now look here," says Carey, "this is goin' to cost me real moneyif I lose. Cut out the alibi stuff and give it to us straight.Cap's wife just as good as told us you was roped."Ike blushed like a kid."Well, boys," he says, "I may as well own up. You win, Carey.""Yatta boy!" says Carey. "Congratulations!""You got a swell girl, Ike," I says."She's a peach," says Smitty."Well, I guess she's O. K.," says Ike. "I don't know much aboutgirls.""Didn't you never run round with 'em?" I says."Oh, yes, plenty of 'em," says Ike. "But I never seen none I'dfall for.""That is, till you seen this one," says Carey."Well," says Ike, "this one's O. K., but I wasn't thinkin' aboutgettin' married yet a wile.""Who done the askin'--her?" says Carey."Oh, no," says Ike, "but sometimes a man don't know what he'sgettin' into. Take a good-lookin' girl, and a man gen'ally almostalways does about what she wants him to.""They couldn't no girl lasso me unless I wanted to be lassoed,"says Smitty."Oh, I don't know," says Ike. "When a fella gets to feelin' sorryfor one of 'em it's all off."Well, we left him go after shakin' hands all round. But he didn'ttake Dolly to no show that night. Some time wile we was talkin'she'd came into that other parlor and she'd stood there and heardus. I don't know how much she heard. But it was enough. Dolly andCap's missus took the midnight train for New York. And from thereCap's wife sent her on her way back to Missouri.She'd left the ring and a note for Ike with the clerk. But wedidn't ask Ike if the note was from his friend in Fort Wayne,Texas.
VIWhen we'd came to Boston Ike was hittin' plain .397. When we gotback home he'd fell off to pretty near nothin'. He hadn't droveone out o' the infield in any o' them other Eastern parks, and hedidn't even give no excuse for it.To show you how bad he was, he struck out three times in Brooklynone day and never opened his trap when Cap ast him what was thematter. Before, if he'd whiffed oncet in a game he'd of wrote abook tellin' why.Well, we dropped from first place to fifth in four weeks and wewas still goin' down. I and Carey was about the only ones in theclub that spoke to each other, and all as we did was remindourself o' what a boner we'd pulled."It's goin' to beat us out o' the big money," says Carey."Yes," I says. "I don't want to knock my own ball club, but itlooks like a one-man team, and when that one man's dauber's downwe couldn't trim our whiskers.""We ought to knew better," says Carey."Yes," I says, "but why should a man pull an alibi for bein'engaged to such a bearcat as she was?""He shouldn't," says Carey. "But I and you knowed he would orwe'd never started talkin' to him about it. He wasn't no moreashamed o' the girl than I am of a regular base hit. But he justcan't come clean on no subjec'."Cap had the whole story, and I and Carey was as pop'lar with himas an umpire."What do you want me to do, Cap?" Carey'd say to him before goin'up to hit."Use your own judgment," Cap'd tell him. "We want to lose anothergame."But finally, one night in Pittsburgh, Cap had a letter from hismissus and he come to us with it."You fellas," he says, "is the ones that put us on the bum, andif you're sorry I think they's a chancet for you to make good.The old lady's out to St. Joe and she's been tryin' her hardestto fix things up. She's explained that Ike don't mean nothin'with his talk; I've wrote and explained that to Dolly, too. Butthe old lady says that Dolly says that she can't believe it. ButDolly's still stuck on this baby, and she's pinin' away just thesame as Ike. And the old lady says she thinks if you two fellaswould write to the girl and explain how you was always kiddin'with Ike and leadin' him on, and how the ball club was all shotto pieces since Ike quit hittin', and how he acted like he wasgoin' to kill himself, and this and that, she'd fall for it andmaybe soften down. Dolly, the old lady says, would believe youbefore she'd believe I and the old lady, because she thinks it'sher we're sorry for, and not him."Well, I and Carey was only too glad to try and see what we coulddo. But it wasn't no snap. We wrote about eight letters before wegot one that looked good. Then we give it to the stenographer andhad it wrote out on a typewriter and both of us signed it.It was Carey's idear that made the letter good. He stuck insomethin' about the world's serious money that our wives wasn'tgoin' to spend unless she took pity on a "boy who was so shy andmodest that he was afraid to come right out and say that he hadasked such a beautiful and handsome girl to become his bride."That's prob'ly what got her, or maybe she couldn't of held outmuch longer anyway. It was four days after we sent the letterthat Cap heard from his missus again. We was in Cincinnati."We've won," he says to us. "The old lady says that Dolly saysshe'll give him another chance. But the old lady says it won't dono good for Ike to write a letter. He'll have to go out there.""Send him to-night," says Carey."I'll pay half his fare," I says."I'll pay the other half," says Carey."No," says Cap, "the club'll pay his expenses. I'll send himscoutin'.""Are you goin' to send him to-night?""Sure," says Cap. "But I'm goin' to break the news to him rightnow. It's time we win a ball game."So in the clubhouse, just before the game, Cap told him. And Icertainly felt sorry for Rube Benton and Red Ames that afternoon!I and Carey was standin' in front o' the hotel that night whenIke come out with his suitcase."Sent home?" I says to him."No," he says, "I'm goin' scoutin'.""Where to? " I says. "Fort Wayne?""No, not exactly," he says."Well," says Carey, "have a good time.""I ain't lookin' for no good time," says Ike. "I says I was goin'scoutin'.""Well, then," says Carey, "I hope you see somebody you like.""And you better have a drink before you go," I says."Well," says Ike, "they claim it helps a cold."
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