WITH THE DYNAMITE GANG
"Now let's talk base-ball," impatiently interjected a lathy individual in riding breeches and puttees, who had come in from a construction camp somewhere off in the jungle.
"We ought to tuck our prize package in bed very early," objected Naughton. "He is as sleepy as a tree full of owls."
"Juggling dynamite is no picnic!" and Walter struggled with a yawn. His friends good-naturedly escorted him to the bachelor quarters, where he speedily rolled into his cot and dreamed of fighting a duel with General Quesada, the weapons being base-ball bats.
When he reported on board the dynamite ship next morning, Naughton greeted him with a slightly worried air and declared:
"I have been thinking it over and perhaps those chaps were right. We have very few accidents with the stuff, but we ought not to run the slightest risk of losing the league championship to Culebra or Ancon."
Walter laughed and replied:
"This is the best kind of practice for me. If I can keep my nerve and make no errors, I am not likely to be rattled when the bases are full."
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