“I wish so many of the Catalpa folks had not come in to see the game, today,” said Larry Boyne, discontentedly, on the morning of the first of the championship series of games in Chicago, late in the following October. “It is bad enough to feel like a cat in a strange garret as I do here, without the feeling added of being watched by our friends from home, who will be so awfully cut up if we do not win.”

“But you are not afraid of our losing, are you, Larry? And I am sure there is one young lady, at least, whose smiles will encourage you,” said Hiram Porter, with a grin that was meant to be sly and also cheery. “It is pretty generally understood among the boys (and as long as we are alone together, there is no need of our being shamefaced about it) that you and Miss Alice have come to an understanding, as the saying is. You needn’t say whether that is so or not, Larry, my boy. But, if I were in your place, I would be glad to have those beautiful and sympathetic eyes watching my play. It would make me put in my very best licks, you may be sure of that.”

Larry murmured something about there being a difference in people, and turned the subject to the preparations to be made for the day’s event. The Catalpas had had only a little opportunity to make themselves familiar with the Chicago baseball grounds. At the end of a game played on the previous day, they had a little practice at pitching, and had taken in the situation of the arena sufficiently to enable them to be not entirely strangers to the place.

They found themselves inside of a complete enclosure, skirted by a grandstand at one end and uncovered and open seats at the other. A high board fence bounded the grassy lawn on which the Diamond Field was laid, and the seats for spectators rose above this fence, so that the players were securely left to their own devices while the game should be in progress. A breeze from the lake, tempered by the October sun, swept over the grounds, and was broken, when the wind arose, by the screen formed by the board enclosure.

When the nine, with beating hearts and quickened pulses, entered the grounds on the day so fraught with importance to them, they were a little dumbfounded to see that an immense crowd of people, perhaps ten thousand, all told, occupied the vast array of seats that lined the amphitheater. A brass band blared and brayed in a tall stand set apart for them, and the entrance of the Catalpa nine was the signal for a burst of kindly applause that helped to reassure the lads composing that now well-known club. Since the matches played in the river towns, the nine had met some of the best-known clubs in the State, and in Iowa. With varying success, but generally doing credit to their own native place, the Catalpas had attracted attention by their uniformly excellent play, their manly bearing, and by their steady habits. They had made no enemies. So, when the young fellows, clad in their blue and white uniform, came into the range of vision of the throngs in the grandstand and boxes, a round of applause greeted them, and one enthusiastic citizen from Catalpa, no less a person than the deputy sheriff of Dean County, ventured to propose three cheers for the Catalpa nine. The proposition fell very flat, and, covered with confusion, the deputy sheriff sat down and mopped his manly brow.

As Hiram Porter threw up the penny for the toss, Larry’s eye involuntarily sought a curtained box to which his attention had been directed, the day before, as he had inspected the grounds in company with Miss Ida Boardman, Miss Alice Howell and two other ladies from Catalpa. The party was under the guidance of Mr. Heaton. Albert was never long in one place. He was too highly excited to be depended upon as an escort for the young ladies, and he divided his time between his old companions of the Catalpa nine and the pitcher of the Calumets, Samuel Morse, an old school chum, who had helped signally in arranging the present contest.

So, as Larry’s glance lighted on the first box to the right of the grandstand, it caught an answering smile from Miss Alice, and Albert Heaton, who was momentarily fluttering about the box, waved his hand to the favorite third baseman of the Catalpas and said, under his breath, “Sail in, old boy!”

“You don’t imagine that Mr. Boyne heard that, do you, in all this noise?” asked Alice, with rosy face and sparkling eyes.

“No, I don’t suppose that Larry heard or saw anything but what he saw and guessed at in that telegraphic look of yours, Miss Ally,” replied Albert, mockingly. “Larry, the dear boy, knows well enough what I would be saying to him; and I hope he knows what you would be telegraphing him by way of encouragement. Hurrah! Hiram has won the toss! He’ll send the Calumets to the bat, see if he don’t.”

Albert was right. The home club were sent to the bat, and Thomas Walsh, of the Black Hawks, took his place as umpire. This was the order in which the two clubs were named and stationed on that eventful day:⁠—

The Catalpa boys thought there should have been breathless silence in the enclosure as Hiram Porter, having carefully placed his men, called to the umpire “play!” Play was accordingly called, but there was silence, by no means, in the grounds. The clatter of late comers reaching their seats, the buzz of conversation that yet arose from the crowds in the amphitheater, and the cry of boys selling scorecards disturbed the serenity of the ardent champions of the Catalpa Nine. They wondered why people should talk when so momentous a game was about opening. And Alice, with a feverish sigh of impatience, said to Miss Ida that she should think that the Chicago people had very little manners. Whereupon Miss Anstress, with great severity, said that the spectators were not so much in love with the players that they cared a pin whether either side won. This unkind remark was turned aside by Mr. Heaton who said that there were not a few among the onlookers who had bet money in the gambling rooms outside and who did care very much which side won the game.

All this talk was brought to an end when Darius Ayres, the captain of the Calumets, stood up at the bat and made ready for the first play. Darius was a tall and shapely young fellow, renowned for his long-field hits, and a swift runner. He had an evil look in his eyes, as some of the Catalpa visitors thought, and when he struck a straight ball, like a cannon shot, to right field, there was a little shudder in one of the private boxes. But John Brubaker, always alert, captured it on a hard run. This put the Catalpas in good spirits at once. The game had opened well for them. “Two good signs, Alice,” said Ida Boardman. “Won the toss and caught out the first man!”

John’s clever catch did not pass unnoticed, for the numerous supporters of the Catalpas raised a little cheer which was taken up and continued around the enclosure as Sam Morse went to the bat for the home club. But Samuel fared no better than his captain, and retired on a short and easy fly to Ben Burton. The first half of the inning was ended by John Handy, who hit a hot grounder to Larry Boyne at third base. Larry mastered it in fine style and made a lightning throw to Hiram Porter on first base. The eyes of the visitors and their friends fairly sparkled as the Catalpas came in from the field. They had made a good beginning.

But no sooner had the nine reached the players’ bench than Ben Burton began to criticise the manner in which honest John Brubaker had been rewarded for capturing what Ben was pleased to call “a two-old-cat fly.” Larry, politely requesting Burton to be civil, picked up his bat and faced the pitching of the renowned Sam Morse. He made two ineffectual plunges at the ball, and, while the catcher of the Calumets was adjusting his mask so as to enable him to come up closer to the player, Larry stole a glance at his comrades and was mortified and annoyed to see a derisive smile on the blonde face of Ben Burton, while the other seven occupants of the bench wore an uneasy expression. Ben Burton was evidently making them uncomfortable. Larry moistened his hands, and, carefully gauging one of Morse’s favorite in-shoots, hit the ball with all his might. The flying sphere went swiftly into the left field and yielded the stalwart third baseman of the Catalpas two bases. Alice involuntarily clapped her hands, happily unmindful of the sour looks of her observant aunt.

Sam Morrison next stood up before the redoubtable Morse, and hit an easy grounder to Glenn Otto, at shortstop, and Samuel was retired at first base. His shot, however, advanced Larry to third base, and Neddie Ellis took up the bat. But Neddie could not yet understand the puzzling curves of the Calumets’ pitcher, and, having wildly struck the air three times, went out. This made two out for the Catalpas, with Larry Boyne anxiously waiting on the third base. Not long did he wait, however, for Charlie King, long of limb and keen of eye, came to the bat with great expectations on the part of the sons of Catalpa. Charlie thought favorably of the first ball pitched at him by Morse and he sent it flying to the center field for one base, and allowed Larry to come home amidst a little round of applause from the Catalpa section of the spectators. During the cheer that greeted the successful play, Charlie attempted to steal to second base but was thrown out by Billy Webb, and the ardor of the spirits of Catalpa was consequently soon dampened.

The Calumets now went to work with a will at the beginning of their second inning, and, after receiving some hints from Jamie Kennedy, who assumed to know a little about the mysteries of King’s curves, Robert Peabody, the Calumets’ right fielder, a Michigan University man and a famous athlete, handled the bat and called for a low ball from the pitcher of the Catalpas. This was delivered, but not where Rob had asked for it, and he politely refused to strike at it, muttering to Captain Darius, “I won’t strike until I get one just knee-high.” Charlie King overheard this little byplay and continued to put the ball in the vicinity of Peabody’s shoulder until the umpire called “six balls.” It was now about time for King to give the Chicago player a good ball, but Peabody could not be tempted to strike at it, after being ordered by his captain to try and take his base on called balls. The result was that tricky Charlie King delivered three balls in rapid succession just where the dissatisfied right fielder of the Calumets had requested them, and the umpire called, “One strike!” “Two strikes!” “Three strikes!” “Striker out!”

The ashen stick was then taken up by Tom Shoff, who sent the ball in the direction of Ben Burton at shortstop, and who fumbled it, dropping it several times as if it were a hot potato, allowing Tom to reach first base in safety. Next, Glenn Otto hit a ball to Hiram Porter who fielded it handsomely, putting out the striker but allowing Shoff to go to second base. While Jamie Kennedy was at the bat, a passed ball allowed Shoff to complete three quarters of his homeward journey. With two out and a man on third base, Captain Porter naturally felt alarmed. He cautioned his men to be cool and careful, “especially cool,” he added. After two strikes were called on Kennedy, he solved one of Charlie King’s in-shoots and, to the delight of the Chicago onlookers, sent the ball rolling in center field while Shoff sped swiftly homewards; and the score stood 1 and 1. The Calumets’ half of the inning was ended by the retiring of Webb on a foul fly to “The Lily,” as Bill Van Orman was now universally called. The Catalpa boys were not disheartened; they had confidence in each other, and they went to work again with a determination to try and recover what they had lost. In the second inning, however, they found themselves unsuccessful. Hart Stirling was fielded out at first base by Jamie Kennedy; John Brubaker, following him, met with the same fate, being thrown out at first by Glenn Otto; and Hiram Porter ended the inning by hitting a skyscraper to James McWilliams at left field.

There was intense depression in the Catalpa section and among the nine of that famous town; only the face of Larry Boyne still bore any semblance of contentment. Larry smiled with his attempt to infuse a little more hopefulness into the Catalpa bosom. And looking to the box where Mr. Heaton’s tall white hat towered conspicuously, he caught an answering smile from the young lady who carried a blue parasol.

The score now stood even at even innings, and the faces of the Chicago players wore a broad smile of complacency in place of the gloomy look that had previously been their characteristic expression. Full of confidence, James McWilliams picked out his favorite bat and faced “Tricky Charlie,” as they had already dubbed the pitcher of the visitors. King was determined to retire this particular player, as “Mac” had often expressed a desire to “take the conceit out of that chap from Catalpa.” Charlie did some of his fine work for the occasion and his friend McWilliams threw down his bat in disgust, after hearing the third strike called by the umpire; and Captain Darius Ayres, with a look of vengeful determination, took the place vacated by his club mate. He hit a sharp grounder between first and second bases and reached the first bag. At this point of the game, the boys from Catalpa had lost some of the hope that they had cherished at the beginning of the contest; and they were not cheered in the least by a sarcastic smile that adorned the face of their shortstop, Ben Burton, who appeared to be almost glad that the chances of his own club were diminishing, instead of increasing.

Even from her distant point of vantage, Alice Howell, scanning Ben’s sour face through her field glass, saw with uneasiness that forbidding look and said, in a tragic whisper to her companion, “Ida, if that scamp could throw the game, I believe he is mean enough to do it.”

Sam Morse made a base hit to the right field, and Ayres went safely home to third base, while Morse stole to second base. With second and third bases occupied and but one man out, the Catalpas did not feel in jovial mood, and the deputy sheriff of Dean County looked around upon the bright faces of the local spectators with the air of one who is indignant at an outrage which he is powerless to abate.

The next man to the bat was John Handy, who had the reputation of being “a slugger,” and as he called out in a stern voice, “Give me a low ball, and I’ll knock it’s cover off,” some of the excitable players quaked in their shoes; but Hiram Porter quieted his men by saying, in a low tone of voice, “Keep cool, fellows! keep cool and we will double them up yet!” Handy hit the ball, the first that was delivered him, and it went like a rocket to Larry Boyne at third base. That young gentleman was ready to receive it, and by making a difficult one-hand catch, he succeeded in making a double play as Ayres had vacated third base without once dreaming that Larry would be able to capture the ball.

Ben Burton came now to the bat for the Catalpas, in this inning; but Ben had not established a very good reputation as a batsman, and his speedy retiring on a foul ball excited no remark. “The Lily” took his place at the bat and at once gave evidence of his prowess by hitting the ball for two bases which he made with neatness and despatch. Larry Boyne followed him and gently tipped the sphere for a single base-hit, without ado, whereat “The Lily” slipped to third base. The spectators eyed Sam Morrison as he swung his bat over his shoulder and strode to the home plate. Sam was a stocky, well-built young fellow, with a well-shaped head and shoulders, and a fine pair of very long arms. He was anxious to do something to send up the score of the Catalpas, but he sent up nothing but a small fly to Morse, and he was at once succeeded by Neddie Ellis, the rather diminutive center fielder of the Catalpa Nine. Neddie owed the club three base hits, as he thought, and was falling behind in his batting record as the season had advanced. He moistened his hands and, with the avowed intention of losing the ball, he made a plunge, and, as Al Heaton from his perch remarked, “hit the ball on the nose” and sent it flying over the center fielder’s head. After Larry and “The Lily” had cleared the home plate, Neddie tried his best to make a home run. Tommy Shoff, however, handled the ball in clever fashion, and by fielding it quickly, caught Neddie at the home plate, ending the inning and making the score three to one in favor of the Catalpas.

A murmur of applause, mingled with the little buzz which always follows the close of an inning, like a sigh of relief, went around as the Catalpas went to the field with light hearts. Two or three of the baser sort of the gambling onlookers jeered the visitors with derisive remarks, but this indiscretion was speedily suppressed. “Fair play for the visitors” was the watchword of the day. The Catalpa boys disposed of their opponents at the opening of the fourth inning without allowing them to send a man around the circuit. In fact, not a player of the Calumet club reached first base in safety during this inning. Rob Peabody secured first base on called balls, and was followed at the bat by Shoff who hit a grounder to Hart Stirling, at second base, and who delivered the ball in fine style to his captain on first base, after making a neat pickup. Glenn Otto managed, by great craftiness, to send the ball outside of the diamond with tremendous force, but he lifted it too high and he fell a victim to Sam Morrison’s alertness in the left field.

Jamie Kennedy, who succeeded at the bat, also gave the ball a tremendous whack, but he, too, lifted it too high, and Neddie Ellis, in center field, captured it without serious difficulty. The Catalpa club, in this inning, was obliged to be contented with a zero, and Ben Burton’s face was a puzzling study to Alice Howell and her friend Ida, who scanned the unconscious Benjamin through their glass, as if his telltale countenance were an indicator of the progress of the game. This time, they could not make out whether the Catalpa shortstop was pleased by the ill fortune of his own club, or dismayed by the advancing prospects of the Chicago boys. They gave up the riddle with disgust.

There was yet no real occasion for dismay, although there was when Charlie King began the work of going out by hitting a slow ball to Darius Ayres at first base, and Hart Stirling followed his example by a foul tip to Charlie Webb. John Brubaker, “Honest John,” as he was called, hit the ball with all his might and had covered half the circuit before he realized that the sphere had gone outside of the foul flags. He made a second attempt, however, and was retired without hitting the ball, Sam Morse’s out-curves being more intricate than anything that he had yet encountered. Honest John’s inglorious withdrawal closed the inning.

The Calumets sent Webb first to the bat at the opening of the next inning, but Charlie was not fortunate. He hit the ball several times, and it went high in air, and escaped the vigilance of the Catalpas. But Webb sent up one foul too many and the watchful and agile Larry Boyne captured it, after a hard run. James McWilliams for the second time faced Charlie King’s pitching, and as he left his seat, said, “Boys, I’ll eat clover for a week if I don’t hit him safely this time.” Mac had fire in his eye, and his look and his remark did not escape the attention of Charlie King, who, turning to his captain, slyly promised to give the Chicago man an opportunity to make good his promise. King kept his word, and, by cunning pitching, retired McWilliams on strikes after six balls were charged against him.

Captain Darius Ayres hit safely to the left field, but it was too late, as Sam Morse ruined all chances of the scoring of the Calumets by sending a fly which was neatly caught by Hart Stirling at second base. The Catalpas also failed to add any runs to their score in the fifth inning. At this point, Sam Morse was pitching in admirable style and it was with difficulty that the visitors could hit the ball at all. Morse had a very effectual out-curve, and he had made good use of it during the last two innings.

Captain Hiram Porter went to the bat with some of the confidence that he had tried to inspire in the breasts of his comrades, but he failed to accomplish his dearest desire, and went out on the strikes successively called by the umpire. He was followed by Ben Burton, who walked up to the batsman’s position with a lazy and indifferent manner, hit the ball in an offhand fashion, and had the pleasure of seeing it fielded by Glenn Otto, and was retired at first base. Here “The Lily” made a desperate attempt to achieve a home run, and he probably would have been successful if he had hit the ball far enough into the outfield, judging from the manner in which he sprinted to first base on a slow ball which was readily fielded by Jamie Kennedy.

“This is our lucky inning,” said Captain Ayres to John Handy, as the latter started to face the pitching of Charlie King in the sixth inning. “Here, take my bat for luck,” he added, “and see if you can’t use it to advantage.” Handy accepted the offer of the captain’s club and used it with good effect. He called for a high ball, caught King off his guard as he struck, and so secured a good hit on the very first ball, and made first base. Rob Peabody followed and hit a liner to Neddie Ellis who misjudged the distance, and the ball went over his head and allowed Rob to make two bases, while Handy got safely home. This put the figures three to two in favor of the Catalpas and seemed to inspire the Calumets with new confidence, their captain remarking with glee, “I told you this was our lucky inning.”

Right here, however, Tommy Shoff went out on a fly to Larry Boyne, and “The Lily” caught a sharp foul tip from the bat of Glenn Otto, which left Peabody on second base and two men out. The prospects of the home nine were not brightening.

Next to the bat came Jamie Kennedy, who tried his best to make a short right field hit that should send his colleague safely home, as Peabody was a good base runner and needed only “half a chance” to make a home run. Jamie hit the ball in the right direction, but his blow was a trifle too hard and the ball was cleverly caught by John Brubaker at right field, and this left the game still three to two in favor of the Catalpas. The latter did not, however, feel safe with so small a lead, and they thought it prudent to send several more men around the circuit of the bases, if possible. Larry Boyne was the first man to the bat for the Catalpas in the sixth inning, and he secured his base on called balls, but fell before Charlie Webb’s throwing, while trying to steal to the second bag. Sam Morrison struck out, and Neddie Ellis ended the inning by sending up a skyscraper which was nicely nipped, just in the nick of time, apparently, by Rob Peabody.

In the seventh inning, both clubs failed to score. Webb hit a ball in the direction of Ben Burton who made an overthrow to first base. McWilliams followed and hit a short one to Hart Stirling at second base, who, with the aid of Hiram Porter, made a very pretty double play. Darius Ayres secured his base on called balls, stole to second base, but was left there, as Sam Morse retired on strikes. Not one of the Catalpa players reached first base. Charlie King and Hart Stirling both went out on flies, the former to Tom Shoff and the latter to Glenn Otto. John Brubaker failed to hit the ball and was consequently called out on strikes.

“The Calumets have everything to gain and nothing to lose,” remarked Mr. Heaton, sagely, as he regarded the field from the box from which the little party of interested Catalpans overlooked the beautiful scene below. The yellow sun, now declining westward, tinted the woodwork of the stands and enclosures with a golden hue, and a breeze from the lake flaunted the many-colored flags that adorned the structure. The yellow light only intensified the brilliant greenness of the lawn, on which the Diamond Field was laid, and the brilliant costumes of the players were tricked out with a new and strange luster as the sunshine rained down through veiling mists. But the absorbed spectators, as well as the intensely engrossed players in the field below, had no eyes for the picture. Every eye was fixed on John Handy, as he went to the bat for the Calumets. It was felt that they would take desperate chances. On the next few plays might turn the issue of the game. Silence as complete as if there was not a soul in the vast enclosure reigned as Handy took his place at the bat.

He placed the ball safely in the center field and was followed by Peabody who also gained a single hit, sending the ball into the left field. The next ball was hit to Ben Burton by Shoff. Ben was unable to handle the ball properly, and Hart Stirling came to his rescue and as Ben dropped it out of his hands, Stirling picked it up and sent it to first base in time to head off Shoff. At this point in the game, only one man was out and the second and third bases were occupied. A trifling error would tie the game. A single base hit would give the Calumets the lead. The attention with which the play was now regarded from the seats was something almost painful in its tenseness.

Glenn Otto stood before Charlie King’s pitching with a look of resolution and defiance. He had been ordered not to strike at a ball until it was put where he asked for it, and to take the chances of the catcher of the Catalpas having a passed ball charged to him. In this little scheme there was one error. King very well knew the purpose of his opponent, and he managed his own points so well that, before Otto could realize what was about to happen, King had him out on strikes.

Jamie Kennedy was the next man to fall before the destructive tactics now followed by the Catalpas. Jamie hit a sharp ball to Larry Boyne, who, with characteristic skill, retired him at first base. This clever bit of play took a load from the hearts of the Catalpas, and, in the excitement of the moment, Deputy Sheriff Wheeler ejaculated “Gosh all hemlock!” whereupon everybody in that region laughed, as if glad of a pretext to slacken their attention from the play for an instant.

But the riveted intentness of the spectators was at once resumed as the boys of Catalpa went to the bat in the eighth inning, and succeeded in placing another run to their credit. Hiram Porter hit to Kennedy at second base, and was retired at first base. Ben Burton followed his example and “The Lily” finally secured the home run which he had been looking forever since he had left Catalpa. “The Lily” had many strong points, but base-running was not one of them. He had two strikes called on the first two balls pitched, and then made ready for the third, and, as the ball curved in, he stepped backwards a few inches and hit it with all his might, which was a great deal, for “The Lily” was a man of brawn and muscle. The ball flew over the center fielder’s head like a rifle-shot and Bill covered the entire circuit with ease, winning an irrepressible and resounding burst of applause from the multitudes that crowded the amphitheater.

“Splendid, Bill! perfectly splendid!” cried Alice Howell, wholly oblivious of the fact that there were other people than herself in the circle about her. Mr. Heaton looked around with admiration at the impulsive girl, while the dignified maiden aunt glanced into the next box to see if anybody had caught the words of her erratic ward and niece. While this little byplay went on, Alice’s eyes were fixed on Larry Boyne who ended the eighth inning by sending a fly ball to McWilliams and so going out.

The score now stood four to two in favor of the Catalpas. To his infinite chagrin, Captain Ayres saw defeat staring him in the face. Hastily calling his men about him, he held a hurried consultation, as they came in from the field. He said,

“Boys, we must take all the chances this time. They lead us two runs, and, in order at least to tie them, you must trust to errors, and, above all things, do not hug the bases.”

Captain Darius was right in this particular, and the men obeyed his instructions to the letter in regard to hugging the bases; but it was impossible for them to show any sign of insubordination, as not a man went beyond the first base. Every member of the Calumet club was retired as fast as he went to the bat. Charlie Webb gayly faced “tricky Charlie,” and hit the first ball pitched. It went sailing out of the Diamond and into the hands of Sam Morrison. The second victim was McWilliams who failed to take down the pride of King, as he had promised himself that he would; and Charlie felt prouder than ever as he sent his formidable antagonist to the players’ bench, put out on strikes.

Darius Ayres made several ineffectual attempts to hit the sphere, and at last struck the ball fairly, but Larry Boyne was prepared for its coming his way. Running backwards, with his eye fixed on the little black speck that dropped out of the clouds with lightning-like swiftness, Larry moved over the turf without seeming to move. Ida Boardman so far forgot herself as to cry out, at this critical juncture, “Catch it! catch it!” The sphere fell into Larry’s hardened hand with a resounding thud, and with a fervent “Heaven bless you!” the young lady sunk back into her seat, while a prodigious cheer, frightening to flight the sparrows that twittered on the edges of the structure, and faintly heard far out by sailors on the lake, proclaimed the contest ended with a famous victory for the Catalpa Nine.

The band broke forth into a paean of triumph, and while the majority of the spectators began to shuffle out with eager haste, a few, other than the delighted visitors from Catalpa, remained to gaze with undisguised admiration on the stalwart and handsome young fellows who had so unexpectedly won the day.

The two captains, as the game was concluded, advanced towards each other with outstretched hands.

“Your men are capital players,” said Hiram Porter, a glow suffusing his cheek, “and I consider it a great honor to have defeated them.”

“Aye, aye,” said Captain Ayres, not without a wince. “It is a little hard for our boys to be defeated after playing a game without errors; but your victory was due to lucky batting, and it does not signify that your men are the better players. We will try and turn the tables tomorrow.”

The visitors gave three cheers and a tiger for their opponents, and then retired from the field. It would be useless to attempt to describe the thrill and the suppressed exultation with which they read on the bulletin boards of the city newspaper offices, as they went to their lodgings, the following score:⁠—

	1	2	3	4	5	6	7	8	9
Calumets	0	1	0	0	0	1	0	0	0	=	2
Catalpas	1	0	2	0	0	0	0	1	0	=	4

Runs earned⁠—Calumets, 0; Catalpas, 4.

Base hits⁠—Calumets, 5; Catalpas, 6.

Errors⁠—Calumets, 0; Catalpas, 3.

Umpire, Mr. Thomas Walsh.

Time of game, two and a half hours.