and then declined.

"My Gawd!" exclaimed Delaney, as he fell back. "Wasn't that a finish?
Didn't I tell you to watch them redheads!"

THE RUBE

It was the most critical time I had yet experienced in my career as a
baseball manager. And there was more than the usual reason why I must
pull the team out. A chance for a business deal depended upon the
good-will of the stockholders of the Worcester club. On the outskirts
of the town was a little cottage that I wanted to buy, and this
depended upon the business deal. My whole future happiness depended
upon the little girl I hoped to install in that cottage.

Coming to the Worcester Eastern League team, I had found a strong
aggregation and an enthusiastic following. I really had a team with
pennant possibilities. Providence was a strong rival, but I beat them
three straight in the opening series, set a fast pace, and likewise set
Worcester baseball mad. The Eastern League clubs were pretty evenly
matched; still I continued to hold the lead until misfortune overtook
me.

Gregg smashed an umpire and had to be laid off. Mullaney got spiked
while sliding and was out of the game. Ashwell sprained his ankle and
Hirsch broke a finger. Radbourne, my great pitcher, hurt his arm on a
cold day and he could not get up his old speed. Stringer, who had
batted three hundred and seventy-one and led the league the year
before, struck a bad spell and could not hit a barn door handed up to
him.

Then came the slump. The team suddenly let down; went to pieces;
played ball that would have disgraced an amateur nine. It was a trying
time. Here was a great team, strong everywhere. A little hard luck had
dug up a slump--and now! Day by day the team dropped in the race. When
we reached the second division the newspapers flayed us. Worcester
would never stand for a second division team. Baseball admirers,
reporters, fans--especially the fans--are fickle. The admirers quit,
the reporters grilled us, and the fans, though they stuck to the games
with that barnacle-like tenacity peculiar to them, made life miserable
for all of us. I saw the pennant slowly fading, and the successful
season, and the business deal, and the cottage, and Milly----

But when I thought of her I just could not see failure. Something must
be done, but what? I was at the end of my wits. When Jersey City beat
us that Saturday, eleven to two, shoving us down to fifth place with
only a few percentage