about other matters.

Joe and Jim were lounging in the rear of the observation car, talking over
the stirring events of the night before, when McRae happened along and
dropped into a seat beside them.

"Some game that was yesterday, boys," he remarked genially. "Those Denver
fellows were curly bears, but we trimmed them just the same."

"Yes," grinned Jim. "But we weren't comfortable while we were doing it."

"They sure did worry us," acquiesced Joe. "They made us know at least that
we'd been in a fight."

"It was that ninth-inning work of yours that pulled us through, Joe,"
declared McRae. "That stunt you pulled of whirling on your heel and
shooting it over to third was a pretty bit of inside stuff. And there
wasn't anything slow either about spearing that ball that Thompson hit."

"I'd have let the fielders take care of that," admitted Joe, "if there
hadn't been so much at stake. My hand stung for an hour afterward. But I'd
have hated to let those fellows crow over us."

"That fellow, Alvarez, that Thorpe rang in on us was a sure-enough
pitcher," observed McRae. "I'd sign him up in a minute if it weren't for
that dark skin of his. But it wouldn't work. We had a second baseman like
that one time, and although he was a rattling good player it nearly broke
up the team. It's too bad that color should stand in the way of a man's
advancement, but it can't be helped.

"By the way," he continued, drawing a paper from his pocket, "here's
something that may interest you. It's the official record of the National
League of the pitching averages for this season. It made me feel good when
I read it and you'll see the reason why."

He handed them the paper, which they opened eagerly to the sporting page.

Joe's heart felt a thrill of satisfaction as he saw that his name stood at
the head of the list, and Jim, too, was elated, as he noted that although
this was his first year in a major league his name was among the first
fifteen--a rare distinction for a "rookie."

"Some class to the Giants, eh?" grinned McRae. "There's sixty names in
that list and no single team has as many in the first twelve as we have.
That average of yours, Joe, of 1.53 earned runs per game is a hummer.
Hughson is close on your heels with 1.56. The Rube, you see, is eighth in
the list with 1.95, and Jim's eleventh with 2.09. I tell you, boys, that's
class, and to cap it all we won the pennant."

"Two pennants, you mean," corrected Jim with a smile.