"I'll tell you. Some time ago I saw a moving picture with the scene laid in the Rocky Mountains, and, unless I'm greatly mistaken, some of the scenes were taken right in this locality." "Was that a photo-play called 'The Girl From Mountain Pass?'" questioned another player who was present. "It was." "Then you're right, Matson; because I was speaking about that film to the conductor of this train, and he said that some of the pictures were taken right around here. His train was used in one of the scenes." This matter was talked over for several minutes, but then the conversation changed; and, presently, the chums went off to talk about other matters. Joe and Jim were lounging in the rear of the observation car, talking over the stirring events of the night before, when McRae happened along and dropped into a seat beside them. "Some game that was yesterday, boys," he remarked genially. "Those Denver fellows were curly bears, but we trimmed them just the same." "Yes," grinned Jim. "But we weren't comfortable while we were doing it." "They sure did worry us," acquiesced Joe. "They made us know at least that we'd been in a fight." "It was that ninth-inning work of yours that pulled us through, Joe," declared McRae. "That stunt you pulled of whirling on your heel and shooting it over to third was a pretty bit of inside stuff. And there wasn't anything slow either about spearing that ball that Thompson hit." "I'd have let the fielders take care of that," admitted Joe, "if there hadn't been so much at stake. My hand stung for an hour afterward. But I'd have hated to let those fellows crow over us." "That fellow, Alvarez, that Thorpe rang in on us was a sure-enough pitcher," observed McRae. "I'd sign him up in a minute if it weren't for that dark skin of his. But it wouldn't work. We had a second baseman like that one time, and although he was a rattling good player it nearly broke up the team. It's too bad that color should stand in the way of a man's advancement, but it can't be helped. "By the way," he continued, drawing a paper from his pocket, "here's something that may interest you. It's the official record of the National League of the pitching averages for this season. It made me feel good when I read it and you'll see the reason why." He handed them the paper, which they opened eagerly to the sporting page. Joe's heart felt a thrill of satisfaction as he saw that his name stood at the head of the list, and Jim, too, was elated, as he noted that although this was his first year in a major league his name was among the first fifteen--a rare distinction for a "rookie."