s whose contracts have
expired. Play the game, but do it without marked cards or loaded dice."

Westland saw that he had lost, and he threw diplomacy to the winds.

"Keep your advice till it's asked for!" he snarled, snatching up the money
and jamming it viciously into his pocket. "I didn't come to this jay town
to be lectured by a hick----"

"What's that?" cried Joe, springing to his feet.

Westland was so startled by the sudden motion that he almost swallowed his
cigar. Before Joe's sinewy figure he stepped back and mumbled an apology.
Then he reached for his hat, and without another word stalked out of the
house, his features convulsed with anger and chagrin.

As he flung himself out of the gate, he almost collided with a messenger
boy bringing a telegram to Joe.

The latter signed for it and tore it open hastily. It was from the Giants'
manager and read:

"I hear the new league is coming after you hotfoot. But I'm betting
on you, Joe.

"McRae."

He handed it over to Jim who read it with a smile.

"Betting on me, is he?" said Joe. "Well, Mac, you win!"

CHAPTER IV

THE TOP OF THE WAVE

While they were still discussing the telegram, Joe's father came home to
lunch from the harvester works where he was employed. He seemed ten years
younger than he had before the trip to the World's Series, which he in his
quiet way had enjoyed quite as much as the rest of the family.

He greeted the young men cordially.

"I met a man a little way down the street who seemed to have come from
here," he said, as he hung up his hat. "He had his hat jammed down on his
head, and was muttering to himself as though he were sore about
something."

"He was," replied Jim with a grin. "He laid twenty-five thousand dollars
on the table, and he was sore because Joe wouldn't take it up."

Mr. Matson looked bewildered, but his astonishment was not as great as
that of Clara, who at that moment put her head in the door to announce
that lunch was ready.

"What are you millionaires talking about?" she asked.

"What do millionaires usually talk about?" answered Jim loftily.
"Money--the long green--iron men--filthy lucre--yellowbacks----"

"If you don't stop your nonsense you sha'n't have any lunch," threatened
Clara, "and that means something, too, for mother has spread herself in
getting it up."

"Take it all back," said Jim promptly. "I'm as sober as a judge