“I’ll be hanged if I know how he’s done it,” Ogan thought with some slight annoyance. “They don’t bother much about the rest of us. I reckon I must have made a mistake. That bunch would never take up with a quitter.” That afternoon he took occasion to speak to Lefty in a careless sort of way which seemed to indicate he had momentarily forgotten the boycott; and when Locke answered him without any signs of pique or soreness, they talked casually for a moment or two. At the end of the day Manager Brennan called Ogan to him. “I’m going to try an experiment to-morrow afternoon,” he said shortly. “We’ll lengthen the game to the full number of innings, and about the first of the seventh I’ll put Elgin into the box for the regulars. I want to see what he’ll do with that kind of support.” Ogan restrained his surprise, and nodded. “I suppose I’d better not use him early in the game, then?” he said. “No; take some of the others. He’d better be fresh when he goes in. The old boys are waking up and beginning to play ball.” This Ogan had observed the day before with some chagrin. Up to that time the cubs had won every game except that first one, and had come to have a pretty good opinion of their ability. Yesterday, however, they had been unaccountably nosed out in the last inning, while to-day their defeat had been even worse. Apparently there was no reason for it. They were in splendid condition and playing harder than ever. Their opponents did not seem to be exerting themselves a bit more than they had done from the very first. They still contented themselves with letting a hit go as a single when it might have been stretched for two sacks. Time and time again their pitcher let the bases fill, only to pull out of the hole by some wise old trick――the product of hard experience――which prevented the cubs from piling up runs. Some of the latter did not realize that they were the victims of inside baseball; that the regulars were regaining and perfecting the teamwork which was to count for so much a couple of months later on. But they would learn it soon, for that was the principal reason why they were there. As Ogan turned away from the manager a sudden thought flashed into his brain, and he looked swiftly around. The crowd was streaming toward the gates, intent on a refreshing bath and supper, but Ogan’s keen eyes soon singled out Locke in the rear, and in a couple of minutes he had sprinted over to him. “Want to go in to-morrow?” he asked abruptly. A faint flush stained Lefty’s face, but his voice was perfectly composed as he answered readily: “I sure do!” “I’ll put you in at the beginning of the seventh. The old man’s going to lengthen the game, and wants to run Bert Elgin in to pitch for the regulars. When he does, you can come out for us. We’ll talk it over to-morrow.”