Tao Sing, he know. Listen!” The little man’s voice dropped to a whisper. “You are a friend of Wung Lu, the rich and wise one, is it not so?”

“Y-yes, that’s right,” Johnny stammered, too astonished to think clearly.

“Ah yes, you are a friend of Wung Lu,” the little man murmured. “Perhaps some day I will show you the picture of your thoughts. Perhaps very soon, some day I shall show you.”

Once more the little yellow man vanished into the darkness. He left an astonished boy staring at the place where he had been.

A few moments later Johnny met Meggy Strawn at his own door. Meggy was champion cheer leader for Hillcrest.

“Why Johnny, what’s up?” she asked. “Why all the gloom?”

“Burt Standish is going to pitch tomorrow.”

“Burt! He can’t! He’s got heart trouble. Johnny, who told you?”

“Why, a—” Johnny stopped short. He couldn’t tell Meggy that some little Chinaman had taken a picture of Barney Bradford’s thoughts. That would sound sort of queer. “I—I—” he hesitated, “I just found out.”

“And yet I believe it,” he thought to himself as he hurried past her.

There was reason enough to believe, for next day as Johnny took his place on the bleachers there was Burt Standish, the pitcher who was supposed to have serious heart trouble, on the mound warming up.

“He knew,” Johnny told himself with sudden shock. “That little Chinaman knew! And yet Centralia succeeded in keeping it a dead secret. Not a player on our team knew Burt was to pitch.” His respect for the little Chinaman’s mind reading, or whatever it might be, rose several notches.

CHAPTER II
A STRANGE PROPHECY COMES TRUE

“Oh!” someone exclaimed. “There is Burt Standish! He’s going to pitch against us!”

Johnny knew that voice. It was Meggy Strawn. Johnny could not quite remember when he first played with Meggy. Many summers he had visited at Grandfather Thompson’s old-fashioned house, and Meg was always there. She lived only three doors away. He remembered her in rompers, short dresses and knickers. Now she was sixteen. Her bright orange sweater and skirt of brilliant blue somehow matched her sharply turned-up nose and freckled cheeks. Meg was real. Johnny thought her the realest girl he had ever known. “Not soft,” was the way he had expressed it, “Just gloriously old-fashioned, no painted lips, nor cheeks either, and no cigarets—nothing like that; just all girl! And pep! Say, there’s not a girl with half her get-up-and-go, not in the whole big city of Chicago, or anywhere else!”

Yes, Johnny liked Meg. And now as he smiled at her he said, “Burt Standish will pitch, and we’ll lose the game.”

“Lose! Johnny—” Meg grabbed his arm. “Why do you say that? I just heard we were to have a marvelous pitcher, a real star.”

“Yes,” Johnny agreed slowly. “Guess I know as much about that as—well, as anyone, except Colonel Chamberlain. All the same, we’ll lose. You’ll see!”

“Crepe hanger!” Meg gave him a shake. “Just you watch our smoke!” Seizing a megaphone, she sprang out upon the turf to shout:

“Yea! Yea! Yea! Team! Team! Team!” Then, as her lithe young body swayed in rhythmic motion there came back from a hundred throats:

“Yea! Yea! Yea! Team! Team! Team!”

All the same, as Meg dropped to a place beside him on the grass, Johnny repeated solemnly, “We lose. Tao Sing knows.”

“What?” Meggy gave him a sharp look. “Who is Tao Sing?”

Johnny did not reply.

A moment later, at a motion from Colonel Chamberlain, who had just come onto the field, Johnny walked away.

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” The Colonel’s face was sober as Johnny reached his side. “It’s a tough break for the team, but J. can’t be with us today.”

“Jay?” Johnny stared.

“Suppose you are thinking J-a-y.” The Colonel smiled. “Just leave the last two letters off. That’s what our star pitcher prefers to be known by—just the plain letter ‘J.’ And, as I was saying, I couldn’t get him out—not today. He—he told me he didn’t want to chance it.”

“Chance what?” Johnny was keenly disappointed. “’Fraid his arm wouldn’t hold out?”

“Not that. Something else. I can’t explain further.” The Colonel’s voice dropped. “Just tell the boys we’re sorry. Hope he can be with you next game.”

It was a very sober Johnny who walked toward the spot where the Hillcrest team was gathered, waiting, expectant, hoping at any moment to see their new pitcher. This quiet, old-fashioned city had somehow gotten into Johnny’s blood. It was the home of his ancestors. He loved it for that and for other reasons. The people who lived here stood for certain things—that is, most of them did. They were honest, or at least as honest as they knew how to be. They were kind to the unfortunate. They believed in both work and rest. Saturday afternoon was their time for recreation. They loved their ball games. And there were very special reasons why, this year, these games must be a grand success. Johnny knew this. That was one reason for his sober face.

“Sorry!” he said quietly, a moment later, to Doug Danby, the captain. “The Colonel just told me our surprise pitcher won’t be here today.”

“Won’t be here?” Doug’s jaw dropped.

“Oh well!” he sighed a moment later. “Just have to make the best of it. And—” his lips closed tight. “We’ll win anyway.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” These words were on Johnny’s lips. They remained unsaid.

“See?” Johnny grinned at Meg as he returned to his place. “Our star pitcher will not be here! What does that mean? What did I tell you?”

“Yes, you and your mysterious Chinaman!” Meg scoffed. “We’ll win, you’ll see!”

Johnny did not truly hear this outburst. He was wondering, in a strange and sudden sort of way, whether there could be any connection between the mysterious little Chinaman and the failure of their star pitcher to appear. “Of course not,” he whispered to himself. All the same, he did not feel quite sure.

If they lost that game it would not be Meggy’s fault. This became evident from the start. With her bright sweater thrown carelessly upon the ground, shapely brown arms waving, nimble feet dancing, she led the cheering as no cheer leader had done before.

And it did seem from the start that old Hillcrest had more than an even chance. Fred Frame, their regular pitcher, whose arm had a mean way of going back on him just at the wrong moment, held his place in the box and pitched remarkably well.

Hillcrest went into the lead in the first inning. They held that lead doggedly until the fifth. In the sixth they slipped. Three runs came in for the rival team, and Hillcrest stood one score behind.

“It’s going to be too bad if we lose,” Johnny said soberly as Meg, seizing his arm to steady herself for a moment, whispered hoarsely, “Every game counts. The fans want victory. They want the pennant, or—”

She did not finish for at that moment Doug Danby, captain of the Hillcrest team, got a homer, tying the score.

“Ray! Ray! Ray! Doug! Doug! Doug!” Meggy was away like a flaming rocket.

The first half of the eighth found Hillcrest ahead by two runs.

“Johnny, we’re going to win!” Meggy was jumping up and down.

“No,” said Johnny soberly, “we’re going to lose.”

“Johnny, why do you say that? We’re