erstood first and last that
such a catastrophe would never happen.

All eyes were upon the new pitcher who was yet to prove his worth. Most
of those gathered to see the game only knew of Alec Donohue as a
youngster who had been playing on the sand-lots, as that section near
the factories was usually called, for there the toilers in the iron
foundry and the mills were in the habit of playing scrub games.

Jack had come across Donohue by accident, and apparently must have been
struck with the amazing speed and control that the boy showed in his
delivery. He had taken Alec under his wing from that day on, and coached
him, with the assistance of old Joe Hooker, until he felt confident he
had picked up a real wonder.

Various comments were flying around, most of them connected with the
newest member of the Chester team.

"One thing I like about that Donohue," a rangy scout of the high school
was saying to a companion wearing glasses, and looking a bit effeminate,
though evidently quite fond of sport; "he acts as though he might be as
cool as a cucumber. Those Harmony fellows in the crowd will do their
level best to faze him, if ever he gets in a tight corner, and lots of
things are liable to happen through a hard-fought game."

"Oh! I asked Jack about that," observed the one with spectacles, "and he
assured me the fellow seemed absolutely devoid of nerves. Nothing under
the sun can bother him. He banks on Jack, and knows the captain has
confidence in his work; so you'll see how all the jeering and whooping
and stamping on the boards of the grand-stand will fail to upset him.
Jack says he's an _iceberg_."

"Glad to hear it, Specs. That kind of pitcher always has a big lead over
the fellow who gets excited as soon as the enemy begins to lambast his
favorite curves. The cool sort just changes his gait, and lobs them over
between, so that he has the hard batters wasting their energy on the air
long before the ball gets across the rubber."

"Listen to all that whooping, Ernest; what's happening, do you think?"

"Well, by the way they're standing up on the seats, and waving hats and
handkerchiefs, I rather guess the Harmony players are coming along."

His guess proved to be a true one, for a minute afterwards a big
motor-stage entered the enclosure, and from it jumped a dozen or more
athletic chaps clad in the spic-and-span white suits with blue stockings
that distinguished the Harmony baseball team.

Paying little or n