went on the man at the register.

"Do you know him by sight?" he asked.

"No," replied Joe, rather sorry he did not.

"I know him!" exclaimed the bellboy, coming forward, with a cheerful
grin on his freckled face. "He sure has a good ball team. I hope they
win the pennant this year. Are you one of the players?" he asked.

"One of the new ones," spoke Joe, modestly enough.

"Gee! Dat's great!" exclaimed the lad admiringly. "There's 'Muggins'
Watson over there," and he pointed to a man in his shirt sleeves,
playing billiards with a young fellow whom Joe recognized, from having
seen his picture in the papers, as 'Slim' Cooney, one of the St. Louis
pitchers.

"Mr. Watson?" inquiringly asked Joe, waiting until the manager had made,
successfully, a difficult shot, and stood at rest on his cue.

"That's my name," and a pair of steel-blue eyes looked straight at our
hero. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm Joe Matson, and----"

"Oh, yes, the new recruit I signed up from Pittston. Well, this is the
first time I've seen you. Took you on the report of one of my men. Glad
to meet you," and he held out a firm hand. "Slim," he went on to his
opponent at billiards, "let me make you acquainted with one of your
hated rivals--Joe Matson. Matson, this is our famous left-hand twirler."

Joe laughed and shook hands. He liked the manager and the other player.
I might state, at this point, that in this book, while I shall speak of
the players of the Cardinals, and of the various National League teams,
I will not use their real names, for obvious reasons. However, if any of
you recognize them under their pseudonyms, I cannot help it.

CHAPTER XI

GOING DOWN SOUTH

"Well, are you going to help us win the pennant, Matson?" asked Manager
Watson, when he had introduced Joe to a number of the other St. Louis
players, who were lounging about the billiard room. It was a cold and
blustery day outside, and the hotel, where the team had lately taken up
quarters, ready for the trip to the South, offered more comfort than the
weather without.

"I'm going to do my best," replied Joe modestly, and he blushed, for
most of the other players were older than he, many of them seasoned
veterans, and the heroes of hard-fought contests.

"Well, we sure do need help, if we're to get anywhere," murmured Hal
Doolin, the snappy little first baseman. "We sure do!"

"You needn't look at me!" fired back Slim Cooney. "I did my share of the
work last