Meanwhile, the Blue Stockings were being battered, and their lead cut down, until even old Pete Grist lost heart, and bewailed the missing southpaw. “Another week,” he groaned; “another week, and we’ve got to win four games out of six to home, with no pitchers. If we get two of them games we’ll do well. If we had Locke in trim we could take them. I’ll agree to win my share. Carson has failed, and the old man’s sore. After all, Kennedy was the best manager the Blue Stockings ever had.” To make matters worse, Carson and Collier quarreled violently. About this time Stillman, whose place had been filled by a cub for nearly two weeks, came back, and interviewed Charles Collier. Although the reporter had made his business a secret affair, more than one of the Blue Stockings guessed that he was searching for Lefty Locke. Daily the _Blade_ was scanned for some word which would indicate that the clever reporter-detective had made progress in this search, and daily those in looking for that word were disappointed. Stillman was taking the chance of being scooped in order to spring a big sensation at the most dramatic moment. He did not even dare tell his editor what he had learned. The almost hopeless fight of the Blue Stockings aroused the sympathy of the fans, even while the management of Al Carson was bitterly criticised, and also the judgment of Charles Collier in letting old Jack Kennedy go in order to fill his place with a man like Carson. Pete Grist had made good by winning two games of the last six. He even saved another game when three of the battered pitchers had been pounded out of the box. Then followed two defeats, and upon the day before the final and deciding game was to be played Stillman sprang his sensation in the _Blade_. He announced that Carson had been permanently shelved by the owner of the Blue Stockings, who had sent a distress call to the old manager, Jack Kennedy, receiving in reply the assurance that Kennedy would be on hand early in the morning, and would bring with him a cracking portside pitcher by the name of Stranger, who had been doing marvelous work out in the bushes. Stillman wrote, in conclusion: I’ve seen this Stranger pitch, and, believe me, he’s able to deliver the goods. He’s the equal of Lefty Locke when Locke was at his best. If Stranger can pitch a winning game for the Stockings to-morrow, the championship is ours after all, and old Jack Kennedy will have saved the day at the last moment. Forty-eight hours before this article appeared in print, Lefty Locke, pitching for the Deers, had, while batting in the ninth inning, been hit full and fair on the head by a pitched ball delivered with all the speed the man on the slab could command. Locke sank to the ground without as much as a gasp. In a moment he was surrounded by a number of his teammates. Kennedy lifted the stunned man’s head, calling sharply for water.