win every game we play.
There's something in being good losers."

Hodge frowned.

"Never heard you talk like that before, Frank," he said. "Seems to me
you think we're going to lose."

"Dot game vill nefer lose us der vorld in!" cried Dunnerwurst. "How coot
it dood it? Vill der ball not pitch you to-morrow, Frankie? Vid you der
box in, der game vos as good as skinched. Yah!"

Ephraim Gallup had little to say, and his appetite seemed unusually
poor. Teresa noticed this, and she began to worry about it.

"You must be seek, Ephraim," she whispered. "You do not eat enough to
keep the bird alive."

"I'm allus that way jest before a baseball game," he declared. "Don't
yeou mind it, Teresa. Don't yeou pay no 'tention to me. I'm all right."

After dinner, however, she drew him aside and persisted in questioning
him.

"There ees sometheeng on your mind," she said. "You cannot fool your
Teresa."

"Oh, fudge!" exclaimed Gallup. "There ain't nuthin' on my mind. I ain't
gut mind enough for that. I'm too big a dratted fool, Teresa."

"I nevaire hear you talk that way before. Ees eet the babee? That must
be the trouble, Ephraim--you worree about the babee."

"Thutteration! I don't believe I've thought of the baby in twenty-four
hours."

"Oo, how could you be so cruel not to theenk of the babee?" murmured his
wife. "I theenk of eet efry hour. I hope you are not going to be seek,
Ephraim."

"Bless ye, Teresa, I couldn't get sick if I wanted to. Jest yeou let me
alone, and I'll be all right. Guess I've gut a case of fan-tods."

"What ees them fan-tods? Ees eet the same as the malaria I hear you say
they have sometimes een the United States?"

"Nope. The fan-tods are something like the blues. A feller gits them
when he realizes he's one of the biggest chumps walkin' raound on two
laigs."

She could get nothing more out of him, and finally she sought her
friend, Juanita Garcia, to whom she confided her fears that Ephraim was
on the verge of a sick spell.

Gallup wandered off by himself and strolled around the grounds, with his
head down and his hands in his pockets, occasionally muttering and
growling in a disgusted manner.

Barney Mulloy found an opportunity to follow Ephraim.

"Come on, Eph," he said, slipping an arm through Gallup's, "let's you
and Oi go for a warruk. You nade it, my bhoy--you nade it."

"If yeou'll jest take me daown to the lake and kick me in, I'll be much
obleeged to ye, Barney," said the