ing that he was an intruder.
The truth was that the Bears had welcomed him from the start. He had
won their admiration on the field and the undying friendship of Silent
Swanson by his conduct in the club house on the afternoon after the
close of his first game. It was that incident that made for him a chum
and an enemy, who were destined to play a big part in his career.

When the players raced off the field after that victory, striving to
escape being engulfed in the torrent of humanity that poured from the
stands, McCarthy was caught, with a few others, and delayed. When he
reached the club house the substitutes and the reserve pitchers already
were splashing and spluttering under the showers. McCarthy walked to
where Adonis Williams, already stripped to the waist, was preparing to
take his shower, and without a word he kicked the pitcher on the shins,
a mere rap, but administered so as to leave no doubt as to its purpose.

"Here----. What did you do that for?" demanded Williams.

"I told you in the hotel, when you insulted me, that I'd do it. Will
you fight?"

McCarthy's blue eyes had grown narrower, and a colder blue tint came
into them.

"I'll break you in pieces, you ---- ---- ---- you," Williams spluttered
with rage.

"Drop that talk and fight," challenged McCarthy, stepping into a
fighting attitude.

Just then McCarthy received help from an unexpected source. Swanson,
the giant of the team, broke through the circle of players that had
formed in expectation of seeing a fight.

"You're all right, Bo," he roared, throwing his huge arm around the
shoulders of the recruit. "You're perfectly all right, but he won't
fight you."

"I'll smash"----

"Naw, you won't, Adonis," said the giant, contemptuously. "I think he
can lick you, anyhow, but you had it coming. Now kick his other shin,
and after that Adonis will apologize."

The suggestion raised a laugh, and eased the situation. The battle
light in McCarthy's face changed to a smile.

"I'll forego the kick," he said. "I had to make good after what I told
you in the hotel. I'm perfectly willing to let it drop and be friends."

He extended his hand frankly, but Williams, still scowling, did not
take it.

"Never mind the being friends part of it," he said. "But if you don't
want trouble, just lay away from me after this."

"Here, young fellow," said Clancy, who had arrived at the club house in
time to see the finish of the altercation; "I'