"That's what! How are you on stick work?"
"Oh, no better than the average pitcher," replied Joe, modestly. "I had a record of .172 last season."
"That's not so worse," observed Rad.
"What's yours?" asked Joe.
"Oh, it runs around .250."
"Good!" cried Joe. "I hope you get it up to .300 this year."
"Not much chance of that. I was picked because I'm pretty good with the stick—a sort of pinch hitter. But then that's not being a star pitcher," he added, lest Joe feel badly at the contrast in their batting averages.
"Oh, I'm far from being a star, but I'd like to be in that class. There's my best bat," and he held out his stick.
"Oh, you like that kind; eh?" spoke Rad. "Well, I'll show you what I favor," and then the two plunged into a talk that lasted until meal time.
The arrival of the St. Louis team in the comparatively small town of Reedville was an event of importance. There was quite a crowd about the hotel, made up mostly of small boys, who wanted a chance to see the players about whom they had read so much.