WITH THE DYNAMITE GANG
The elderly gentleman leaned forward in the saddle and eagerly inquired:
"Bless me, is that true? I swear you don't look at all gloomy, Harrison. Who is he? Where is he? And you think he can pitch winning ball for Cristobal?"
"Yes, sir. Brewster has seen him play at home. He is one of your born pitchers. He is a wonder."
"What do you mean by saying we can't keep him?" demanded the major.
"He is working for me—on the silver roll," vouchsafed Naughton, with a hopeless kind of sigh. "He hasn't been able to find anything better to do. But I can't hold him, of course. He is a first-class man in every way. He is likely to quit almost any day and drift over to Culebra or Ancon, where he will be sure to land a position on the gold roll, as foreman, clerk, or time-keeper. And then he will be pitching for our hated rivals."
"Um-m, he will, will he?" and Major Glendinning fairly bristled. "I am not letting any good men get away from my department. Show him to me."
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