etorted McCarthy, striving to cover his
embarrassment by ball field conversational methods. "A fellow might be
expected to be a little bit embarrassed with a lot of big stiffs like
you standing around and never offering to introduce a fellow."

"I forgot it, Kohinoor," said Kennedy quickly. "I forgot you never had
met her. She is Betty Tabor, Sec's daughter, and one of the best
little women in the world. Even Silent is a gentleman when she is with
the team."

"I'm always a gent, Bo," declared Swanson indignantly. "I took a night
school course in etiquette once. Any one that ain't a gent when she is
around I'll teach to be a gent--and this is the perfessor."

He exhibited a huge, red fist and smote the cushions of the berth with
a convincing thud.

"I'll introduce you properly to-morrow," volunteered Kennedy. "Come on
and get into the quartette. We'll try you out."

McCarthy surrendered more to conceal his agitation than because he felt
like singing.

The quartette sang until the bridge players grew weary of the game and
the tired athletes who preferred sleep to the melody howled
imprecations upon the vocalists.

For a long time after McCarthy climbed into his berth he remained
staring into the darkness, striving to recall the outlines of a face
set with a pair of friendly brown eyes that lighted with a look of
eager appreciation. He remembered the little dimples at the corners of
the mouth, and the wealth of soft, brown hair that framed the oval of
her face. He blushed hotly in the darkness at the thought of his own
rather threadbare raiment, and he decided that he would evade an
introduction until he could secure money from Manager Clancy and
recover the clothes he had left in an express office.

He found himself striving to compare her face with that of another.

"She is not as pretty as Helen is," he told himself. "But it's
different somehow. Helen never seemed to feel anything or to
understand a fellow, and I'm sure Betty--Betty? I wonder if that is
her real name--I'll sing for her as often as she will listen."

And, after a long reviewing of the past that was proving such a mystery
and which the baseball reporters were striving in vain to explore,
McCarthy muttered: "I've made a fool of myself," and turned over and
slept.

CHAPTER IV

_"Kohinoor" Meets Betty_

The train was speeding along through the upper reaches of a beautiful
valley when McCarthy awoke. As he splashed and scr