on that could be seen a half-mile distant. Bean
looked down upon these delayed people with amused sympathy.

Then, astoundingly, his eye fell upon one of the passengers a little
aloof from the group about the motorman. He, too, after a last look at
the car, seemed to be resolving on that long tramp to the station. He
was a sightly young man, tall, heavily built, and dressed in garments
that would on any human form have won Bean's instant respect. But on the
form of the Greatest Pitcher the World Has Ever Seen--!!

His mind was at once vacant of all the past, of all the future. There
was no more a Breede, male or female, no more directors or shares or
jails. There was only a big golden Present, subduing, enthralling,
limitless!

"Stop car!" hissed Bean. The car halted three feet from the young man on
foot.

"Jump in!" gasped Bean.

"Thanks," said the young man; "I'm going the other way."

"Me, too! I was turning around just here."

The young man hesitated, surveying his interlocutor.

"Well," he said, "if it won't be too much trouble?"

"Trouble!" The word was a caress as Bean uttered it. He pushed a door
open, clumsy with excitement, and the World's Greatest Pitcher stepped
in to sit beside him.

"Grounds?" asked Bean.

"Yes," said the Pitcher, "if it's convenient."

"Polo Grounds," called Bean to Paul. "Hurry and turn around there,
someway." He was afraid his guest might reconsider.

But the guest sat contentedly enough, the car was turned, and presently
was speeding back toward town. The person in a taxi-cab which made the
same turn a moment later was heard to say, "What the devil now?" with no
discernible relevance.

"Living out this way?" asked Bean when he was again certain of his
voice-control.

"No; only went out to stay over night with some friends. Had to get back
this morning. They told me to take that car and change at--"

"Ought to have one these," said Bean, "then you know where you are."

"This runs well," said the Pitcher affably.

"'S little old last year's car," said Bean with skilled ennui.

He was trying to remember--mustn't talk to a ball-player about ball;
they're sick of it.

"Got a busy day ahead of me in the Street," he said brightly. "I was
only taking a little spin to get my head cleared out. Have to keep your
head clear down there!"

"Say, that's some suit you have on," said the Pitcher with frank
admiration. "I like that check."

"Do you?" asked Bean, trying not t