Page:Ralph Paine--The Steam-Shovel Man.djvu/69

 "But what in the world—" began the bewildered Walter.

"Leave it to me. Your destiny is in my hands," was the mysterious utterance of Mr. Naughton.

In the cool of the evening they sat and ate at their leisure on the breezy piazza of the "gold employees'" hotel. From other small tables near by several men called out greetings to Naughton, who beckoned them over to be presented to his protégé. No sooner had they learned that the tall lad was a base-ball pitcher of proven prowess than they became effusively, admiringly cordial. In fact, Walter held a sort of court.

"Goodwin is one of my unloading gang on the dynamite steamer," explained Naughton.

At this there arose a fiercely protesting chorus. One might have thought they were about to mob the "powder man."

"How careless, Naughton! It makes no difference about you, but we can't afford to risk having a ball-player blown up."

"A real pitcher is worth his weight in gold just now."