"It was all to the pepper-castor, old man," complimented Darrell. "We didn't put up a very good game, but you sort of stand out among the other Stars."

"And I suppose the rest of us did rotten!" snarled Sam Morton as he walked past.

"Well, to be frank, I think we _all_ did," spoke Darrell. "I'm not saying that Joe didn't make any errors, for he did. But he made the only home run of the game, and that's a lot."

"Oh, yes, I suppose so," sneered the disgruntled pitcher. "You'll be blaming me next for the loss of the game."

"Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Darrell quickly. "I think we've all got to bear our share of the defeat. We ought to have played better, and we've got to, if we don't want to be at the tail end of the county league."

"And that means that I've got to do better pitching, I suppose?" sneered Sam.

"It means we've _all_ got to do better work," put in Captain Rankin.

"You along with the rest of us, Sam. You know you were pretty well batted to-day."

"Any fellow is likely to be swatted once in a while. Look at some of the professionals."

"I'm not saying they're not," admitted the captain. "What I do say is that we've all got to perk up. We've got to take a brace, and I'm not sparing myself. We're not doing well."

"No, that's right," admitted several other players. In fact there was a general feeling of discontent manifested, and it was very noticeable.

Darrell Blackney was aware of it, and he hoped it would not spread, for nothing is so sure to make a team slump as discontent or dissatisfaction.

"Oh, Joe!" exclaimed a girl's voice, and he turned to see his sister walking toward him over the field. "That was a fine run you made." She had two other girls with her and Joe, who was a bit bashful, turned to execute a retreat.

"I believe you never met my brother," went on Clara, and there was a trace of pride in her tone. "Miss Mabel Davis," said Clara, presenting her to Joe, "and Miss Helen Rutherford."

"I've heard my sister speak of you," murmured the young centre fielder.

"And I've heard my brother speak of _you_," said Mabel, and Joe was conscious that he was blushing.

"I've got to wash up now," he said, not knowing what to talk about when two pretty girls, to say nothing of his own sister, were staring at him.

"Does your hand hurt you much?" asked Mabel.

"No--it's only a scratch," said Joe, not with a strict regard for the truth.

"Oh, I thought I'd faint when I saw you lying there so still," spoke Clara with a little shudder.

"So did I," added Helen, and then Joe made his escape before they could "fuss" over him any more.

There was considerable talk going on in the dressing room when Joe entered. He could hear the voice of Sam Morton raised in high and seemingly angry tones.

"Well, I'm not going to stand for it!" the pitcher said.

"Stand for what?" asked Darrell in surprise.

"Being accused of the cause for the loss of this game!"

"No one accuses you," put in the captain.

"You might as well say it as look it," retorted Sam. "I tell you I won't stand for it. Just because that new fellow made a home run you're all up in the air about him, and for all the hard work I do, what do I get for it? Eh? Nothing, that's what!"

"Now, look here," said Darrell soothingly, "you know you're talking foolishly, Sam."

"I am not!" cried the pitcher petulantly. "Either Joe Matson leaves the team or I do, and you can have my resignation any time you want it!"

CHAPTER XIII

SCIENTIFIC PRACTICE

There was a period of silence following Sam's offer of his resignation, and no one seemed to know just what to say. Several of the lads glanced at Joe, as if expecting him to say something in his own defense. In fact the young centre fielder was about to speak but he did not get the chance, for Sam exclaimed again:

"Well, do you want my resignation, Darrell?"

"You know I don't!" declared the manager.

"Then things have got to be changed!"

"Look here!" burst out Darrell. "I've stood about all I'm going to from you, Sam Morton. There has got to be a change in this team."

"That's just what I'm giving you a chance to make," the pitcher fairly sneered. "You can fill my place any time you like."

"But I'm not going to," and though Darrell spoke pleasantly there was a sternness in his words. "Fellows, it's like this," he went on. "The Silver Stars are a good team and you know it. So does every one in this town, but the last two games we've played in hard luck, and----"

"Do you mean to say it was my pitching?" demanded Sam.

"No more than it was the way we all played. As I said, we've got to take a brace. I don't know what's gotten into you, Sam, to say you'll resign if Joe Matson plays. What have you against him?"

"Well, I hate to see a newcomer made so much of. Here we fellows have worked hard all season, and----"

"And you're going to work hard the _rest_ of the season!" exclaimed Darrell. "Let me tell you that! I'm not going to hear any more talk of resignations, and this bickering has got to stop. Otherwise we'll be the laughing stock of the county. You all played pretty well to-day, but you all need to do better."

"All but Matson; I suppose he's the star," sneered Sam.

"Look here," burst out Joe, unable to stand the taunts of the pitcher any longer, "if you think----"

"Now, go easy," advised Darrell with a smile. "I'm giving this little lecture. I give Matson due credit for one of the three runs we got," he went on, "but that's not saying that he didn't make errors. We all did.

"Oh, fellows!" he pleaded and they could see that he was very much in earnest, "let's get together and wallop every nine we play against from now on! Take a brace. Forget all this feeling and get together. Matson and Morton, I want you to shake hands, will you?"

"I'm willing," a.s.sented Joe eagerly, advancing toward Sam.

The latter hesitated a moment and then, feeling the eyes of all in the dressing room on him, he mumbled:

"Well, as long as you don't think he's the star of the Stars, I'll shake. Maybe I was a bit hasty," he went on, and this was a great deal for Sam Morton to admit. He and Joe shook hands, though it cannot be said that there was any warmth on the part of the pitcher. Still it was better than open enmity, though Joe wondered if Sam would be really friendly.