McRae called over to where Joe was sitting. The crack pitcher had been watching the progress of the game with keen interest, although making comparatively few comments. As McRae approached Joe, the crowd howled louder than ever at Hamilton. "Why don't you learn how to pitch?" "Say, let us send one of the high-school boys into the box for you!" "Too bad, old man, but I guess we've got your goat all right!" "I guess you know what I want, Joe," cried McRae. "I want you to get in the box for us." "All right, Mac," was the young pitcher's answer. "And, Joe," went on the other earnestly, "try to think for the next five minutes that you're pitching for the pennant." "I'll do anything you say," was Joe's reply; and then he drew on his glove and walked out upon the ball field. "Hello! what do you know about that?" "Matson is going to pitch for them!" "I guess they've enough of that other dub!" "Oh, Hamilton isn't a dub, by any means," replied one of the spectators sharply. "He's a good player, but a pitcher can't always be at his best." "But just you wait and see how we do up Matson!" cried a local sympathizer. At a signal the next man to bat stepped away from the plate, and Joe had the privilege of warming up by sending three hot ones to the catcher. "He'll put 'em over all right enough!" cried one of his friends. "That's what he will!" returned another. "Not much! He'll be snowed under!" "This is our winning day!" So the cries continued until the umpire held up his hand for silence. "He's going to make an announcement!" cried a number of the spectators. "Ladies and gentlemen," roared the umpire, removing his cap, "Matson now pitching for the All-Americans." A howl went up from the stands, made up in about equal parts of derision and applause. Derision because the All-American team must, they figured, be scared to death when they had to send their greatest player into the game. Whether they won or lost it was a great compliment to the Denver team. The applause came from the genuine sportsmen who knew the famous pitcher by reputation and welcomed the chance to see him in action. The three men on the bases were dancing about like dervishes in the hope of rattling the newcomer. They did not know Joe. Never cooler than when the strain was greatest and the need most urgent, Joe bent down to pick up the ball. As he did so, he touched it, apparently accidentally, against his right heel. It was a signal meant for Denton, the third baseman, who was watching him like a hawk. Joe took up his position in the box, took a grip on the ball, but instead of delivering it to the batter turned suddenly on his left heel, as though to snap it down to first. The Denver player at that bag, who had taken a lead of several feet, made a frantic slide back to safety.