"Say, if you think I'm not good enough----" began the pitcher, who was noted for his quick temper. "Now, now, drop that kind of talk," said Darrell soothingly. "You know we're all satisfied with your pitching. Don't get on your ear." "Well, I won't then," and Sam smiled frankly. By this time Percy Parnell, the second baseman, and Fred Newton, the plucky little shortstop, had joined the pitcher and the manager, and greetings were exchanged. "Are we going to wallop 'em?" asked Fred. "Sure thing," assented Sam. "It's going to be a hot game all right," was Percy's opinion. "All the better," commented Darrell. "Say the people are turning out in great shape, though. I'm glad to see it. We need a little money in our treasury." They turned in at the players' gate. The Resolute team had preceded them, and already several of the members of that nine were in their uniforms and out on the diamond. They were lads of the same age as their rivals, and had about the same sort of an organization--strictly amateur, but with desires to do as nearly as possible as the college and professional teams did. But there was a great difference, of course, and mainly in the rather free-and-easy manner in which the rules were interpreted. While it is true that in the fundamentals they played baseball according to the general regulations, there were many points on which they were at variance, and a professional probably would have found much at which to laugh and be in despair. But what did it matter as long as the boys, and those who watched them, enjoyed it? Not a bit, in my opinion. As the Silver Star lads proceeded to the improvised dressing rooms under the grandstand, several more of the Resolute players hurried out, buttoning jackets as they ran. "Oh, we'll get you fellows to-day all right!" shouted Henry (otherwise known as Hen) Littell, pitcher and captain of the Resolutes. "All right, the game's yours--if you can take it," called back Darrell, with a laugh. The diamond soon presented an animated scene, with many players and a few substitutes pitching, catching or batting balls about. The crowds were beginning to arrive and occupy seats in the small grandstand or on the bleachers. Many preferred to stand along the first and third base lines, or seat themselves on the grass. Approaching the grounds about this time were the two lads of whom Sam and Darrell had spoken briefly. One was Tom Davis, the substitute first baseman and the other boy whom Sam had referred to as "Batson" or "Hatson." Sam had it nearly right. The lad was Joe Matson, and as he is to figure largely in this story I will take just a moment to introduce him to you. Joe was the son of Mr. and Mrs. John Matson, and had lately moved to Riverside with his parents and his sister Clara, who was a year his junior. The family had come from the town of Bentville, about a hundred miles away. Mr. Matson had been employed in a machine works there, and had invented several useful appliances.