warded with passes. The bases were full without a hit having
been made, and the crowds in the stand were roaring like mad.

Brennan from the coaching lines at first waved to Fraser and the latter,
drawing off his glove, walked disgustedly to the bench.

"What's the matter with you to-day?" queried McRae. "You seemed to think
the plate was up in the grandstand."

"Couldn't get the hang of it, somehow," Fraser excused himself. "Just my
off day, I guess."

Hamilton succeeded him in the box, and from the way he started out it
seemed as though he were going to redeem the poor work of his predecessor.
He struck out the first man on three pitched balls, made the second send
up a towering foul that Mylert caught after a long run, and the major
leaguers began to breathe more freely.

"Guess he'll pull out of the hole all right," remarked Robbie.

But for the next batter, Hamilton, grown perhaps a trifle too confident,
put one over in the groove, and the batter banged out a tremendous
three-bagger to right field. Curry made a gallant try for it but could not
quite reach.

Three runs came over the plate, while the panting batsman slid to third.
The crowd in the stands went wild then, and Thorpe, the manager of the
local team, grinned in a mocking way at Brennan.

"Is this interesting enough?" he drawled, referring to Brennan's
patronizing offer to lend him a player.

"Just a bit of luck," growled Brennan. "A few inches more and Curry would
have got his hooks on the ball. Beside, the game's young yet. We've got
the class and that's bound to tell."

Hamilton, whose blood was up, put on more steam, and the third player went
out on an infield fly. But the damage had been done, and those three runs
at the very start loomed up as a serious handicap.

"Three big juicy ones," mourned McRae.

"And all of them on passes," groaned Robbie. "Too bad we didn't put
Hamilton in right at the start."

Neither team scored in the second inning, and the third also passed
without result.

Hamilton was mowing down the opposing batters with ease and grace. But the
swarthy flinger for the local club was not a bit behind him. The heavy
sluggers of the visiting teams seemed as helpless before him as so many
school-boys.

"That fellow won't be in the minors long," commented Brennan. "I wonder
some of my scouts haven't gone after him before this. Who is he, anyway?"

"I'll tell you who he is," broke in Robbie, suddenly. "I knew I'd seen him