Many coachers, who do not attempt to get the signs for fast and curved balls, study the catcher to get his pitchout sign, because once this is recognized it gives the team at the bat a great advantage. If a coacher sees the catcher give the pitchout signal he can stop the runner from trying to steal and the pitcher has wasted a ball and is "in the hole." Then if his control is uncertain the result is likely to be disastrous. Several players in the National League are always trying to get the batter's signs. Bresnahan, the manager and catcher of the St. Louis club, devotes half his time and energy to looking for the wireless code employed by batter and base runner. If he can discover the hit and run sign, then he is able to order a pitchout and catch the man who has started to run in response to it several feet at second base. He is a genius at getting this information. Once late in 1911, when the New York club was in St. Louis on the last trip West, I came up to the bat with Fletcher on first base. I rubbed the end of my stick with my hand and Roger exclaimed: "Why, that's your old hit and run, Matty! What are you trying to do, kid me?" "I forgot you knew it, Rog," I answered, "but it goes." He thought I was attempting to cross him and did not order a pitchout. The sign had been given intentionally. I hit the ball and had the laugh on him. If a catcher can get a pitchout on a hit and run sign he upsets the other team greatly. Take a fast man on first base and the batter signs him that he is going to hit the next ball. The runner gets his start and the ball comes up so wide that the batter could not half reach it with a ten-foot bat. The runner is caught easily at second base and it makes him look foolish. That is why so many catchers devote time to looking for this signal. It is a great fruit bearer. Many of the extra players on the bench are always on the alert for the hit and run sign. This is a typical situation: The Giants were playing the Pittsburg club one day in 1911. Byrne was on first base. Fred Clarke was at bat and Byrne started for second while Clarke hit the ball to right field, Byrne reaching third base on the play. "What did he do?" asked Ames. "Did you get it, Matty?" inquired Wiltse. "No," I answered. "Did you?" "I think he tapped his bat on the plate," replied Wiltse. The next time Clarke came up we were all looking to see if he tapped his bat on the plate. Byrne was again on first base. The Pirates' manager fixed his cap, he stepped back out of the box and knocked the dirt out of his cleats, and he did two or three other natural things before the pitch, but nothing happened. Then he tapped his bat on the plate. "Make him put them over, Chief," yelled Wiltse which, translated, meant, "Order a pitch-out, Chief. He just gave Byrne the hit and run sign."