before the pitcher gets the ball away to the catcher. The catcher must make his catch, step out of line of the batsman, who is probably "artistically" engaged in getting in his way, draw back his arm, and throw to second, where the ball must be caught, held, and tagged on the runner! When it is n't done, the catcher is charged with a stolen base, when, as a matter of fact, it is n't his fault at all, but the pitcher's.

Thinking base-ball critics, seeing the stolen base charged to the catcher, often add in their own minds, "but it was n't his fault." But that does n't help the catcher's record! Yet it is not to help out a catcher, but to play the game, that young pitchers must watch the bases. Throw often enough and suddenly enough to first to make the runner hug the base. Have a signal with the catcher as to when to whirl and throw. But don't throw the game away by throwing too often, or when there is no need of it. Watch the base-indeed, watch second and third, too, but most especially first base. Then, when you do turn to pitch, forget the runner entirely, and see only the batter and the plate!

As for fielding, you have only to refer to the scores of the World Series in 1911, to see how important it is for a pitcher to be a fielder as well. Bender had one put-out and six assists, Plank two assists, and Coombs one put-out and two assists, while Mathewson had two put-outs and nine assists, Marquard, Crandall, and Wiltse two assists each, and Ames one assist. In six games, then, the pitchers had a total of four putouts and twenty-six assists. Is it coincidence that Bender, the Athletics' star pitcher, and Mathewson, the Giants' star pitcher, lead their teams in pitchers' assists? Both are expert fielders.

The pitcher who cannot run in, scoop up a bunt with one hand, and throw to first, is no pitcher at all.

But it is on first-base plays that the pitcher must be most especially alert, not only in fielding bunts, but in covering the bag on bunts fielded by the first baseman, and on hits down the foul line or in short right field, which perhaps both second baseman and first go after. The instant a ball is hit toward first base, the pitcher should start for the bag. He has less distance to run than the runner, and can easily get there first. He should get there just in time to make the catch of the ball frequently tossed by the fielder while the pitcher is still running, since often the pitcher will not be able to stop.

As every boy knows, the sight of a runner, a pitcher, and the ball all meeting at first base (Fig. 8) is one of the prettiest plays on the diamond. As first is the only base where neither fielder nor runner need stop after touching the bag for the put-out, this play never occurs anywhere else.

But, remember, this fine faculty of running to cover first, arriving there just in time to step on the bag the instant the tossed ball is caught, is the result of hard practice, and the lad who will devote fifteen minutes a day to fielding bunts with one hand, and whirling and throwing, and another fifteen minutes to covering first and receiving fielded balls, will make a pitcher his nine will rather have in a game than that other lad who, superior, perhaps, in actual pitching, is yet unable, through laziness or lack of practice, to leave the firing-line and become one of the infielders-unable, in the real meaning of the words, to play the game!

CHAPTER X

AN ADVENTURE AFTER DARK

"To the rescue!" cried Lefty, dashing around toward the rear. "This way!"

Tad and Jack paused to light the lanterns which they carried. Then they rushed forward and entered the ruined building, where the others already were groping about in the darkness.

The two lanterns threw a partial light over piles of brick, mortar, and rubbish of several sorts which littered the interior. Cousin Willie was discovered in one corner, lying on a pile of hay, just as he had fallen-too terrified to move or speak. Except for him and the rescuing party, no one was in the place, nor was the dog in evidence. Tad hurried over to the corner.

"Hurt, Will?" he cried anxiously.

The boy sat up, pale and trembling, but silent. "It's all right, Will," Tad went on consolingly; "nobody's around, you see, except our crowd. The old hermit and Fido have skipped. I guess the fall knocked your breath out, did n't it?" Will nodded and gasped.

Lefty rushed forward and lifted him in his arms. "The chi-i-i-ld is saved!" he announced in a dramatic tremolo.

"But where's the dog?" Bert cried in surprise, picking up a stout club which lay near him.

"Fido seems to have skipped to the happy hunting-grounds," Tad announced. "May his bark find a quiet harbor!"

"Ah, how poetic!" murmured Bert, poking around with his stick. "It's a mighty good thing for Willie that the old man and his dog are not around. I thought he was a goner when that wall gave way."

"Yes, I thought it was all up with him," Eliot added. "He chose a good spot to fall-over there on the hay. It's a lot more comfortable to land on hay than on a pile of bricks."

"Bill showed artistic judgment in picking out a landing-place," Lefty agreed. "If only he 'd gone to sleep, he might have been taken for Little Boy Blue-'under the haystack, fast asleep.'"

Lefty had been talking to Cousin Willie in a low tone, in an attempt to revive his courage, and the boy now had quite recovered from his fright.

Having found the ruins deserted, the Beaver Campers felt perfectly secure, and began a leisurely inspection of the dilapidated building. In the beginning of its history it might have been

a fort, or perhaps an old mill with a wheel turned by some stream that now flowed in another channel. The roof was broken through, and the rear wall had a gaping opening large enough to admit a two-horse truck. Here and there the vines which covered the outside had forced themselves in through the openings, and reached out bravely in an effort to cover the bare ugliness of the interior.

It seemed probable that the owner of the premises had stored some farm produce in the building during the months past, for a pile of old hay lay in one corner-fortunately for Cousin Willie -and several barrels and baskets were lying on the ground.

A rude shelter made of brush and boards marked the lodging of the hermit and his dog. A fire still smoldered before it, and empty cans were scattered about in disorderly confusion.

Bert poked around with his stick in an inquisitive fashion for a while, but found nothing especially interesting, so he threw himself down upon the pile of hay to wait until the others had satisfied their curiosity.

As he touched the hay, he uttered a smothered exclamation and sprang to his feet, rubbing one shoulder.

"What's the matter, Bert?" Ed cried in surprise.

"Ouch! There's something hard and sharp down there," said Bert; "and I landed right on it!"

"Maybe it's the hermit, Bert," Tad suggested. "He 's hard and sharp."

"Take a look, Bert!" Charlie urged. "See what's hidden down there."

Cousin Willie had somewhat disarranged the pile of hay when he fell, and Bert's heavier weight still more noticeably had crushed and flattened it. Still nursing his shoulder, Bert grasped his stick and thrust it into the pile. It struck something solid, and he stooped to investigate.

Just then the stillness of the night was broken by a sound which struck terror into the hearts of the boys-the angry barking of a dog.

"They 're coming back!" Tad cried in alarm. "Put out the lights and run for all you 're worth!"

In an instant the lighted lanterns were extinguished, and the boys were scrambling through the opening in the broken rear wall. Onward they ran, stumbling over obstructions, breathless, frightened, yet spurred to their utmost exertion

by the deep, savage barking that seemed to be coming alarmingly near.

They reached the fence that ran down to the road after what seemed like a desperately long interval, and somehow they scrambled over it and gained the partial security of the farther side. Here they turned and hurried on.

"I suppose there 's no use trying to be quiet," Lefty gasped. "They can't hear us back there, and, anyhow, we made enough noise for a regiment, getting across that field."

"We'll be all right if only that blood-thirsty brute does n't take a notion to follow us!" was Tad's breathless reply. "I suppose he can follow our track if the old fellow lets him."

Lefty held his breath in suspense, thankful that, even should the dog discover him, he could not reach him. Then Lefty heard a voice which he at once recognized as belonging to the hermit, and realized that the dog was being urged forward by his master, who seemed eager to overtake and punish those who so boldly had invaded his domain.

In a minute or two, the dog found the scent and ran forward, the man hurrying in pursuit, but Lefty judged that by this time his fellowcampers must have reached the road, and hoped that, once there, they might regain the camp quickly and in safety.

When the dog and his master had passed on,

"I don't know! Is n't he in the crowd somewhere?"

lantern from his belt. He plunged a hand inside his pocket, and then suddenly remembered that he had given his matches to Jack. He had no means

"He was with me when we climbed over the fence," Tom reported. "I have n't seen him since."

Jack hastily counted the dark figures gathered around him. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight-Cousin Willie was not with them! "He's probably fallen down somewhere," Walter ventured. "Seems to me I heard a fellow fall near me, right after we got over the fence. I did n't pay much attention then, because I took it for granted that whoever it was would pick himself up and hustle along.”

"Listen to that dog!

"Hark!" cried Eliot. Is n't he coming nearer?" "He surely is!" Lefty muttered anxiously. "You fellows had better run along! Leave a lantern with me. I'll climb up in this tree, and if the dog is following our trail, likely as not he 'll run right by me. After he 's gone on, I 'll walk back and look for Bill."

There was no time for argument or delay, because the sound of excited barking was coming closer to them, and it seemed apparent that the dog was in full pursuit.

Lefty fastened the lantern to his belt and climbed carefully into a tree not far from the fence, while the others hurried on toward the highway.

For some minutes, he sat in this friendly shelter. The sound of the rapidly retreating boys died away in the distance. Nearer and nearer came the dog. Now Lefty could hear him crashing through the bushes close at hand. At the foot of the tree, he seemed to hesitate. Here it was that the boys had stopped, and the dog ran around uncertainly, trying to pick up the scent.

shielded in ascending and descending the tree. "Thunder!" he muttered. "Also lightning!"

There was nothing to be done about it, however, so Lefty made the best of existing conditions, and retraced his steps over the course which the boys had followed along the fence. Every minute or two he whistled cautiously, and soon heard a faint answering signal.

"Is that you, Bill?" he cried, as loudly as he dared.

"Yes! All right, Lefty! Where are you?" and Lefty saw the bright light of Willie's pocketlamp gleaming in the distance.

"Here! straight ahead! More to the right now! Well, Bill! I'm glad to find you again. Where were you?"

"I caught my foot in getting over the fence,” he explained, "and tumbled down in a lot of weeds and stuff. It did n't hurt me, but I got all mixed up and turned the wrong way-opposite to the other fellows. When I found out what I'd done, I heard the dog coming, and was afraid to run back until he got out of the way."

"It strikes me that you 're getting more than your share of excitement out of this thing, Bill,” Lefty responded, with a little chuckle. "I'm glad you have that electric lamp. I've got a lantern, but no matches, and, somehow, an unlighted lantern does n't give much illumination.”

"I have a match-box," Will said, searching through his pockets. "Here! help yourself!"

Lefty gratefully "borrowed" a match and lighted the lantern. Then together they set out for the highway, and as they went, Lefty related the experiences of the party from the time of Will's fall to the discovery of his absence.

"Is n't it funny, Lefty, how you never know

what's going to happen to you?" Will remarked reflectively. "If anybody 'd told me six months ago that I'd be going through these things, I would n't have believed it."

"No, I suppose not! It may not be a bad thing though, Bill! You'll get accustomed to being in thrilling adventures by the time you 've passed through half a dozen more, which at the present rate of progress will be about this time to-morrow night. Just think, Bill! it was only this morning early that you and I were pattering around in the dark after that fellow who got away in the boat."

"That's so! It seems farther back than that, Lefty. It might have been a week ago, so much has happened since."

Thus talking together, they followed the fence until, at length, the highway appeared before them. Then they turned toward Beaver Camp. Occasionally, they had heard the vocal efforts of the hermit's dog, and now Lefty noted with some anxiety that the sound was coming nearer.

"The fellows must have reached camp all right, Bill," he announced as calmly as possible, "because our kind-hearted neighbor seems to be returning from the chase, bringing his menagerie with him. If you care to see the procession go past, don't let me hinder you; but as for myself— well, there's a brook just ahead, and I think I'll stop under the bridge until the parade is out of sight."

"That ought to be a good place to hide, Lefty! The dog can't follow our trail in the water."

They reached the brook in plenty of time, and walked up the nearer bank a hundred yards or more in order to draw the dog farther away, in case he felt inclined to follow their trail. Then they removed their shoes and stockings and waded back through the brook until they were concealed under the bridge that carried the highway across the little stream.

Here they waited until after the dog had passed their refuge, and the heavy footfalls of his returning master had sounded upon the boards over their heads. Then they climbed out on the farther bank and made their way back to camp, where a joyful welcome awaited them.

the excitement of this recital, and yet, being mindful of his duty as camp director, he reminded the boys of the folly and danger of plunging into reckless adventure, as well as of the lack of proper regard for him which they had manifested in leaving camp on such a mission without his knowledge and consent.

Just then Lefty and Cousin Willie appeared, and the doctor was eager to learn how they had fared.

"Anyhow, Bert saved the box that he fell on!" Edgar announced triumphantly, when Lefty and Willie had related the account of their experiences. "We have that much to show for our night's work!"

"That's so!" cried Bert. "There's been so much excitement since that I 'most forgot about it. I had just dragged the box out of the way when the blooming dog began to yawp, and we all beat it. I had the thing under my arm all the time, and never realized it until we climbed the fence. It was too late to do anything about it then, so I brought it back to camp with me, and here it is!"

So saying, he produced a box of heavy tin, wrapped in several layers of soiled and torn newspapers. The tin was coated with black japan, ornamented with gilt stripes, and the box looked just like some that the boys had seen in stationers' windows, designed to hold cash, jewelry, and valuable papers.

"No wonder the old fellow chased us!" Eliot exclaimed. "Most likely he 's a miser, and has a lot of money and all kinds of valuable things in that box. I'll bet he 's gone off to get the constable, or whoever it is up here that does such business, and means to have us all locked up!"

"I should n't wonder," Jack added soberly. "If we 're found with that box in our hands, it won't do us any good to say that we did n't go over there to steal it!"

The doctor had another theory, but was quite willing that the boys should be conscience-stricken for a time, in order that the folly of rushing heedlessly into danger might be impressed upon their minds, and that they might learn to respect the property rights of their neighbors.

"What would your parents and friends in the city think if the news should reach them that you had been arrested for stealing?" the doctor went on. "You might convince them that it was a mere thoughtless prank, but I fancy they would be distressed and displeased to know that you had been so imprudent."

"We just went for the excitement of the thing," Bert urged in defense. "We 'll put the box back and the old hermit can see that we have n't taken anything. Anyhow, he did n't see any of us, and can't prove that we were there. He can't prove that we took the box, either, so I don't see what trouble he can make."

"He knows that some one was in the ruins tonight," the doctor replied. "He traced the trespassers with the aid of his dog, and found that they belonged here. While he may not be able to prove anything more, you have been very unwise, and I hope you will never again do a thing which might bring disgrace upon Beaver Camp and spoil our vacation."

The boys' were very penitent, and assured the doctor with much earnestness of their regret. He accepted their apologies, but gave them little comfort, and they wandered off by twos and threes to seek forgetfulness in slumber. By this time they were thoroughly alarmed, and had visions of arrest and all manner of unpleasant sequels to their nocturnal adventure.

"And just think! to-morrow will be 'the glorious Fourth!" Lefty sighed unhappily. "We were going to have so much fun, but now-well, we can't tell what will become of us."

"We 're certainly in one horrible mess," Ed replied hopelessly. "I feel awful, but I 'm sorry most of all about the doctor. We left him sitting there all alone by the fire, and holding that old box that 's got us into such a snarl. He looked mournful as anything, and I'll bet he feels worried."

At that minute, however, the doctor was smiling grimly at the leaping flames, as he remembered the alarm of the boys and reflected on its probable value as a moral tonic. Also he wondered how this box, so unexpectedly placed in his keeping, might fit into a strange story which Mrs. Spencer had told him that evening.

CHAPTER XI

"THE GLORIOUS FOURTH"

THE boys' sleep was restless and troubled that night, and they awoke on the morning of Independence Day feeling downcast and apprehen

did not refer to it. The dawn was not saluted with a roar of exploding gunpowder. Somehow, none of the Beaver Campers felt exactly in the mood for it.

When breakfast had been eaten, and the boys were busy, in a half-hearted way, about the camp, Doctor Halsey announced his intention of going up to Mrs. Spencer's cottage. The boys were surprised when he produced the box from a secure hiding-place and carefully deposited it in the boat, but they asked no questions.

Without dropping any hint of his purpose in taking the box with him, the doctor grasped the oars and started up the lake, leaving the boys plunged in a feeling of helpless, defenseless solitude.

"Well, what shall we do-stay here or quit the diggings?" Bert asked.

"Stay, of course!" Tom at once replied. "No matter what happens, let's face the music!"

"It won't be very joyous music, I 'm thinking,” Lefty observed in a mournful tone. "Chopin's Funeral March would be quite appropriate, I should say."

"Oh, well, we may have been foolish, but we have n't done anything desperately wicked," Tad remarked, with an attempt at cheerfulness. "Let's brace up! If anybody should drop into our merry midst, he 'd be apt to think we were guilty of something dreadful.”

"Some one 's coming!" Jack cried excitedly. "We 're in for it now! I can hear the sound of wheels on the camp road."

Tad made a comical gesture of resignation. "Tell them I met my fate bravely," he muttered. "I yield, noble Roman-"

"Oh! Why, it's only Neighbor Pettingill with the cots and stuff!" Jack announced, with very evident relief.

"Humph! I had all my yielding for nothing," Tad complained. "Next time, I positively will not surrender without a struggle. I sha'n't go through that performance again."

Mr. Pettingill, with the help of the boys, unloaded the cots, the lumber, and the two belated trunks. Then he drove off to join in the extremely mild hilarity of the North Rutland celebration.

"We may as well get busy on the benches," Tad remarked. "It 'll occupy our minds and keep us from moping around. Besides, it 'll look better if the police force pounces on us to demand the box. We can give them a seat for it, but not a receipt."

Some of the boys attacked the burlap wrappings which protected the cots, while others, in