"You see, Pink Egg," amplified Mr. Birdseye when the glittering main fact of his ambition had been revealed, "it'll be like this: The Moguls get in here over the O. & Y. V. at twelve-forty-five that day. Coming from the West, that means they hit Barstow Junction at eleven-twenty and lay over there nine minutes for the northbound connection. Well, I'm making Delhi the day before--seeing my trade there. I drive over to the junction that evening from Delhi--it's only nine miles by buggy--stay all night at the hotel, and when the train with the team gets in next morning, who climbs aboard her? Nobody but just little old me." "But won't there be a delegation from here waiting at Barstow to meet 'em and ride in with 'em?" Mr. Birdseye was wise in the lore of local time cards. He shook his head. "Not a chance, Pinkie, not a chance. The only way to get out to Barstow from here that morning would be to get up at four o'clock and catch the early freight. No, sir, the crowd here won't see the boys until we all come piling off at the union depot at twelve-forty-five. By that time I'll be calling all those Moguls by their first names. Give me an hour; that's all I ask--just an hour on the same train together with 'em. You know me, and from reading in the papers about 'em, you know about what kind of fellows those Moguls are. Say, Pink Egg, can't you just close your eyes and see the look on Nick Cornwall's face when he and all the rest see me stepping down off that train along with Swifty Megrue and old Long Leaf and the Indian, and all the outfit? I owe Nick Cornwall one anyway. You remember how shirty he got with me last year when I went to him and told him if he'd switch Gillam from short to third and put Husk Blynn second in the batting order instead of fifth, that he'd improve the strength of the team forty per cent. If he'd only a-done that, we'd have been in the money sure. But did he do it? He did not. He told me there was only one manager getting paid to run the club, and so far as he knew he was him. Manager? Huh! Look where we finished--or would have finished if the league had lasted out the season. Eight teams, and us in eighth place, fighting hard not to be in ninth." "Suppose, though, J. Henry, there just happens to be somebody else from Anneburg on the twelve-forty-five?" Perhaps it was a tiny spark of envy in Mr. Fluellen's heart which inspired him to raise this second doubt against the certainty of his friend's coup.