"And I wonder why," went on his wife. "Of course I know he wasn't very keen about going, when I proposed it, but he gave in. I'm sure it's baseball that made him want to stay on at Excelsior Hall."

"Probably. Joe eats, sleeps and dreams baseball."

"I do wish he would get that idea of being a professional baseball player out of his mind," went on Mrs. Matson, and her tone was a trifle worried. "It is no career to choose for a young man."

"No, I suppose not," said her husband slowly. "And yet there are many good men in professional baseball--some rich ones too, I guess," he added with a shrewd laugh.

"As if money counted, John!"

"Well, it does in a way. We are all working for it, one way or another, and if a man can earn it throwing a ball to another man, I don't see why that isn't as decent and honorable as digging sewers, making machinery, preaching, doctoring, being a lawyer or a banker. It all helps to make the world go round."

"Oh, John! I believe you're as bad as Joe!"

"No, Ellen. Though I do like a good game of baseball. I don't think it's the only thing there is, however, as Joe seems to, of late. I don't altogether uphold him in his wish to be a professional, but, at the same time, there's nothing like getting into the niche in life that you're just fitted for.

"There are too many square pegs in round holes now. Many a poor preacher would be a first-cla.s.s farmer, and lots of struggling lawyers or doctors would do a sight better in a shop, or, maybe even on the ball field. Those sentiments aren't at all original with me," he added modestly; "but they are true just the same. I'd like to see Joe do what he likes best, for then I know he'd do that better than anything else in the world."

"Oh, John! surely you wouldn't want to see him a professional ball player?"

"Well, I don't know. There are lots worse positions in life."

"But I'm glad he's going to Yale!" exclaimed Mrs. Matson, as the little family conference came to an end.

CHAPTER III

ONE LAST GAME

"Say, Tom, do you know what I've got a good notion to do?"

"Indeed I haven't, Joe, unless you're going to go out West and shoot Indians, or some such crazy stunt as that."

"Forget it! But you know I've got to start for Yale in about another week."

"That's right. The time is getting short. Excelsior opens four days from now, but I'm not going to drill in with the first bunch. I don't have to report quite so soon. I'm a Senior now, you know."

"So you are. I almost wish I was with you."

"Oh, nonsense! And you going to Yale! But what was it you started to say?"

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot. Say, why can't we have one last game before we have to leave town? One rattling good game of baseball to wind up the season! I'd just love to get into a uniform again, and I guess you would too. Can't we pick up enough of the old Silver Stars to make a nine, with what we can induce to play from among the lads in town?"

"I guess so."

"Then let's do it. The Resolute team is still in existence, isn't it?"

"Yes, but I haven't kept much track of them. I've been away most all Summer, you know."

"And so have I, but I think we could get up a game for Sat.u.r.day. I believe we could get quite a crowd, but we wouldn't charge admission.

What do you say?"

"I'm with you. It would be sport to have a game. I wonder how we can arrange for it?"

"I've got to go over to Rocky Ford for dad to-day," went on Joe, "and I'll see if I can't get in touch with some of the Resolutes. It may be that they have a game on, and, again, they may have disbanded. But it's worth trying. Then you see as many of the fellows here as you can, and get up a nine. There ought to be five or six of the old Silver Stars around."

"I'll do it! Wow! It will be sport to get on the diamond again before we have to buckle down to the grind."

"I hope I haven't forgotten how to pitch," went on Joe. "Let's get a ball and do a little practising out in the lots."

The two chums, somewhat older, more experienced and certainly better players than when we first met them, three years before, were soon tossing the ball back and forth, Joe warming up to his accustomed work as a twirler.

"That was a beaut!" exclaimed Tom, who was catching.

"Did the curve break well?"

"Couldn't have been better. You'll fool 'em all right with that twist."

"I'm a little stiff yet. Well, let's see what we can do toward getting up a game."

Joe went to Rocky Ford that afternoon, and was fortunate in finding the new manager of the Resolutes, the one-time rivals of the Silver Stars.

The team had greatly changed, and had been strengthened by some new players. They had not yet broken up for the season, and, as they had no game on for Sat.u.r.day, the manager readily agreed to come to Riverside with his lads, and take on the Silver Stars in a sort of exhibition contest.

"I suppose you'll pitch?" spoke the manager, as Joe was about to leave for home.

"Yes, I want to. Why?"

"Nothing, only maybe we better handicap your team, or else you'd better allow us half a dozen runs to start with," was the laughing answer.

"I'm not as formidable as all that," retorted Joe. "Are any of the old boys playing yet?"

"Oh, yes, quite a few. There's Art Church, Lew Entry, Ted Neefus and Hank Armstrong."

"I'll be glad to see 'em again," spoke Joe.

When he reached Riverside late that afternoon Tom met him and gleefully informed his chum that he had been able to get up a nine.

"Then we'll have a game!" cried Joe. "Will you catch for me?"

"If you think I can."

"Sure you can. Wow! We'll have some fun."

The news of the coming game between the Silver Stars--or a team somewhat representing them--and the Resolutes aroused considerable enthusiasm in Riverside and the neighboring towns. There was a prospect of a large throng, and when Sat.u.r.day came--with as fine a specimen of weather as heart could wish--there was a great outpouring of "fans."

The Silver Stars were first on the field, and though the team as then const.i.tuted had never played together, still after a little practice they got acquainted with each other, and were soon working in unison.