American
Leagues. It means all sorts of trickery and breaking of contracts. It
means distrust and suspicion between the members of the different teams.
It means--oh, well, what doesn't it mean? I'd rather lose a thousand
dollars than know that the news is true."

"But perhaps it isn't true," suggested Clara, sobered a little by her
brother's earnestness. "You can't believe half the things you see in the
papers."

"Will it hurt your position with the Giants, Joe?" asked Mrs. Matson, her
motherly instincts taking alarm at anything that threatened her idolized
son.

Joe stopped beside his mother's chair and patted her head affectionately.

"Not for a long time if at all, Momsey," he replied reassuringly. "My
contract with the Giants has two years to run, and it's as good as gold,
even if I didn't throw a ball in all that time. It wasn't the money I was
thinking about. As a matter of fact, I could squeeze double the money out
of McRae, if I were mean enough to take advantage of him. It's the damage
that will be done to the game that's bothering me."

"Perhaps it won't be as bad as you think," ventured his mother. "You know
the old saying that 'the worst things that befall us are the things that
never happen.'"

"That's the way to look at it," broke in Jim heartily. "Let's take a
squint at the whole article and see how much fire there is in all this
smoke."

"And read it out loud," said Clara. "I'm just as much of a baseball fan as
either of you two. And Momsey is, too, after all the World's Series games
she's seen played."

It is to be feared that Mrs. Matson's eyes had been so riveted on Joe
alone, in that memorable Series when he had pitched his team to victory,
that she had not picked up many points about the game in general. But
anything that concerned her darling boy concerned her as well, and she let
her sewing lie unheeded in her lap as Joe read the story from beginning to
end.

"Seems to be straight goods," remarked Jim, as Joe threw the paper aside.

"They've got the money all right," rejoined Joe. "They've got two or three
millionaires who are willing to take a chance and put up the coin."

"One of the names seems to be rather familiar," remarked Jim, with a
sidewise look at Joe. "Do you remember him?"

"I remember him," replied Joe grimly, "but I'd bet a dollar against a
plugged nickel that he remembers me better yet."

"Who is it?" asked Clara with quickened interest.

"Beckworth Fleming," rep