the program. But what made it especially attractive to Joe and
his party was the fact that Nick Altman, the famous pitcher of the "White
Sox" of Chicago, was on the bill for a monologue. Although, being in the
American League, Joe and Jim had never played against him, they knew him
well by reputation and respected him for his ability in their chosen
profession.

"As a pitcher he sure is classy," remarked Joe. "They say that fast
inshoot of his is a lulu. But that doesn't say that he's any good on the
stage."

"He's pulling in the coin all right," replied Jim. "They say that his
contract calls for two hundred dollars a week. He won't have to eat
snowballs this winter."

"Jim tells me that a vaudeville manager offered you five hundred dollars a
week the day after you won the championship for the Giants," said Clara.

"So he did," replied Joe, "but it would have been a shame to take the
money."

"Such a shrinking violet," teased his sister.

"I'm sure he would make a very good actor," said his mother, who would
have been equally sure that he would make a good president of the United
States.

The night was fine, and the town Opera House was crowded to its capacity.
There was a buzz and whispering as Joe and his party entered and made
their way to their reserved seats near the center of the house, for
Riverside regarded the famous pitcher as one of its greatest assets. He
had given the quiet little village a fame that it would never have had
otherwise. In the words of Sol Cramer, the hotel keeper and village
oracle, Joe had "put Riverside on the map."

There were three or four sketches and vaudeville turns before Altman,
who, of course, was the chief attraction as far as Joe and his folks were
concerned, came on the stage. He had a clever skit in which baseball
"gags" and "patter" were the chief ingredients, and as he was a natural
humorist his act went "big" in the phrase of the profession. Knowing that
Joe lived in Riverside and would probably be in the audience, Altman
adroitly introduced his name in one of his anecdotes, and was rewarded by
a storm of applause which clearly showed how Joe stood in his home town.

"You own this town, Joe," laughed Jim, who was seated between him and
Clara--Jim could be depended on these days never to be farther away from
Clara than he could help.

"Yes," mocked Clara. "Any time he runs for poundkeeper he's sure to be
elected."

Joe was about to make some laughing retort, whe