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decisive, with the score 5 to 0 in our favor. But the score did not tell all of the Rube’s work that morning. He shut out Buffalo without a hit, or a scratch, the first no-hit, no-run game of the year. He gave no base on balls; not a Buffalo player got to first base; only one fly went to the outfield.
    For once I forgot Milly after a game, and I hurried to find Morrisey, and carried him off to have dinner with me.
    â€œYour rube is a wonder, and that’s a fact,” he said to me several times. “Where on earth did you get him? Connelly, he’s my meat. Do you understand? Can you let me have him right now?”
    â€œNo, Morrisey, I’ve got the pennant to win first. Then I’ll sell him.”
    â€œHow much? Do you hear? How much?” Morrisey hammered the table with his fist and his eyes gleamed.
    Carried away as I was by his vehemence, I was yet able to calculate shrewdly, and I decided to name a very high price, from which I could come down and still make a splendid deal.
    â€œHow much?” demanded Morrisey.
    â€œFive thousand dollars,” I replied, and gulped when I got the words out.
    Morrisey never batted an eye.
    â€œWaiter, quick, pen and ink and paper!”
    Presently my hand, none too firm, was signing my name to a contract whereby I was to sell my pitcher for five thousand dollars at the close of the current season. I never saw a man look so pleased as Morrisey when he folded that contract and put it in his pocket. He bade me goodbye and hurried off to catch a train, and he never knew that Rube had pitched the great game on his wedding day.
    That afternoon before a crowd that had to be roped off the diamond, I put the Rube against the Bisons. How well he showed the baseball knowledge he had assimilated! He changed his style in that second game. He used a slow ball and wide curves and took things easy. He made Buffalo hit the ball and when runners got on bases once more let out his speed and held them down. He relied upon the players behind him and they were equal to the occasion.
    It was a totally different game from that of the morning, and perhaps one more suited to the pleasure of the audience. There was plenty of hard hitting, sharp fielding, and good base running, and the game was close and exciting up to the eighth, when Mullaney’s triple gave us two runs, and a lead that was not headed. To the deafening roar of the bleachers the Rube walked off the field, having pitched Worcester into first place in the pennant race.
    That night the boys planned their first job on the Rube. We had ordered a special Pullman for travel to Toronto, and when I got to the depot in the morning, the Pullman was a white fluttering mass of satin ribbons. Also, there was a brass band, and thousands of baseball fans, and barrels of old footgear. The Rube and Nan arrived in a cab and were immediately mobbed. The crowd roared, the band played, the engine whistled, the bell clanged; and the air was full of confetti and slippers, and showers of rice like hail pattered everywhere. A somewhat disheveled bride and groom boarded the Pullman and breathlessly hid in a stateroom. The train started, and the crowd gave one last rousing cheer. Old Spears yelled from the back platform:
    â€œFellers, an’ fans, you needn’t worry none about leavin’ the Rube an’ his bride to the tender mercies of the gang. A hundred years from now people will talk about this honeymoon baseball trip. Wait till we come back—an’ say, jest to put you wise, no matter what else happens, we’re comin’ back in first place!”
    It was surely a merry party in that Pullman. The bridal couple emerged from their hiding place and held a sort of reception in which the Rube appeared shy and frightened, and Nan resembled a joyous, fluttering bird in gray. I did not see if she kissed every man on the team, but she kissed me as if she had been wanting to do it for ages. Milly kissed the Rube, and