who did it, he'll wish he
hadn't," and he glared vindictively at Joe.

"I guess his own actions have given him the bad name," remarked Batonby,
as the dismissed player turned aside and walked off to join the throng
that had surged away from the little group.

"That's about it," agreed Joe, as Rad came up and joined them. "Good
work, old man!" said our hero, for Rad had done well.

"I came mighty near making an error, though, toward the last," Rad
responded. "Guess I'm not used to such strenuous life as playing nine
innings in a big game. My heart was in my throat when I saw that fly
ball coming toward me."

"But you froze on to it," said Batonby.

"Hello, what's up?" asked Rad quickly, for Joe's face still showed the
emotion he felt at the encounter with Shalleg. "Had a row?" asked Rad.

"Rather," admitted the young pitcher. "Shalleg was on deck again."

"Say, that fellow, and his side partner, Wessel, ought to be put away
during the ball season!" burst out Rad. "They're regular pests!"

Joe heartily agreed with him, as he related the circumstances of the
last affair. Then the friends passed on to the clubhouse, where the game
was played over again, as usual, a "post-mortem" being held on it. Only,
in this case the Cardinals, being winners, had no excuses to make for
poor playing. They were jubilant over the auspicious manner in which the
season had opened.

"Boys. I'm proud of you!" exclaimed Manager Watson as he strolled
through. "Do this often enough, and we'll have that pennant sure."

"Yes, a fat chance we have!" muttered Willard, sulkily.

"That's no way for a member of the team to talk!" snapped "Muggins."

Willard did not reply. It was clear that he was disgruntled because he
had not had a chance to pitch.

Then the splashing of the shower baths drowned other talk, and presently
the players, fresh and shining from their ablutions, strolled out of the
clubhouse.

"Got anything on to-night?" asked Rad of Joe, as they reached the hotel.

"Nothing special--why?"

"Let's go down to the Delaware Garden, and hear the Hungarian orchestra.
There's good eating there, too."

"I'm with you. Got to write a letter, though."

"Tell her how the game went, I s'pose?" laughed Rad.

"Something like that," agreed Joe, smiling.

He bought an evening paper, which made a specialty of sporting news. It
contained an account of the opening game, with a skeletonized outline
of the plays, inning by inning. The Card