“That’s right,” nodded McGann. “Every year the big leagues throw over enough clever youngsters to make another league. Out of the discards a champion team can be selected by any man who knows his business. I give Hugh Hurley the credit of knowing his business. He knows a baseball player by instinct. He picked up this team. If we were in either of the big leagues we would be pennant winners. Look how our boys work together. They are like the individual parts of a perfect machine. Every man seems to have brains, and brains count in this game. We didn’t get all the good men discarded. We tried for Josslyn, the young wizard twirler that Collins of the Bostons was chump enough to hand over to Providence. If we’d landed him, we’d had two of the greatest youngsters in the business. You know what Josslyn has been doing. He shut out Newark six to nothing in the first game he pitched for Providence, and he’s been making batters blink and fan ever since. Still Collins is called one of the shrewdest managers in the American League. They all make mistakes of this sort. He hung onto a certain old-stager on account of his reputation, when Josslyn could pitch right round the old boy any day in the week. I’d like to get against the great bean-eating champs. Oh, say! we wouldn’t do a thing to ’em!” Grafter grinned. “You have a bad case of it,” he said. “Better have your head clamped before it gets any bigger.” “Results count,” retorted McGann. “This will make our fifteenth victory, without a defeat.” “You seem to be one of those chaps who count chickens before they are hatched. Everything is against you to-day. You’ve made one clean hit off the coon pitcher.” “We’ll find him before we’re through. Just keep watch.” In the sixth inning the Outcasts resorted to a new trick. The first batter bunted and beat the ball to first. The next man bunted toward third, laying down a “dead one” just inside the line. In the confusion that followed the batter reached first in safety. Bob Gowan laughed. “Now you see how they do it!” he exclaimed. “I don’t see that they’ve done anything yet,” said Grafter. When the next batter tried to bunt and popped up a little fly that was taken by the third baseman on the run and shot across to first for a double play, Grafter held onto his sides and roared. “No use,” he said. “The coons have you. You can’t get away from them to-day.” Gowan looked somewhat disappointed, yet pretended to be not a whit less confident in regard to the result. The next batter electrified every one by lacing the ball to deep centre for three bags and bringing in a run. “I knew it!” wheezed Gowan. “It was bound to come.” “That’s one run,” grinned Grafter. “You’ll get no more this inning.” “We have a man on third.” “Can’t help it. Two out.” Grafter was right. The clever colored twirler caused the next batter to fan. The Giants whooped joyously as they capered in to the bench.