Johnny Everson, small in physique, but large in brains, self-possessed and confident at all times, had made one of his nice little speeches to the boys at dinner, and when he went to bed he wasn’t thinking about bats, balls or gloves or worrying about the part he might have to play on the morrow. He lay awake in his berth a long time, however, rehearsing the impromptu speech he intended to make at the dinner which he knew the Jefferson boys would give the team whether the game was won or lost. Hughie had a good many things to think about so he didn’t get much time to let superstition work. He was busy with his batting order and signals for the coming game, but just before going to sleep he did wonder if the grass at Jefferson was longer and thicker at third base or at first. Delvin, like a number of the older fellows on the team, had made the trip before and was not unfamiliar with sleeping cars. Delvin was a grand fellow almost all the time, quiet, and a great reader and he rarely ever kicked about anything. But put him on board a sleeper and along about bedtime you could always hear him grumble, and no wonder, for there never was a berth made long enough to accommodate all of his length, and so he had to curl up when he slept on a train and during the night Arthur woke up the whole bunch several times with his grumbling. Gibbs, big, strong, and brainy as lots of these boys are who came from Canada, was pretty tired from the long ride with no activity, and at bedtime went to bed and to sleep with no apparent thought of the hard work before him the next day. But during the night he must have dreamed about a ball game, for suddenly the whole car was aroused by the noise of breaking glass and some one was shouting, “You will try to steal on me will you?” and when the boys stuck their heads out from between the curtains they saw Gibbie in one end of the car in pajamas over which he had put on his shin guards, pad, mask, and glove and at the other end of the car could be seen a badly shattered mirror through which Gibbie had just a moment before thrown something. He had been walking in his sleep, and putting on all of his catching outfit had for five minutes been making signals at himself in the glass at the other end of the car. Thinking he saw a base runner, he picked up what he thought was a ball (it was in reality one of Hans’ big shoes), and snapped it at his own image in the mirror beyond. He missed the porter, who happened to be coming down the aisle just then, but made a perfect throw and the shoe went sailing into the mirror. They finally managed to wake him up, but had a hard time doing it, for Gibbie kept saying, “Don’t put me out of the game. I want to catch every game on the schedule this season.” [Illustration: “You will try to steal on me?”]