ak about the queer actions of
Wessel.

"But I think, on the whole," concluded Joe, "that I won't say anything;
at least not yet a while. The boss has troubles enough as it is."

"I guess you're right," agreed Rad.

"But what about him being in our room that night?" asked Joe. "I wonder
if I hadn't better speak of that?"

"Oh, I don't know as I would," replied his chum. "In the first place, we
can't be absolutely sure that it was he, though I guess you're pretty
certain. Then, again, we didn't miss anything, and he could easily claim
it was all a mistake--that he went in by accident--and we'd be laughed
at for making such a charge."

"Probably," agreed Joe. "As you say, I can't be dead sure, though I'm
morally certain."

"One of the porters might have opened our door by mistake," went on Rad.
"You know the hotel workers have pass-keys. Better let it drop." And
they did. Joe, however, often wondered, in case Wessel had entered his
room, what his object could have been. But it was not until some time
later that he learned.

Shalleg and his crony were not seen around the hotel again, nor, for
that matter, at the ball grounds, either--at least during the next week.

Practice went on as usual, only it grew harder and more exacting. Joe
was made to pitch longer and longer each day, and, though he did not get
a chance to play in many games, and then only unimportant ones, still he
was not discouraged.

There were many shifts among the out and infield staff, the manager
trying different players in order to get the best results. The pitching
staff remained unchanged, however. Some more recruits were received,
some of them remaining after a gruelling try-out, and others "falling by
the wayside."

In addition to pitching balls for Boswell to catch, and doing some stick
work, Joe was required to practice with the other catchers of the team.

"I want you to get used to all of them, Matson," said the manager.
"There's no telling, in this business, when I may have to call on my
youngsters. I want you to be always ready."

"I'll try," promised Joe, with a smile.

"You're coming on," observed Boswell, after a day of hard pitching,
which had made Joe's arm ache. "You're coming on, youngster. I guess
you're beginning to feel that working in a big league is different than
in a minor; eh?"

"It sure is!" admitted Joe, rubbing his aching muscles.

"Well, you're getting more speed and better control," went on the
veteran. "