"Seein' as how this bundle is going over to Boardman's, I'll jest drop in at the Jedge's house on my way back, and see if Miss Ally has got any news from the seat of war, as it were, and if she has, she'll be sure to tell me. Oh, she's clear grit, too, is that gal, and she knows that I set a heap by Larry. Larry! why, it was him what give my boy all the points he has got in the game, and you may lay your bottom dollar that that boy is goin' to be the all-firedest batter in the Stone River country; and you put that down to remember." The garrulous old man shouldered his bundle as he spoke and plodded down Bridge Street and so across to the north side of the town. It was the day for the first game of the championship at Galena. The hot sun poured down into the Stone River Valley with great power, and the bleached surface of the old wooden bridge shimmered with undulating lines of heat as Rough and Ready toiled on his way. The roar of the dam had a cooling sound, and the group of cotton-woods and willows on the little island above were green and refreshing to the eye. But no breeze drew up the river, and all of the north side was steeped in liquid sunshine, the trees standing motionless and the yellow road glaring in the blinding light. The toll-keeper's dog panted in the shade of the toll-house, lolling his tongue as old Rough and Ready passed by, without stopping for a word of gossip with the keeper who dozed within the doorway. The old man paused, when half-way across the bridge, to lift his furry cap from his head and wipe the servile drops from off his burning brow. While he rested his bundle on the guard rail of the bridge, Miss Anstress Howell, the Judge's aged sister, came mincing along from the North Catalpa side, cool and fresh as if she had never before been outside of a bandbox. "I wonder ef it will be safe to tackle her for news from Galena?" muttered the old man to himself. "She's a dangerous team to fool with. Mebbe she'll get away with me, but I'll try it." "Good arternoon, Miss Howell. Fine hot day. Good growin' weather, as the farmers say. Hev you heerd that any of your folks got a despatch from Galena givin' any account of how the ball opens?" Miss Howell's manner stiffened a little as she said, with a slight toss of her head, "Judge Howell, my brother, is holding court in Pawpaw, to-day, for Judge Sniffles, and nobody else but the Judge would be likely to have any despatches concerning base ball." "Well, Miss Howell, I heerd over in town that Miss Ally had a message of some kind, no offence to you, marm, and I want to hear from the boys powerful bad, you see, and so I make bold to ask if Miss Alice mayn't hev a despatch, or something from Larry, I mean Al."