“That’s it! I remember it was some sort of a fish. Well”--Mr. York turned to the others enthusiastically--“that chap Pollock turned the trick in the last inning as neatly as you please. As I recall it the score stood something like three to one in favour of Amesville. That right, Craig?” “Yes, sir.” “The visitors were at bat and there were two out and the bases were filled. Mind you, the visitors only needed two to tie, and, with two gone, they were desperate. This chap Pollock had pitched a fine, heady game, and he went after the next batter as cool as a cucumber. Had two strikes on him, I think, when the man on third lit out for the plate on the wind-up. I suppose when Pollock got himself together that runner was halfway to the plate. Now”--Mr. York put the question to one of the Mount Placid councillors--“what would you have done, Williams, if you’d been in Pollock’s place?” Mr. Williams hesitated. “Only one thing to have done,” he said finally. “Plug to the catcher as fast as I knew how!” Mr. York chuckled. “That’s what I’d have done. I guess that’s what Craig here expected. But this Pollock chap had a head on his shoulders. When the man on third dug for the plate the other runners set out after him, of course. Well, Pollock realised that if he threw to the catcher the ball might go wide or the catcher might--begging Mr. Craig’s pardon--might drop it or it might be too late in any event to make the out. So what does he do but whirl around and slam the ball over to third baseman, who was running back to cover the bag. Third baseman makes a nice catch, blocks off the runner from second and--there you are! Three out and the score three to two!” “Clever work!” said Mr. Williams. “You’re right, Mr. York; that fellow had brains.” “You bet he had! Where is he now, Craig?” “Amesville, sir. He has two more years in High School.” “Isn’t that the same chap who visited camp a week or so ago?” asked Mr. Gifford. “Yes, that was Tom,” replied Sam. “He’s a nice fellow and we think he’s a pretty fine pitcher.” “Looked so to me,” agreed Mr. York. “And I want to say, too, that you caught as pretty a game as I want to see, Craig. As I used to wear a mask myself I always watch the catcher’s work, and you certainly played a nice game. Are you catching to-day?” “Yes, sir. At least, I’m going to start the game.” “How’s your pitcher?” “Fairly good for a youngster,” said Mr. Gifford. “Porter’s only fifteen, I believe.” “You don’t say?” The speaker turned, with a laugh, to Mr. Williams. “You’ll have to watch out, Williams, and not let the kid outpitch you.” The councillor looked a bit dismayed. “Perhaps we ought to let one of the boys pitch,” he said doubtfully. “It doesn’t seem quite a fair thing. We thought, Mr. Langham, that probably one of your councillors would pitch for you.”