I should do no
such thing, and he started me back home in a hurry. When he got there he
gave me a lecture, told me that such a proceeding on my part was not
honest and would ruin my reputation. In fact, he made me thoroughly
ashamed of myself. The team from Clinton had to get along without my
services, but I shall never forget what a time I had in getting the dye
out of my hair and the stain from my skin.

That fifty dollars that I didn't get bothered me, too, for a long time
afterwards. I am glad now, however, that the old gentleman prevented me
getting it. Dishonesty does not pay in base-ball any better than it does
in any other business, and that I learned the lesson early in life is a
part of my good fortune.

CHAPTER VI. MY EXPERIENCE AT ROCKFORD.

I can remember almost as well as if it were but yesterday my first
experience as a ball player at Rockford. It was early in the spring, and
so cold that a winter overcoat was comfortable. I had been there but a
day or two when I received orders from the management to report one
afternoon at the ball grounds for practice. It was a day better fitted
for telling stories around a blazing fire than for playing ball, but
orders were orders, and I obeyed them. I soon found that it was to test
my qualities as a batsman that I had been ordered to report. A bleak
March wind blew across the enclosure, and as I doffed my coat and took
my stand at the plate I shivered as though suffering from the ague. This
was partially from the effects of the cold and partially from the
effects of what actors call stage fright, and I do not mind saying right
now that the latter had more than the former to do with it. You must
remember that I was "a stranger in a strange land," a "kid" both as to
years and experience, with a knowledge that my future very largely
depended upon the showing that I might make.

Facing me was "Cherokee Fisher," one of the swiftest of the old-time
underhand pitchers, a man that I had heard a great deal about, but whom
I had never before seen, while watching my every move from the stand
were the directors of the team, conspicuous among them being Hiram
Waldo, whose judgment in base-ball matters was at that time second to no
man's in the West, and a man that I have always been proud to call my
friend.

I can remember now that I had spent some considerable time in selecting
a bat and that I was wondering in my own mind whether I should be able
to hit the ball or n