pitch some, after all. I wonder where he came from."
"Mr. Cope won't tell, and nobody around here seems to know."
"Somehow I have a feeling that I've seen him before, but I can't place him."
"Perhaps he's some great college pitcher," said the girl.
"I don't know about that, but if he is I reckon he's here under a fake name; for you know it makes college twirlers professionals to play for money. A man is barred if he's ever caught at it. Just the same, some of them, needing the dough, take the risk. Up here in this league a man would stand a fair chance of getting by without being exposed."
"It's—it's supposed to be dishonest, isn't it?"
"Yes; but necessity has driven more than one good man to shut his eyes to that phase of the matter. If this Locke was known at all as a professional, some of the players of this league should recognize him."
"I don't like to think that he's a college man who would do such a thing," said Janet earnestly.
"Oh-ho!" cried Bent. "So you're taking considerable interest in the chap you thought couldn't pitch at all."
