the talk, looked, and, to his surprise, he beheld the
same individual who had tried to pick a quarrel with him the night of
the sleigh ride.

CHAPTER XIII

UNDER SUNNY SKIES

"That man!" exclaimed Mr. Watson, as he gave the stranger a quick
glance. "No, I don't know him, and he certainly isn't a member of my
team. He isn't going to be, either; as far as I know. I'm expecting some
other recruits, but no one named Wessel."

Joe said nothing. He was wondering if the man would recognize him, and,
perhaps, renew that strange, baseless quarrel. And, to his surprise, the
man did recognize him, but merely to bow. And then, to Joe's further
surprise, the individual strolled over to where the manager and some of
the players were standing, and began:

"Is this Mr. Watson?"

"That's my name--yes," but there was no cordiality in the tone.

"Well, I'm Isaac Wessel. I used to play short on the Rockpoint team in
the Independent League. My contract has expired and I was wondering
whether you couldn't sign me up."

"Nothing doing," replied Mr. Watson, tersely. "I have all the material I
need."

"I spoke to Mr. Johnson about it," naming one of the owners of the St.
Louis team, "and he said to see you."

"Did he tell you to tell me to put you on?"

"No, I wouldn't go so far as to say that," was the hesitating reply.

"And did he say I was to give you a try-out?"

"Well, he--er--said you could if you wanted to."

"Well, I _don't_ want to," declared the manager with decision. "And I
want to say that you went too far when you told the clerk here you
belonged to my party. I don't know you, and I don't want anything to do
with a man who acts that way," and Mr. Watson turned aside.

"Well, I didn't mean any harm," whined Wessel. "The--er--I--er--the
clerk must have misunderstood me."

"All right. Let it go at that," was all the answer he received.

"Then you won't give me a chance?"

"No."

The man evidently realized that this was the end, for he, too, turned
aside. As he did so he looked sneeringly at Joe, and mumbled:

"I suppose you think you're the whole pitching staff now?"

Joe did not take the trouble to answer. But, though he ignored the man,
he could not help wondering what his plan was in coming to the training
camp. Could there be a hidden object in it, partly covered by the
fellow's plea that he wanted to get on the team?

"Do you often have cases like that, Mr. Watson?" Joe asked the manager
whe