This was a cheering indorsement for the others to hear and it gave Walter the confidence of which he stood in need. A great deal appeared to depend on his pitching ability, and this test was more trying to the nerves than handling dynamite or dodging General Quesada. The catcher tossed him a ball and they moved to one side of the field. At first Walter pitched with caution, but as he warmed to his work the ball sped into Brewster's glove with a wicked thud. "Send 'em along easy to-day. Better not overdo it," the catcher warned him. Walter smiled and swung his arm with a trifle more steam in the delivery. He felt that he must show these friendly critics what he had in him, wherefore the solid Brewster withstood a bombardment that made him grunt and perspire. The other players looked and whispered among themselves with evident approval. "What did I tell you?" proudly exclaimed Naughton. "Am I a good scout? I unearthed this boy phenomenon." The battery had paused to cool off when a big-boned American saddle-horse came across the field at an easy canter. The rider sat as erect as a cavalryman, although he was old enough to be Walter's grandfather. Halting beside the group, he said: "I rode out this way on the chance of seeing a bit of practice. Do you expect to whip those hard-hitting rascals from Culebra?" "Good afternoon, Major Glendinning," replied Naughton, with a wink at the others. "Harrison has been feeling very gloomy over the prospects. We lost our only first-class pitcher, you know." "What an outrageous shame it was!" earnestly ejaculated the head of the Department of Commissary and Subsistence. Harrison nudged Naughton. Major Glendinning had come upon the scene at precisely the right moment. Here was the employer who, above all others, must be made to take an interest in Goodwin's welfare if these amiable conspirators could bring it about. Noting that Walter was beyond ear-shot, Harrison spoke up. "Sorry you couldn't arrive a little sooner, Major. We are inclined to think we have found a better pitcher, though I'm not at all sure that we can keep him at Cristobal." The elderly gentleman leaned forward in the saddle and eagerly inquired: "Bless me, is that true? I swear you don't look at all gloomy, Harrison. Who is he? Where is he? And you think he can pitch winning ball for Cristobal?" "Yes, sir. Brewster has seen him play at home. He is one of your born pitchers. He is a wonder." "What do you mean by saying we can't keep him?" demanded the major. "He is working for me--on the silver roll," vouchsafed Naughton, with a hopeless kind of sigh. "He hasn't been able to find anything better to do. But I can't hold him, of course. He is a first-class man in every way. He is likely to quit almost any day and drift over to Culebra or Ancon, where he will be sure to land a position on the gold roll, as foreman, clerk, or time-keeper. And then he will be pitching for our hated rivals."