"Of all the nonsense----" Clara was beginning, when her eye caught sight of a figure she recognized on the station platform which they had nearly reached. She nudged her brother's elbow. "There's the man you were talking to this morning," she said in a low voice. "By George, so it is!" replied Joe, as he followed her glance. "And he's talking to Altman. Trying to make him a convert." "A renegade, you mean," growled Jim. CHAPTER V LUCKY JOE Westland saw the party coming, and with a scowl turned his back upon them. Altman, however, greeted Joe with a smile and, excusing himself to Westland, went over to meet him with extended hand. "How are you, old scout?" he exclaimed. "You sure batted .300 last night." Joe greeted him cordially, while Jim and Clara strolled on toward the end of the platform. It was astonishing what good company those two were to each other, and how well they bore the absence of anybody else from their conversation. "I'm feeling fine as silk," was Joe's response to Altman's question. "Didn't sprain your salary wing, or anything like that?" grinned Altman. "You fetched that fellow an awful hit in the jaw." "I hated to do it, but it was coming to him," laughed Joe. "Well, if there are any doctors' bills, I guess the Riverside people will be willing to take up a collection to pay them," replied Altman. "It's mighty lucky for the town that you happened to be in the crowd last night." "I suppose you're off to keep your next engagement," said Joe, to change the subject. "By the way, Nick, that was a mighty nifty skit of yours at the hall last night. It brought down the house. It ought to pull big everywhere." "I'm glad you liked it," replied Altman. "I'm booked for twenty weeks and I'm drawing down good money." "I suppose you'll be with the White Sox next year, as usual," said Joe. Altman hesitated. "W-why, I suppose so," he said slowly. "My contract with them has another year to run. To tell the truth, though, Joe, I'm somewhat unsettled." "Why," said Joe, "you're not going to give up the game for the stage, are you?" "Oh, nothing like that," replied Altman. "I'd rather play ball than eat, and I'll stick to the game as long as this old wing of mine can put them over the plate. But whether I'll be with the White Sox or not is another question." "Some other team in the American league trying to make a dicker for you?" asked Joe. "Not that I've heard anything about," responded Altman. "But the American League isn't the whole cheese in baseball--nor the National League, either, for that matter." "I see Westland has been talking to you," said Joe. "I don't want to butt in, Nick, but don't let him put one over on you." "The new league seems to have barrels of money," replied Altman, evading a direct answer. "This fellow Westland seems aching to throw it to the birds--he's got a wad in his pocket that would choke a horse."