, the pitcher, to try to reach
the ball in time to throw to third to catch McCarthy there instead of
throwing to first to retire Norton.

Cooke pitched fast and straight over the plate, intending to make
Norton push the ball back to him, or into the air for a fly out.
Norton, however, struck viciously, but without making an effort to hit
the ball, swinging his bat in order to handicap the catcher in his
effort to catch the ball and make a throw. McCarthy had started at
full speed the instant Cooke had commenced to wind up to pitch the
ball, and was in full flight toward third base. Before Nixon's throw,
delayed and hampered by Norton's tactics in striking, reached third,
McCarthy slid behind the base, his feet outstretched to hook the bag as
he threw his body outward to prevent Randall, the third baseman, from
exercising his deadly skill in blocking runners away from the base.

A moment later Norton drove a long fly to the outfield, and McCarthy,
waiting until it was caught, sprinted across the plate with what proved
to be the winning run.

"Crossed--and by a busher," lamented Kincaid, of the Panthers, as the
teams started off the field after the finish of the game, walking
slowly because of the press of humanity overflowing from the stands.

"What do you think of that kid, Slats?" inquired Manager Clancy, as
they walked together toward the club house.

"He's a ball player, if he don't swell," responded Hartman,
laconically. "He pulled that steal of third wise. He figured we
wouldn't expect a busher to try to steal at that stage--and we didn't.
He's a wise head for a kid."

"Looks good to me," replied Clancy. "He slipped Norton a signal not to
hit, but to let him steal--and I almost fell off the bench when I saw
it. I expected him to toss the game away."

"Where'd you get him?" demanded Hartman.

"He wished himself onto me," grinned Clancy. "He told me he could play
ball and I believed him."

A swarm of reporters descended upon the headquarters of the visiting
team, striving to discover something of the history of the slender,
red-haired youngster whose coming had revived the waning pennant hopes
of the Bears. McCarthy was not to be found. He had slipped away after
dinner without telling anyone his plans. The reporters descended upon
Manager Clancy, demanding information concerning his find.

"It's a secret, boys," responded Clancy to their insistent questions.
"He is nom de plume and habeas corpus