th his hand, evidently
wishing him to meet the Belleville boy.

But the two had run across one another on several previous occasions,
it happened. Hugh shook hands with O. K. cordially, as did also Thad.
The latter was already ashamed of having entertained such thoughts in
connection with this friendly visit of the owner of the motorcycle,
whom he had always known to be a fine chap.

"Our fellows are practicing this afternoon, just as your crowd is,
Captain Morgan," O. K. was saying. "I would have been with them, only
yesterday I happened to hurt a finger a bit, for you see I'm the
catcher of our nine, and it was thought best for me to lay off a few
days so as to let it mend."

"And you dropped over to see if we were making any headway, I suppose?"
remarked Hugh, while Mr. Leonard went off to resume his duties, anxious
to see every play that came along; for he would not have much time to
decide on the line-up of the team, which must afterwards get all the
practice possible, in order to do Scranton High justice.

O. K. laughed good-naturedly.

"I hope, now, you won't suspect me of being a spy, and trying to pick
up pointers which might serve us later on in a hotly contested game,"
he went on to say. "Fact is, I'm so much of a baseball crank that I
live and move and have my being in the great game. I came over hoping
to find you'd made a bully good start, because we Belleville boys want
your strongest team to face us a week from next Saturday. We expect to
win the game, that goes without saying, but none of us will be
satisfied to have a regular walkover of it."

"Make your mind easy on that score, O. K.," snapped Thad, aggressively.
"We expect to have a lot of hard-hitting and splendid fielding boys on
the diamond, who will be out for blood. If you get the better of
Scranton High, you'll deserve all the praise you receive; and we'll be
the first to give you a cheer."

"Well, I'm beginning to believe a little that way myself," admitted O.
K. in his frank way, as Nick Lang knocked out a screamer that went far
over the head of the center fielder. "That chap is a born batter. I
reckon, now, he must be your best card in the pack."

"Oh! we've got a few others who can meet the ball," advised Thad,
proudly. "Watch that throwin', will you? Mighty few fellows could
send the ball all the way from deep center to the home plate, as
straight as a die. That kid's name is Sandy Dowd. You may not be so
glad to see