"I can't tell you how grateful I am," said the boy impetuously. "I'll make good for you. I've failed trying to make a living. Baseball is the only thing they taught me at college that I'm good at, and when I read that you needed a third baseman I"——
"College man, eh?" asked Clancy quickly. "Well, I won't hold that against you or tip it off. Don't thank me. If you make good I'll be the one to give thanks."
The youth turned to follow the secretary as if to hide a little mist that came into his eyes, and he left Manager Clancy gazing thoughtfully after him and nibbling the end of his penholder.
"It would be a miracle," said Clancy to himself. "But I've got a hunch it will come true. He's bred right—tell it from his looks. He's game, light on his feet; good shoulders, and—and—and a pair of eyes."
CHAPTER II
A Miracle Called McCarthy
Thirty thousand persons, banked in the great grandstands and massed upon the field seats, roared with increasing excitement as from every direction solid streams of humanity poured toward the park to witness the second game of the series between the Bears and the Panthers.
The batting practice of the teams had ended and the Bears trotted out upon the field.
"Who is that red-head practicing at third?" inquired "Chucky" Rice, the veteran reporter of the Panthers.