best
players, Pete. Ty Cobb never had any lessons in baseball but he's a
pretty good player. And there are lots of others."

"I don't think it's fair, anyhow, Jack. The Raccoons oughtn't to have
picked him out. He's a long way off from the top of their list, and I
don't believe he'll get in this year."

"That's the rule we made, Pete. Each Patrol needed an extra player,
and they were allowed to pick anyone at all they liked from their
waiting lists. So it's perfectly fair, and we haven't any kick coming."

Jack was willing to rest for quite a while after that, but presently he
began to feel more energetic.

"Come on, Pete," he said, "I'll pitch a few balls to you somewhere, if
we can get a bat and a ball, and perhaps that'll help you in your
batting tomorrow."

So they left the park, and went back toward their homes. At Jack's
room they got a bat and ball, and then wondered where they should go
for their practice.

"I know!" cried Pete. "Down by the river there. There's nothing doing
there on Sundays--it's quiet as can be. And maybe we'll find some
little kid around to chase balls for us."

"Any place you like, Pete; it's all the same to me. I'll be glad to
limber my arm up a little, too. It feels a tiny bit stiff, and a good
work-out will be fine for it."

Because it was Sunday they tried to keep their bat out of sight.

"I don't think it's wrong for us to practice this way," said Jack. "We
have to work all week, and I think we need exercise. If we can't get
it except on Sunday afternoons, it's all right to practice a little,
though I wouldn't play in a regular game, because I do get a chance for
playing on Saturdays now. They don't give you Saturday afternoon off
in every office, though, I can tell you."

First of all Pete, highly elated at the chance to further his secret
ambition of developing into a catcher, put on a big mitt and Jack
pitched all sorts of curves to him. Then he took his bat and tried to
straighten out the elusive, deceptive balls that Jack pitched.

"Gee, I can hardly see the ball, much less hit it!" exclaimed Pete,
after whiffing ingloriously at the air two or three times and barely
tapping the sphere on several other occasions.

"Keep on trying, Pete. Those aren't really bard to hit. The trouble
is you don't watch the ball."

"It never goes where I think it will, Jack."

"That's the whole idea of pitching, Pete. Keep your eyes on the ball
after I pitch it, not