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 Riley accepted this as a tacit agreement to his proposal.

"I'd like to know," he growled, after drawing hard at his cigar, "where old man Cope ever found that fellow, anyhow."

"You're not the only person who is curious about it," said the Kingsbridge manager. "One chap seems to think he knows. A young fellow by the name of King came to me about Locke. He's got an idea in his nut that the boy is a Princeton pitcher by the name of Hazelton."

Riley started as if shot, almost dropping his cigar.

"What's that?" he cried. "Hazelton, of Princeton? Great smoke! It can't be possible!"

"Why not? I should say the youngster is a college man."

The manager of the Bancroft Bullies gave his thigh a resounding slap.

"Great smoke!" he exclaimed again. "If that's right, that old rat Cope beat me to it. Why, I made a proposal to Paul Hazelton myself."

"You did?"

"Sure. Biff Durgin, scout for the Phillies, told me about that kid last December; said he was a sure-enough comer. I wrote Hazelton a letter."

"Then," said Dyke quickly, "accordin' to the