“I’m not likely to forget it――when you are anywhere near.” “Never mind. I’ll take all the responsibility. Tell me about the game to-morrow.” “I can tell you better after to-morrow. I can’t weigh fish before I have anything to weigh them with and I can’t tell you about a game before it’s played.” “You’re a great chap, Dan!” laughed Walter. “I’m afraid you haven’t any imagination.” “What’s that?” “Oh, it’s the ability to see things――a little different from what they really are.” “I see. I guess old Si Slater, the harness-maker, must have more imagination, as you call it, than any other man in――――” “Why, what makes you think he has?” “He never has been known to tell anything as it is. He sees things a little different from what they really are. You say that’s ‘imagination.’ Perhaps it is, but we poor chaps up here in the country don’t call it by that name exactly.” “What do you call it?” inquired Walter laughingly. “We just say Si Slater is the biggest liar in seven counties.” “Is Si as fat as ever? I haven’t seen him since I came.” “Fatter. You’ll see him to-morrow――and hear him too.” “What do you mean?” “What I say.” “Is Si a ‘rooter’?” “I guess so, though I’m sure I don’t know what a ‘rooter’ is.” “Why, a ‘rooter’ is a wild ‘fan.’” “Glad to hear it,” said Dan dryly. “While you are about it you might explain what a ‘wild fan’ is.” “I didn’t say a ‘wild fan.’ I said a ‘fan’ that is wild. A fan is a baseball enthusiast――one that takes in all the games. A ‘rooter’ is one that yells for his team――――” “I see. I guess you can rely on Si’s yelling all right, and on his attendance too. You’ll know it if he is there.” “Know anything about the other nine, Dan?” “Nothing except that they haven’t lost a game this summer.” “How many have they played?” “Five.” “You going to pitch?” “At the start. If they drive me out of the box we’ll have to call on you or someone else.” “I’ll keep. I regularly play short, but I can pitch a little. If I could only curve a baseball the way I can a tennis ball I’d fool the batter every time. What does Moulton say about your work?” “He doesn’t say much.” “Oh, well, I understand he’s a quiet fellow anyway.” “He is.” “Has he found much fault with your work?” “No. He doesn’t say much about it, as I told you.” “Probably he thinks you are doing all right or he would say so,” said Walter, a little condescending in his manner. “You go ahead and try it to-morrow and if you fall down I’ll see what I can do.”