MEYER COUNTED THE GIRLS
Anow«r to OvwtlM Typical
•f Life n the Countries
of the Ortont.
Thr Mg yctUk Sepptd ael flagged
hetwe.-® the column* a* me sat aud
talked Mem Sahib. mbs yu bom fe
*te amid Georgian and Or
■m* «ut dignitaries and ms bad a hap
py mar w:fk Orbital prince*. took us
all back by suddenly a sitting 'be good
gray prince Mow many brothers be
had Hi* bigtae** looked at her with ‘
a awerr little air.ita. half tolerant,
half amused, and began, with great 1
•hem 1 aerie u-nems. to count them
on hi* Unger*, first of the right hand, j
then of the !ef;. alter going once or |
to - r round, be ha! «d. started again, j
then stopped at i raid:
1 ana afraid I must ask lay secre
tary
Trie secretary replied, with dignity: ]
Your l.*g ,;ce-» had a hundred and
nineteen brother*!”
Mem c-hib. not whir abashed, then j
asked this good Oriental nobleman
tw-ffttis* his sisters.
He ms..led vety charmingly, raying:
*1 am afraid ! do not know; we
never counted th< «!“—Charlea John
sum In the Atlantic Monthly.
Beware Cheap Bt'ls
An ruuutnaiioa of |«prr currency
by Warren H. ilfittfk of Yale show ed I
an average of <t»e hundred and forty
two tfc- .sand bacteria lo the bill. ;
Twet > one Lula were esamsned. acd
• hB* aonr were relatively clean, car
rying only a trifle of lourteen thou
sand living thing . other* swarmed to
the hgurr ut live hundred and eighty
*!« thousand And. strange to say. the
bacteria did not seem to swarm to
-be fl.nfio Mils In t'-efereace to the SI
td*M
This shew* that it I* far healthier
ta carry fi.nae bills about than it ts
to tote II Mila Here is a valuable
financial hint.
—
India's Garrison.
India is e*rrl»cKi«-d by 319.000 men.
■ b . .. fsii u to ;.r a territory of
l.TT^AW* Mjurr mites.
—
Asc ents Used Uigr.tnmg Rods.
A» earir as Mb B. C. the ancients
bad wbaervcd that iron rods had the
power to a*ert tghtaing.
TV T*erer'a fi' -i. rtr.iTT. re r*r-coated.
r».I toW. •• ^ r
iU •*»•«—. h. liver and U. e rU. IX» not gripe.
trr.gat a m - • .‘nets are receiving the
bertow* at’eclio* of the government
at Brazil
TWnr are . n.iat <i.»u't he fooled.
Am. !■« Lena' >.:sgie llaiirr cigar. Sr.
( <Vd ra-h makes an escellent hot 1
weather rnmfurt
---
’... ...'... ~.^... —. ,|
ARE YOU
WORRIED
abwt the unhealthy condition of
your stomach, liver and bowels ?
if so. you only make matters
worse. Just yet a bottle of
Hosteller’s i
Stomach Bitters
today and watch results. Your
stomach will be toned and
strengthened, your liver become
active and bowels regular.
. Then good health is yours. A
tnal wifl convince you.
$125 net per Acre
frornCucumbsrs
Mr. K. D. H udson.on
bts farm in Neuces
County in the Gulf Coast
Texa* arid Lout*
ana. average* $ 125.00an
acre uet pront on his cucumbers.
He planted ’ :em in February and
marketed them in March.
Thu* of it -eaoogfe profit in two cvmtti* to
■ «e mu pay tor the land aad to months
>tl ■■ which to grow two other crop*
Two as . three crops a year >* aoc unusual
ia the G«H Comm Country of Tesas aad
I waiai tur taw have twelve omtht of
growth ssstter
Msaiog twain fuse there ts oat di&cait
Ant ass >tk ordinary intelligence cu
atahe good m the Gall C *ss Country of
Teaaa aad Lnemsi Thousands of men
have left Uw mam Jh e* a d factories of
the north So go down (here to lead aa inde
(esbat mtafdmr Me They rajoy Deia;
•haw tare bta* aad psling up their own
law aoooaat feet* gaol u them
Better look into this
lamtgur Go eowa dtere this fail or win
ter her act la.* tatnesegroaer* I hen you
w I! tealire the Ug.ip:.urtumiieaopentDyou
T tri|> tw nt hrwro will alone be worth
Hi irW cust id going hacura.ua fares yia
(h- hrwca. the 1 a aad thud Tueadavs of
each ra at., out* the trip inexpensive
Tbr h rr:o Liar* operate ^aiendtd. electric
lc ad ail Seri trains ia'iy from Chicago,
st uaa Kan*** City. 11. rm n^fci-n aad
Ne» Orleaas Tiles- trains carry 'hr >ugh
cam -daily, aad oa esc inm days. tCr .agti
; «»riw steeper to trie Gait Coast Country
3 Splendid Books FREE
« »«■ fkt Mdd-C.'.i—01 CtftMirf u! Tc«*a». <MM Otl
fUMT •#*» rr find aefli «• >‘t 4l»f ll»> firaade
' * -ejf an ! *m* wo Utiti
• al h—ilfmii*
rJk^r4 mtuvwttsf v rafy to
fKH«Mt COMM TIN*/ 4fr
omte like coaoir/ aad
v tr%*m m* end U> Um»
of
bjr mru who .
wr-e tr-m > . W«ie fur
»»*.*- 51M -hiOfi O* It
1
NO A * v
LAND & axutmswE
£&UOm$ JOSEPfl VANCE
^^ILLUSTRATIONS BY 7&yMASK^
Cos*Y/?/c#r /y/a aric!//s joss/w yahcs
SYNOPSIS.
•lar-e't Coast, a young man of Now
York City. m« «*t» Mot?:; las Black stork, who
' it*f i irn to a car . party. He accepts,
although he <: lackstnck. the rea
ng that I re in love with Kath
* nr.** rtuixter Coast fails to convince her
tkat *?!:«< k stock is unworthy of her
f^ei At the party Coast meets two
nara-d Dun.las and Van Tuyl. There :*
a quarrel, and Blackstock shoots Van
•' •-» n l Coast struggles to wrest the
weaje.n from him. thus the police dis
cover !i cm. Coast Is arrested for murder.
H* s c«.p, ir t.-d. hut as he begins his sen
9 ‘
i—rderer ar.d kills himself. Coast be
• t » free. hut Blackstock has married
Km*! t rine Thaxter and tied. Coast pur
a yacht and while sailing sees a
r .an thrown from a distant boat. He res
_ the fellow who Is named Appleyard.
♦ v arrive at a lonely Island, known as
No Man's I.and.
CHAPTER VI.—(Continued.)
“Cleaning my pipe. Go on and
sleep; your time's not up yet."
"What's o'clock?"
Appleyard mumbled something in
coherent as he stepped out on deck;
and Coast turned over and slept
again
It seemed hours later when he found
himself abruptly wide awake, in a !
tremor of panic anxiety bred of a j
fancy that a human voice had cried !
out in mortal terror, somewhere j
within his hearing He started up. in- ,
formed by that sixth sense we call in- !
tution that conditions abroad the 1
Echo had changed radically since the
last time he had fallen asleep: and
it seemed no more than a second from
'he moment his eyes opened until
he found himself in the cockpit, gaz
lrg dazedly into the inscrutable
heart of the fog.
At first, in his confusion, he could
see nothing amiss. The Echo was rid
ing on a quiet tide and an even keel,
with scarcely any perceptible motion.
The encompassing darkness was in
tense. unfathomable, profound: only j
the forward light showed a dim halo j
of yellow opalescence near the mast
head. and the faint glow from the
cabin lamp quivered on slowiv swirl
ing convolutions of dense white va
por, like smoke. The port and star
board lights had been extinguished,
as they should be when a vessel
comes to anchor.
What, then had Interrupted hie
slumbers?
He turned with a question shaping I
on his lips.
Appleyard was nowhere visible.
Coast required some minutes before
he was convinced of the fact of the
little man’s disappearance. But the 1
cabin proved as empty as the cock
pit, and the tender was gone
The cabin chronometer chimed the
hour of four in the morning.
As the echoes died, as though they j
had evoked the genius of that place,
a strange and dreadful cry rent the
silence, sounding shrill across the wa
ters. yet as if coming from a great
distance.
CHAPTER VII.
Some moments elapsed. Coast's
every nerve and sense upon the rack.
Though he heard It no more, still that
cry rang In his head, and he could but
wait, smitten dumb and motionless,
feeling his chilled flesh crawl, en
thralled by fearsome shapes con- |
jured up by an Imagination striving
vainly to account for what had hap
pened—wait < It seemed) intermin
ably: for what he hardly knew or
guessed, unless It were for a repeti
tion or some explanation of tha* In
explicable cry.
He received neither. His straining
faculties detected none but familiar
noises.
Insensibly he grew more calm. So
silent was the world, seemingly so
saturated with the spirit of brooding
peace, that he was tempted to be
lieve he had dreamed that first shriek,
to which he had wakened, and- that
the second was but an echo of it in
his brain: some hideous trick of
nerves, a sort of waking hallucination.
;o be explained only on psychological
grounds.
And yet . . .
Appleyard? What of him? Was
there any connection to be traced be
tween his mysterious disappearance
from the Echo and that weird, un
earthly scream? Was there really
lard near, and had the little man
found It only to become the victim of
some frightful, nameless peril? Could
that have been hi3 voice, calling for
help . . -? And in what dread ex
tremity . . .?
There was nothing he could do. no
way to reach the man. The tender
was gone, the shore invisible—an8
who should say how far distant? Oth
erwise he would not have hesitated to
swim for it.
Presently it occurred to him to won
der where the Echo lay—off what
land. "Appleyard's responses to his in
quiries. several hours hack, returned
to memory. The name. No Man's
Uad. Intrigued. Ha interrupted his
vigil to Investigate such sources of Jn
fortnaticn ns he had at hand.
In the oftin again, with site lamp
t-med high, hp dragged cut a chart— j
number 132 of the admirable series j
published by the Coast and Geodetic j
Purvey, delineating with wonderful !
accuracy the hydrography of Buz- j
v-ard's Bay and Vineyard and Nan
tucket Sounds, together with the topo
graphy of the littoral and islands.
With pencil It was easy to trace the I
Echo's course from New Bedford har- i
tor through Quirk's Hole; a little to |
the east of which, say of Robinson's j
Hole, the fog had overtaken them. To
the south and east of that point lay
Martha's Vineyard, for ail the world
like a trussed fowl in profile. And
there—yes. due south of Gay Head—
was No Man's Land, its contour much
that of an infant’s shoe, the heel dig
ging into the Atlantic. Comparison
with the scale demonstrated it to be
roughly a mile and five-eighths long by
a mile wide—extreme measurements.
Ctflbt stared at it with renewed In
terest. for the first time convinced of
the existence of a spot so oddly
named. A number of black dots along
its northern shore seemed to indicate
buildings—but Appleyard had distinct
ly said "uninhabited."
('cast turned out the lamp and went
back to the deck
There was nothing to be seen, noth
ing ta do. . . .
He fidgeted.
Then out of the confusion of his
temper, in which ennui stalked in sin
gular companionship with perturba
tion. he chanced upon an odd end of
thought, one of those stray bits of in
formation. mostly culled from desul
tory reading, that clutter the back of
every man's brain.
He happened to remember hearing,
some time, some where, that fog rare
ly clings to the surface of moving wa
ter; that, by putting one's vision upon
a plane almost horizontal with the
water, it is ordinarily possible to see
for some distance roundabout.
“There may be something in it . .
. No harm to try.”
Forthwith he scrambled out upon
the stern, from which, after some in
tricate maneuvering and by dint of
considerable physical ingenuity, he
managed to iuspend himself, at peril
of a ducking, with his head near the
water
“Good God!” He Cried Aloud. “What_”
He was promptly justified of his
pains; the theory proved itself—in
that one instance at least; between
the slowly undulant floor, glassy and
colorless, and the ragged fringe of
the mist curtail!, he discovered a
definite space.
Directly astern and, roughly, some
forty feet away, a shelving stretch of
pebbly beach, softly lapped by low
voiced ripples, shut in the view. The
Echo's tender, drawn up beyond the
water's edge, bisected it.
“Good,” said Coast, abstracted, re
covering from his constrained posi
tion.
Curiosity gripped him strongly, cau
tion contending vainly; he knew quite
well that he would never bide content
until he had probed for the cause and
source and solved the mystery of that
wild cry In the night just gone.
Moreover, he felt in a measure re
sponsible for Appleyard. Surely there
must be some strange reason for his
protracted absence.
Abandoning himself, deaf to the
counsels of prudence. Coast rose and
stripped off his clothing.
He let himself gently into the water
(fearing to dive because he did not
know its depth) and found it warm—
warmer than the air. He struck out
cautiously, using the slow, old-fash
ioned but silent breast stroke. In two
minutes, however, he was wading up
to the beach.
There was no sign of Appleyard:
only the tender. Upon that stone
strewn shore the feet of the run away
had left no trail. Though Coast cast
about in a wide radius, be found no
sign of the missing man. The peb
bles scratched and bruised his un
protected feet, and he began to shiver
with cold. Hd gave it up, presently.
returned to the tender, pushed off
and sculled out to the Echo.
Then, having rubbed his flesh to a
blush with a coarse towel, he dressed,
took the small boat back to the beach,
drew it up and. now fully committed
to an enterprise the folly of which he
stubbornly refused to debate, set off
to reconnoiter along the water's edge,
feeling his way.
After a time the beach grew more
sandy, and emboldened by the knowl
edge that he would have his foot
prints to guide him back, he left the
water and struck inland—but only to
find his progress In that direction
checked by a steep wall of earth, a
cliff-like bluff of height Indetermin
able. its flanks wave-eaten and deeply
seamed by rain.
At random, with no design, he
turned again to his left and proceeded
as before, but now along the foot of
the bluff, trudging heavily through i
damp, yielding sand.
Still no sign of Applevard.
He must have tramped, at a rude
j guess, several hundred yards before
he discovered either a break in the
bluff or any change in the general j
configuration of the shore. Ultimate
! ly. however, the one fell away in
J land and the other widened.
A moment later he came upon a
small catboat careened above high :
tide mark, with a gaping wound in its
starboard side, forward and below the
water-line.
She lay stern to the water. Taking
the point of her stem as his guide.
Coast turned Inland again, on a iine
as straight as possible considering
the slanting lay of the land and the
Impossibility of seeing anything be
yond a radius of a few feet
He had not gone far upon this j
tack before he stumbled upon a path i
of hardpacked earth, obviously made ■
by human feet. Then he found him- i
self mounting a rather steep grade,
and in another moment was face to
face with a plain weather-boarded wall
of a wooden building.
There were no windows that he
could discover on this side, and
though he listened keenly he heard no
sounds from within.
Other buildings presented them
selves successively, as like as peas
to one another and to the first he had
encountered: all peopled exclusively
by the seven howling devils of deso
lation and their attendant court of
rats—or so he surmised from sundry
sounds of scurryings and squeaks.
He gathered that he was threading
a rude sort of street, fringed on one
side—to seaward—with the abandoned
dwellings of what had apparently been
a small fishing community.
“No Man's Land indeed!" he com
mented. “Certainly lives up to the
name, even if it’s some place else, it
begins to look as if I’d drawn a blank.
. . . But Appleyard . . .?"
He was moved vaguely to liken the
place to the Cold Liars of tie Jungle
Books. “Only infinitely sordid.” he
mused, at pause: “lacking the maj
esty and the horror . . . Wonder
had I better go back?”
As he hung in the wind, debating
what to do. whether to press on or
to be sensible, swayed this way and
that by doubts and half formed im- j
pulses, somewhere near, seemingly at
his very elbow, certainly not twenty
feet away, suddenly a dog howled, j
Long drawn, lugubrious with a note of 1
lamentation, the sound struck discor
dant upon his overtaut senses, shock- '
ing him (before he knew it) to out- ;
spoken protest.
“Good God!” he criad aloud. 1
"What—?"
ITO BE CONTINUED.)
Tragedy of a Tomato Vine
_ .a*
Practical Person Makes Discovery
After Neighbors Had Given Voice
to Their Wonderment.
Now doth the amateur agriculturist
Sourish and was proud at bis Luther
Burbank achievements, says the
Brooklyn Eagle. One such nursed a
lone tomato plant from delicate and
sickly infancy to robust maturity.
With all a mother’s tender care be
ministered to that plant He watered
it. brushed the dust off It pleaded with
It. encouraging It to better things.
Then one day a member of the family
rushed into the house with glad tid
ings. There was a real tomato on the
vine.
What an assemblage there was
about that plant! The block was de
populated temporarily. Amateur ag
riculturists climbed on each other's
necks to view the wonder. The head
of the house inspected it through a
magnifying glass. His spouse clapped I
her hands and exclaimed: “At last
we shall have our own salad from our i
own vine.” Even the watchman from
a row of empty houses nearby was
called to look, and he remarked sol
emnly that he "never saw such a large
tomato on such a small vine."
Then came along one of those hor
ribly practical persons, who said it
couldn’t be. and had to have a closer
look. He spoiled it all by his discov
ery that the tomato had been tied on
with a string, and if yon want to know
who tied it on ask the woman who
lives next door.
FORMER MIDDLEWEIGHT CHAMPION RETIRES
Billy Papke.
Billy Papke, former middleweight
champion, who recently was defeated
by Bob Moha in Boston, said the oth
er night he had retired from the ring.
‘ Training is hard work for me
now and it Used to be play." said Pap
ke. "I haven’t the ambition that I
used to have, and so I'm through with
the game. I am comfortably fixed and
! never will need to worry about money,
; so I'm going to forget about fighting."
Left Hander is Safe.
Jones—A left handed golfer has a
' big advantage.
Smith—How do you figure that out?
Jones—Xo one asks to borrow his
j clubs.
LIST OF INJURED DECREASED1
_
Nine Dead and 177 Players Hurt Is
the Toil Footfall Has Collected
During the 1911 Season.
Nine dead and 177 Injured players
is the toll football has collected from
the gridirons of the country during
the 1911 season.
The disciples of reform in the game
consider the comparatively few deaths
and the large decrease in injuries
from 1910 a vindication of America’s
most strenuous sport.
With but one exception. 1901, when
seven players were killed, have there
been a fewer number of fatalities in
eleven years. This season’s sacrifice
of life stands out in hopeful contrast
to that of 1910. when twenty-two fa
talities were recorded and the list of
injured contained 499 names.
The small number of fatalities this
season may be consoidered by some
yet disputed by others, as a partial
tribute to the wisdom of the rulema
kers who in 1909 revised the gridiron
code in hopes of eliminating the
chances for serious injury, so numer
ous in the old style game which en
couraged line plunging and close for
mations.
The table given below explains it
self:
1911.
Killed . 9
Injured .277
Fractured legs and ankles.22
Sprained ankles . 19
Kicked on head. W
Fractured shoulders . 7
Major dislocations . 7
Fractured ribs . 7
Broken noses . 6
Broken hands and wrists. 6
Facial injuries and cuts on head. 6
Spinal injuries . 5
Fractured collar bones.. 4
Broken arms . 4
Broken Jaws . 3
Internal Injuries . 3
Fractured skulls . I
Fractured hips . 1
Minor sprains, wrenches and muscle
bruises . 63
Eleven-Year Record.
Killed. Injured.
1901 . 7 74
190S .15 106
1903 ...14 63
1904 .14 376
1905 . 24 200
1906 .14 160
1907 .15 166
190S .11 304
1909 . 30 216
1910 . 22 499
1911 .9 177
Out on Three Fouls.
These daffydills are from “Learn
ing the Game,” the vaudeville sketch
in which “Big Chief" Bender, "Jack"
Coombs and "Cy” Morgan, all mem
bers of the Philadelphia Athletics, are
making their debut as actors at Ham
merstein's.
If Connie Mack had a Lapp start
would he Ty Cobb?
Well, Connie cannot, but he can
make Innes.
If Jack Coombs bought a pony, and
couldn't break it, could Morgan
Bender?
If Eddie Collins was dry and want
ed a drink would Rube Oldring?
Phillies Have Many Players.
Over seventy players are under con
tract with the Phillies for next year,
but it is reported only fifty will be
taken on the spring training trip. All
of the full squad of seventy-five with
the exception, of the thirty-five who
will be held for the season, will be
disposed of before the opening game
next year.
New York cyclers are practicing for
the Olympic games.
A mighty good thing not to watch
Is a three cushion billiard game.
Frank Baker of the Athletics will
open a sporting goods store in Phllly.
HaAy Davis. Cleveland's new man
ager. will soon be actively on the job.
American Olympic games commit
tee has appealed for funds to send a
crack team to Stockholm.
Two things a “kid" ought to learn
early: To fence and play golf. Every
thing else will come by itself.
“No, footballs are not made of pig
skin. The little animal from which
we get our veal, the calf, is the great
college benefactor. Don’t know where
this ‘pig tale’ started.”
WHAT MAKES A PRIZE FIGHT?
Tommy Ryan Says It Is Scientific Ex
hibition of Art of Attack and
Self-Defense.
Xo matter where glove contests are
permitted in this country the question
arises. “What is the difference be
tween boxing and prize fighting?”
Several attempts have been made to
draw the line in the courts and in
some instances promoters have se
cured decisions in their favor.
The most recent champion of sci
entific boxing is Tommy Ryan of
Tommy Ryan.
Syracuse, who held the middle-weight
title after Bob Fitzsimmons relin
quished it. Ryan is a close student
of fistiana and is able to give an in
telligent argument in its favor. The
other day he was quoted in this man
ner:
“The question has often been put to
me. *\Vhat is a prize fight if it isn’t
brutal?’ Other persons want to know
why the boxers pull and haul, hit in
the clinches, and so forth, or why a
man will strike his opponent when
the latter apparently is only half off
the floor. Still others want to know
why the boxers shake hands at the
start and at the end of a bout and
what is the sensation when a man is
floored or knocked out.
“First of all. I would say that there
is no such a thing as a prize fight.
That word is a misnomer. Thirty or
forty years ago it was different, for in
those days men fought with the bare
knuckles, and the sport was brutal,
but the name ’prize fight’ has stuck
to the present day, and what some
people persist in calling a ’prize fight'
is nothing more or less than a scien j
tific exhibition of the art of attack j
and self-defense, and of the same na- j
ture as any other exhibition of sport
which is won by endurance and skill.
The exhibitions are not brutal.
"Boxers pull, haul and hit in
clinches because some of them have
become accustomed to what is known
as ’infighting’ and they are a great
deal better when boxing close to their
opponents than in sparring at long
range. They try to tire out their op
ponents by the pulling and hauling,
which is quite scientific in its way and
by no means as rough as it appears.
It is often the style of some boxers
to win this way. Sometimes acci
dents will happen in infighting, as
they will in any sport.”
Keene to Quit Racing.
James R. Keene, vice chairman of
the Jockey Club, his decided to retire
from the turf—that is. so far as rac
ing thoroughbreds is concerned.
This announcement was made by
Algernon Daingerfield in saying that
eight horses which have raced in Mr.
Keene's name in England this year
would be sold under the hammer at
Newmarket the first week in Decem
ber.
His horses in training in this coun
try had all been disposed of previous
ly. so that, except for his breeding
farm in Kentucky and the one abroad,
Mr. Keene will not be known to the
turf. Poor health is given as tbe rea
son for his retirement.
Pugilist Gardner Retires.
Oscar Gardner, the retired pugilist,
better known as “the Omaha Kid," has
left Minneapolis and will locate in
Vancouver, Wash. Gardner proposes
to take an active part in athletics in
Vancouver, and has already been offer
ed a positoin as boxing instructor at
the Columbus A. C.
SPRINGS NEW SCHEME
President Murphy Has Plan for
Training Ball Players.
Cub Magnate Says Fulfillment of His
Purpose Would Develop Many Un
known Stars—Would Revolu
tionize Present Ideas.
Charles W. Murphy, president of the
Chicago Cubs, today is shining in a
brand new role as an inventor. The
Cub chief divulged a scheme which
may revolutionize spring training trips
of major baseball leagues. lie has
proposed the organization of a "win
ter league" to train drafted and pur
chased players for their debut in high
er society.
This league would be composed of
towns in Florida where baseball can
be played the year around. The cir
cuit will be composed of eight towns
in Florida. The following places have
been proposed for the new training
camps of the big league clubs: Key
West, Pensacola, Tampa, Miami, Or
mond, Palm Beach, St. Augustine and
| Sarasota.
These towns are winter resorts to
which people of means flock when the
snow begins to fly in the northern
states. They are amply populated to
give splmdid support to teams sched
uled for the proposed circuit.
President Murphy, in defining plans
for this winter league, said he would
recommend that it be composed of
players who had not been members of
a major league club for more than
three months. All teams of the Na
tional and American leagues would be
eligible to send players drafted or pur
chased to these towns for the "trying
out" process. It would do more to
ward show ing the real class of a play
er, he thinks, than a training trip
could possibly accomplish.
Thanksgiving, Christmas and Newr
Year could be reserved each season
for games with major league clubs,
the Cub chief thinks, and these games
would prove in time the leading sport
ing events of the winter calendar.
Advocates of a substitute for the
present methods of training the raw
material for big league consumption
are increasing each year. Just how
many adherents of this scheme Mur
phy can marshal for the movement is
doubtful.
“The case of Charles Moore, an in
fielder, who came as a recruit from the
Pacific Coast league to the Cincinnati
club last spring, only illustrates the
injustice of the present method,” said
the Cub head.
“Moore was with the Cincinnati
club just two days when he was re
turned to the Los Angeles club. He
proved a bright star on that club from
the jump. Was he given a chance to
show what he had to deliver? I
should say not. The Cincinnati club
saw its mistake and wanted him back
this season.
"They were.too late. I had secured
the youngster through draft. He will
be with the Cubs next season. If
there had been a "winter league" of
purchased and drafted players in ex
istence last year, do you suppose
Moore would have been out on the
coast in 1911. I think not. He is
only one of many players of major
size wuo aren't given a chance under
the present crude system in vogue for
'trying out’ young material.”
ST. PAUL SELLS CHAS. CHECH
Former Pitcher for American Associa
tion Team Is Disposed of to Los
Angeles Club.
Pitcher Charles Chech for several
years a member of the St Paul Amer
Charles Chech.
ican Association Baseball club, has
been sold to the Los Angeles club ot
the Pacific league.
Quits as Cub Scout.
Charley Murphy, president of the
Cubs, learned that* his old enemy, Han
Johnson, had signed George Huff to
scout for the American league. Huff
is the most successful major league
scout He has been on the Cub pay
roll for several years, and helped to
build up the great Cub machine. Huff
is athletic director of the University
of Illinois when he isn't in baseball.
Huff will be assigned to a cleb that is
badly in need of new material,
Moakley Will Stick to Cornell.
Jack Moakley, coach of- the Cornell
university track and cross-country
athletics, has signed a five-year con
tract with Cornell University Athletic
association to continue in that ca
pacity. Moakley went to Ithaca. N.
Y., in 1899 and signed at that time,
and has had remarkable success, hav
ing turned out 11 intercollegiate cross
country championship teams and four
track teams that have won the inter
collegiate track meet since 1905.
