The substitution of Albert Heaton for the derelict Ben Burton was not effected without a struggle. His mother, firm in her conviction that base ball was not an aristocratic game, held out against the arguments of her husband and her son, until Judge Howell, accidentally meeting her on the street, one day, craftily won her over by informing her that he wished that he had a son big enough to play base ball. He was sure that the honor and the glory of defeating the crack base ball club of the State would now fall to the Catalpa nine. It would be a great day for Catalpa when this happened. The good lady surrendered. What Judge Howell thought and said seemed to her like law and gospel, social and moral. Albert joyfully received consent to play with the nine--"just for this once." CHAPTER XVII. A FAMOUS VICTORY. It was a great day for base ball when the far-famed Calumet club came to Catalpa to play the home nine. The visitors arrived by the evening train and were met at the station by the greater part of the Catalpa club, who escorted their friends to the hotel in which quarters had been engaged. To say that the strangers were objects of curiosity to the youths and lassies of the town would only faintly describe the enthusiasm with which they were received by the people of Catalpa. The morrow was to witness the final game of the struggle, already made sufficiently notable by the narrowness of the margin left for the two contestants, and by the notoriety given to it by the treachery of Ben Burton, now town-talk, but (thanks to the discretion of the players) not known outside of Catalpa. So high ran the excitement that there were many sleepless youngsters in Catalpa, that night, although the seasoned veterans who were the actors in the drama slept as soundly as though the next day would not dawn, big with the fate of rival base ball clubs. Tom Selby, as his father reported, arose at frequent intervals through the night, looked out on the cloudless sky across which the harvest moon was riding, and went back to his bed with a deep-drawn sigh of satisfaction at the prospect of another fine day for the great match.