“As far as possible, both do. I know they’ll keep their word. I’ll guarantee to get a game with one of those teams, if we can make up a bunch that is fast enough. I can get the field in Hoboken for almost any Sunday if I arrange for it in advance. We can draw a mob. I tell you, Bob, we’ll make money, sure as fate. If we succeed with one team made up from outcasts this year, we can keep our little scheme quiet, and next season we can begin early to make arrangements, and we can spring the Outcasts League, which will come pretty near rating with the National or the American. Of course we’ll be outsiders for a season; but we may be able to show the country some baseball that will make the National Association recognize us. In two or three years, if we plan properly and carry out our schemes, we may be pushing the two top-notchers for leadership. That would give me all the revenge I want for being crowded out in Philadelphia.” “It’s a visionary scheme, Mel. I doubt if it can be done this year with a bunch of outcasts. I’d like to hear what Hurley has to say. Why doesn’t he show up?” “Here he comes now,” said McGann. Hurley was a well set-up young chap, with a businesslike air. His face was pleasant yet grave. He had the chin and nose of a commander, while his eye was quick and penetrating. He advanced and greeted Melvin McGann, who shook hands with him and then introduced him to Gowan. The stout man shook hands without rising. There was little polish about him. “Hope you’ve not been waiting for me a great while, gentlemen,” said Hurley. “I’ve been talking with Mat O’Neill, who was just thinking of starting for Hartford, where he has a chance to get into the Connecticut State League. I induced him to stop over until to-night. Told him there was something in the wind, and outlined enough of the scheme to interest him, without letting him into all the details. I had to do it, for O’Neill is just the man we want. You know him, Mr. McGann. He pitched in the Northern New York League last season and made a wonderful record. Collins picked him out, and gave him a trial in New Orleans. He lost the game, and he hasn’t been given another chance. The other pitchers panned out, and Collins dropped him. He had hard luck in New Orleans. If they’d tried him again I’m sure he would have opened their eyes. I’d like to run him against the champs.” Hurley was a man of enthusiasm. He expressed it in his manner of speech, yet there was that about him which indicated that he was not headstrong and reckless. “Sit down, Hurley,” invited McGann. “Tell us who you have on the string.” The ballplayer took a chair and the three drew close together around one of the little tables. “Is it a go?” asked Hurley. “Can you raise the backing, Mr. McGann?” “If Mr. Gowan sees that the prospect is encouraging, I think he will come into the deal with me.”