“So would you if you’d been riding all over town. Say, I got a letter from Bert Cable this morning and I want you to see what you think about it. I’ve got it here somewhere.” “Where is Bert?” asked Dick as Gordon searched his pockets. “Bridgeport, Connecticut. He’s working for his uncle in some sort of a factory over there. He told me he was going to get eight dollars a week. Here it is. You’d better read it.” “You do it,” smiled Dick. “I’m lazy to-day.” “Well, he says—Where is it?—Here we are. ‘I’m sending a letter that came the other day from Caspar Billings. He thinks we’re still playing ball and wants a game with us. I haven’t answered it. What I was thinking was why don’t you and Lansing and Fudge Shaw and some of the fellows get a team together and play the Point? You could have a lot of fun. Those fellows at the Point aren’t anything to be scared of. You could get up a team that would wallop them easy. Tom Haley would pitch for you and Lansing could catch and you could play first. Why don’t you? Anyway, you answer the letter. I’m awfully busy here and don’t have much time for writing letters. This is a swell town, lots going on all the time and plenty of baseball. Remember me to all the fellows and tell Harry Bryan when you see him that he’s got my glove and is to send it to me because I may need it. We’re getting up a team here at the factory. We’ve got a dandy pitcher and I guess they’ll put me at short. Don’t forget to write to Billings anyway. Yours truly, Bert.’” Gordon looked inquiringly across at Dick. “What do you think?” he asked. “Why, I dare say they will.” “Dare say who will? Will what?” “Put Bert at short,” chuckled Dick. “Oh, you know what I mean! What do you think of the scheme?” “Good, I’d say. I suppose,” with a humorous glance at his crutches, “you came around to see if I’d play third base for you.” “Wish you could, Dickums. Gee, I don’t see how you can always be so cheerful about—about it! I couldn’t.” “Well, it isn’t hard, Gordie, when you’ve had seventeen years’ practice. Of course, if I’d been able to get around like other fellows and then—then had this happen I guess it would be different. Anyhow, a chap might as well be cheerful as anything else. After all, I don’t miss much fun. I can’t play games or run or skate or—or do a lot of things I’d like to, but I can watch the rest of you and I can make believe that if I _could_—well, play third base, say, I’d do it better than the next chap. The beauty of it is that you can’t prove I wouldn’t!” “I’ll bet you would, Dickums! Why, you know more baseball and more football than most of the fellows who play.” “Why not?” laughed Dick. “They don’t have as much time to study it as I do. They have to get out and play. I can watch and learn. But never mind about me. What’s this Billings chap say?”