or she
hesitated just as Williams laughed in an ugly manner and said:

"If you don't know him you'd better peddle yourself somewhere else. He
won't be in a mood to talk to hoboes to-night."

Before the slender youth could speak, the girl stepped forward and said
quietly:

"Pardon me, but I overheard you inquiring for Manager Clancy. He is in
the writing room."

Her brown eyes flashed with anger, her lips were set tight and her
sun-browned cheeks flushed as she passed quickly on toward the
elevator, not waiting to respond to the thanks of the slender youth,
who had removed his hat quickly to utter his gratitude. Then, turning
toward Williams, who stood flushed and angry, his blue eyes narrowed
and he said:

"Just for that, I'll kick you on the shins in the club house and dare
you to fight."

"What? You will, huh?" spluttered the astounded pitcher.

He would have said more, but before he could recover, the newcomer,
smiling oddly, turned and walked toward the writing room and held out
his hand to the famous Clancy, for six years leader of the Bears.

The slender youth stood with extended hand while Manager Clancy gazed
up from his writing.

"Mr. Clancy?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes. Sit down," responded Clancy, his intention of rebuffing the
intruder changing as he saw the smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I read in the evening papers," replied the youth, still smiling
easily, "that Carson broke a leg, and that, to win the pennant, you
must find an outfielder who can hit."

"Perhaps you also read that I'd like to find a diamond about the size
of my head," responded Clancy, sarcastically.

"The paper also said that you might switch Pardridge from third base to
the outfield if you could find a hard-hitting infielder."

"Possibly the paper also said that if I found the diamond I'd move my
gold mine to make room for it." Clancy restrained himself from further
comment, feeling uncertain because of the quiet confidence of his
visitor.

There was a pause, the veteran manager studying his caller and the
slender youth sat smiling as if expecting Clancy to resume the
conversation.

"Well?" said Clancy, glancing at his half-finished letter as if to hint
that his time was entirely too valuable to be wasted discussing
academic impossibilities with entire strangers.

"Well," replied the visitor, smiling, "I'm it."

"You're what?" asked the astonished manager.

"The third baseman who can hit."

"When shal