On across the prairies, where the ripened corn stood in stacks, the train sped to Omaha, where we arrived the morning of October 25th, and we were met with another great reception. Here Clarence Duval turned up, and thereby hangs a story. Clarence was a little darkey that I had met some time before while in Philadelphia, a singer and dancer of no mean ability, and a little coon whose skill in handling the baton would have put to the blush many a bandmaster of national reputation. I had togged him out in a suit of navy blue with brass buttons, at my own expense, and had engaged him as a mascot. He was an ungrateful little rascal, however, and deserted me for Mlle. Jarbeau, the actress, at New York, stage life evidently holding out more attractions for him than a life on the diamond. Tom Burns smuggled him into the carriage that day, tatterdemalion that he was, and when we reached the grounds he ordered us to dress ranks with all the assurance in the world, and, taking his place in front of the players as the band struck up a march, he gave such an exhibition as made the real drum major turn green with envy, while the crowd burst into a roar of laughter and cheered him to the echo. When, later in the day, I asked him where he had come from, he replied that Miss Jarbeau had given him his release that morning. I told him that he was on the black list and that we had no use for deserters in our business. "Spec's you's a' right, Cap'n," he replied and then he added, with a woe-begone expression of countenance that would have brought tears of pity to the eyes of a mule: "I'se done had a mighty ha'd time of et since I left all you uns." I told him that he looked like it, but that he had deserved it all, and that we were done with him, and this nearly broke his heart. When I got back to the car I found the little "coon" there, and ordered him out, but the boys interceded for him, raised a purse, in which I chipped in my share, of course, and I finally consented that he should accompany us as far as San Francisco, and farther, provided that he behaved himself. The little coon did not prove to be much of a mascot for Chicago that afternoon, as the All-Americans dropped to Ryan's slow left-handed delivery after the fifth inning, he having been a puzzle to them up to that time, and pounded him all over the field, they finally winning by a score of 12 to 2. The heavy batting pleased the Omaha people, however, and they cheered the All-Americans again and again.