From which it may be readily understood that he was even then laying plans looking to another robbery, this time in order to destroy all evidence of his participation in that other offense. So one crime often leads to another, after the first step has been taken along the broad way. The boys were soon batting and throwing, while waiting for the arrival of enough fellows to make up the scrub team. Captain Seymour was a clever manager and he had noticed just where the team had seemed a bit weak during that great game with Bellport. It was now his aim to strengthen those lame spots as best the short time allowed. Those who had made errors of judgment were to be put through a course whereby they might reasonably remedy that defect. If a fielder had shown wavering in the matter of running in on a fly or backing away, he was to be bombarded with high, vaulting ones until he seemed perfect. And so it went on. Columbia just then had no regular coach, since the instructor at the school, who had played that benevolent part with them earlier in the season, had been called away by the illness of his father. “Who’s missing?” called Seymour, as he began to pick out his men, and arrange with the captain of the scrub for the opening of a little five-inning game. “All here but Buster Billings!” announced some one. “And there he comes toddling along now!” another called out. “Buster never would hurry if the world was coming to an end,” said Lanky. “You wrong him there. Send a fly out in his territory and see him go. Once he makes a start and he can whoop things up like a wild broncho on the plains. The only trouble with Buster is he can hardly stop after he gets wound up. I saw him knock down a whole section of a board fence once,” laughed Frank. “Who’s he got with him?” asked “Bones” Shadduck. “It’s a gentleman stopping at his house. I saw him come last night,” one of the boys answered quickly. “Mr. Billings is having lots of company lately. I met another gentleman at the game last week who said he was visiting at their house,” remarked Jack Eastwick. Buster came puffing up, his face rosy as ever, and a set grin upon it. “Hello! fellows, a little late, am I? Well, Rome never was built in a day. Plenty of time to do all the practicing we want. And since we’re going to have a real hot game of it why I thought I’d bring an umpire along!” He pointed to the gentleman at his side, who was smiling as if pleased to be among such a lot of happy-go-lucky young athletes. “Reminds me of my salad days at Princeton, boys. As George here says I’ll be only too glad to prove of any assistance to you, either in the way of umpiring, or giving you a few pointers,” the tall man remarked. Buster threw out his chest, and the light of a long-delayed triumph shone in his eyes as he exclaimed: “Fellows, allow me to introduce my friend, Coach Willoughby!” “What!”