Elk. "When you get through with him! What do you know about pitching, I'd like to know? You're a swell teacher, you are! You never caught behind the plate until two or three weeks ago."
"What of it? That doesn't prevent me from knowing a natural-born pitcher when I see him. And if—"
"Natural-born pitcher! Kewpie Proudtree? Don't make me laugh! I'll bet he can't pitch a straight ball!"
"Can't, eh? Listen, Elk. Kewpie's a better pitcher right now than you are a catcher. If he wasn't I wouldn't bother with him."
"Oh, piffle! He can't pitch and you can't teach him, kid. And as for catching, if I dropped every ball that comes over I wouldn't be shooting my mouth off, you fresh guy!"
"I get my glove on 'em, and that's more than you do, Elk, old son. And if you think I don't know what I'm talking about when I say that Kewpie's got the making of a pitcher, why, you just keep your eyes open."
"Sure! You're going to have him on the squad next week, I suppose!"
