off, never touching my legs. It was small
consolation to me that my stems were still whole and that the umpire had
called Clarke out and that the game was yet saved. My love for my art is
keen, but it stops at a certain point, and that point is where I have to
send a hurry call for a barrel and the team's tailor. The players made a
sort of group around me while I did my Lady Godiva act from the plate to
the bench.

Murray has the ideal slide for a base gatherer, but one which commands the
respect of all the guardians of the sacks in the National League. When
about eight feet from the bag, he jumps into the air, giving the fielder a
vision of two sets of nicely honed spikes aimed for the base. As Murray
hits the bag, he comes up on his feet and is in a position to start for
the next station in case of any fumble or slip. He is a great man to use
this slide to advantage against young players, who are inclined to be
timid when they see those spikes. It's all part of the game as it is
played in the large leagues.

The Boston team was trying out a young player two years ago. Murray
remarked to McGraw before the game:

"The first time I get on, I bet I can make that fellow fumble and pick up
an extra base."

"Theatre tickets for the crowd on Saturday night?" inquired McGraw.

"You've said it," answered Murray.

Along about the second or third inning John walked, and started for second
on the first ball pitched. The busher came in to cover the base, and
Murray leaped clear of the ground and yelled:

"Look out!"

The newcomer evidently thought that Murray had lost control of his legs,
got one look at those spikes, and bent all his energies toward dodging
them, paying no attention whatever to the ball, which continued its
unmolested journey to centre field. The new man proved to be one of the
best little dodgers I ever saw. John was in a perfect position to start
and went along to third at his leisure.

"Didn't I call the turn?" Murray yelled at McGraw as he came to the bench.

"What show do you want to see?" asked McGraw.

But on an old campaigner this show of spikes has no effect whatever. The
capable basemen in the League know how to cover the bag so as to get the
runner out and still give him room to come in without hurting any one. In
spite of an impression that prevails to the contrary, ball-players never
spike a man on purpose. At present, I don't believe there is a runner in
the National League who would cut