This time, it was Al Heaton who fired the heart of Catalpa with the first intelligence from the Diamond Field. It was nearly three o'clock when his first despatch arrived, and the game had been called at two o'clock. There was much grumbling in the main street of the town, where numerous groups stood in the shade of awnings and tall buildings, waiting for the news. The windows of _The Leaf_ office opened on this street, as well as on the side street on which the telegraph office was situated. Editor Downey had announced that he had made arrangements with Albert to send news directly from the base ball grounds in Galena, and that he would display a bulletin from his office windows. Accordingly, when there was hung out a big white sheet of paper, with black lettering thereon, the assembly below was hushed in expectation. The despatch ran thus: _Everybody confident. Larry Boyne says our nine will win the game. Weather hot, and the dust intolerable. Look out for fun._ _ALBERT HEATON._ "What does he mean by looking out for fun; and who cares what Larry Boyne thinks?" growled Hank Jackson. "I should think he might send us something more bracing than that by this time." But the straggling cheer that greeted Albert's encouraging message drowned Jackson's grumbling, and the crowd showed by their excitement that they were ready to accept the slightest omen as proof positive that the Catalpa nine would carry the day. So, when Judge Howell's carriage drove up and halted under the shade of the huge catalpa tree that grew in front of Dr. Selby's drug store, from which the fair Alice could see the throng and watch for the bulletin from the newspaper office, there was a little hurrah from some of the younger lads. They seemed to think that the young lady, in some fashion, represented the absent Judge, who was now recognized as one of the steadfast friends of the band of heroes. "That's a good sign! I'll swear to gracious!" said Rough and Ready, in a low and hoarse whisper, as he saw the Judge's handsome bays, champing their bits, and prancing uneasily under the shade of the spreading catalpa. "It's a good sign, for that gal never went back on the nine, and her coming will bring good luck. Mark my words, Jake!" Jake, the big butcher, nodded his head and only said "yaw," when the bulletin was again flung out from the window of the printing-office. The magical black letters were read in silence broken only by the stamping of the horses tethered along the street and worried by the flies. This is what the eager spectators read: _First inning--Catalpas, 1; Galenas, 0._