l was hit and we had noted its direction we
knew just what to look for. We were up to all the tricks of the game,
and better than all else we had the greatest confidence in each other.

I had shifted the positions of Williamson and Burns and the former was
now playing shortstop and the latter third base. At third base Burns was
as good as the best of them, he excelling at the blocking game, which he
carried on in a style that was particularly his own and which was
calculated to make a base-runner considerable trouble. At short
Williamson was right in his element and in spite of his size he could
cover as much ground in that position as any man that I have ever seen.
While his throwing was of the rifle-shot order, it was yet easy to
catch, as it seemed to come light to your hands, and this was also true
of the balls thrown by Pfeffer and Burns, both of whom were very
accurate in that line. Of the merits of Williamson and Burns as ball
players I have already spoken in another chapter.

Fred Pfeffer, who came from Louisville, Ky., was a ball-player from the
ground up, and as good a second baseman as there was in the profession,
the only thing that I ever found to criticize in his play being a
tendency to pose for the benefit of the occupants of the grand stand. He
was a brilliant player, however, and as good a man in this position
according to my estimate as any that ever held down the second bag. He
was a high-salaried player and one that earned every cent that he
received, being a hard worker and always to be relied upon. He was a
neat dresser, and while not a teetotaler, never drank any more than he
knew how to take care of. As a thrower, fielder and base runner he was
in the first class, while as a batsman he was only fair. Later on he
became tangled up in the Brotherhood business, in which he lost
considerable of the money that he had laid by for a rainy day. It was
some time after the Brotherhood revolt, in which Fred had been one of
the prime movers, and a brief history of which is recorded elsewhere,
that he was taken back into the fold. He was anxious to play again in
Chicago, and I gave him the chance. His health was, however, bad at that
time and he was unable to do himself justice and to play the ball that
when a well man he was capable of. I hung on to him as long as I could,
but when the papers began to howl long and loud about his shortcomings I
was finally forced to release him. It was his, health that put