Amidst a cloud of dust “Peg” Fosdick went down safely to second, the ball arriving just as he clutched the bag with his outstretched hand. Peg arose to his feet, brushed himself off, and waved a hand to his cheering mates on the side that was just then at bat.

Cliffwood boys were having a glorious time on the green devoted to outdoor sports. Still, after all, these were only two scrub teams; for, somehow, [Pg 2] up to the present time the bustling mill town on the Sweetbriar river had never mustered up enough energy to put a regular representative nine worthy of support in the field.

[Pg 2]

Neighboring places, such as Creston, Emoryville, and Barrtown, boasted good teams, and the boys of Cliffwood often found themselves openly taunted on account of their lack of zeal in the matter.

“But things are liable to change from now on!” declared one of the boys on the bench, when casual mention of this lamentable fact was made. “It’s time Cliffwood woke up from this Rip Van Winkle sleep, and made its mark in the world.”

“That time is going to come right away,” asserted the pitcher of his nine, a vigorous lad, Dick Horner by name, and who seemed to be a leader among the boys.

“It’s as certain as can be, or my name isn’t Leslie Capes!” declared the catcher, who was Dick Horner’s most intimate chum.

“Well, Cliffwood,” observed a third youth earnestly, “is a far different town from what it used to be before Mr. Holwell, the minister, and Harry Bartlett, leader of our local Y. M. C. A., organized the Boys’ Department.”

“That’s what nearly every one tells us, Elmer,” returned the sanguine Dick. “And by the coming fall we hope to be able to put a decent football [Pg 3] squad in the field, to stand for our home town.”

[Pg 3]

“I’m mighty glad to hear that, Dick!” exclaimed still another of the players, Phil Harkness by name. And then raising his voice to a shout he went on to say: “Three balls and two strikes, Andy! Make Nat put the ball over, and meet his fast clipper for a homer!”

Almost immediately following the giving of this advice came the crack of the bat as it caught one of Nat Silmore’s speediest balls “on the nose.” The boy on second sprinted for home because he knew that was the play, there being already two out.

Away out in deep center Alonzo Crane made a vigorous effort to get the swift liner. He was 

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