es, he
grew restless, squirming in his seat and half rose several times. I
divined the importuning of his old habit to greet his team with the
yell that had made him famous. I expected him to get up; I waited for
it. Gradually, however, he became quiet as a man governed by severe
self-restraint and directed his attention to the Philadelphia center
fielder.

At a glance I saw that the player was new to me and answered the
newspaper description of young Burt. What a lively looking athlete!
He was tall, lithe, yet sturdy. He did not need to chase more than two
fly balls to win me. His graceful, fast style reminded me of the great
Curt Welch. Old Well-Well's face wore a rapt expression. I discovered
myself hoping Burt would make good; wishing he would rip the boards off
the fence; praying he would break up the game.

It was Saturday, and by the time the gong sounded for the game to begin
the grand stand and bleachers were packed. The scene was glittering,
colorful, a delight to the eye. Around the circle of bright faces
rippled a low, merry murmur. The umpire, grotesquely padded in front
by his chest protector, announced the batteries, dusted the plate, and
throwing out a white ball, sang the open sesame of the game: "Play!"

Then Old Well-Well arose as if pushed from his seat by some strong
propelling force. It had been his wont always when play was ordered or
in a moment of silent suspense, or a lull in the applause, or a
dramatic pause when hearts heat high and lips were mute, to bawl out
over the listening, waiting multitude his terrific blast:
"Well-Well-Well!"

Twice he opened his mouth, gurgled and choked, and then resumed his
seat with a very red, agitated face; something had deterred him from
his purpose, or he had been physically incapable of yelling.

The game opened with White's sharp bounder to the infield. Wesley had
three strikes called on him, and Kelly fouled out to third base. The
Phillies did no better, being retired in one, two, three order. The
second inning was short and no tallies were chalked up. Brain hit
safely in the third and went to second on a sacrifice. The bleachers
began to stamp and cheer. He reached third on an infield hit that the
Philadelphia short-stop knocked down but could not cover in time to
catch either runner. The cheer in the grand stand was drowned by the
roar in the bleachers. Brain scored on a fly-ball to left. A double
along the right foul line brou