“Only one way. We can release one of our other pitchers, along with the utility man we’re keeping on the bench for emergencies. If a pinch comes I can go into the game myself.” “Your plan seems all right to me, and I’m for it. We can get along without Heines. Three pitchers is all we’ve had, anyhow, and they’re enough. I say, nail Mercer. We’ve got to have somebody quick. I just heard to-night that Bristol’s signed a new twirler for the Buccaneers. You see, Hank don’t propose to let you git the bulge on him.” “Did you hear the name of Bristol’s new pitcher?” “Yep, but it sorter slipped me. It was Eagan or Elywin, or something like that. I’ll bet he’s a ripper.” “He’s probably a good man if Hank’s signed him at this late day.” “Well, you see where that puts us. You see what we’re up against. We can’t expect to get no Big League pitcher now.” “I don’t know ’bout that,” returned Kennedy in a low tone, his eyes on a man who was descending the stairs, and who turned at once toward the dining room. “There goes one.” “Hey? What?” spluttered the landlord. “There goes one of the cleverest young portside pitchers it has been my luck to see work in a game in the last three years.” “Hey?” spluttered Peter once more. “That feller there? The one just goin’ into the dining room?” “That’s the man.” “What you giving me, Jack?” “Straight facts.” “Why, what’s he doin’ round here?” “I dunno. That’s what gets me.” “Who is he?” “He registered as Robert Stranger, but he played under me with the Blue Stockings, using the name of Tom Locke. He was generally called Lefty.” Landlord McLaughlin was in a sudden sweat of excitement. “Played under you? Then you know all about him.” “I reckoned I knew a lot about him,” said Kennedy; “but in the last ten minutes I’ve sorter changed my mind. Brennan, of the Hornets, got him through a scout early in the season, but Brennan sized him up wrong and let him go unconditionally. I’d been after him before that, and I gave him a try-out. He was there with the goods. When I quit, with the exception of Grist, he was the most dependable pitcher the team had. Since then something has happened to him. I dunno what ’tis, but I could tell by the papers that he was goin’ wrong. He was in that railroad smash the other day. After the smash he wasn’t to be found. Now he’s here.” “Well, if you have a talk with him he’ll clear things up, of course. He’ll explain it all.” “I’ve had a talk with him. Instead of explaining, he pretended he didn’t know me. Peter, he denied that he was Lefty Locke and claimed his name was Stranger, under which he has registered here.” “Jerusalem!” breathed McLaughlin. “That’s mighty funny. How do you figger it?”