We know we couldn't fill your place. Beekman was a little hasty. He's a hard loser, you know. So never mind what's been said. Pull the team out of this rut, that's all we want. We've got confidence in you, and whatever you say goes. If you want money to get a new player or two to strengthen up, why speak out. Findlay must be in front."

" Gentlemen, I don't need any money. I 'm carryin' sixteen players now, an' I've got the best team in this league. All I want is a little luck."

"Well, here's hoping you get it." The directors shook hands with Mac and filed out of the dressing-room.

When they were out of hearing the little manager turned to his players.

He seemed to expand, to grow tall; his face went white, his small eyes snapped.

"Morris, go to the office an' get your money," he said. " Stanhope, you've got ten days' notice. Ziegler, the bench for yours without pay till you can hold your tongue. Now, if any of the rest of you fellows have some ideas about runnin' this team, sing 'em out ! "

He stamped up and down the room before them, waiting with blazing eyes for their replies, but none came.

"Cas!" he shouted, confronting that individual. " Are you a liar? "

" Wha-at?" demanded Cas, throwing his head forward like a striking hawk.

" Are you a liar? "

" No, I'm not. Who says so? I'll take a punch - "

" Did you try to pitch today? "

" I had no steam; couldn't break a pane of glass," replied Cas, evasively.

"Stow that talk. Did you try ? "

"No, I didn't," said Cas, sullenly.

"Now, ain't that a fine thing for you to do? You, the best pitcher in this league, with more 'n one big manager watchin' your work! Ain't you ashamed of yourself? "

Cas did not say so, but he looked it.

" I've got somethin' to say to the rest of you muckers. Of all the rotten quitters you are the worst I ever seen. That exhibition you gave today would have made a dead one out of a five thousand-volt storage battery.

Here you are, a bunch of stickers that the likes of ain't in the rest of the league - and you fall down before a measly little slow ball, a floater that babies could hit ! You put the boots on every grounder in sight! You let fly balls bounce off your head! You pegged the ball in the air or at some body's shins! It just takes a bad spell of luck to show some fellows' yellow streaks. Saffron ain't one-two-six to the color of some of you."

As Mac paused for breath some one grumbled: " Hoodooed ! "

" BahAE You make me sick," cried Mac. "Suppose we've been hoodooed? Suppose we've fallen into a losin' streak? It's time to bust somethin', ain't it?" Then his manner altered, his voice became soft and persuasive.

" Boys, we've got to break our slump. Now, there's Cas, you all know what a great twirler he is. An' he throwed us down. Look at the out-field. Where's one outside of the big leagues thet can rank with mine? An' they played today with two wooden legs. Look at Benny an' Meade -why, today they were tied to posts. Look at reliable old Hicks behind the plate -today he missed third strikes, overthrew the bases, an' had eight passed balls. An' say, did any of you steady up this youngster as I was givin' a chance? Did any of you remember when you was makin' your first bid for fast company? Now, I ain't got no more to say to you, except we're goin' to brace an' we're goin' through this league like sand through a sieve!"

With that he turned to Chase, who had listened and now was ready to get his summary dismissal.

"Didn't make nothin' of the chance you asked for, did you?" he said, brusquely.

Chase shook his head.

" Lost your nerve at the critical time, when you had a chance to make good. Here I need a short-stop who is fast, an can hit an' throw; an' you come along trailin' a hoodoo an' muss up the game. Put my team on the bum! "

Then there was a silence, in which Mac walked to and fro before Chase, who still sat with head bowed.

" Now you see what losin' your nerve means. You're fast as lightnin' on your feet, you've got a great arm, an' you stand up like a hitter.