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Dan* The that I grc e the era tn plays & handsum. The about him was bragging. He an I ewer saw them knows school. falntesr Idee ware they ie toald Pa & Ma. My > be sent to some post enty of action & danger, my middel nalm, he sed. peril in the world Is like custard pie to me. 1 think taller Sc broader on a diet of he sed. Doant you feel that s asked Ta. Modest. Pa Is 1 think Pa was going to say Yes, but he satv Ma grinning at him & he sed Well, to tell you the truth. I am not so full of fire & recklessness as 1 was wen I was a yung man. In those days. Pa sed. I cud put my hand in a mad dog’s mouth with a smile, or face the charge of a en-raged bull without batting a eye. but my advanced yecrs have sobered ine down a bit & made me think of other & greater things than fitelng Well, sed the yung man. Mister Den- tion, It Is this way with me, he sed to Pa. 1 do not imagine that T shal grow less feerless with the added yeers. In fack.I beeleeve that when I am a old man I will he eeven moar dauntless than 1 am now. & wen the grim reaper dims he will find me In the hour of Deth as I ever was in life, unafraid. That is a fine way to be, said Pa. You will find, sed Pa, wen you go to the front, many things in acktual war fare to try yure currage sorely. In the dark days of the Civil War, Pa sed, the days that I dred to recall to any grate extent eeven now, I went thru hardships St faced dangers that wud have killed any ordinary man or made’ him crazy. I wonder now & then, sed Pa. that that terribul war dident maik me reely insane. Dont you, wife? oh, I nuppoas ho. sed Ma Sumtlmes 1 think you are a lit tel dippy at that. Ma Gives Him Away. Fa cot kind of red in the face, but he kept on talking. My boy, he sed to Mister Dent Ion, wen you have gone thru a baptism of tire such as me & my brolv comrades went thru at Mis- shunary Ridge or in the battel of the Wilderness, or at Shiloh or Chancel- lorsville. Pa Fed, ypij will show them how reely braiv you are. One night I was surrounded by a whole company of cavalry I’u sed I newer lost my superb nerve. Taking advantage of a biw mi.-i that hung <*av^' a gray land scape, 1 mingled freely with The enemy & thus made my escape. I suppoas yure face was blue with feer, sed Mo. Mr. Dent ion beeleeved Pa until Ma sed: Llsseri. Galbraith; this deer hus band of mine was never in war ex cept with me. Jack London’s new story, “The Scarlet Plague,” begins in' the American Monthly Magazine given free with every copy of next Sunday's American. Far More Important. The old man had given his son a very fair education, and had taken I ne young fellow about a great but the father| ■)ne day an order ilar customer, s,” exclaimed the Id learn to spell.” r now?” inquired « THE TRIPLE TIE A Story for Baseball Fans That Will Interest Every Lover of the National Game SYNOPSIS. Gordon Kelly, a yourg North Geor gia mountaineer, comes to Atlanta to get a place with Billy Smith's Crackers. It Is raining when lie reaches Ponce DeLeon and he is nearly run over by an auto, in which are two persons—a man and a young girl. The driver of the ear is an ar rogant fellow The girl makes him stop the machine. She gets out and inquires if Kelly Is injured. She apologizes for her companion's brusque manner. Kelly sees Mana ger Smith am tells him lie has never played a game of ball. Smith con sents to fllve Kelly a trial. The girl in the auto is Mildred Deery. daugh ter of Galen Deery, a crafty and wealthy speculator In timber lands. Her companion Is Forrest Cain, a rich young man about town. Kelly owns timber land that Deery would like to possess Kelly is invited to the Deery home, where he is intro duced to Mildred Cain hears Mil dred order an auto to take her guest to his hotel. He takes the driver’s place and carries Kelly out into the woods. Kelly thrashes Cain. Man ager Smith tellH the newspapers about his new find and the reporters print all sorts of '‘joshing’’ stories about Kelly. Now go on with the story. By A. H. C. MITCHELL. Copyright. 1913, by International News Service. , TO-DAY \S INSTALLMENT. At the same time the newspaper photographers unlimbered their bat teries and began bombarding every thing in sight. The reporters took possession of the players’ bench and passed Intimate remarks with their friends in uniform. The train ing season of the Atlanta club was on and Manager Smith, in full charge was right in his element. Next In Importance, judging by his own per sonal estimate to himself, was Whis key, the colored man-of-all-work. Ed Gillespie, the groundkoeper, had the field in fine shape, despite the severe rains of the preceding week, which had nearly driven him to drink. Then minutes of tossing the ball sufficed. Th tl sh t< "Wh "Xn- “Of Per) coffee w ith a 'k.' " 1 never noticed it.” never did,” said the “You never notice my son,” replied the ere is one thing ] do u will learn by and lat Tones pays ensh.” Speedy Courtship. Batting Practice. “Batting practice!" suddenly yelled Bill Smith. "Dunn, put on your shin guards. Brady, go into the box and toss up a few. I’ll just take first crack at that ball myself. Gee. boys, it feels good to get a bat in my hands again." To the player all the joys of base ball are confined to batting and pay days, and it is believed that, many a ball player would waive his salary if he could make n base hit whenever he wanted to. Every player would bat for 1,000 If he could have his way and pitchers would be driven out of the profession. Smith took his place at the plate, a dozen negro boys spread them selves in he outfield to shack the balls; Brady w’ent to the mound and threw up a straight ball. Smith pasted It to left and ran gleefully to first. "A hit!” he shouted. "I’ll lead the Pinch Hit Deague .this year.” One by one the players took their turn at bat. Most of them hadn't had a club in their hands for six months. Many of thorn swung wildly at the ball. Their eyes had not yet become accustomed to the novelty of the situ ation. Gordon Kelly, being the "kid” of the party, was the last man to face the pitcher. He assumed the same pose that filled Bill Smith with aston ishment the day they first met. Whiskey crept up to the players’ bench and stood grinning behind the reporters. “Here's Billy’s phenom,” remarked Percy Whiting, the dean of the re- portorlal corps. “Watch him miss the ball a mile.” "He looks like business, anyhow," observed Murphy, a confrere. Behind the plate Dunn spat in the big mitt and pounded it down with his right fist. “Look who's here,” he cried to Brady in the box. "Whatyer got, kid, something new,” demanded Brady, with a grin. "The only way I know,” replied Kelly, smiling. "If I'm wrong you fellows will have to teach me some thing dif”— A Great Hit. His remarks were cut short. The ball was sailing up to the plate. Kelly stepped forward and with a tremen dous swing met the sphere fairly and squarely with his bat. There was a crashing sound and the ball, describ ing a huge arc In the air, cleared the bull by thirty feet and fell to earth far beyond that rampant figure. An ear-splitting yell, such as can only be emitted by a negro under the pressure of pleasureable excitement, issued from the throat of Whiskey, nearly bursting the ear drums of the three reporters seated on the bench. "Some hitter, gem'men, some hit ter. Wow!” shouted the colored at tendant. The Instant he hit the ball, Kelly dropned his bat and circled around the bases with the speed of a Mott Haven sprinter. Percy Whiting jumped to his feet. “Hey, Hypo!” he shouted to his camera man, “come here.” And when that individual rushed up he whis pered hoarsely: "Snap that fellow in tweny differ ent poses—standing up. lying down; roll over, say please, play dead and i everything on the calendar; catching , the ball, running the bases and at I bat—especially at bat. Hustle now /and we’ll spring a good one in the late editions of The Georgian this after noon.” "Do you hit all the ptichcrs like that kid?" laughed Brady, as Kelly raced over the plate. "1 don’t know," replied Kelly, pleas ed at the question. "You see I never faced a good pitcher in my life. What I mean by that Mr. Brady,” he added hastily, running out to the box in fear his answer had been miscon strued, "is that 1 never played a game of ball in my life and what I will be able to do with your pitching when yon get in condition and cut loose is something 1 know nothing about. I’m afraid I will fall down hard. You see all you did was to toss up a slow straight one that time.” "That’s al right, kid.” said Brady. “No one ever made such a long hit off me before, and if you can meet the fast one and the curves the way you did that one they will go just as far—further if you pickle a curve ball. Stick around, kid, stick around." Kelly thanked him for his encuor- aging words and walked aw ay. •'How fast can you run, Gordon?" asked Bill Smith. "I have done a hundred In nine an I four-fifths," replied the recruit, with a laugh, "but I’m afraid the record bo bee man recently in New York laid a for that he would woo, win, and -ry within an hour a young lady 'in. w ith his companions, he had Just n arrive at the hotel where he was ng here is nothing in the American riagv law to prevent this dispatch, introduced himself to the damsel, smiled upon his suit, a minister i culled In, and they were married hin an hour. he wager, of no inconsiderable >unt. was handed over to the bride- >1.i. who left w::h his bride the fet ing day. It was shortly afterward •overed that the cbuple had long n man and wife. and that they had n traveling about playing the same TOO MANY KIDS ‘iotect IfcuWety. Get the Original and Genuine 10 BUCK’S illALTED MILK Th: Red-drink for Al! Ages. For Infants, Invalids and Growing Ohil- ■ rcT Pure Nutrition, upbuilding the v: •-> hr Invigorates the nursing ir<” ’ 1 aeei Rich milk, malted epu Ml n a minute. T-ke no s -tctitute. As' for HORLICK'S i'A i.i Any Milk Trusi HEY told old Watkins, the show- | man, that there was no use gtv- ing his show in Kornshucks. There were too many kids there. | Old Watkins was in the free show bus iness. and others in the same business ; had said to him: "The kids crowd in ahead of the old folks and monopolize j the show. They absorb all the humor ous offerings, and actually interrupt the J doctor Just at the Important point when i he unloads his wares, including cures for toothache, rheumatism, and colds and complexion beautlflers, at 50 cents J a w hack." These kids, as far back as tradition goes, had spoiled everything tn Korn shucks. They had interrupted sermons and lawn fetesand comic operas: and once when there was a sham battle the shooting could not be beard for them. But In spite of all he was told about those kids, old Watkins went on put ting up his tent for his medicine show. He merely listened politely to the people, who wagged their heads and warned him of failure. By the time his tent was up the kids filled the entire land scape back to the horizon. But he went ahead. About fifteen minutes before the time the show w»!% supposed to staifi some thing occurred on another vacant lot a little distance off. A man built a bon fire Then he produced an explosion. It was no Utile explosion, but a regular Fourth -Y July affair. Then came more explosions. Along about the third of the series the vacant lot where this was going on began accumulating kids. They came at the rate of 1.000 per bang from that time on. By the sixth bang all the kids In town were there, and only the old folks were left for the free show. Old Watkins said: "You need not fol low the kids to see what is going on there, my friends. There Is nothing there but a bonfire and an ear-splitttng racket. But it will keep the kids occu pied and happy, and we can now pro ceed to have a show in peace.” "Hooray!" applauded the grown peo ple. "Go ahead! Isn't it delightful?" The performance proceeded. The mothers laughed and the fathers laughed. Why shouldn’t they? There was no one stamping on their toes and pulling their arms off. There was no fighting and scuffing and crowding- nothing disagreeable at all. Only the refreshing Jokes of the medicine man. made up as a negro or a Dutchman or some other inhabitant of the realm of mirth! It was great! They laughed and en joyed themselves and listened with breathless alarm to the dreadful things that might happen to them if they did not avail themselves of the providential chance to buy medicines that would heal all known diseases. The show was over a.nd all the money to r»e had was acquired by old Wat- i kins, the free show medicine man. be- | fore the explosions and the bonfire died u 'wii and released the kids. won’t stand. You see 1 timed my self.” "You timed yourself?" queried the manager. In surprise. "Yes. sir.” Bill Smith looked at his “phenom ’ long and earnestly. He said at last, "(’an that stuff, boy; can that stuff. If you don’t, you’ll drive me bug- house.” CHAPTER XI. I T is to be presumed a ball player would look foolish If, just as a game was about to start, he step ped to the home plate, faced the as sembled throng, removed his cap and sang the following from the prologue to "I’agliacci;” “E voi, pruttosto che le onstre povere gabbane d' istrioni, le nostr' anime considerate, poiche not sinm unmini di earns c d' o**a. e che di quest' orfano mondo all pan di voi spiriamo V aere!” He would doubtless appear equally foolish if he sang the same words in English; l Ah, think then, sweet people, When ye look upon us, clad in our motley and tinsel Ours are human hearts, beating with passion, We arc but men like you. for gladness or sorrow. 'Tis the same broad Heaven above us. The same vide lonely world before us There might be some scattering ap plause, but a vast majority of the unfeeling crowd would yell: “Cut It out!” Fine Men Among Players. Yet ball players are men. They are human beings, a fact often lost sight of by those who pay to see them per form. Frequently they are jeered and hooted and insulted by men of a low order of intelligence in the crowds; men who would not dare to say the same things to the players, if they met them face to face on the street. There are those who say the life of a ball player Is degrading; that baseball is a trivial profession. Yet the Governor of Pennsylvania was a professional ball player. So was "Billy” Sunday, the revivalist. So was A. G. Spalding, millionaire and near-Senator from California. So was Edward Hanlon, one of Baltimore’s most successful real estate operators. So was Ted Lewis, a professor at Amherst College. So were hundreds of men who are now successful in other walks of life. Things happen in baseball which never reach the ears of the public. There are tragedies and sorrows, joys and happiness in the national game that the outside world wots not of. All of which in this roundabout way leads up to the introduction to the reader of Thomas P. Morrissey, fa miliarly known by the sobriquet of "Long Tom.” For fifteen years Long Tom caught behind the bat in the big leagues. In his prime he was reck oned among the best men that ever wore a mask. One year he caught 148 games, handling the delivery of all kinds of pitchers—those that were as wild as hawks and those that had fine control; the ones that had "everything" and the ones that had nothing but a prayer; the curve balls and the treacherous "spitballs." But Long Tom had seen his best days and he was now’ dowm in the minor All of which, in the roundabout way, leads up to the introduction to the leagues, with only a brief baseball life before him. His fingers were gnarled and distorted. His right arm was no longer the terror of base- stealers. His legs had gone back on him. Bill Smith, manager of the Atlanta club, had taken a chance and signed Long Tom to a contract. He wanted him principally to coach the younf pitchers on his staff and he had an idea that the hot Southern climate might boil the old fellow out and put him into something like his real form. Long Tom was not old except in a baseball sense. He had Just turned thirtv-flve, but in baseball youth must be served. Made Him Jealous. Long Toni reported for practice the first day. He arrived in the club- | house Just as the others began their practice on the field. He slowly un dressed and put on a uniform, and. picking up his mitt, mask, chest pro tector and shin guards. walked through the runway that led to the ’ field. He came on the scene at the ' very moment Gordon Kelly was standing at the plate waiting for Brady to pitch to him. and when Kelly made that tremendous drive he stood stock still and watched the ball in its flight far into right field. Then he turned his eyes on the young man ar.d followed the tall, powerful, lithe- limbed figure as it sped around the bases. Something in the sight of the youth filled the veteran with rage and Jealousy. That's the kind that is putting us veterans out of the business." he muttered. He sauntered up to the group that stood around the home plate and was cordially greeted by those who knew him of old. He v\ .<» then made ac quainted with the young players, who, of course,while they knew him by reputation, had never met him on the ball field. Included in the lat ter was Gordon Kelly, who shook Long Tom's warped hand and gave the customary greeting. Morrissey eyed the other critically and re marked : "You're the fence buster of the Southern League, I take it.” “Nothing like that,” laughed Kelly, "but I’d like to be." "I guess you would, all right," re turned Long Tom. A Star Catch. It wasn’t what he said, but the half-sneering way he said it that caused Kelly to look up quickly. "You must be that correspondence school guy I read about in the paper. 1 see another paper calls you a ‘cotil lion leader.’ Well, that’s where you belong, I’m a-thinking." Kelly flushed and a look of surprise came over his face at the sarcastic tone of Long Tom. But he merely answered "Maybe so" and walked away. There were some unpleasant things connected with baseball, he thought. He could not understand why Morrissey should go out of his way to belittle him. Long Tom’s re marks were entirely uncalled for. There was no occasion for them. He finally came to the conclusion that Morrissey was of a crabbed and morose disposition. Yet he recalled having read columns and columns in the newspapers about this veteran catcher and there had been no word that would lead one to think he was other than normal in his disposition. As a matter of fact, Tom Morris sey’s disposition was naturally peace ful. He, like most ball players, had had his clubhouse scraps, but they had not been of his own seeking. They had seemed to come naturally. He had the reputation of being as game a man as ever went behind the bat, and by hard work and strict at tention to business he had earned the respect of his fellow players. But his relegation to the minor leagues had seemed to work a change in him. The truth had come home to him that his baseball days were number ed. The realization of this fact came to him on this fine day in March when he saw' in Gordon Kelly the perfect picture of youth. It had sud denly made him angry with himself, and, contrary to his nature, he had proceeded to vent his spleen on Kelly. When Gordon Kelly walked away from him, Long Tom continued to keep his eyes on the young man, and he watched his every movement. At last he w'as interrupted by Bill Smith, who yelled: "A little infield practice now, boys. I ll bat the grounders. The rest of you go in the outfield. Tom, get a bat and knock up some fungoes." Bailey, Nixon and Long journeyed to the outfield and Kelly went with them. Morrissey selected a lightweight fungo bat and began sending up easy files. He served Bailey, Nixon and Long in turn and then shouted, "Here, y’are. kid." At the same time he put all the force he could command be hind his bat and drove the ball high in the air and labeled to land far over the head of Gordon Kelly. With the crack of the bat, however. Kelly had turned suddenly and raced with all his marvelous speed toward the center field. After covering more than a hundred feet he stopped and turned again, facing the grandstand and an instant later the ball settled in his uplifted hands. He had timed the hit to a hair. When Long Tom had signified his intention of sending up a fly ball in Kelly's direction. Bill Smith suspend ed his work to watch the result "If he gets under that one, he’s a wonder," murmured the mknager Since the newspapers had spoken so facetiously about his "world-beater" he had become harassed by the thought that he had made a mistake in saying anything about the young ster until he had demonstrated his ability in a more substantial man ner. There was* little or nothing at stake financially and that end of it did not trouble Smith at all. But no manager of 4 ball club cares to have anything "put over” on him, so that he becomes the butt of the baseball public. When, therefore, Kelly made a really wonderful catch, the worried look faded from Bill Smith’s face, he sighed deeply and his somewhat fu nereal smile* shone like a candle through a hollow squash. "Is that your correspondence school ball player, Billy?” asked Long Tom Morrissey. "That’s him. What do you think of him?” replied Smith. To Be Continued To-morrow. FREE, NEXT SUNDAY. The American Sunday Monthly Magazine, contain ing the first chapters of Jack London’s new story, is GIVEN FREE with every copy of the next Sunday American. $250 in Prizes for Best Solution of “The Triple Tie” Y OU read the first eight installments of the great baseball mystery story of "The Triple Tie" and now you have a fair idea of the simplicity of the offer The Georgian makes—how you may win J100 by working out the solution of the mystery as nearly as its au thor, A. H. C. Mitchell, has done as you can. Mr. Mitchell has written the last chapter, but his copy Is sealed up in a vault at the American National Bank. When all but this final chapter has been printed, The Georgian readers will be asked to submit to three competent judges, none of them connected with this newspaper, their version of what the grand denouement should be. To the person who most closely approximates Mr. Mitch ell’s final chapter $100 will be awarded. Other prizes, making the total prize list $250, also will be distributed. Here is the list of the awards: No. 1 $100 No. 2 $50 No. 3 $25 No. 4 ' $15 Nos. 5 to 16, each 5 Read this ninth installment of the great mystery story and you will not need to be urged to read the succeeding chapters. The story will grip you. As you read, try to follow the author’s channel of thought and when the time comes for you to sit down and write that final chapter, be ready to win one of the big cash prizes in The Georgian’s great offer. Asking Too Much. "I suppose you’re going to Dr. Ma son's funeral, grandpa?” “Oh,” snarled the infirm old man, "don’t talk to me about other people’s funerals. It's as much as I shall be able to do to get to my own.” CHICHESTER S PILLS . TIIE DIAMOND BB1KD. A '!“! A,k jour Drueal.t for/VV -.‘br.-ter’. 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