of three thousand dollars a year.

In consideration of this he had to agree to certain conditions, among
them being that he would not play with any other team without permission
from the organized baseball authorities, and, as long as he was in the
game, and accepted the salary, he would be subject to the call of any
other team in the league, the owners of which might wish to "purchase"
him; that is, if they paid the St. Louis team sufficient money.

"I wonder what they'll consider me worth, say at the end of the first
season?" said Joe to Clara.

"What a way to talk!" she exclaimed. "As if you were a horse, or a
slave."

"It does sound a bit that way," he admitted, "and some of the star
players bring a lot more than valuable horses. Why, some of the players
on the New York Giants cost the owners ten and fifteen thousand dollars,
and the Pittsburgh Nationals paid $22,500 for one star fellow as a
pitcher. I hope I get to be worth that to some club," laughed Joe, "but
there isn't any danger--not right off the bat," he added with a smile.

"Well, that's a part of baseball I'm not interested in," said Clara. "I
like to see the game, but I watch it for the fun in it, not for the
money."

"And yet there has to be money to make it a success," declared Joe.
"Grounds, grandstands and trips cost cash, and the owners realize on the
abilities of the players. In return they pay them good salaries. Many a
player couldn't make half as much in any other business. I'm glad I'm in
it."

Joe signed and returned the contract, and from then on he was the
"property" of the St. Louis team, and subject to the orders of the
owners and manager.

A few days later Joe received his first instructions--to go to St.
Louis, report to the manager, and then go South to the training camp,
with the team. There his real baseball work, as a member of a big
league, would start.

Joe packed his grip, stowing away his favorite bat and his new pitcher's
glove, said good-bye to his family and friends in Riverside, and took a
train that eventually would land him in St. Louis, at the Union Depot.

The journey was without incident of moment, and in due time Joe reached
the hotel where he had been told the players were quartered.

"Is Mr. Watson here?" he asked the clerk, inquiring for the manager.

"I think you'll find him in the billiard room," replied the clerk,
sizing up Joe with a critical glance. "Here, boy, show this gentleman to
Mr. Watson,"