the manager. "The exact date isn't set
yet, but it will be around the last of April. We've got some hard games
here yet. I'm going to play some exhibitions on the way up North, to
break you in gradually."

More hard work and practice, and the playing of several games with the
Reedville and other local nines soon brought the time of departure
nearer.

"This is our last week," Mr. Watson finally announced. "And I'm going to
put you boys up against a good stiff proposition. We'll play the Nipper
team Saturday, and I want to warn you that there are some former big
leaguers on it, who can still hit and run and pitch, though they're not
qualified for the big circuit. So don't go to the grounds with the idea
that it'll be a cinch. Play your best. Of course I know you will, and
win; but don't fall down!"

Joe hoped he would be called on to pitch, but when the game started,
before the biggest crowd that had yet assembled at the Reedville
grounds, the umpire announced the Cardinal battery as Slim Cooney and
Rob Russell.

"Play ball!" came the signal, and the game was under way.

To make the contest a little more even the St. Louis team were to bat
first, giving the visitors the advantage of coming up last in the ninth
inning.

"Doolin up!" called the score keeper, and the lanky left-handed hitter
strolled up to the plate, while Riordan, who was on deck, took up a
couple of bats, swinging them about nervously to limber his arms.

"Strike one!" bawled the umpire, at the first delivery of the visiting
pitcher.

Doolin turned with a look of disgust and stared at the arbiter, but said
nothing. There was an exchange of signals between catcher and pitcher,
and Joe watched to see if he could read them. But he could not.

"Ball," was the next decision, and this time the pitcher looked pained.

It got to be three and two, and the St. Louis team became rather
interested.

Doolin swung at the next with vicious force--and missed.

"Strike three--batter's out!" announced the umpire, as the ball landed
with a thud in the deep pit of the catcher's mitt.

Doolin threw down his bat hard.

"What's he got?" whispered Riordan, as he went forward.

"Aw, nothing so much! This light bothers me, or I'd have hit for a
three-sacker, believe me!"

Riordan smiled, but he did little better. He hit, but the next man flied
out. Rad was up next and hit a twisting grounder that just managed to
evade the shortstop, putting Rad on first and ad