streak, leaving a cloud of dust behind him, also an
odor of gasoline. The practice game continued with varying fortunes.
In fact, it mattered very little which side won, as various pitchers
were being tried out under the eagle eye of Mr. Lawrence; his principal
object being to form an opinion as to the respective merits of the many
players.

When another afternoon they met again, doubtless Mr. Lawrence would
have decided to eliminate several of the players as utterly beyond hope
of ever making the regular nine. So by degrees he would decide who was
best fitted for each and every position, with a number of able
substitutes, who could be called on should there be any change
necessary during a game, from injury, or because a certain player
failed to do what was expected of him.

After the game had come to an end, and the crowd commenced to separate,
as usual, Hugh and Thad started to walk home together. They overtook
Owen Dugdale and hastened to join him. Both boys doubtless had a
little thrill just then, remembering how often the other had been in
their thoughts lately.

Owen seemed to be in great spirits.

"I never knew that I had it in me to become so fond of baseball as I
seem to be doing right now," he told them. "Of course I played a
little at several kinds of games like cricket, and since coming here to
Scranton I've been knocking flies for some of the boys, and playing in
scrub games. But now I enjoy it ever so much, though, of course, I
don't dream that I'll have the good luck to be selected for the team,
when there are so many who know more about the game than I do."

"You can safely leave all that to Mr. Leonard, Owen," said Hugh. "I've
been keeping tabs on your play at short, and honestly, I want to say,
you're doing mighty well. I heard Mr. Leonard say so, too. While you
may not be picked for that position, there's a likelihood that you will
be held as a substitute. Only practice your batting all you can, Owen;
that's your weakest point. I'll show you a wrinkle about bunting that
may help you a lot."

"Thank you, Hugh, ever so much!" exclaimed the other, his fine eyes
glowing with gratitude. "You've always been mighty kind to me, for a
fact. Was that boy on the motorcycle one of the Belleville fellows? I
thought I heard Otto Brand say so."

"Yes," replied Hugh, "his name is Oliver Kramer, thought they call him
just O. K., as we dubbed our comrade K. K. for short. He hurt his
hand, and i