It followed that the scouting party included not only Miss Hazel Sleighter, but also her big brother Tom, who, being temporarily in the high school, more perhaps because of his size and the maturity of his bearing than by virtue of his educational qualifications, was at the present moment most chiefly concerned in getting into form his baseball team for the match the following Saturday in which the High School was to meet All Comers under eighteen. The freight shed being on his way to the practice ground, Tom deigned to join the party and to take in the circus car as he passed. The car dwellers were discovered on the open prairie not far from the freight shed, keeping guard over Rosie, who was stretching her legs after her railway journey. The boys were tossing a baseball to each other as Tom pedalled up on his wheel. “Hello, there, here you are,” he shouted to Sam, holding up his hands for a catch. The ball came with such impact that Tom was distinctly jarred, and dropped the ball. With all his force he threw the ball back to Sam, who caught it with the ease of a professional and returned it with such vigour that again Tom dropped it. “Let's have a knock-up,” he said, hitting a long fly. Sam flew after the ball with amazing swiftness, his scarecrow garments fluttering and flapping in the air, and caught it with an upward leap that landed him on his back breathless but triumphant. “Say, you're a crackerjack,” said Tom; “here's another.” Meanwhile Larry was in the hands of his sisters, who had delightedly kissed him to his shamefaced chagrin, and introduced him to their new-found friends. “So this is Larry.” said Miss Hazel Sleighter, greeting him with a dazzling smile. “We have heard a lot about you. I think you must be quite wonderful. Come here, Tom, and meet your friends.” Poor Larry! In the presence of this radiant creature and of her well-dressed brother, he felt terribly conscious of the shabbiness of the second best suit which his mother had thought good enough for the journey in the car. Tom glanced at the slight, poorly dressed, pale-faced lad who stood before him with an embarrassed, almost a beseeching look in his eyes. “Can you play ball?” asked Tom. “Not much,” replied Larry; “not like Sam. Come here, Sam,” he called, remembering that he had not introduced his friend. Sam shuffled over with an air of complete nonchalance. “This is Sam,” said Larry. “Sam--I have forgotten your name.” “Nolan,” said Sam shortly. “Miss Hazel Sleighter,” said Larry. “How do you do, Miss Hazel,” said Sam, sweeping her an elaborate bow, and then gazing boldly into her eyes. “I hope you're well. If you're as smart as you look, I guess you're way up in G.” “I am quite well, thank you,” returned Miss Hazel, the angle of her chin indicating her most haughty air.