"Yes," agreed Rube. "But I didn't have the slightest doubt that I would make good. And, of course, I didn't mention that I was only sixteen years old. I thought it best to leave that out. "I mailed the letter to Iowa, and then I waited on pins and needles for an answer. Every day I had to be the first one to get at the mail, because if anyone else saw a letter to me from the Waterloo Ball Club--well, that would have been enough to alert Dad to what was going on and I'd have been sunk. So every day I waited for the first sign of the mailman and tried to get to him before he reached the house. As it turned out, I could have saved myself a lot of worrying." "No letter ever came?" guessed Lisa. "Nope. Three weeks passed and still no answer." The shadow sighed again. "I couldn't understand what had gone wrong. Maybe it was against the rules to send transportation money to somebody not yet under contract? Maybe they didn't know how good I really was? Maybe this and maybe that. It was another frustrating period of my life. Finally, I just couldn't stand it any longer. I gave my folks a story about camping with the Boy Scouts and hitch-hiked to Waterloo." "You lied to your parents?" said Ozma, startled by the very idea. "Yes, I did. It was a hard thing for me to do, going against Dad like that. But I was well punished for the deed. Believe me! Have you ever had to hitch-hike, sleep in open fields, or hop a freight train? It took me five days and five nights. The longest five days of my life, and I was only sixteen at the time. But I did get there. Tired, anxious and half-starved, I blew into the Illinois Central Station at Waterloo, Iowa on a freight train early in the evening. Just before it stopped, I jumped off and went head over heels right in front of the passenger house. I hardly had time to pick myself up off the ground before the stationmaster grabbed me and shouted, 'What do you think you're doing? Come on, get out of here before I run you in!' "'No,' I said. 'I'm reporting to the Waterloo Ball Club.' "'You're what?' he says. 'My God! Did you ever wash your face?' "'Yes I did,' I said. 'But I've been travelling for five days and five nights, and I am anxious to get to the Ball Park. Where do the ballplayers hang around?' "'At the Smoke Shop,' he says. 'Down the street about a half of a mile. If you walk down there, probably whoever you're looking for will be there.' "So I thanked him and said I'd see to it that he got a free pass to the ball game as soon as I got settled, and started off for the Smoke Shop. It turned out that two brothers owned the Smoke Shop, and they also owned the Ball Club. One of them was behind the counter when I walked into the place. He took one look at me and let out a roar like a lion's. "'What are you doing in here?' he yelled. This is a respectable place! Get out of here!'