Argosy All-Story Weekly, October 7, 1922 — page 77: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BARBER SHOP CHORDS. and the excited crowd’s roar of approval or disapproval, subdued strains could be heard from time to time on the bench, where Pudney, Taynor, Scott, and McNulty sat with their heads close together, intent only on the parts they were humming. It was as if they dwelt in a world by themselves, cloistered from the tumult of the diamond by the walls—to Bill Joslin, it was the wails —of their musical structures. “Ts that the thing to do at a time like this,”’ complained Bill to me, “‘ when we’re engaged in a serious championship battler They ought to keep thinking of the game and go to bat with only one thought in their minds—to knock the ball over the fence.” For a moment silence hovered over the diamond, during which the quartet’s voices could be heard in low rehearsal, singing a sentimentally imperative plea to bring the wagon home, John. Bill jumped to his feet excitedly. “No,” he objected, facing them with flushed face. ‘‘ Bring the bacon home. That’s what I want.” His protestations did not halt the har- mony, though we won the game, by the close margin of five to four. The next day we lost, chiefly because Taynor, who was on third base with two out, got so interested talking to the Stars’ third baseman about the intricate swipes in a piece entitled “ Roll the Bones,” that he forgot to start for home when the ball was hit. The result was that he was caught at the plate with a run that would have tied the game and perhaps saved us from defeat. . That evening, in the hotel lobby, Bill Joslin wandered about, bemoaning and blas- phemous. The loss of the game forced him to do a lot of unpleasant explaining to Alfred J. Hobson, the principal director of the club. Besides his financial backing of the Blue Sox, Hobson possessed other in- terests which made him one of the city’s leading citizens. He was a banker. He was always doing things for the city’s good. He helped to endow the library, gave an organ to the Presbyterian Church, estab- lished playgrounds for children, and bought a newspaper in which to have all these events accurately chronicled. 223 Now he was resolved to bring the league pennanég to the city, and the forceful: ex- pression that sat upon his thin, taut face as he confronted Bill Joslin filled the manager with fear and trembling. Hobson held the purse strings. If he pulled them tight, like his face, Bill would have to do the same with his belt—and forget hunger and a next season’s job. -“# ortunately the Pirates were beaten to- div too,” said Hobson. “ So we still lead them by two games. Now, to win the pen- nant, all we have to do is to take one out of the three games we begin with the Pirates to-morrow.” ‘Yes, sir,” nodded Bill deferentially, as if this information were new to him. “‘ And the best way ‘to accomplish this is to capture the first game and make cer- tain of it at the beginning. That fellow, Taynor, if he had started for home a second or two faster to-day, when Scott hit the ball, would have scored. We might not have lost.” ‘““T know.” Bill fingered his chin, ner- vously. ‘I hope he won’t do it again.” Bill was doomed to further disappoint- ment. We lost the first game with the Pirates before a crowd that filled the park to its capacity. On the way back to the hotel in the bus the quartet, instead of holdin& a studious post-mortem over ‘the day’s defeat, occupied itself with ‘“‘ Lindy, Lindy, Sweet as the Sugar Cane.” ‘“* How’d that go, Taynor?” asked Pudney at the conclusion of the song. “‘ That was the porcupine’s powder puff.” “* Did we do it as well as ‘ Strolling Home with Jennie ’?” . ‘“‘Oh, much better, boys. Though that other was the fish’s socks. Now, let’s try ‘ Nora Malone ’—that’s the caterpillar’s col- lar button.” Bill Joslin could only groan. “T’ve always wanted harmony on my teams, but I never thought I’d get too much of it. " The second game with the Pirates, ‘50, was lost, though in the fifth inning we had three men on bases and only one out. Shap- ley was at bat, and the crowd waited, breathless, hoping he would drive out a hit. Meanwhile the “ harmony hounds,” as they COMmiclboo SS C©