"Of course you can't expect that a fellow can say that he is glad to have lost the day; but you have worked hard for the pennant, and it belongs to you without any grumbling." Larry, with his ruddy face still ruddier than before, responded in frank fashion and then the crowd began to melt away, for the darkness was coming on. Passing by the Judge's carriage, yet entangled in the throng of vehicles, Larry glanced up at the pretty girl whom he had noticed with distant admiration. The Judge intercepted his glance, and leaning over with what was meant to be a gracious smile, said, "This is Larry Boyne, the famous catcher of the down-river nine? Well, I congratulate you, young man, on your well-won victory and on your own beautiful playing." Larry very much taken aback by this unexpected condescension from the great man of Catalpa, touched his cap, blushed and stammered and gladly rejoined his comrades. "Fine young man, that," said the Judge, sententiously, as his carriage slowly drew out of the crowd and moved toward the gate. "If a few such players as he were in the place of some of the muffs in the Catalpa Nine," said Alice, "I think that the championship of the whole State would belong in this town." "Why I do believe my little daughter is crying!" cried the Judge. "I am not crying," said Alice stoutly. "But I confess that I am mad enough to cry. Are we always going to be beaten by every scrubby nine that comes here, I'd like to know?" Dr. Selby, the staid and dignified village town apothecary, who was walking by the carriage, heard the indignant outburst, and looking up, said with a smile, "We've got the timber here for a first-class nine, Miss Alice, but the thing is to get the timber together." Judge Howell, with his grandest manner, said, "If there is any movement to retrieve the honor of Catalpa in the base ball field, please count on my assistance and support." CHAPTER III. AFTER THE BATTLE. To say that the town of Catalpa was very deeply mortified by this latest and most signal defeat of the favorite Nine would be a mild way of putting the case. For weeks afterwards, nothing was talked of in the place but the disgraceful overthrow of the Catalpa Nine. Very soon, so high did the debate run, there were two sides formed among the townspeople, one party blaming the Catalpas for their lack of training and practice, and the other excusing them for their evident inability to cope with the sturdy farmer boys from "down the river." "I tell you it is not mere brute muscle that our fellows want," said Squire Mead, one of the great lights of the town, "it's not brawn, but skill, that they must acquire before they can stand up against the base ball players of this part of the country. Let them pay more attention to work, and less to frills, and they will come out all right."