he
wanted to use, left out of all account any possibility of a peaceful
game. It was comforting to think that if it came to a fight Sam and
Lane could hold their own with Bo Stranathan and Slugger Blandy.

In the managing of his players Daddy observed strict discipline. It
was no unusual thing for him to fine them. On practice days and off
the field they implicitly obeyed him. During actual play, however,
they had evinced a tendency to jump over the traces. It had been his
order for them not to report at the field Tuesday until 2 o'clock. He
found it extremely difficult to curb his own inclination to start
before the set time. And only the stern duty of a man to be an example
to his players kept Daddy at home.

He lived near the ball grounds, yet on this day, as he hobbled along on
his crutch, he thought the distance interminably long, and for the
first time in weeks the old sickening resentment at his useless leg
knocked at his heart. Manfully Daddy refused admittance to that old
gloomy visitor. He found comfort and forgetfulness in the thought that
no strong and swift-legged boy of his acquaintance could do what he
could do.

Upon arriving at the field Daddy was amazed to see such a large crowd.
It appeared that all the boys and girls in the whole town were in
attendance, and, besides, there was a sprinkling of grown-up people
interspersed here and there around the diamond. Applause greeted
Daddy's appearance and members of his team escorted him to the soap-box
bench.

Daddy cast a sharp eye over the Natchez players practicing on the
field. Bo Stranathan had out his strongest team. They were not a
prepossessing nine. They wore soiled uniforms that did not match in
cut or color. But they pranced and swaggered and strutted! They were
boastful and boisterous. It was a trial for any Madden's Hill boy just
to watch them.

"Wot a swelled bunch!" exclaimed Tom Lindsay.

"Fellers, if Slugger Blandy tries to pull any stunt on me today he'll
get a swelleder nut," growled Lane Griffith.

"T-t-t-t-t-te-te-tell him t-t-t-to keep out of m-m-m-my way an' not
b-b-b-b-bl-block me," stuttered Tay-Tay Mohler.

"We're a-goin' to skin 'em," said Eddie Curtis.

"Cheese it, you kids, till we git in the game," ordered Daddy. "Now,
Madden's Hill, hang round an' listen. I had to sign articles with
Natchez--had to let them have their umpire. So we're up against it.
But we'll hit this pitcher Muckle Harris. He ain'