eir new ketcher," muttered Sile Crane. "I
cal'late they think he's the whole cheese; but mebbe they'll find aout
he ain't only a small slice of the rind. What's he look like, anyhaow?"

"There he is," said Roger, as the visiting team came trotting onto the
field, led by Lee Sanger, its pitcher and captain, "that stocky,
red-headed chap. See him?"

"My!" grinned Cooper. "He's a bird. Looks like he could eat hardware
without getting indigestion."

The Barville crowd gave their players a rousing cheer, although they
did not yet venture to blow the horns or jangle the cowbells. Those
noise-producing implements were held in reserve, with apparent perfect
assurance that an especially effective occasion for their use must
arise during the game.

Captain Eliot shook hands cordially with Sanger, and suggested that he
should at once take the field for practice.

"Hello, Roger!" called Bob Larkins, the Barville first baseman. "Great
day for the game. We're going to make you fellows go some. You won't
have the same sort of a cinch you had last year."

"I hope not," answered Eliot pleasantly. "There's a big crowd out
to-day, and I'd like to see you fellows make the game interesting."

"Oh, don't you worry, it will be interesting enough," prophesied
Larkins, getting his mitt and turning to jog down toward first.

At Eliot's elbow Phil Springer remarked, with a short laugh, in which
there seemed to be a trace of nervousness: "They certainly have got
their pucker up. They're boiling over with confidence."

"And it's a mistake to boil over with anything--confidence, doubt or
fear," said Roger. "When the kettle boils aver, the soup gets
scorched. Come, Phil, shake the kinks out of your arm with me, while
they're taking their turn on the field."

His calm, unruffled manner seemed instantly to dissipate the
nervousness which Phil had felt a touch of.

The practice of the visiting team was closely watched by nearly all the
spectators, and it became apparent that the Barville boys had profited
by the coaching of some one who had found it possible to train them
with good effect. They were swift, sure and snappy in their work,
displaying little of the hesitation and uncertainty usually revealed by
an ordinary country school team, even in practice. Copley, the stocky,
red-headed catcher from Roxbury, received the balls when they were
returned from the infield and the out, catching the most of them
one-handedly with t