Tom stepped over and the detective ran his fingers up and down the boy’s arm and around his shoulder. Then he nodded approvingly. “You got a start, all right,” he said. “You got good stuff up there at the shoulder, and that’s where you need it. Done much of it?” “Pitching? No, sir, not much. I just started last spring. A fellow and I--he plays with the high school team--we used to pitch and catch sometimes of an evening. Then this summer I pitched in a couple of games for the Blues. They said I didn’t do so badly.” “Want to learn more about it?” “Yes, sir, very much. I tried to teach myself out of a book, but it’s pretty hard.” Mr. George sniffed. “There isn’t any book that’ll teach you, son. But I can. And I will if you want me to. There’s the dinner gong. To-morrow I’ll buy us a catcher’s mitt and we’ll have some fun, eh?” “Yes, sir, thank you. I wish, though, you’d let me buy the mitt. You see, Mr. George, I can get it at wholesale price.” “That so?” The detective pulled a roll of money from a pocket and peeled off a five-dollar bill. “Then you get me one, a good one, son.” “It won’t be more than a dollar and seventy-five cents, I guess,” Tom objected. “All right, but have it good. And if there’s anything left you bring along a mask. Might as well do this thing right, eh? And we better have a new ball, too. This one’s getting played out. Here, maybe you’ll need some more money.” And Mr. George put his hand to his pocket again. “I’ve got enough, sir, I think,” said Tom. “Anyway, it’s only fair for me to pay for something. You see, it’s me--I who am going to get the good of it.” “Oh, I don’t know,” replied the detective, slapping Tom on the shoulder as they passed around to the doorway. “I expect to get a bunch of fun out of it myself. And I guess it’ll do me good to limber some of the splints out of my arm. Anyway, if you don’t have enough, you let me know to-morrow. Practice is at six sharp, son!” CHAPTER XVI THE DETECTIVE DONS A MASK