"Fact!" asserted Sid. "We're five miles out of our way, on the wrong road, and the game starts in less than an hour. They'll call it a forfeit on us and never stop twitting us about this."
"Ah, you must be wrong," declared Holly Cross. "Don't you s'pose the motorman knows the way? It isn't as if this was an auto."
Sid pulled open the front door. The tramp, who had been talking to the motorman, had gone.
"I say," began the first baseman, "is this the road to Dodville? Aren't you on the wrong line?"
"Why, sir, I don't rightly know," replied the motorman somewhat timidly.
"You don't know?" repeated Sid incredulously.
"No. I—I hope this is the right road."
"You hope so!" cried Langridge. "Well, I should say yes. Why don't you know?"
"Well, you see, I'm new on this section of the line. To-day is my first run. I took the turn back there where the gentleman told me to."
"What gentleman?"
"The one who was out here on the platform with me. He said he was your manager."
"Manager!" fairly yelled Langridge. "Why, I'm the manager of this team."
"Can't help it. That's what the gentleman said. He said he knew the road to Dodville, and when I got to the switch he told me to come this way."
"What was his name?" demanded Langridge,
