Around many an evening fire and in many a lounging-place in the town, the question was animatedly discussed, as autumn waned into winter, and most outdoor sports became a little unseasonable. It was decided, in that informal and irregular way with which a western community settles its internal affairs, that there must be in Catalpa a first-rate base ball nine, and that it must be organized before the spring opened. CHAPTER IV. REORGANIZATION BEGINS. "Where now, Larry?" asked 'Squire Mead, meeting Larry Boyne, on Stone River bridge, one wintry day in November. Cold weather had set in early, and huge cakes of ice had already formed on the edge of the dam, and a light fall of snow gave promise of sleighing for Thanksgiving week, then not far off. Larry was mounted on a sorry-looking nag, borrowed from a Sugar Grove neighbor, and he carried behind him a big bundle of knitted mittens, the handiwork of his mother and sisters, to be exchanged for goods at one of the stores in town. "Oh, I'm just going to town to trade a bit, and I have a message from Al Heaton that he and his father want to see me about joining a new base ball club to be gotten up here. Know anything about it, 'Squire?" "Well, yes," replied the 'Squire, "I'm told that there is something of a stir in town about the matter." The crafty old lawyer did not say how much the stir was indebted to him for its existence. "Quite a stir, Larry, and they do say that they will get up a new nine; even if they have to hire players to go into it." Larry's cheeks flushed even deeper red as he replied, "There is no disgrace in hiring players to help out, I suppose, 'Squire? I was paid a share of the gate money while I was with the Jonesville Nine, and they have offered me a regular salary if I go with them next season. But I wouldn't touch a penny of it if I thought it was the least bit off-color for a fellow to take pay for his services." "No, no," said the 'Squire, warmly, "there is nothing in that that an honorable and high-toned young fellow like you are could object to; and if I were you, I would make the very best terms I could for next year. You have been obliged to give up studying law, I hear, on account of the death of your father. If you do well in the ball-field, next summer, you might save up enough to set you right next year, so far as studying is concerned. And, between you and me and the gate-post, Al Heaton and his father are bound to have you in the new nine. So make as good a bargain for yourself as you can. Al can't play next season." "Why, what is the matter with Al? Why can't he play any more?"