"Begorra!" he cried in his rich brogue, "'tis a lovely shindy ye've been after havin'." With the paper resting on his knee and Jim's fountain pen in his hand, Joe wrote out the story of the trickery and fraud that had been practiced in getting his signature. When he had covered every important point, he held out the pen to Braxton. The latter hesitated, and Joe's fist clenched till the knuckles were white. Braxton knew what that fist was capable of and hesitated no longer. He wrote his name under the confession and Fleming followed suit. Then Jim affixed his name as a witness, and Michael O'Halloran happily added his. "Now," said Jim, as he folded the precious paper and stowed it safely in his pocket, "you fellows clear out. I suppose that's your car that we saw standing a little way down the road. I don't think either of you will care to mix in my affairs again." They moved away with an assumption of bravado they were far from feeling and were lost in the darkness. "And now, Mike," said Joe with a jubilant ring in his voice, as they leaped into the car, "let her go. Drive to Dublin as if the ghost of the last of the O'Brians were at your back!" And Mike did. The two baseball players found the girls impatiently awaiting them, and wondering rather petulantly what had become of them. Joe seized Mabel in his arms and whirled her about the room like a dancing dervish, paying no heed to her laughing protests. Jim would have liked to do the same to Joe's sister, but did not quite dare to--yet. "Are you boys crazy?" demanded Mabel, as soon as she could get her breath. "Yes," said Joe promptly. "You'll be, too, when you see this." He flourished the paper before their faces and in disjointed sentences, frequently broken by interruptions, told them of all that had happened since they had left them after the game. No need of telling how they felt when the boys had finished. There was no happier party that night in all Ireland. Then, leaving the delighted girls for a few minutes, the boys hunted up McRae. They found him glum and anxious, talking earnestly with Robbie in the lobby of the hotel. One glance at the young men's faces made the pair jump wonderingly to their feet. "For the love of Pete, let's have it, Joe!" cried McRae. "What's happened?" "Plenty!" exulted Joe. "We've put the All-Star League out of business!" "What!" cried McRae, as he snatched the paper that Joe held out to him and devoured its contents, while Robbie peered eagerly over his shoulder. Then, as they realized what it meant, they set up a wild whoop which made the other members of the team, scattered about the lobby, come running, followed a scene of mad hilarity, during which no one seemed to know what he said or did.