were
won or lost.

Willie suffered considerable pain, mostly at night, and this had given
him a habit of lying awake in the dark hours, grieving over that
crooked leg that forever shut him out of the heritage of youth. He had
kept his secret well; he was accounted shy because he was quiet and had
never been able to mingle with the boys in their activity. No one
except his mother dreamed of the fire and hunger and pain within his
breast. His school-mates called him "Daddy." It was a name given for
his bent shoulders, his labored gait and his thoughtful face, too old
for his years. And no one, not even his mother, guessed how that name
hurt Willie.

It was a source of growing unhappiness with Willie that the Madden's
Hill boys were always beaten by the other teams of the town. He really
came to lose his sadness over his own misfortune in pondering on the
wretched play of the Madden's Hill baseball club. He had all a boy's
pride in the locality where he lived. And when the Bogg's Farm team
administered a crushing defeat to Madden's Hill, Willie grew desperate.

Monday he met Lane Griffith, the captain of the Madden's Hill nine.

"Hello, Daddy," said Lane. He was a big, aggressive boy, and in a way
had a fondness for Willie.

"Lane, you got an orful trimmin' up on the Boggs. What 'd you wanter
let them country jakes beat you for?"

"Aw, Daddy, they was lucky. Umpire had hay-seed in his eyes! Robbed
us! He couldn't see straight. We'll trim them down here Saturday."

"No, you won't--not without team work. Lane, you've got to have a
manager."

"Durn it! Where 're we goin' to get one?" Lane blurted out.

"You can sign me. I can't play, but I know the game. Let me coach the
boys."

The idea seemed to strike Capt. Griffith favorably. He prevailed upon
all the boys living on Madden's Hill to come out for practice after
school. Then he presented them to the managing coach. The boys were
inclined to poke fun at Daddy Howarth and ridicule him; but the idea
was a novel one and they were in such a state of subjection from many
beatings that they welcomed any change. Willie sat on a bench
improvised from a soap box and put them through a drill of batting and
fielding. The next day in his coaching he included bunting and
sliding. He played his men in different positions and for three more
days he drove them unmercifully.

When Saturday came, the day for the game with Bogg's Farm, a wild
protest went