me of his tools had to
do with my sore arm. But I can't prove it."

"That's the trouble," admitted Rad. "Well, come on, I want to see that
model of the big whale. They say it's quite a sight."

The rain prevented games for three days, and the players were getting a
bit "stale" with nothing to do. Then the sun came out, the grounds dried
up and the series was resumed. But the Cardinals were not very lucky.

Philadelphia was the next stopping place, and there, once again, the
Cardinals proved themselves the masters of the Quakers. They took three
games straight, and sweetened up their average wonderfully, being only a
game and a half behind the fourth club.

"If we can only keep up the pace!" said the manager, wistfully. "Joe,
are you going to help us do it?"

"I sure am!" exclaimed the young pitcher.

There was one more game to play with the Phillies. The evening before it
was scheduled, which would close their stay in the Quaker City, Joe left
the hotel, and strolled down toward the Delaware River. He intended to
take the ferry over to Camden, in New Jersey, for a friend of his mother
lived there, and he had promised to call on her.

Joe did not notice that, as he left the hotel, he was closely followed
by a man who walked and acted like Wessel. But the man wore a heavy
beard, and Wessel, the young pitcher remembered was usually
smooth-shaven.

But Joe did not notice. If he had perhaps he would have seen that the
beard was false, though unusually well adjusted.

Joe turned his steps toward the river front. It was a dark night, for
the sky was cloudy and it looked like rain.

Joe just missed one ferryboat, and, as there would be some little time
before the other left, he strolled along the water front, looking at
what few sights there were. Before he realized it, he had gone farther
than he intended. He found himself in a rather lonely neighborhood, and,
as he turned back a bearded man, who had been walking behind the young
pitcher for some time, stepped close to him.

"I beg your pardon," the man began, speaking as though he had a heavy
cold, "but could you direct me to the Reading Terminal?"

"Yes," said Joe, who had a good sense of direction, and had gotten the
"lay of the land" pretty well fixed in his mind. "Let's see now--how I
can best direct you?"

He thought for a moment. By going a little farther away from the ferry
he could put the stranger on a thoroughfare that would be more direct
than trave