had put the precious paste-board. It wasn't there. In his rush through the stands and around the field he had evidently dropped it. Consternation seized the youth. But he did not allow it to appear on his face or his manner. The attention of the usher having been diverted by the demand of another patron to know where his seat was, Speedy ducked past the pair and up toward the higher reaches of the grandstand. He thought of slipping into the first unoccupied seat he came to, but he knew this ruse would not be successful. Upon the arrival of the rightful owner of the seat and the usher's demand that Speedy produce his coupon, he would be ejected, probably from the grounds as well as the seat. He must think of something else.
At the top of the aisle, he stopped to reconnoiter. He was near the big counter from which the white-coated purveyors of pop, sandwiches, other edibles and scorecards drew their supplies. A youth of about his own age bustled past him and spoke to a red-faced, fretty, derby-hatted man behind the counter.
"Mr. Todd sent me here. Said you was short," said the youth.
"All right. All right," whined the worried man in the derby. "You bet I'm short. How do they expect me to work this mob with the handful of ignoramuses they've given me. Come around here and get your outfit."
The youth went around the back of the counter, disappeared into a closet-like room, to step out almost immediately past Speedy in a white coat and
