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diff --git a/44716-0.txt b/44716-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7931781 --- /dev/null +++ b/44716-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6744 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44716 *** + +[Illustration: JOE SLID INTO THE RUBBER IN A CLOUD OF DUST.] + + + + + Baseball Joe + Captain of the Team + + OR + + Bitter Struggles On the Diamond + + +_By_ LESTER CHADWICK + +AUTHOR OF + +“BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS,” “BASEBALL JOE, HOME RUN KING,” “THE +RIVAL PITCHERS,” “THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS,” ETC. + + +_ILLUSTRATED_ + + +NEW YORK + +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY + + + + +BOOKS BY LESTER CHADWICK + + +=THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES= + +=12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.= + + BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS + BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINE + BASEBALL JOE AT YALE + BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE + BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE + BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS + BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES + BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD + BASEBALL JOE, HOME RUN KING + BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE + BASEBALL JOE, CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM + + +=THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES= + +=12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.= + + THE RIVAL PITCHERS + A QUARTERBACK’S PLUCK + BATTING TO WIN + THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN + FOR THE HONOR OF RANDALL + THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS + +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, New York + + + Copyright, 1924, by + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY + + +=Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team= + +Printed in U. S. A. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I QUEER TACTICS 1 + II A BITTER STRUGGLE 10 + III THROWN AWAY 24 + IV FROM BAD TO WORSE 34 + V A STARTLING SUGGESTION 44 + VI PERPLEXING PROBLEMS 52 + VII BAD NEWS FOR JIM 64 + VIII THE HIDDEN-BALL TRICK 73 + IX THE NEW CAPTAIN 85 + X GETTING IN SHAPE 95 + XI WINGING THEM OVER 104 + XII AN AMAZING FEAT 119 + XIII CLEVER STRATEGY 130 + XIV DEEPENING MYSTERY 143 + XV TROUBLE BREWING 148 + XVI OUT FOR REVENGE 156 + XVII STEALING HOME 162 + XVIII A TEST OF NERVE 167 + XIX THE WARNING BUZZ 172 + XX THE PACKAGE OF MYSTERY 177 + XXI DROPPING BACK 182 + XXII UNDER HEAVY STRAIN 189 + XXIII BLUNDERING OLD REGGIE 195 + XXIV GETTING A CONFESSION 204 + XXV IN THE DEPTHS 210 + XXVI OFF HIS STRIDE 216 + XXVII TAKEN BY SURPRISE 221 + XXVIII A FRESH SPURT 226 + XXIX THE SNAKE’S HEAD 233 + XXX THE FINAL BATTLE 243 + + + + + BASEBALL JOE + CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM + + + + +CHAPTER I + +QUEER TACTICS + + +“No use talking, Joe, we seem to be on the toboggan,” remarked Jim +Barclay, one of the first string pitchers of the Giant team, to his +closest chum, Joe Matson; as they came out of the clubhouse at the +Chicago baseball park and strolled over toward their dugout in the +shadow of the grandstand. + +“You’re right, old boy,” agreed Joe--“Baseball Joe,” as he was known by +the fans all over the country. “We seem to be headed straight for the +cellar championship, and at the present rate it won’t be long before we +land there. I can’t tell what’s got into the boys. Perhaps I’m as much +to blame as any of the rest of them. I’ve lost the last two games I +pitched.” + +“Huh!” snorted Jim. “Look at the way you lost them! You never pitched +better in your life. You had everything--speed, curves, control, and +that old fadeaway of yours was working like a charm. But the boys +played behind you like a lot of sand-lotters. They simply threw the +game away--handed it to the Cubs on a silver platter. What they did in +the field was a sin and a shame. And when it came to batting, they were +even worse. The home run and triple you pasted out yourself were the +only clouts worth mentioning.” + +“The boys do seem to have lost their batting eyes,” agreed Joe. “And +when it comes to fielding, they’re all thumbs. What do you think the +trouble is?” + +“Search me,” replied Jim. “We’ve got the same team we had when we +started the season. Look at the way we started off: Three out of four +from the Brooklyns, the same from the Bostons, and a clean sweep from +the Phillies. It looked as though we were going to go through the +League like a prairie fire. But the instant we struck the West we went +down with a sickening thud. Pittsburgh wiped up the earth with us. The +Reds walked all over us. The Cubs in the last two games have given us +the razz. We’re beginning to look like something the cat dragged in.” + +“I can’t make it out,” observed Joe, thoughtfully. “Of course, every +team gets in a slump sometimes. But this has lasted longer than usual, +and it’s time we snapped out of it. McRae will be a raving lunatic if +we don’t.” + +“He’s pretty near that now,” replied Jim. “And I don’t wonder. He’d set +his heart on winning the flag this season, and it begins to look as +though his cake was dough.” + +“Even Robbie’s lost his smile,” said Joe. “And things must be pretty +bad when he gets into the doleful dumps.” + +“I thought that when we got those rascals, Hupft and McCarney, off the +team, everything would be plain sailing,” remarked Jim. “They seemed to +be the only disorganizing element.” + +“Yes,” agreed Joe. “And especially when we got such crackerjacks in +their places as Jackwell and Bowen. But speaking of them, have you +noticed anything peculiar about them?” + +“Great Scott!” exclaimed Jim, in some alarm. “You don’t mean to +intimate that they’re crooks, too?” + +“Not at all,” replied Joe. “From all I can see, they are as white as +any men on the team. And they certainly know baseball from A to Z. +They can run rings around Hupft and McCarney. But, just the same, I’ve +noticed something odd about them from the start.” + +“What, for instance?” asked Jim, with quickened interest. + +“They seem nervous and scared at times,” answered Joe. “Jackwell, at +third, keeps looking towards that part of the grandstand. The other day +I was going to throw to him, to catch Elston napping; but I saw that +Jackwell wasn’t looking at me, and so I held the ball. And I’ve noticed +that when he’s coming into the bench between innings he lets his eyes +range all over the stands.” + +“Looking to see if his girl was there, perhaps,” laughed Jim. + +“Nothing so pleasant as that,” asserted Joe. “It was as though he were +looking for some one he didn’t want to see. And the same thing is true +of Bowen. Of course he’s out at center, and I can’t observe him as well +as I can Jackwell. But when he’s been sitting in the dugout waiting for +his turn at bat, he’s always squinting at the fans in the stands and +the bleachers. The other boys aren’t that way.” + +“This is all news to me,” remarked Jim. “I’ve noticed that they’ve been +rather clannish and stuck close together, but that’s natural enough, +seeing that they were pals in the minor-league team from which McRae +bought them and that they don’t feel quite at home yet in big-league +company.” + +“Well, you keep your eye on them and see if you don’t notice what I’ve +been telling you about,” counseled Joe. “Of course, it may not mean a +thing, but all the same it’s struck me as queer.” + +By this time the two pitchers had reached the Giants’ dugout, where +most of their teammates had already gathered. + +It was a beautiful day in early summer. The Eastern teams’ invasion of +the West was in full swing, and baseball enthusiasm was running high +all over the circuit. The Giants, after a disastrous series of games in +Pittsburgh and Cincinnati, had struck Chicago. Or, perhaps, it would +be more correct to say that Chicago had struck them, for the Cubs had +taken the first two games with ease. + +No doubt that accounted for the tremendous throng that had been pouring +into the gates that afternoon, until now the stands and bleachers were +crowded with enthusiastic fans. For if there was anything in the world +that Chicago dearly loved, it was to see the Giants beaten. One game +from the haughty Giants, the champions of the world, was more keenly +relished than two games from any other club. + +The rivalry between the teams of the two great cities was intense, +dating from the days when the old Chicagos, with “Pop” Anson and Frank +Chance at their head, had been accustomed to sweeping everything before +them. Now the tables had been turned, and for the last few years, the +Giants, with McRae as their astute manager and Baseball Joe as their +pitching “ace,” had had the upper hand. Twice in succession the Giants +had won the championship of the National League and had wound up the +season in a blaze of glory by also winning the World Series. + +This year they were desperately anxious to repeat. And, as Jim had +said, it looked at the beginning of the season as though they were +going to do it. They got off on the right foot and had an easy time of +it in the games with the other Eastern clubs. + +But with the Western clubs it was another story. A “jinx” seemed to be +pursuing them. Pittsburgh had tied the can to them, and the Reds, not +to be outdone, had tightened the knot. The Cubs thus far had clawed +them savagely. They had tasted blood, and their appetite had grown with +what it had fed upon. And for that reason the sport lovers of the Windy +City had turned out in force to see the Cubs once more make the Giants +“their meat.” + +McRae, the manager, was sitting on the bench with Robson, his +assistant, as Joe and Jim approached. There was an anxious furrow on +his brow, and even the rotund and rubicund “Robbie,” usually jolly and +smiling, seemed in the depths of gloom. + +McRae’s face lightened a little when he saw Joe. + +“I’m going to put you in to pitch to-day, Matson,” he said. “How’s the +old soup-bone feeling?” + +“Fine and dandy,” returned Joe, with a smile. + +“I want you to stand those fellows on their heads,” said the manager. +“They’ve been making monkeys of us long enough.” + +“I’ll do my best, Mac,” promised Joe, as he picked up a ball preparatory +to going out for warming-up practice. + +“Your best is good enough,” replied McRae. + +Joe and Jim went out with their respective catchers and limbered up +their pitching arms. + +“How are they coming, Mylert?” Joe called out to the veteran catcher, +who was acting as his backstop. + +“Great,” pronounced Mylert. “You’ve got speed to burn and your curves +are all to the merry. That hop of yours is working fine. You’ll have +them breaking their backs to get at the ball.” + +McRae, in the meantime, had beckoned to Iredell, the captain of the +team. + +“Look here, Iredell,” he asked abruptly, “what’s the matter with this +team? Why are they playing like a lot of old women?” + +“I’m sure I don’t know,” replied Iredell, flushing and twirling his cap +nervously. + +“Don’t know?” snapped McRae. “Who should know if you don’t? You’re the +captain, aren’t you?” + +“Sure,” admitted Iredell. “But for all that, I can’t always get onto +what’s in the minds of the fellows. I’ve talked to them and razzed them +and done everything except to lam them. They’re just in a slump, and +they don’t seem able to get out. Some of them think a jinx is on their +backs. I’m playing my own position well enough, ain’t I?” + +“Yes, you are,” McRae was forced to admit, for Iredell was one of +the crack shortstops of the League, and so far had been batting and +fielding well. “But that isn’t enough. To be a good shortstop is one +thing, and to be a good captain is another. I figured you’d be both. +Tell me this. Are there any cliques in the team? Any fellows out to do +another or show him up? Any fights in the clubhouse that I haven’t been +told about?” + +“No,” replied Iredell, “nothing that’s worth noticing. Of course, the +boys are as sore as boils over the way they keep on losing, and their +tempers are on a hair trigger. Once in a while something is said that +makes one of them take a crack at another. But that’s usually over in a +minute and they shake hands and make up. There aren’t any real grudges +among the boys that I know of.” + +“Well, things have got to change, and it’s largely up to you to change +them,” growled McRae. “If the job’s too big for you, perhaps somebody +else will have to take it. I’ve often found that a shake up in the +batting order will work wonders. Perhaps the same thing’s true of a +shake up in captains.” + +The flush in Iredell’s face grew deeper and his eyes glinted with +anger. But he said nothing, and as McRae turned to say something to +Robbie, indicating that the interview was ended, he moved away sullenly +from the dugout. + +Just then the bell rang as a signal for the Giants to run out for +practice. The white uniforms of the Chicagos faded away from the +diamond, while the gray-suited Giants scattered to their several +positions in the field and on the bases. + +Jackwell, who had been standing near Joe while the latter was putting +the balls over to Mylert, started to run out with the rest, but +suddenly he halted and stood in his tracks like a stone image. + +Joe, who, out of the corner of his eye, had noted the action, turned to +him in surprise. + +“What’s the matter, Jackwell?” he asked, eying the new third baseman +keenly. + +“I--I can’t go on,” stammered Jackwell. + +Joe noted that he had suddenly turned white. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +A BITTER STRUGGLE + + +Jackwell’s legs were sagging, and Joe, alarmed at his condition and +afraid that he was going to fall, put his arm about the baseman’s +shoulder to support him. + +“Brace up, old man,” he counseled. “What’s come over you?” + +“I--I don’t know,” answered Jackwell, trying desperately to get a grip +on himself. “I suddenly felt faint. Everything got black before my +eyes.” + +“Touch of the sun, maybe,” said Joe, kindly. “Come over and get a drink +of water and then sit down on the bench for a few minutes. I’ll ask one +of the other fellows to take your place at third for practice.” + +Jackwell sank down on the bench, while Joe returned to his practice +with Mylert, somewhat upset by the incident. + +A moment later, Bowen, the new centerfielder, came along, and Jackwell +beckoned to him. He sat down beside him, and the two conversed in +whispers, casting surreptitious glances at a part of the grandstand +almost directly behind the third-base position. + +Joe kept his eye on the two men and saw Bowen start violently at +something Jackwell whispered to him. His face seemed suddenly to have +been drained of every drop of blood, and he shook like a man with the +ague. + +Just then McRae, who had been having an exchange of repartee with Evans, +the manager of the Chicago team, who had chaffed him unmercifully about +the playing of the Giants, came back to the dugout. He glanced in +surprise at the two players. + +“What are you fellows doing here?” he asked sharply, glowering at them. +“Didn’t you hear the bell ring for practice? Why aren’t you in your +places on the field?” + +“I’m sick, Mr. McRae,” replied Jackwell. “I wish you’d put somebody +else in my place. I ain’t in condition to play to-day.” + +“I’m in the same fix,” put in Bowen. “I feel like thirty cents.” + +“That’s what the whole team’s worth,” growled McRae. “And even at that +price the fellow that bought them would get stung. What do you mean, +sick? Are you sick or just lazy, soldiering on the job? You seemed +husky enough this morning.” + +“It--it may have been something we ate at noon,” suggested Jackwell, +rather lamely. “A touch of ptomaine poisoning, or something like that.” + +“Of course, I’ll play if you tell me to,” put in Bowen. “But I don’t +feel up to my work.” + +McRae stood for a moment in exasperated study of the two. For some +reason their excuses did not ring true. Yet their pale faces and +evidently unstrung condition seemed to bear out their words. + +“Guess there is a jinx after this team all right,” he growled. “You +fellows go over to the club doctor and let him find out what’s the +matter with you. I’ll put other men in your places for the present.” + +They hurriedly availed themselves of the permission, and McRae, after +a consultation with Robbie, put Renton in Jackwell’s place and sent +McGuire out in center to hold down Bowen’s position. + +Again the bell rang, and the Cubs took their final practice. That they +were in fine condition for the fray was evident from the way they shot +the ball across the diamond. Dazzling plays and almost impossible +catches brought round after round of applause from the spectators. It +was plain that the whole team was in fine fettle, and that the Giants +had their work cut out for them if they were to win. + +The Giants, as the visiting team, were first at bat. Axander, the star +twirler of the Cubs, picked up the ball and went into the box with a +jaunty air that bespoke plenty of confidence. + +“Play ball!” cried the umpire. + +Axander dug his toes into the box and wound up for the first pitch. + +And while the crowd watched breathlessly to see the ball leave his +hand, it may be well for the benefit of those who have not read the +preceding volumes of this series to tell who Baseball Joe was and trace +his career up to the time this story opens. + +Joe Matson had been born and brought up in the little town of Riverside +in a middle western state. From early boyhood he had been a great lover +of the national game, especially of the pitching end of it, to which +he had taken naturally. His coolness, quick thinking, good judgment +and powerful arm specially fitted him for the box. He soon became +known for his skill as a twirler on his home team, and his reputation +spread to surrounding towns. His early exploits and the difficulties +he had to encounter and overcome are told in the first volume of this +series, entitled: “Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; or, The Rivals of +Riverside.” + +Later, on his school nine, he overcame the obstacles thrown in his way +by the bully of the school and pitched his team to victory over his +rivals. His field was widened when he went to Yale, and in an emergency +he assumed the pitcher’s burden and downed Princeton in a glorious +battle. + +That victory proved a turning point in Joe’s life, for the game had +been witnessed by a scout for a minor-league team, always on the alert +for talent, and he made Joe an offer to join the Pittston team of +the Central League. Joe accepted the offer, and soon climbed to the +position of the leading twirler in the League. + +Still, he was only a “busher,” and his delight can be imagined when, at +the end of the season, he was drafted into the St. Louis team of the +National League. Now he was really in fast company, and had to test his +skill against the greatest twirlers in the country. But the fans were +quick to learn that he could hold his own with the best of them. + +McRae, the manager of the Giants, one of the ablest men in baseball +when it came to judging the ability of a player, determined to get Joe +for the Giants. He did get him, and had never ceased congratulating +himself on the stroke that brought Joe to his team. He soon became its +mainstay, and had been the main factor in winning the championship of +the National League and the World Series twice in succession. He was a +wizard in the box, and his record as pitcher had never been equaled in +the history of the game. + +And not only in the box, but at the bat he had proved himself without a +peer. He was a natural batsman, timing and meeting the ball perfectly +and leaning all the weight of his mighty shoulders against it so that +it soared far beyond the reach of the fielders. When he hit the ball +it was very often ticketed for a homer, and at every city on the +League circuit thousands were attracted to the games not only to see a +marvelous exhibition of pitching but to see Matson “knock out another +home run.” What celebrity he gained by his work in both departments +is told in a previous volume, and the way in which he saved the game +from scandal when it was threatened by a gang of crooked gamblers is +narrated in the last volume of the series entitled: “Baseball Joe +Saving the League; or, Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy.” + +But Joe had won other triumphs than those of baseball. He had fallen +in love with Mabel Varley, a charming girl whose life he had saved in +a runaway accident, and he had married her at the end of the previous +season on the diamond. They were ideally happy. + +Jim Barclay, a Princeton man who had joined the Giants, had speedily +developed into a pitcher only second to Joe himself. He and Joe had +become the closest of chums, and on a visit to Riverside Jim had fallen +a victim to the charms of Joe’s pretty sister, Clara, and was now +engaged to her and hoped for an early marriage. + +And now to return to the tense situation on the Chicago ball field, +where the Cubs and Giants faced each other in one of the critical games +of the series. + +Curry, the rightfielder of the Giants, was first at bat. He was a good +hitter and was as fast as a flash in getting to first. + +Axander shot over a high fast one at which Curry refused to bite, and +it went as a ball. Then came a pretty first strike right over the heart +of the plate. Axander came back with a slow one that lobbed up to the +plate looking as big as a balloon. Curry nearly dislocated his spine +reaching for it, and though he connected with it he raised an easy fly, +which the Cubs’ third baseman caught without moving from his tracks. + +Iredell came next to the plate, swinging three bats. He threw away two +of them, tapped each of his heels with the other for luck, faced the +pitcher and glared at him ferociously. + +“Put one over, you false alarm, and see me murder it,” he called to +Axander. + +Axander grinned at him. + +“You’re the captain of the team, aren’t you?” he asked. “Well, you’ll +be only a lieutenant when I get through with you.” + +He whizzed one over that Iredell swung at savagely and missed. The next +he fouled off, making the second strike. Then came a ball and then a +third strike, so swift that Iredell struck at it as it settled in the +catcher’s glove. + +“You’re out!” shouted the umpire. + +Iredell threw down his bat in chagrin and retired to the bench. + +Then Burkett, the burly first baseman of the Giants, strode to the +plate. He caught the first ball pitched right near the end of his stick +and belted it into the rightfield stands. It looked like a sure homer, +and the contingent of loyal Giant rooters burst into a cheer. But the +cheer was premature, as the umpire called it a foul, and Burkett, who +had already rounded first, returned, disgruntled, to the plate. + +“Had your eyes tried for glasses lately?” he asked the umpire. + +“That’ll be about all from you,” returned that functionary. “Another +wise crack like that, and it’s you for the showers.” + +Axander’s next throw went for a ball. On the next Burkett whaled a +sharp single over second. A moment later, however, he was caught +napping at first by a quick throw from the pitcher, and the inning +ended without a score. Burkett, who found himself in his regular +position at first, put on his glove and stayed there, glad enough that +he was not near enough to the Giants’ dugout to get the tongue lashing +that McRae had all ready for him. + +“Did you see that boob play, Robbie?” McRae growled. “Did you see the +way that perfectly good hit was wasted?” + +“Sure, I saw it, John,” replied Robson, laying his hand soothingly on +the knee of his irate friend. “’Twas enough to make a man tear his hair +out by the roots. But the game’s young yet and we may have the last +laugh. I’m banking heavily on what Joe’s going to do to them birds.” + +Joe in the meantime had walked out to the box. It was a tribute to +the admiration that was felt for him by fans everywhere that even the +Chicago partisans welcomed his coming with a hearty round of applause. +He was more than a Giant standby. He was the idol of all true lovers of +the national game. + +Burton, the heaviest slugger on the Chicago team, was first at bat. Joe +looked him over and then sent the ball over for a perfect strike. It +came in like a bullet. Burton did not even offer at it. + +“Strike one!” called the umpire. + +The next one had a fast hop on it, and Burton swung six inches beneath +it. + +“Strike two!” + +Burton set himself for the next one, and succeeded only in fouling +it off. Mylert got the ball and returned it to Joe on the bound. The +latter caught it carelessly and then, without his usual wind-up, sent +it whistling across the plate. It caught Burton entirely off his guard, +and his futile stab at it caused even the Chicago fans to break into +laughter. + +“Out!” cried the umpire, and the discomfited Burton retired sheepishly +to the bench. + +“That’s showing them up, Joe,” called up Larry Barrett from second. + +“Why didn’t you soak that first ball?” demanded Evans, the Chicago +manager. “It was a beauty, right in the groove.” + +“Aw,” growled Burton, “how can I hit a ball that I can’t see? That came +like a shot from a rifle. I ain’t no miracle man.” + +Gallagher came next and had no better luck. One strike was called on +him, and the other two he missed. + +“Look at that boy, John,” exulted Robbie, his red face beaming. “He’s +got them fellows buffaloed right from the jump. He’s making them eat +out of his hand. He’s skinning ’em alive.” + +“Fine work,” agreed McRae, his anxious features relaxing somewhat. +“’Twas the best day’s work I ever did when I got him on the team. He’s +a whole nine by himself. And--blistering billikens! Look at that!” + +The “that” was a hot liner that Weston had sent right over the box. +Like a flash Joe had leaped into the air and speared it with his gloved +hand. The force of the hit was so great that it knocked him down, but +he came up smiling with the ball in his hand. + +There was a moment of stupefied silence, and then the stands rocked +with applause, contributed by the Cub as well as the Giant rooters. +That play alone was worth the price of admission. + +Joe drew off his glove and came in from the box, while the Chicagos ran +out to take their places in the field. + +“Great stuff, Joe,” cried Jim jubilantly, as he hit his chum a +resounding whack on the shoulder. “They didn’t have a chance. Keep it +up and you’ll have those Cubs crawling into their hole and licking +their wounds.” + +“Oh, it will do for a start,” said Joe, modestly. “But that’s only one +inning out of nine, and those fellows may break loose any time. But if +our fellows will only give me a run or two, I’ll try to hold them down.” + +But the wished-for runs did not materialize in the Giants’ second turn +at bat. Wheeler made a strong bid for a run when he sent the ball on +a high line between right and center, but the Chicago rightfielder was +off at the crack of the bat and just managed to get his hands on the +ball and shut off what seemed to have all the earmarks of a homer. It +was a sparkling catch and evoked rounds of applause from the Chicago +rooters. + +McGuire dribbled a slow one to the box that Axander had no trouble in +getting to first on time. Renton was an easy victim on strikes. + +“Looks as if you’d have to win your own game, Joe,” grumbled McRae. +“These boobs have more holes in their bats than a chunk of Swiss +cheese.” + +In the Cubs’ half Joe mowed them down as fast as they came to the bat. +His curve and hop ball were working to perfection. He varied his fast +and slow ones with such cunning that he had his opponents up in the +air. It was just a procession of bewildered batters to the plate and +then back to the bench. It looked as though Joe were in for one of the +best days of his brilliant career. + +In the third inning the Giants at last broke the ice. Barrett lay down +a well-placed bunt along the third base line that the Cub third baseman +got all mixed up on in his efforts to field. When at last he did get +his hands on it he threw wild, and Barrett easily reached second before +the ball was retrieved. + +It looked like the possible beginning of a rally, and instantly all +was commotion on the Giants’ bench. McRae himself ran out to the +coaching line near first, while he sent Jim over to third. The Giant +players began a line of chatter designed to rattle the Cub pitcher. + +But Axander only smiled as he took up his position in the box. He +was too much of a veteran to let his opponents get him fussed. But +his smile, though it did not entirely disappear, lost some of its +brightness when he saw that Baseball Joe was the next man to face him. + +Cries of encouragement rose from Joe’s mates and from the Giant rooters +in the stands. + +“Oh, you home-run slugger!” + +“Give the ball a ride!” + +“Show him where you live!” + +“Send it to kingdom come!” + +Amid the babel of cries, Joe took up his position at the plate. His +brain was alert and his nerves like steel. + +“Sorry, Matson, but I’ll have to strike you out,” said Axander, with a +grin. “All Giants look alike to me to-day. Giant killer is my middle +name.” + +“Don’t waste any sympathy on me,” retorted Joe. “You can send flowers +to my funeral later on. But first give me a chance at the ball.” + +Axander wound up and put one over the corner of the plate with all the +force he could muster. Joe caught it near the end of his bat and sent +it soaring out toward rightfield. It was a mighty clout, but when it +came down it was just about six inches on the wrong side of the foul +line. + +Joe, who was well on his way to second, came back and again took up his +position at the bat. + +But that tremendous hit had given Axander food for thought. The next +ball that came over was so wide of the plate that the catcher had to +jump for it. + +Another ball followed in the same place, and the stands began to murmur. + +“He’s afraid to let him hit it!” + +“He’s going to walk him!” + +“Matson’s got his goat!” + +But Axander had resolved to play safe, and the next ball was so wide +that it was plain he was doing it with deliberate design. + +“Thought you were a giant killer,” jeered Joe. “Have you lost your +nerve? I can see from here you’re trembling.” + +Stung by the taunt, Axander put all the stuff he had on the ball and +sent in a swift incurve. + +Joe timed it perfectly. There was a terrific crash as the bat met the +ball, and the next instant Joe had dropped the bat and was running to +first like a deer. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THROWN AWAY + + +On went the ball almost on a dead line to center, but rising as it +went as though it were endowed with wings. On and still on, as though +it would never stop. The centerfielder had cast one look at it, and +then he turned and ran toward the distant bleachers in the back of the +field. He took another look over his shoulder and then threw up his +hands in a gesture of despair. + +The ball cleared the bleacher rail, still going strong, and finally +came to rest in the top row, where it was hastily gobbled up and +concealed by an enthusiastic bleacherite, anxious to retain a memento +of one of the longest hits ever made on the Chicago grounds. + +Joe rounded first, going like a railroad train, but as he saw where the +ball was going he moderated his speed in order to conserve his wind and +just jogged around the bases until he reached the plate, where Barrett +had preceded him. + +Again and again he was forced to doff his cap in response to the +shouts of the crowd, who had forgotten all partisanship for the moment +in the excitement of that mighty homer. And his teammates mauled and +pounded him until he laughingly made them desist, and made his way to +the bench, where McRae and Robbie were beaming. + +“I’ve been thirty years in baseball, Joe,” said McRae, “and I’ve seen +lots of home runs. But if any one of them was finer than that whale of +a hit, I’ve forgotten it.” + +“If it hadn’t been for the bleachers in the way, the ball would be +going yet,” grinned Robbie. “That swat will break Axander’s heart.” + +But the heart of the Cub pitcher was made of stouter material than +Robbie gave it credit for, and Axander settled down and prevented +further scoring for that inning. But the Giants had two runs to the +good, and the way Joe was pitching made those two runs look as big as a +house. + +For the next two and a half innings the game developed into a pitchers’ +duel. Neither side was able to tally, although a scratch hit put a +Giant on first and a passed ball advanced him to second. It seemed +quite possible that the game would end with the score still two to none. + +Joe came up again in the sixth, amid cries by the Giant rooters to +repeat. But Axander was going to take no more chances. The memory of +that screaming homer still lingered. The catcher stood wide of the +plate, and Axander deliberately pitched four bad balls, regardless of +the jeers of the crowd. + +It was the finest kind of a compliment to Joe’s prowess, but he was not +looking for compliments. What he wanted was another crack at the ball. +There was no help for it, however, and he dropped his bat and trotted +down to first. + +He watched Axander like a hawk, took a long lead off the bag, and on +the second ball pitched started to steal second. He would have made it +without difficulty, but the Cub catcher threw the ball to the right of +the bag, and the second baseman, in order to grab it, had to get in the +way of Joe. There was a mix-up as they came together, and both went +down. The baseman dropped the ball, and Joe managed to get his hand on +the base before the ball could be recovered. + +But when Joe attempted to get up on his feet, his left leg gave way +under him, and he had to steady himself by catching hold of Holstein, +the second baseman. The latter looked at him in surprise. + +“Trying to kid me?” he asked. + +“Not at all,” replied Joe. “My leg’s gone back on me. Must have +wrenched or twisted it, I guess, when we came together.” + +The umpire saw that something had happened and called time, while +McRae, Robbie, and the other men on the Giant team gathered around +their injured comrade in alarm and consternation. + +“Nothing broken, is there, Joe?” cried McRae, as he came running out to +second. + +“Nothing so bad as that,” answered Joe, summoning up a smile. “Guess +it’s only a sprain. But I’m afraid it puts me out of the running for +to-day. I can scarcely bear my weight on it.” + +The club trainer, Dougherty, ran his hands over Joe with the dexterity +of an expert. + +“No breaks,” he pronounced. “But a wrench to the leg and the ankle +sprained. No more work for you, Joe, for a week, at least. Here, some +of you fellows help me get him over to the clubhouse.” + +“Maybe after a little rest and rubbing I can go on with the pitching,” +suggested Joe. + +“Nothing doing,” replied Dougherty, laconically. “Get that right out of +your noddle. Your work’s done for the day.” + +A rookie was put on second to run for Joe, and the latter was assisted +to the clubhouse, where Dougherty and his assistants set to work on the +leg and ankle at once. + +Gloom so thick that it could have been cut with a knife came down on +the Giants’ bench. Here was another proof that the “jinx” was still +camping on their trail. + +But there was no time for grizzling then, for the game had to go on. +Jim and Markwith were sent out to warm up, while the Giants finished +their half of the inning. + +Joe’s hit had not gone for nothing, for Ledwith, the rookie, got to +third on a fielder’s choice, and came home on a long sacrifice fly to +center. Iredell swung viciously at the ball and sent up a towering +skyscraper that Axander was waiting for when it came down. The inning +was over, and, despite the injury to their star pitcher, another run +had been stowed away in the Giants’ bat bag. + +McRae selected Jim to finish the game in his chum’s place. + +“Go to it, Barclay, and show them what stuff you’re made of,” +admonished the manager. “The boys have given you a lead of three runs, +and all you’ve got to do is to hold those birds down.” + +“I’ll pitch my head off to do it,” promised Jim. + +He only permitted three men to face him in the Chicago’s sixth inning. +All the attempts of the Cub coaches and players to rattle him at the +send-off resulted in failure. + +Mollocher, the first Cub at bat, let a speeder go past because it was a +trifle wide. The next was a slow curve that the umpire called a strike. +Mollocher looked surprised, but apart from glaring at the umpire made +no protest. He laced out at the next one and fouled it to the top of +the grandstand for a second strike. The next ball he hit on the upper +side, and it went for a harmless hopper to Barrett, who fielded him out +at first. + +Greaves, who came next, refused to offer at the first, which was high +and went as a ball. The next cut the plate for a strike. He fouled the +next two in succession, and finally sent a looping fly to Renton at +third. + +Lasker stood like a wooden man as Jim sent over a beauty for the first +strike. The second came over below his knees, and was a ball. He struck +at the next and missed, and then Jim fanned him with a slow outcurve +that he almost broke his back in reaching for. + +It was good pitching, and showed that the Giants had more than one +string to their bow. The score was now 3 to 0 on even innings, and, +with only three more innings to go, it looked as though the Giants were +due to break their long run of hard luck. + +“You’re doing fine, Jim,” encouraged Robbie. “Just keep that up and +we’ll not only beat ’em but rub it in by giving ’em a row of goose +eggs.” + +“Knock wood,” cautioned McRae, giving three sharp raps with his +knuckles on the bench. “For the love of Pete, Robbie, cut out that kind +of talk. The game isn’t over yet by a long shot.” + +Axander, as cool as an iceberg, put on extra speed and set down the +Giants in their half in one, two, three order. Not a man reached first, +and the last two were disposed of by the strike-out route. + +“Stretch” was the word that ran through the stands as the Chicagos came +in for their half of the “lucky seventh,” and the crowd rose as one man +and stretched while cries of encouragement went up for their favorites. + +The charm failed this time, however, for though they gathered one +hit off Jim, it counted for nothing, as the next three went out in +succession. Jim was certainly pitching airtight ball. + +But in the latter half of the eighth, after the Giants had failed +to add to their score, there came one of the sudden changes that +illustrated once more the uncertainty of the national game. + +The head of the Cubs’ batting order was up, and their supporters were +frantically urging them to do something. + +Burton did his best, and sent up a high fly to Curry at right. It +looked as though it were made to order for the latter, who did not have +to budge from his tracks. The ball came down directly in his hands--and +he dropped it! + +A mighty roar went up from the crowd, who had looked upon it as an easy +out, which it should have been, and Burton, who had slowed up a little, +put on speed, rounded first and started for second. + +Curry, rattled by his error, fumbled at the ball, and when he did +recover it lined it in the direction of second. But it went wide of +Barrett, and though Jim, who was backing him up, caught and returned +it, Burton was already on the bag. + +Gallagher, the next man up, popped a Texas leaguer that Burkett and +Barrett ran out for. + +“I’ve got it,” cried Barrett. + +“It’s mine,” shouted the burly first baseman. + +Each unfortunately believed the other and held back, waiting for his +comrade to make the catch. As a result, the ball dropped between them +and rolled some distance away. + +Burton, who had held the bag, started for third. Burkett retrieved +the ball and without getting set hurled it to third. It went high +over Renton’s head and rolled to the stands. Burton kept right on and +crossed the plate for the first run of the game. Gallagher, in the +general excitement, reached second. + +Pandemonium broke loose among the Chicago rooters. + +“We’ve got them going!” was the cry. + +“All over but the shouting!” + +Evans, the Chicago manager, sent in his best pinch hitter, Miller, +and put a fast rookie, Houghton, on second to run in the place of +Gallagher, who was of the ice-wagon type. + +To give his comrades time to recover somewhat from their demoralization, +Jim stooped down to lace his shoe. He was a long time doing this, and +then was very deliberate in taking his place on the mound. + +He whizzed over a high fast one that Miller struck at and missed. The +next he fouled off. The third just missed cutting the corner of the +plate, and it went for a ball. On the next, Miller lay down a bunt that +rolled slowly along the third base line. + +It looked as though it were going to roll foul, and Renton gave it a +chance to do so. However, it kept on the inside of the line, and by the +time Renton had gathered it up, Miller had easily reached first. + +Wallace went to the bat with orders to wait Jim out, trusting to the +hope that the latter would by this time be rattled, because the breaks +of the game seemed to be going against him. But when two beauties in +succession cut the corners of the plate for strikes, while he stood +there like a wooden Indian, he changed his mind. + +To make him hit into a double play, Jim made the next an outcurve. Nine +times out of ten the batter hits that kind of ball into the dirt. It +ran according to form this time also. Wallace hit a grounder that went +straight to Larry Barrett at second. Larry set himself for the ball, +while Iredell ran over to cover the bag for a double play. + +But just before the ball reached Barrett, it took a high bound, went +over his head and rolled out into centerfield. Gallagher scored, +Miller reached third, and Wallace got to second on a long slide, just +escaping being nipped by McGuire’s return of the ball. + +With two runs in, no one out, and a man each on second and third, it +looked bad for the Giants. A single hit would probably score both of +the occupants of the bags. Even two outfield sacrifice flies would do +it. + +The din was tremendous as the crowds yelled in chorus, trying to rattle +the already shaky visiting team. But the noise subsided somewhat as Jim +put on steam and set down Mollocher on three successive strikes. + +Greaves came up next, and lashed out at the first ball pitched, sending +a grasser toward first. Burkett made a good pick-up, stepped on the +bag, putting out Greaves, and then hurled to Mylert to catch Miller, +who was legging it to the plate. But although Mylert made a mighty +leap, the ball went over his head and before it could be recovered both +Miller and Wallace had crossed the plate, making the score four to +three in favor of the Chicagos. + +And the Chicago rooters promptly went mad! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FROM BAD TO WORSE + + +That nightmare inning came to an end without further scoring, as Jim +struck out Lasker on four pitched balls. Then, with a sigh of relief, +Jim pulled off his glove and went in to the bench, while a sheepish and +disgruntled lot of Giants followed him in for their last inning. McRae +was white with anger, and had no hesitation in telling the team what he +thought of them. + +“You bunch of four-flushers!” he stormed. “Throwing the ball all around +the lot like a gang of schoolboys. You fellows are Giants--I don’t +think. You’re a disgrace to your uniforms. You’re drawing your salaries +on false pretenses. Letting those fellows get four runs in a single +inning without making a real hit. What do you want the pitcher to +do--strike out every man that comes to the bat, while you go to sleep +in the field? You make me tired. You ought to join the Ladies’ Bloomer +League. And even then Maggie Murphy’s team would put it all over you. +Go in there now and get those runs back.” + +With their faces burning from the tongue lashing of their irate +manager, the Giants went in for their last inning. + +Larry was first up and cracked out a sharp single to right that looked +at first as though he might stretch it to a double, but it was so +smartly relayed that he found it advisable to scramble back to the +initial bag. + +Jim was next up. The first two balls pitched were wide of the plate and +he refused to bite. The next one, however, he caught right on the seam +for a liner that went whistling into right for a double. + +Larry had started at the crack of the bat, and had rounded second by +the time Jim got to first. He kept on to third, where Iredell was on +the coaching line. There he should have been retained, for Burton, who +was renowned for his throwing arm, had by this time got the ball and +was setting himself for the throw. Iredell, however, urged Larry on, +with the consequence that when he slid into the plate the ball was +there waiting for him. Jim, in the meantime, had reached second. + +Larry picked himself up, brushed himself off and went to the bench, +muttering growls against Iredell for having egged him on. Had two men +been out there might have been some excuse for taking the chance. +But with none out, it was almost certain that, either by a hit or a +sacrifice, he could have been brought in with the run that would have +tied the score. + +Mylert tried to kill the ball, but hit it on the under side and it went +up in a high fly that was easily gobbled up by the Cubs’ first baseman. + +Curry, the last hope of the Giants, came to the bat. He was in a frenzy +of eagerness to redeem himself, as it was his inglorious muff that had +started the Cubs on their way to those four unearned runs. + +Axander himself was beginning to feel the strain, and was a bit wild. +Curry looked them over carefully and let the bad ones go by. A couple +of good ones were sandwiched in, at which he swung and missed. + +With three balls and two strikes, both pitcher and batter were “in the +hole.” Axander had to put the next one over under penalty of passing +the batter. And if Curry missed the next good one, the game was over. + +Axander wound up and let one go straight for the plate. Curry caught it +full and fair and the ball soared off toward left. + +Weston, the Cub leftfielder, was off with the crack of the ball, +running in the direction the latter was taking. It seemed like a +hopeless quest, but he kept on, and just as the ball was going over +his head he made a tremendous leap and caught it with one hand. He was +off balance and turned a complete somersault, but when he came up he +still had hold of the ball. It was a catch such as is seldom seen more +than two or three times in a season. + +The game was over, and the Cubs had triumphed by a score of 4 runs to +3. The crowd swarmed down on the diamond to surround and applaud their +favorites, who had plucked victory from the very jaws of defeat, or, +to put it more correctly, had accepted the game which the Giants had +generously handed over to them. + +It was a sore and dejected band of Giants that made their way to +the clubhouse. The end had come so suddenly that they could hardly +realize what had happened. Some were inclined to blame the “jinx,” +but the more intelligent knew that their own errors and those of some +of their comrades had alone brought about their downfall. The defeat +was all the more exasperating, because they had had superb pitching +throughout--pitching that would have won nine games out of ten and +would certainly have won that one if their twirlers had been given +half-way decent support. + +“Hard luck, Jim,” was Joe’s greeting to his comrade, as the latter came +in and made ready for the showers. “You pitched a dandy game. It’s +tough when four runs come in without one of them being earned.” + +“All in a day’s work,” replied Jim, affecting a cheerfulness that he +was far from feeling. “But you’re the one I’m worrying about. How’s +that leg and foot?” + +“Dougherty says it will be all right in a week,” replied Joe. “He’s +rubbed most of the soreness out of them, but I’ll have to favor them +for a while.” + +“Glory be!” exclaimed Jim with fervor. “If you were out of the game +for a long time it would be all up with the Giants. Then they’d go to +pieces for fair.” + +“Not a bit of it,” disclaimed Joe. “It’s too great a team to be +dependent on any one man. I’m only just one cog in a fine machine.” + +“Looked like a rather wobbly machine this afternoon,” said Jim, +ruefully. + +“Sure,” agreed Joe. “The boys did play like a bunch of hams. But every +team does that once in a while. The boys will shake off this slump, and +then they’ll begin to climb. Remember that time when we won twenty-six +straight? What we’ve done once, we can do again. I’m not a seventh son +of a seventh son, but I have a hunch that we’re just about due to do +that very thing.” + +“I hope you’re as good a prophet as you are a pitcher,” replied Jim, +grinning. He was beginning to find Joe’s optimism contagious. + +Their conversation was interrupted by the coming of McRae. A sudden +silence fell over the occupants of the clubhouse, for they knew the +danger signals, and a glance at the manager’s face told them that a +storm was brewing. + +“Giants!” exclaimed McRae, and they winced at the bitter sarcasm in his +tone. “Where have I heard that word before? A fine bunch of pennant +winners! Why, you couldn’t win the pennant in the Podunk League. Put +you up against a gang of bushers, and they’d laugh themselves to death. +Any high school nine would make you look foolish. Giants? Dwarfs, +pigmies, runts! Easy meat for any team you come across! Champions of +the world? Cellar champions! Sub-cellar champions! Just keep on this +way, and the other teams will bury you so deep you’ll be coming out +in China. I’m going to change my name. I’m ashamed to be known as the +manager of such a bunch of dubs.” + +Nobody ventured to interrupt the tirade, partly because they felt that +he was justified in his anger and partly because no one cared to play +the part of lightning rod. When McRae was in that mood, it was best to +let him talk himself out. + +From the general roast he came down to particulars. He glared around +and singled out Curry. That hapless individual evaded his glance and +pretended to be very busy in tying his shoe. + +“You’re the one that started that bunch of errors in the eighth +inning,” McRae shouted, pointing an accusing finger at him. + +“Aw,” muttered Curry, “any one can make a muff once in a while.” + +“It isn’t for the muff I’m calling you down,” retorted McRae. “I know +that can happen to any man, and I never roast any one for it. Why, we +lost the World’s championship one year in Boston when Rodgrass made +that muff in centerfield. I never said a word to him about it, and in +the next year’s contract I raised his salary. What I’m panning you for +is that rotten throw that followed the muff. That’s when you lost your +head. You could easily have caught Burton at second and stopped the +rally. + +“And you, Burkett,” he went on, turning to the first baseman. “For a +man who calls himself a major leaguer, you certainly went the limit +this afternoon. Don’t you get sleep enough at night that you have +to go to sleep on first? And those wild throws, one over Renton’s +head and the other over Mylert’s. Oh, what’s the use,” he continued, +throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve got a doctor on this club that can +take care of any bone in the leg or bone in the arm, but he can’t do +anything with bones in the head.” + +If they thought he had worn himself out, they were greatly mistaken. He +turned to Iredell. + +“Come outside, Iredell,” he said, “I want to have a word with you.” + +Once outside the clubhouse, he turned a grim face on the captain. + +“I didn’t want to call you down before your men, Iredell,” he snapped, +“because I didn’t care to weaken the discipline of the team--that is, +if there’s any discipline left in the club. But I want to tell you that +if your work to-day is a sample of the way you captain the team, why, +the sooner there’s a change in captains the better.” + +“I don’t know just what you mean,” muttered Iredell, an angry red +suffusing his face. + +“You know perfectly well what I mean,” declared McRae. “How about that +ball that fell to the ground between Larry and Burkett? Either one of +them could have got it. Why didn’t they?” + +Iredell remained silent, fingering his cap. + +“Because you didn’t call out which was to take it,” McRae himself +supplied the answer. “Their eyes were on the ball, and when each said +he could get it each left it to the other. All you had to do was to +call out the name of one of them, and he’d have got it. That’s what +you’re captain for--to use your judgment in a pinch. + +“Then there was that rotten coaching at third base,” McRae went on with +his indictment. “Why didn’t you hold Larry there? You know what a +terror Burton is on long throws to the plate and that he’d probably get +him. With nobody out, it was a cinch that one of the next three batsmen +would have brought Larry in. And with him dancing around third, he +might have got Axander’s goat. Then, too, the infield would have been +drawn in for a play at the plate, and that would have given a better +chance for a hit to the outfield. Am I right or am I wrong?” + +“I suppose you’re right,” conceded Iredell. “But a fellow can’t always +think of everything. If Larry had got to the plate, you’d be patting me +on the back.” + +“No, I wouldn’t,” snapped McRae, “because it would have been just +fool’s luck. Why, I fined a man twenty-five dollars once for knocking +out a home run when I had ordered him to bunt. That he came across +with a home run didn’t change the fact that at that point in the game +a bunt was the proper thing, and nine times out of ten would have gone +through. You’ve got to use your sense and judgment and do the thing +that seems most likely to bring home the bacon.” + +“I don’t seem to please you these days, no matter what I do,” said +Iredell sullenly. + +“You’ll only please me when you do things right,” returned McRae. “You +know as well as any one else that I never ride my men. I’ve been a +ball player myself as well as manager, and I can put myself in the +place of both. But what I want are men who are quick in the head as +well as the feet. Give me the choice between a fast thinker and a fast +runner, and I’ll take the fast thinker every time. Look at Joe Matson, +the way he shot that ball over on Burton to-day before he knew where he +was at. He’s always doing something of that kind--outguessing the other +fellow. His think tank is working every minute. He puts out as many men +with his head as he does with his arm. And that’s what makes him the +greatest pitcher in this country to-day, bar none. + +“Now, take it from me, Iredell, that’s the kind of thinking that’s +going to pull this team out of the mud. I’m paying you a good salary to +play shortstop. There, you’re delivering the goods. But I’ve tacked a +couple of thousands onto your salary to act as captain. There, you’re +not delivering the goods. And those goods have got to be delivered, or, +by ginger, I’ll know the reason why!” + + + + +CHAPTER V + +A STARTLING SUGGESTION + + +With this ultimatum, the irate manager stalked off to join Robbie, +while Iredell, his face like a thunder cloud, returned to the clubhouse. + +Nor was his wrath at the “roasting” he had received at the hands of +McRae lessened by the consciousness that it was deserved. He knew in +his heart that he had neglected his duties, or, at least, had failed +to take advantage of his opportunities. The game might have been won +if he had been on the job. To be sure, the team had played like a lot +of bushers, but that did not relieve him of his responsibility. It was +when they were playing badly that it was up to him to step into the +breach. And that was what he had lamentably failed to do. + +“Look at the face of him,” whispered Larry to Wheeler. “The old man has +been giving him the rough edge of his tongue.” + +“And when that tongue gets going it can certainly flay a man alive,” +remarked Wheeler. “I’m sore yet from what he gave the bunch of us. +Let’s hurry and get out of this. It’s too much like a funeral around +here to suit me.” + +McRae in the meantime was unburdening his heart to Robbie. The latter +was his closest friend and adviser. They had been teammates in the +early days on the old Orioles of Baltimore, when that famous team had +been burning up the League. Both of them knew baseball from beginning +to end. Together they had worked out most of the inside stuff, such as +the delayed steal, the hit and run, and other clever bits of strategy +that had now become the common property of all up-to-date major-league +teams. + +Yet, though as close friends as brothers, they were as different in +temperament as two men could be. Robbie caught his flies with molasses. +McRae relied on vinegar to catch his. Robbie knew how to salve the +umpires. McRae was on their backs clawing like a wildcat. McRae ruffled +up the feathers of his men, while Robbie smoothed them down. Each had +his own special qualities and defects. But both were square and just +and upright, and commanded the respect of the members of the team. +Together they formed an ideal combination, whose worth was attested by +the way they had led the Giants to victory. Into that wonderful team +they had put the fighting spirit, the indefinable something that made +them the “class” of the League and more than once the champions of the +world. Even when they failed to win the pennant, they were always close +to the top, and it was usually the Giants that the winning team had to +beat. + +Just now, however, the Giants were undeniably in the slump that at +times will come to the best of teams, and both McRae and Robbie, who +were hard losers, were at their wits’ end to know how to get them out +of it. + +“We’re up against it for fair, Robbie,” said McRae, as they walked to +the gate on their way to the hotel at which the Giants were stopping. +“Think of the way the Chicagos are giving us the merry ha ha! We just +gave them that game to-day. Looked as though we had it sewed up for +fair. People had started to leave their seats, thinking it was all +over. Then we turn around and hand the game over to them.” + +“It’s tough luck, to be sure,” Robbie agreed. “If Matson hadn’t been +hurt, we’d have copped it sure. They couldn’t get within a mile of him. +And now as the capsheaf, he’s probably out of the game for a week. But +cheer up, Mac. The season’s young yet, and we’ve got out of many a +worse hole than this.” + +“It wasn’t so much the boys going to pieces in that one inning that +makes me so sore,” returned the manager. “Any team will get a case of +the rattles once in a while and play like a lot of dubs. What gets my +goat are the blunders that Iredell made. As a captain, supposed to use +his brains, he did well--I don’t think.” + +“It was rotten judgment,” agreed Robbie, thoughtfully. “And what makes +it worse is that it isn’t the first time it’s happened. He’s overlooked +a lot of things since we started on this trip. Some of them have been +trifling and haven’t done much damage. Some of them the spectators +wouldn’t notice at all. But you’ve seen them and I’ve seen them.” + +“And what’s worse, some of the team have seen them,” returned McRae. +“That’s taken some of their confidence away from them and made them +shaky. A captain is a good deal like a pitcher. If he’s good, the team +play behind him like thoroughbreds. If he’s poor, they play like a lot +of selling platers. I shouldn’t wonder if that’s the whole secret of +this present slump.” + +“Perhaps you’re right, John,” assented Robbie. “We’ll have to coach +Iredell, wise him up on the inside stuff, and see if he doesn’t do +better.” + +McRae shook his head. + +“That won’t do the trick,” he replied. “A good captain is born, not +made. He’s got to have the gray matter in his noddle to start with. If +he hasn’t got it, all the coaching in the world won’t put it into him. +It’s a matter of brains, first, last and all the time. I’ve come to +the conclusion that Iredell hasn’t got them. He’s got a ball player’s +brains. But he hasn’t got a captain’s brains, and that’s all there is +to it.” + +“Well, admitting that that’s so, we seem to be up against it,” mused +Robbie, ruefully. “Who else on the team is any better in that respect? +Run over the list. Mylert, Burkett, Barrett, Jackwell, Curry, Bowen, +Wheeler. I don’t know that any one of them has anything on Iredell in +the matter of sense and judgment.” + +“Haven’t you overlooked some one?” asked McRae, significantly. + +Robbie looked at him in wonderment. + +“Nobody except the substitutes,” he said. “And of course they’re out of +the question.” + +“How about the box?” asked McRae. + +“Oh, the pitchers!” returned Robbie. “I didn’t take them into +consideration. But of course a pitcher can’t be captain. That goes +without saying.” + +“Not with me it doesn’t go without saying,” said McRae. “Why can’t a +pitcher act as captain?” + +“Why--why,” stammered Robbie, “just because it isn’t done. I don’t +remember a case where it ever was done.” + +“That cuts no ice with me at all,” declared McRae, incisively. +“Whatever success I’ve had in the world has been got by doing things +that aren’t done. How was it that we made the old Orioles the class of +the League and the wonder of the baseball world? By doing the things +that aren’t done--that no other team had thought of. They went along in +the old groove, playing cut and dried baseball. We went after them like +a whirlwind with a raft of new ideas, and before they knew where they +were at, we had their shirts.” + +“Wriggling snakes!” exclaimed Robbie, his face lighting up, as he gave +his friend a resounding slap on the back. “Mac, you’ve got me going. +You’re the same old Mac, always getting up something new. Matson, of +course! Joe Matson, not only the greatest pitcher, but the brainiest +man in all baseball! Matson, who thinks like lightning. Matson, that +the whole team worships. Matson, who can give any one cards and spades +and beat him out. Mac, you old rascal, you take my breath away. You’ve +hit the bull’s-eye.” + +McRae smiled his gratification. + +“That’s all right, Robbie, but you needn’t go knocking me down with +that ham of a hand of yours,” he grumbled. + +“Have you mentioned the matter to Joe yet?” asked Robbie, eagerly. + +“Not yet,” replied the manager. “I wouldn’t do that anyway until I had +talked the matter over with you and learned what you thought of it. +And then, too, with that bruised leg and ankle of his, he won’t be in +the game for a week or so, anyway. So you really cotton to the idea, do +you?” + +“I fall for it like a load of bricks,” was the response. “Of course, +Matson’s yet to be heard from. It’s a pretty heavy responsibility to +be placed on a man that’s already carrying the team along with his +wonderful pitching. Perhaps he’ll think it’s a little too much to ask +of him.” + +“I’ll take a chance on that,” replied McRae, confidently. “He’s got +a marvelous physique, and he always keeps himself in the best of +condition. He’s strong enough to carry any load that he’s asked to +bear. Then, too, you know how he’s wrapt up in the success of the +team. He’s never balked yet at anything I’ve asked him to do. He’s +playing baseball not only for money, but because he loves it. He talks +baseball, thinks baseball, eats baseball, dreams baseball. He’s hep to +every fine point in the game and he’s on the job every second. And when +it comes to thinking fast and acting quickly--well, you know as well as +I do that nobody can touch him.” + +“He’s a wizard, all right,” agreed Robbie. “But here’s a point to be +thought over, John. A captain’s got to be in every game. Joe pitches +perhaps two games a week.” + +“I’ve thought of that, too,” McRae replied. “On the days he’s not in +the box, he can play in the outfield. And think of the batting strength +that will add to the team. He’s liable to break up any game with one of +the same kind of homers he knocked out to-day. He’s as much of a wonder +with the bat as he is in the box, and that’s going some.” + +“Better and better,” declared Robbie, exultantly. “Mac, I take off +my hat to you. You’ve hit on an idea that’s going to win the pennant +of the League this season, with the World Series thrown in for good +measure. Who cares for to-day’s game? Who cares if the Giants are in a +slump? Just make Joe Matson captain of the team and then see the Giants +climb!” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +PERPLEXING PROBLEMS + + +“I hope you’re right, Robbie,” replied McRae, “and I believe you are. +But not a word about this to anybody yet until we’ve mulled it over in +our minds from every angle and are ready to spring it. I don’t want +Iredell to get any inkling of it yet, for then perhaps he’d get sullen +and indifferent and things will be even worse than they are now.” + +“I’ll keep it under my hat,” promised Robbie. “How do you think +Iredell’s going to take it? He’s an ugly sort of customer, you know, +when he gets roiled.” + +“I guess he’ll be easy enough to handle,” returned McRae. “I’ll let +him down easy and heal his wounds with a little increase in salary. +But whether he does or not, I’m not going to let any one’s personal +ambitions stand in the way of the success of the team. That comes +before anything.” + +“Well now, to change the subject,” said Robbie, “who are we going to +put in the box to-morrow? We’ve got to have that game, or the Chicagos +will have a clean sweep of the series.” + +“I guess we’ll have to depend on Markwith,” replied McRae. “The +Chicagos have never been able to do much against his southpaw slants. +Other things being equal, I’d put Barclay in the box. But he pitched +the last part of to-day’s game, and perhaps it will be too soon to ask +him to repeat. Even at that I may take a chance. I’ll see how they warm +up before the game.” + +“It’s too bad that Matson was hurt in to-day’s game,” remarked Robbie. +“We were counting on him to take at least two games from St. Louis. +Barclay, perhaps, could take another. Three out of four would help us +some in winding up the trip. But if they trim us, too, as all the other +Western teams have done, I’ll hate to go back and face the New York +fans.” + +“I’ll work Jim in two of them,” said McRae. “Markwith, Bradley and +Merton will have to help him out. Possibly Joe will be in shape for the +last game. And maybe the team will take a brace and wake up. At any +rate, we can only hope. There isn’t much nourishment in hope, but it’s +all we’ve got.” + +In the meantime, Jim and Joe had finished their dressing and were +preparing to leave the clubhouse. + +Jackwell and Bowen were the only occupants left in the place. They were +sitting in a corner engaged in earnest conversation. + +“How is the leg, Matson?” asked Bowen, as the two chums passed near +them. + +“None too good,” returned Joe. “But it doesn’t feel as sore as I feel +inside to see that game go flooey. Pity you fellows weren’t in it. +McGuire and Renton weren’t so bad in the field, but they’re not as good +stickers as you fellows, and your bats might have turned the tide. By +the way, are you feeling any better now?” + +“I’m all right,” answered Jackwell, a little confusedly. + +“I’m not feeling exactly up to snuff,” said Bowen. “But I guess I’ll be +able to go in to-morrow.” + +“Ptomaine poisoning’s a pretty bad thing,” said Joe, looking at them +rather quizzically. “It usually hangs on for days. You’re lucky to get +over it so quickly.” + +“You look fit as a fiddle,” added Jim, dryly. “Or is it the hectic +flush of disease that gives you such a good color?” + +“I guess it was only a slight attack,” said Jackwell. “Just enough to +put us out of our stride for the day.” + +“I’ve got to get to the hotel and get there quickly,” declared Joe, a +twinge going through his foot as he stepped down from the threshold of +the clubhouse. “Mabel will be at the hotel, wondering what on earth has +happened to me.” + +“By jiminy, that’s so!” cried Jim, turning to stare at his chum. “What +will you think of me, old boy, if I confess that in the excitement of +the game I’d forgotten about her coming?” + +Joe grinned. + +“You wouldn’t have been so quick to forget if Clara had been able to +come along with her,” he said, as he walked along gingerly, favoring +his injured leg. + +“Say, Joe, that leg must be pretty bad,” said Jim, anxiously. “Better +rest a while, don’t you think, before starting out?” + +“I tell you I’ve waited too long already,” returned Joe. “Just call a +taxi, will you? and we’ll spin down to the hotel in no time.” + +Jim went personally in search of a conveyance. It was not hard to find +one, and he returned almost immediately to find Joe limping toward him +with the aid of a cane furnished by Dougherty. The latter had offered +him his shoulder, but Joe, with a smile, refused. + +“I may be a cripple, but I refuse to be treated as such,” he told Jim, +in response to the latter’s protest. “Next thing you know, they’ll be +offering to carry me on a stretcher.” + +Nevertheless, Jim noted that Joe sighted the taxicab with eagerness, +and leaned back in its shabby interior with a sigh of relief. + +“Hate to show myself to Mabel in this shape,” he said ruefully. “Looks +as though I’d had the worst end of the fight.” + +“Rather step up lively to the tune of ‘Hail the Conquering Hero Comes,’ +I suppose?” said Jim, with an understanding grin. “I think I get your +train of thought all right, old man. But I wouldn’t worry, if I were +you. Nothing you could do would ever make Mabel think you anything but +a hero.” + +“Let’s hope you have the right dope,” said Joe. + +He looked abstractedly from the dingy windows of the cab at the +spectacle of the crowded streets. At that moment he really saw nothing +but his young wife as she had looked the last time they had been forced +to say good-bye. It had seemed to him then that he could never bear +to part from her again. He was so eager to get to her that he had a +ludicrous desire to get out and push the taxicab along. + +“Thought it was to-night that Mabel was coming,” remarked Jim, +interrupting his reverie. “You could have met her at the train then.” + +“Reggie found that he would have to come to the city on business, and +since it was necessary for him to come on an earlier train, Mabel +decided to change her own plans so that she could come along with +him,” explained Joe. + +“Oh, so we’re about to see our old friend, Reggie, again!” exclaimed +Jim, with real enthusiasm. “Glad to see the old boy, though I can’t +help wishing he’d mislay that monocle of his. ‘The bally thing makes +me nervous, don’t you know?’” he finished, in perfect imitation of the +absent Reggie. + +Reginald Varley not only had the fact that he was Mabel’s brother to +recommend him to Joe and Jim, but despite his affectation of a supposed +English accent and the absurdity of a monocle, Reggie was a fine and +likable fellow. + +For his part, Reggie professed a great admiration for the chums, +especially for his brother-in-law, Baseball Joe. When he could help it, +he never missed an opportunity of following the exploits of the two, +and, therefore, he had been grateful on this occasion to business for +furnishing him an excuse for accompanying his sister to Chicago while +the Giants were still there. + +“Suppose we go light on this accident, Jim,” suggested Joe, indicating +his injured leg and foot. “Just a slight sprain you know.” + +“I get you,” returned Jim, adding, as his suddenly startled gaze leaped +to the traffic that whirled past the rapidly moving taxicab: “Look at +that car coming toward us. On the wrong side of the street, too! That +driver’s either drunk or crazy!” + +Instantly Joe took in the danger. A big automobile, being driven at +terrific speed, had rounded the corner on two wheels and was charging +down upon them. It seemed that the driver of their taxicab would be a +superman if he should prove able to avoid a terrible accident. + +Jim had opened the door as though to jump, but Joe called to him. + +“Sit tight, Jim,” he gritted. “It’s the only way.” + +Lucky for them that the taxi man was keen witted. He saw the only +thing that was possible to do in such an emergency, and did it without +hesitation. + +With a wild bumping of wheels and screeching of emergency brake, the +car skidded up on the sidewalk, slithered along for a few feet and came +to a standstill. The oncoming car had missed the rear wheels of the +taxicab by the fraction of an inch! + +Pedestrians, sensing the imminent peril, had scattered wildly, and +now returned vociferously to view the curious spectacle of a taxicab +planted squarely in the middle of the sidewalk. + +Joe’s relief at the narrow escape from disaster changed immediately to +impatience with the rapidly gathering and gaping crowd. + +“More delay! Say, Jim, can’t we beat it out of here?” + +“Fine chance! Especially with your game leg,” Jim retorted, adding with +a chuckle: “Here comes a cop. Watch him get rid of the crowd.” + +“More likely to arrest us for disorderly conduct and disturbing the +peace,” said Joe, disconsolately. “Fine husband Mabel will think she +has. She’ll think I’m mighty anxious to get to her.” + +“Don’t be such a gloom hound,” laughed Jim. “This cop has a pleasant +face. Wait till I give him some blarney.” + +At that moment the policeman, having interviewed the sullen and angry +chauffeur, opened the door of the cab. The constantly gathering crowd +pressed forward curiously to get a glimpse of Joe and Jim. + +The officer, a round-faced, good-natured-looking individual, stared at +Joe for a moment and then broke into a broad grin. + +“Begorry, if you ain’t the livin’ image of Baseball Joe, the greatest +slinger in captivity, my name ain’t Denny M’Lean!” + +“Sure, it’s Baseball Joe! And we owe the fact that he’s still living to +the quick wits of our friend here,” broke in Jim, indicating the still +furious chauffeur. “That fool in the other car was driving on the wrong +side of the road, officer----” + +“Sure he was!” + +“I saw it myself!” + +“Looked like a head-on collision, I’ll tell the world!” + +These and other cries came from the crowd, among whom the news that the +great Baseball Joe occupied the cab with another famous twirler had +spread like wildfire. + +“Do me a favor, will you, officer?” urged Joe, taking out his watch and +glancing at it hastily. “I’m already late for an appointment. Clear the +road, will you, and let us get going?” + +“So far as I see, there ain’t no particular objection to that,” +returned the bluecoat, with exasperating deliberation. “The sidewalk +ain’t no proper parkin’ place for an automobile, as you know. But as +you seem to be havin’ plenty of witnesses that say ye couldn’t have +done no different, ’twill be easy to overlook yer imperdence. Now +thin,” turning to the crowd, “did any one of ye notice the license +plate of that law-breakin’ car?” + +Several persons came forward with more or less reliable information. +After making a note of this, while Joe fumed with increasing impatience, +the officer returned and grinned at them, his eyes snapping with humor. + +“Lucky for McRae of the Giants that Baseball Joe kept a whole skin on +him this day. When I get that truck driver I’ll be tellin’ him what I +think of him in no unsartin terms. Good-bye to yez, and good luck.” + +He thrust his huge paw inside the cab, and Joe gripped it heartily. For +many years after this meeting with the great Giant twirler, Sergeant +Dennis M’Lean was to exhibit proudly the hand that had been gripped by +Baseball Joe. + +They were off at last, crawling through the close-packed crowd, and +with tremendous relief found themselves once more part of the traffic, +speeding toward the Wheatstone Hotel where Mabel and Reggie were +waiting for them. + +“Suppose we’ll have a few blowouts now, just to make the thing real +good,” grumbled Joe, and Jim laughed. + +“Here we are before the Wheatstone now,” he said. “Just goes to show +how sound your gloomy prophecies are!” + +Joe’s heart leaped as he saw the great building which he was making +his headquarters during the stay of the club in Chicago and where he +had also engaged a room for Reggie. He started to leap from the cab, +which had slowed at the curb, but a sharp twinge from his injured leg +reminded him of his partly crippled condition. + +“Take it easy, old man,” warned Jim. “If you don’t favor that foot, you +may find yourself laid up for a month instead of a week.” + +It was all very well for Jim to say “take it easy,” but when a young +married man has been separated from his wife for weeks, the thing isn’t +so easily done. + +They rode in the elevator to the fifth floor where, leaning on his cane +and refusing the help of Jim’s arm, Joe got out and hobbled down the +corridor to the door of his apartment. + +“Remember, I’m not really hurt, I just imagine I am,” he cautioned Jim +once more, as he put his hand on the knob. + +Instantly the door opened and a vision of bright hair and rosy face +seized him by the hand and dragged him into the room. + +“You too, Jim! Come in, do!” cried Mabel, breathlessly. “Reggie and I +have been waiting ages for you. Joe--Joe, dear--that cane! You----” + +“It’s nothing, nothing at all, little girl,” soothed Joe, his arms +about her. “Just a little spill on the field. Be all right in a week. +Ask Doc Dougherty, if you don’t believe me.” + +Mabel held him off anxiously at arm’s length and looked appealingly at +Jim. + +“Is he telling me the truth? Is he?” + +“Well, I like that!” said Joe, before Jim could answer. “As if I didn’t +always tell you the truth?” + +“You know, I never make it my business to interfere in the quarrels +of husband and wife,” drawled the familiar tones of Reggie, as, +attracted by the sound of voices, he strolled in from the other room. +“In fact, quarrels of any kind are foreign to my gentle disposition, +don’t you know. But on this occasion, I really feel called upon to +interrupt. Jim, my dear fellow, how is the old bean to-day? Rippin’, +from the looks of it, what? My word, brother-in-law,” turning to Joe +and adjusting his monocle so as to scrutinize him the better, “you have +been indulging in a fisticuff of some sort, yes? Tried to do for the +old teammates, did you?” + +“Oh, leave him alone, Reggie, do!” protested Mabel, all tender +solicitude, as she led Joe to a chair and forced him into it. “Can’t +you see he is all tired out? Now don’t talk, dear, unless you want to,” +she added to Joe, placing a cushion behind his head and looking at him +anxiously, her pretty head on one side. + +Joe heaved a contented sigh and smiled up at her. + +“As long as you don’t tell me not to look at you, I don’t care!” he +said. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +BAD NEWS FOR JIM + + +“My word, I do believe they have forgotten us completely,” said Reggie, +plaintively, as he placed his monocle in his eye and stared at the +absorbed young couple. “Perhaps we had better be making ourselves +scarce, Jim, old chap.” + +“Nothing doing,” retorted Jim, moving a chair up toward Joe and Mabel +and placing himself in it as though he intended remaining there +indefinitely. “I don’t stir a step from this place until Mabel tells me +all the news from home.” + +“He means all the news about Clara,” laughed Joe, as Mabel obediently +sat down beside him and turned her attention to Jim. + +“Oh, Clara is all right,” said Mabel, but in spite of her cheerful +words, the others saw that a cloud had darkened her face. “It is Mother +Matson I am worrying about,” she added slowly. + +Mrs. Matson, Joe’s mother, had lately been in poor health. Because of +this fact, Mabel had stayed with her mother-in-law for a time after +her marriage to Joe. But recently she had yielded to the urging of +her own family to visit them in Goldsboro, North Carolina, her old +home. Although Mabel had been busy renewing old friendships there, she +had kept in almost daily touch with Mrs. Matson and Clara through the +mails. As a matter of fact, Jim had more than once complained that +Mabel heard a great deal more from his fiancée than he did himself. +Owing to the constantly changing address of the team, Jim’s mail, as +well as Joe’s, was often delayed. + +Because of Mrs. Matson’s illness, Clara had postponed her marriage with +Jim, hoping for her mother’s restoration to health. Until that happy +time came, nothing remained to Jim but to possess his soul in patience, +which was often very hard to do. + +Now, at Mabel’s mention of his mother, Joe started forward, fixing his +anxious gaze upon his wife. + +“What has happened to mother?” he demanded. “Is she--nothing serious, +is it?” + +“Oh, no, no!” said Mabel, patting his hand soothingly. “There is +nothing fatally wrong. She is--oh, I might as well tell you at once, +Joe dear, for you would only worry the more if I tried to keep things +from you. It is feared that Mother Matson must undergo an operation, a +rather serious operation, I am afraid.” + +“What for?” asked Joe, quietly, although his face had become suddenly +white. + +“Clara didn’t say in her letter,” returned Mabel, soberly. “Your +family doctor, Doctor Reeves, is calling a consultation. Clara will +undoubtedly write more fully after that is over.” + +“A consultation!” cried Joe, leaping to his feet, only to slump down +again in his chair at the pain in his injured leg. “Why, this is +horrible, girl! Do you know when they expect to--do it?” + +“They certainly won’t operate right away, Clara says,” Mabel returned. +“They think her heart is too weak to stand the ordeal just now. Dr. +Reeves is going to put her through a special course of treatment, and +he thinks that in a month or two she will be ready.” + +“My poor mother!” groaned Joe. “How can I go on playing ball with that +thing in prospect? I got a letter from mother a day or two ago,” he +added, feeling in the pocket of his coat for the note from home. “She +didn’t say anything about any trouble then.” + +“Of course she wouldn’t, you old silly,” said Mabel, gently. “Don’t you +know that mothers always worry about everybody else but themselves? +Mother Matson never would take her illness seriously, you know, and if +she had she would have been the very last one to worry you with it. It +was Clara, not your mother, who decided you ought to be told now and +asked me to do it.” + +“That sure is tough luck, Joe,” said Jim, gravely. “I had no idea your +mother was as sick as that.” + +“But, I say, don’t pull such a long face over it, old chap,” urged +Reggie, trying to strike a cheerful note in the general gloom of the +place. “People are operated on, you know, some of them again and again, +and come up smilin’ in the end. It’s a bally shame and all that, but +no need giving up hope altogether, you know. Hope on, hope ever, as +the poet sings. Now, I knew of a person once who had a complication of +diseases--most distressin’--and the doctors insisted that there must be +an operation. But when the day came for the operation, old chap, they +found----” + +“Spare me the details, will you, Reggie?” urged Joe. “I can’t go them +just now.” + +“Certainly, old chap, certainly,” agreed Reggie, with swift compunction. +“I might have known the subject would be, well, distasteful to you. To +change the topic of conversation, just cast your eye for a moment in the +direction of our old friend, Jim. He is dyin’ to learn more about Clara, +you know, and can’t for the life of him decide how to tell you about +it. How about it, old chap? Am I right?” Saying this, he tapped Jim +playfully with his monocle, and the latter reluctantly smiled. + +“You sure are a mind reader, old boy,” he said. “I must confess that a +little first-hand news of Clara would be welcome, and Mabel’s seen her +since I have.” + +Joe, looking at Mabel at that moment, was again surprised to find her +eyes shadowed and anxious. The expression passed in a moment, however, +and she smiled upon Jim reassuringly. + +“Clara was dreadfully disappointed at not being able to be here with +Reggie and me, and of course she is worried to death about Mother +Matson, but aside from that she’s all right.” + +“No news of any kind?” urged Jim, regarding Mabel closely. It seemed to +Joe that Jim also had noticed the faint hesitation that had crept into +Mabel’s manner at mention of Clara’s name. “Even the smallest scrap of +news, first hand, would be mighty welcome, you know.” + +Mabel seemed to hesitate, then got to her feet and walked over to the +window. The boys watched her uneasily, but when she turned back to them +her face was bright and untroubled. + +“I wish I had some news, Jim,” she said, in her normal tone. “But you +must remember that I have been in Goldsboro for some time, and the +only news I get of Clara is through the mails. But now I think I’ve +been answering questions enough,” she added lightly, a hand on Joe’s +shoulder. “I think I will start asking a few in my turn. First of all, +I want to know just how you happened to get hurt, Joe.” + +Despite the fact that, just then, he wished to talk about nothing so +little as about himself, Joe recounted as quickly as he could the +details of his accident. From that the conversation turned to the +condition of the team and the discouraging slump it had taken. + +“We sure seem to be headed straight for the bottom,” remarked Jim, +adding, as he looked ruefully at Joe: “And now with our champion +twirler laid up for an indefinite period, things look pretty tough for +the Giants. If only Jackwell and Bowen would quit looking over their +shoulders and watch the ball, we might have a chance to rattle the jinx +that’s after us.” + +Both Mabel and Reggie--the latter was an ardent baseball fan and fairly +“ate up” anything that concerned the game--demanded to know more about +Jackwell and Bowen, and there ensued an animated discussion as to the +meaning of the peculiar actions of the two men. + +It was Reggie who finally repeated his suggestion that he and Jim +“toddle on” in order to leave Joe and Mabel a few minutes of private +conversation before joining them again for dinner. + +Joe did not protest very hard, for he was aching to have Mabel to +himself. He was very anxious about his mother, and more than a little +curious to know what, if anything, was amiss with Clara. + +Mabel came to him herself as soon as the door was closed behind Jim and +Reggie. She held out her hands to him and Joe took them gently. + +“What is it, little girl?” he asked. “You were holding back something +about mother and Clara. Now suppose you tell me.” + +“Oh, Joe, I am so worried. I’ve told you everything about poor mother. +But Clara--well, I think she ought to be soundly scolded!” + +For the first time since he had heard of his mother’s illness, Joe’s +grave face relaxed in a smile. + +“Who’s going to do it--you?” he chaffed. “You never scolded me but +once, and then I liked it.” + +“But you don’t take me seriously, and this really is serious, Joe,” +said Mabel, her pretty forehead marred by an anxious frown. “If +you could see this fellow with his handsome eyes and his beautiful +clothes----” + +“What fellow?” interrupted Joe, becoming suddenly interested. “You +don’t mean----” + +“Yes I do, just that!” returned Mabel, shaking her head solemnly. “This +Adonis I’m talking about is pestering Clara with his attentions.” + +“Give me his name,” cried Joe. “I’ll soon show this little cupid where +he gets off----” + +“He isn’t little, Joe. He’s broad-shouldered and six feet tall and he +has a million dollars--maybe ten million for all I know----” + +“What’s his name?” roared Joe again, with undiminished ire. “What do I +care if he’s twenty feet tall and has a billion dollars? Hang around my +sister, will he?” + +“Oh, hush, Joe, hush!” cautioned Mabel, putting a finger to his lips +and looking apprehensively toward the door. “Some one will be coming in +to see where the fire is.” + +Joe took her hand gently away and looked at her intently. + +“What is there behind all this?” he asked quietly. “Clara doesn’t +encourage this fellow, does she? She wouldn’t do that?” + +Mabel looked troubled. + +“I hope not, Joe. Oh, I hope not!” she said, and for a moment there was +silence while the two studied the pattern of the rug upon the floor, +busy with troubled thoughts. It was Joe who again broke the silence. + +“You haven’t told me his name yet,” he reminded Mabel, quietly. + +“His name is Tom Pepperil. He used to live near Riverside, but he went +away for a long time and made a fortune. Now he has come back, and, +according to Clara’s letters, is making desperate love to her.” + +“But she has no right to listen to him! She’s Jim’s!” + +Mabel glanced up at him swiftly and then down at the pattern of the rug +again. + +“No,” she said. Then, after a long minute, she came close to Joe and +put her hand over his again. + +“Wouldn’t it be dreadful,” she said, “if the worst we fear should +happen, and she should give up good old Jim for that fellow, whose +chief recommendation is his money?” + +“I couldn’t bear to think of it,” groaned Joe. “I’d rather lose every +cent I have in the world than have it happen. Tell me that you don’t +think it will ever come to that!” + +“I don’t know, Joe,” said Mabel, sadly. “She’s so tantalizingly vague. +Perhaps it’s the strain she’s under on account of mother that makes her +so different from her usual self. I can’t understand Clara any more.” + +There was a long silence, and then Joe roused himself to ask dully: + +“Do you think we ought to tell Jim?” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE HIDDEN-BALL TRICK + + +“Oh, I wouldn’t tell Jim!” exclaimed Mabel, in alarm. “In the first +place, we’re not clear enough about what Clara means to do. Perhaps it +won’t amount to anything after all. And if it does, it’ll be bad enough +when it comes without our doing anything to hasten it.” + +“I can’t understand it,” said Joe, gloomily. “There never seemed +to be two people more perfectly made for each other than Jim and +Clara--always excepting ourselves,” he hastened to add, as he pressed +her hand--“and it will be one of the greatest blows of my life if there +should be any break between them. Clara seemed to be dead in love with +Jim; and as for him, he fairly worships the ground she walks on. When +he gets one of her letters, he’s dead to the world. And he’s one of +the finest fellows that ever breathed. I look on him as a brother. He +hasn’t any bad habits, is as straight as a string, a splendid specimen +of manhood, handsome, well educated--what on earth could any girl ask +for more? And he’s making a splendid income too. Has Clara suddenly +gone crazy?” + +“It’s beyond me,” replied Mabel. “Clara is the dearest girl, but just +now I’d like to give her a good shaking. Lots of girls of course are +dazzled by millions, but I never believed Clara would be one of them. +And perhaps she isn’t, Joe dear. We may be doing her a great injustice. +We’ll have to wait and see.” + +“Well, promise me, anyway, that you’ll write to her at once,” urged +Joe. “I’d do it myself, but you girls can talk to each other about +such things a good deal better than any man can. Try to bring her to +her senses and urge her not to wreck her own life and Jim’s simply for +money or social position. She’d only be gaining the shadow of happiness +and losing the substance.” + +“I’ll write to-morrow,” promised Mabel. “But now let’s dismiss all +unpleasant thoughts and remember only that we’re together.” + +While Joe was desperate at the injury to his foot that kept him out of +the game just at a time he was sorely needed by his team, he found some +compensation in the fact that he could spend more time with Mabel than +would otherwise have been possible. He did not have to take part in +the morning practice, and in the afternoons he and Mabel attended the +games together as spectators. + +On the other hand, Mabel was deeply disappointed that she could not +see Joe pitch, as she had joyously counted on doing. She was intensely +proud of her famous young husband, and was always one of the most +enthusiastic rooters when he was scheduled to take his turn in the +box. More than once Joe had won some critical game because of the +inspiration that came to him from the knowledge that Mabel was looking +on. But there was no use murmuring against fate, and they had to +take things as they were, promising themselves to make up for their +disappointment later in the season. + +Reggie, too, felt that fate had treated him unfairly. + +“Why, to tell the bally truth, old topper,” he declaimed to Joe, “I +didn’t have to come to Chicago at all, don’t you know! I just drummed +up the excuse that I ought to look over our branch in this city, and +the guv’nor fell for it. It’s rippin’, simply rippin’, the way you’ve +been pitchin’ and battin’ ever since the season opened, and I’d been +countin’ on seem’ you stand the blighters on their heads. And just when +I got here, the old leg had to go bad! It’s disgustin’!” + +“Hard luck, old boy,” laughed Joe. “But you’ll see many a game yet +through that blessed monocle of yours. If you feel sore, think how +much sorer I am and take comfort.” + +The crowning disgrace of having the Cubs take four games in a row was +happily spared the Giants. McRae put in Jim again, and this time the +team gave him better support and he pulled out a victory. + +“Great stuff, old man,” congratulated Joe, as Jim, after the game, came +up to the box in which Joe and Mabel were sitting. + +“You pitched beautifully, Jim,” was Mabel’s tribute, as she smiled upon +him. + +“Awfully nice of you to say so,” responded Jim, in a sort of lifeless +way. “But most of the credit was due to the team. They played good ball +to-day. Guess I’ll go and dress now and see you later.” + +Joe and Mabel looked at each other, as Jim stalked away across the +diamond to the clubhouse. + +“Doesn’t seem very responsive, does he?” remarked Mabel. + +“No, he doesn’t,” said Joe thoughtfully. “Generally he’s bubbling over +with enthusiasm after the Giants have won. He’s been very quiet since +our talk last night.” + +“Do you think he suspected there was anything wrong?” asked Mabel, +anxiously. + +“I shouldn’t wonder,” answered Joe somberly. “He’s quick as a flash to +sense anything, and I noticed a shadow on his face as he watched you +when we were talking about Clara. Hang it all!” he burst out, with a +vehemence that startled Mabel. “If Clara throws him down, I’ll never +forgive her, even if she is my sister. What’s the matter with the girls +nowadays, anyway? Haven’t they any sense?” + +“Some of them have,” answered Mabel. “Myself, for instance. That’s the +reason I married you, Joe dear.” + +“For which heaven be thanked,” responded Joe, with a fervor that left +nothing for Mabel to desire. “I’m the luckiest fellow on earth. And +just because I am so happy, I want Jim to be happy too. + +“Then, there’s another thing,” he went on, “which, while it’s +infinitely less important than Jim’s happiness, is important, just the +same. That is the effect it will have on the chances of the Giants. We +never needed men to be in shape to do their best work as much as we +need them now. And the most important men on any team are the pitchers. +I’m not saying that because I’m a pitcher, but because it’s a simple +fact that every one knows. Let the pitchers go wrong, and the best team +on earth can’t win. And a pitcher that has a load of trouble on his +mind can’t do his best work. How do you suppose Jim can keep up to his +standard if Clara does her best to break his heart?” + +“I suppose that’s true,” assented Mabel. “And yet I thought he pitched +well to-day.” + +“He doesn’t know all we know,” replied Joe. “He just has a suspicion, +and he’s trying to assure himself that it’s groundless. But even at +that, he wasn’t in his usual form this afternoon. You may not have +noticed it, but I did. He got by because the boys played well behind +him and because the Cubs let down and played indifferent ball. But he +wasn’t the old Jim. Already that thing is beginning to work on him. +And if the worst happens, it will break him all up--at least, for the +present season. If I had that sister of mine here this afternoon, I’ll +bet she’d hear something that would make her ears burn.” + +Mabel soothed him as best she could, but her own heart was heavy as she +thought of the possibilities that the future held in store for poor Jim. + +From Chicago the Giants went to St. Louis, the last stop on their +Western schedule. Here they had some hopes of redeeming themselves and +making up for their recent failures, for the Cardinals were going none +too well. Mornsby, their famous shortstop, had had a quarrel with the +manager, and was seeking to get his release to some other team, any one +of which would have snapped him up at a fabulous price. There were +rumors of cliques in the team, and their prospects for the season were +none too flattering. + +But no matter how poorly a team had been going, they always seemed to +brace up when they were to meet the Giants. They reserved their best +pitchers for those games, and the fans came out in droves in order to +see the proud team of the Metropolis humbled. + +So the clean sweep that the Giants had been hoping for did not +materialize. Markwith, to be sure, carried off the first game by a +comfortable margin. He was one of the pitchers who when he was good +was very good indeed, and on that day his southpaw slants were simply +unhittable. + +But the St. Louis evened things up the next day by beating Bradley, one +of the Giants’ second string pitchers, by a score of eight to five. On +the following day, the pendulum swung again to the other side of the +arc, and Jim chalked up a victory, despite some pretty free hitting by +the home team. + +The Giants pinned their hopes once again to Markwith in the last game +of the series. He was not so good as on the opening day, but even then +he might have won, had it not been for a stupid play by Iredell in the +ninth inning. + +One man was out in the Giants’ last half. The score was seven to six +in favor of St. Louis. Iredell had reached first on a single, and on +a wild pitch had advanced to second. Burkett, the heavy hitting first +baseman, was at the bat. A hit would probably bring Iredell in and tie +the score. + +Iredell was taking a pretty long lead off second and “Red” Smith, the +Cardinal catcher, shot the ball down to second, hoping to catch him +napping. Iredell, however, made a quick slide back to the bag and got +there before Salberg, the Cardinal second baseman, could put the ball +on him. + +Iredell got up, grinned triumphantly at Salberg, dusted off his +clothes, and again took a lead off the bag. Quick as a flash, Salberg, +who had concealed the ball under his arm, ran up to Iredell and touched +him out. + +A groan of distress came from the Giants and their supporters and a +roar of derision from the St. Louis crowd. That a big-league player +could be caught by a trick that was as old as the hills seemed almost +incredible. It was years since the moth-eaten play had been seen on a +major-league diamond, and the crowd yelled itself hoarse. + +Iredell stood for a moment as if stupefied, then he walked slowly into +the bench, his face a flaming red. If McRae forebore to tell him what +he thought of him, it was because he was so choked that the words would +not come. But the glare that he turned on the luckless player was more +eloquent than any words, even in his rich vocabulary. + +Joe turned to Mabel, where he was sitting beside her in the stands +immediately back of the pitcher. + +“Did you see that?” he asked. “To think of a Giant player being caught +by a sand-lot trick!” + +“I didn’t quite get it,” answered Mabel. “I was looking at the batter +at the time. Just what was it that happened?” + +“Salberg hid the ball under his arm instead of throwing it back to +the pitcher,” explained Joe. “Iredell took it for granted that he had +thrown it, and was so busy dusting off his clothes that he didn’t make +sure of it. Why, Shem tried that on Japhet when they came out of the +ark. And to think that he chose this moment to pull that bonehead play! +Look at that hit by Burkett. It would have brought Iredell home with +the run which would have tied the score.” + +Their eyes followed the flight of the ball, which was a mighty +three-bagger that Burkett had lined out between right and center. It +brought a rousing cheer from the Giant partisans, and hope revived that +the game might yet be saved. But the hope was vain, for the fly that +Wheeler sent out into the field settled firmly in the leftfielder’s +hand, and the inning and the game were over, with the St. Louis having +the big end of the score. + +It was a hard game to lose, and it was a disgruntled lot of Giant +players that filed off dejectedly to their dressing rooms. A sure tie, +at least, had been within their grasp, and, as a matter of fact, a +probable victory. For if Iredell had scored, as he could easily have +done on the three base hit of Burkett, the latter would have been on +third with only one man out instead of two and with the score tied. +Then Wheeler’s long hit, even though an out, would have gone for a +sacrifice and Burkett could easily have scored from third, putting the +Giants one run ahead. To be sure, the St. Louis would still have had +the last half of the ninth, but the Giants, fighting to hold their +advantage, would have had all the odds in their favor. + +But all the post mortems in the world could not change the fact that +the game had gone into the St. Louis column and that the Giants, +instead of taking three out of four, had had to be content with an even +break. It was small consolation that that was better than they had been +able to do with the other Western teams. The trip had been a terrible +flivver, one of the worst that the Giant team had ever made while +swinging around the circle. + +“That’s the last straw that breaks the camel’s back,” growled McRae, +savagely. “It’ll make us the laughing stock of the League. Why, at +this minute, the crowds before the bulletin boards all over the United +States are snickering at the Giants. Not merely a Giant player--that +would be bad enough--but the Giant captain--get me?--the Giant captain, +supposed to show his men how the game should be played, gets caught by +the oldest and cheapest trick in the game. It’s all we needed to wind +up this trip. I want to go away somewhere and hide my head. I hate to +go back and face the grins of the New York fans.” + +“It sure is tough,” agreed Robbie. “Of course that finishes Iredell as +captain.” + +“That goes without saying,” replied McRae. “Even if I were disposed to +overlook it and give him another chance, I couldn’t do it now. When a +captain, instead of being respected by his men, becomes the butt of the +team and a joke to the fans all over the circuit, he’s through.” + +A little later the stocky manager sought out Iredell and found him +alone. + +“I know what you want to see me about,” Iredell forestalled him. “You +want my resignation as captain of the team. Well, here it is,” and he +handed over a paper. + +“All right, Iredell,” returned McRae, after he had scanned the paper +carefully and stowed it away in his pocket. “I’ll accept this, and I +won’t say anything more about that play, because I know how sore you’re +feeling and I don’t want to rub it in. I’ll admit that at the time it +happened, I saw red. But what’s past is past, and there’s no use crying +about spilled milk.” + +“You can have my resignation as shortstop too, if you want it,” growled +Iredell, who was evidently in a nasty humor. + +“I don’t want it,” said McRae, kindly. “You’re a good shortstop, and +I’ve no fault to find with your work as such. And now that you’ve got +nothing to think about except playing your position, I hope you’ll do +better than ever. One thing I’m counting on, too, is that you cherish +no grudges and give full loyalty to the man I’m going to make captain. +Is that a go?” + +Iredell grunted something that McRae chose to accept as an affirmative. +But he would have changed his opinion if he had seen the ugly glare +in Iredell’s eyes and the clenched fist that Iredell shook at the +manager’s back as the latter walked away. + +“Give me a dirty deal and expect me to take it lying down, do you?” he +snarled. “You’ve got another guess coming, and don’t you forget it!” + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE NEW CAPTAIN + + +Although Iredell had himself offered his resignation, he had only done +it to take the wind out of McRae’s sails and put himself in a better +strategic position. If worst came to worst, he could save his pride by +saying that he had resigned of his own accord instead of being “fired.” + +But he had hoped, nevertheless, that the resignation would be refused +and that McRae, after perhaps giving him a lecture, would accord him +another chance. The prompt acceptance had caught him off his balance, +and he was full of rage at the conviction that McRae had sought him out +for the express purpose of displacing him. + +As Robbie had previously intimated, Iredell was a poor sport. The +events of the last few days should have taught him that the duties +of captain were too much for him. But like many other people, he +was inclined to blame everything and everybody else for his own +shortcomings. He had been intensely vain of his position as captain +of the team. His nature was, at bottom, petty and vindictive, and from +the moment it dawned upon him what had happened to him, he framed a +resolution to do all that lay in his power to thwart the plans of his +successor. If he had failed, he would try to prove that whoever took +his place could do no better. + +With his resentment was mingled curiosity as to the man that was to +succeed him. Who could it be? He ran over in his mind the other members +of the outfield and infield, never once thinking of the pitchers, who +were assumed to be out of the question. The more he pondered, the more +puzzled he became. Well, after all, it did not matter. He would know +soon enough. And whoever it was would find his work mighty hard for +him, as far as he, Iredell, could make it so. + +That night the Giants shook the dust of St. Louis from their feet, and +with a sigh of relief, not unmingled with apprehension, took the train +for the long jump home. Relief that the disastrous Western trip was +at last over. Apprehension at the reception they would meet from the +newspapers and fans of New York. + +Mabel was to accompany Joe back to New York and remain there for about +two weeks before she returned for a while to Goldsboro. Joe looked +forward to these as golden days, and the outlook went far to console +him for his chagrin at the Giants’ poor showing. + +His leg and foot were mending rapidly, and he hoped to be in form again +almost as soon as he reached New York and to be able to go in and take +his regular turn in the box. And if ever the Giants needed his pitching +and batting strength, it was now! + +He and Mabel had just returned from the dining car to the Pullman that +first evening on the train that was bearing them East, when McRae and +Robbie came along. + +They knew Mabel well, because, on the trip of the Giants around the +world, she had gone along with Mrs. McRae and other married women as +chaperons. + +“Blooming as a rose,” said Robbie, gallantly. “When it comes to +picking, we have to hand it to Joe.” + +“Still as full of blarney as ever,” laughed Mabel. “I suppose you say +that to every girl you meet.” + +“Not at all, not-at-all!” disclaimed Robbie, his round face beaming. + +“King of Northern pitchers and queen of Southern women,” put in McRae. +“It’s a winning combination.” + +“I’ll admit the part about the women,” agreed Joe. + +“And I’ll admit the part about the pitchers,” said Mabel, her smile +enhanced by a bewitching dimple. + +“Then we’re all happy,” laughed McRae. “But now I’m going to ask the +queen to let the king come along with Robbie and me into the smoking +car for a while. I’ve got a little business to talk over.” + +“Hold on to me, Mabel,” cried Joe, in mock alarm. “Mac wants to fire +me, but he won’t do it as long as I’m with you.” + +“I’m not very much worried,” responded Mabel, merrily. “For that +matter, I shouldn’t wonder if you were honing to get rid of me. Go +along now, and I’ll console myself with a magazine until you get back.” + +The three men went into the smoking car and settled themselves +comfortably. Then when the two older men had lighted cigars, McRae +hurled a question. + +“Joe, how would you like to be captain of the Giants?” he asked. + +Joe was completely taken aback for a moment. + +“Great Scott! You sure do hit a fellow right between the eyes, Mac,” he +responded. “Just what do you mean? You’ve got a captain now, haven’t +you?” + +“I had an apology for a captain up to this afternoon,” was the reply. +“But I haven’t even that now. Here, read this,” and he thrust +Iredell’s written resignation into his hand. + +Joe read it with minute attention. + +“I’m sorry for Iredell,” he remarked, as he refolded the paper and +handed it back. “But I won’t pretend that I’m surprised. But what +strikes me all in a heap is your question to me. Remember that I’m a +pitcher. As my brother-in-law, Reggie, would remark, ‘it simply isn’t +done.’” + +“You’re a pitcher, all right,” responded McRae, “and the best that +comes. But you’re more than that. You’re a thinker. And that’s the kind +of man I’ve got to have for captain. There’s no other man on the team +that fills the bill. They’d rattle around in the position like a pea in +a tincup. You’d fill it to perfection. That’s the reason I offer it to +you. You know, of course, that it means an increase in your salary, but +I know that isn’t the thing that would especially appeal to you. I want +you to take the position because I think it will be the best thing for +the Giants. Think it over.” + +There was silence for a few minutes while Joe thought it over and +thought hard. He knew that it would mean an immense addition to his +work and his responsibilities. He would have to play every day, while +now he played, at the most, only twice a week. + +Without self-conceit, he knew that he could qualify for the position. +Again and again he had groaned inwardly at baseball sins of omission +and commission that he felt sure would not have occurred had he had the +deciding voice on the field. + +It finally simmered down to this: Would it help the Giants? Would it +increase their chances for the pennant? He decided that it would. And +the moment he reached that conclusion his answer was ready. + +“I’ll take it, Mac,” he announced. + +“Bully!” exclaimed McRae, as he reached over and shook Joe’s hand +to bind the bargain. “Don’t think for a minute, Joe, that I don’t +appreciate the immense amount of work that this will put upon you. I +don’t want to ride a willing horse to death.” + +“That’s all right, Mac,” answered Joe. “The only possible doubt in +my mind was as to whether it might affect my pitching or hitting. I +wouldn’t want to let down in those things. But if you’re willing to +take a chance, I am.” + +“I’ll take all the chances and all the responsibility,” replied McRae, +confidently. “I haven’t watched you all these years for nothing. I’ve +never asked you to do anything yet that you haven’t done to the queen’s +taste. You’ve developed into the best pitcher in the game. You’ve +developed into the best batter in the game. Now I look for you to +develop into the best captain in the game.” + +“I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts that he will,” broke in Robbie, his +rubicund face aglow with satisfaction. “Now we’ll begin to see the +Giants climb.” + +“I’m sure they will,” affirmed McRae. “We’ve added fifty per cent. to +the Giants’ strength by this night’s work. You know as well as I do, +Joe, that the class is there. All it needs is to be brought out. And +you’re the boy that’s going to do it. Put your fighting spirit into +them. I was going to say put your brains into them, but that couldn’t +be done without a surgical operation. But you can teach them to use the +brains they have, and that itself will go a long way.” + +“How did Iredell take it when you saw him?” asked Joe, thoughtfully. + +“Of course he was sore,” answered McRae. “But how much of that was due +to his soreness over that bonehead play, and how much to the fact that +I accepted his resignation so promptly, I can’t say. But I don’t think +you’ll have any trouble with him.” + +Joe, who knew Iredell’s nature a good deal better than McRae, was not +at all sure, but he said nothing. + +“As for the other members of the team,” went on McRae, “they all +think you’re about the best that ever happened, and I’m sure they’ll +be delighted with the change. You’ll find them backing you up to the +limit. The rookies, too, look up to you as a kingpin pitcher and +batter, and they’ll be just clay in your hands. You can do with them +whatever you will. We’ve picked up some promising material there, and +you’re the one to bring out all that’s in them.” + +“You can depend on me to do my best,” Joe responded warmly. + +“That means that we’ll win the flag even with our bad beginning,” +declared McRae. “And now just one other thing, Joe. I want you to feel +perfectly free to discuss with Robbie and me anything you think will be +for the best interests of the team. If you think any man ought to be +fired, tell me so. If you think of any player we can go out and get, +tell me that, too. We’ll welcome any suggestions. Have you anything of +that kind now in mind? If so, let’s have it.” + +“I certainly don’t want any one fired,” said Joe, with a smile. +“At least, not for the present. As to getting any new players, I +saw something in the evening papers a half an hour ago that set me +thinking. Have you seen that the Yankees have determined to let Hays +go?” + +“No, I haven’t,” replied McRae with quickened interest. “I haven’t +looked at to-night’s papers. But after all that won’t do us any good. +Some other club in the American League will snap him up.” + +“That’s what I should have thought,” answered Joe. “But the surprising +thing is that all the other clubs in the American have waived claims +upon him. That leaves us free to make an offer for him, if we want him.” + +“That’s funny,” mused McRae. “Remember the way he played against us in +the World Series? He had us nailed to the mast and crying for help.” + +“He sure did,” agreed Robbie. “But he hasn’t been going very well since +then. Rather hard to manage in the first place, and then, too, he seems +to be losing his effectiveness. If no other club in the American League +wants him, he must be nearly through.” + +“That’s the way it struck me at first when I read the telegram,” said +Joe. “Then I got to thinking it over. Why don’t the other clubs in the +American League want him?” + +“I’ll bite,” said McRae. “What’s the answer?” + +“Perhaps it’s this,” suggested Joe. “Hays, as you know, has that +peculiar cross-fire delivery that singles him out among pitchers. No +other pitcher in either League has one just like it. It isn’t that it’s +so very effective when you come to know it. But because it’s so unlike +any other, it puzzles all teams until they get used to it. That’s the +way it was with us in the Series. The first two games we couldn’t do a +thing to him. In the third we were beginning to bat him more freely. + +“Now, what does that lead up to? Just this. The other teams in the +American League have become so used to his pitching that it’s lost its +terrors. If any one of them bought him from the Yankees, they’d have +to stack him up against the seven other teams in their League who have +learned to bat him without trouble. + +“But with the National League it’s different. It would take them +considerable time to get on to him. In the meantime, he might have won +two or three games from each of them before they solved him. He might +be good for fifteen or twenty victories before this season is over. He +might----” + +“By ginger!” interrupted McRae. “Joe, that think tank of yours is +working day and night. I’ll get in touch with the Yankee management by +wire at the next station.” + + + + +CHAPTER X + +GETTING IN SHAPE + + +“There’s something right off the bat for a starter,” exulted Robbie. +“Now, how about the rest of the team?” + +“I think they’re just about as good as they come,” remarked Joe. +“Jackwell and Bowen are a big improvement on Hupft and McCarney both in +fielding and batting. Burkett is digging them out of the dirt at first +all right, and Larry takes everything that comes into his territory. +Our outfield is one of the heaviest hitting in the League----” + +“And it will hit harder yet when you’re playing out there the days +you’re not in the box,” chuckled Robbie. “They’ll have to move back the +fences in the ball parks for your homers. You’ll break up many a game +with that old wagon spoke of yours.” + +“Oh, the days I play in the outfield, one of the men will have to be +benched,” mused Joe. “Which one shall it be?” + +“We’ll let that depend on the way they keep up with the stick,” said +McRae. “That will be a spur to them. Neither Curry nor Wheeler nor +Bowen will want to sit on the bench, and they’ll work their heads off +to keep on the batting order. There again it will be a good thing for +the team. Every man will be fighting to make the best showing possible.” + +“Talking about Jackwell and Bowen,” remarked Robbie. “Have you ever +noticed anything queer about those birds?” + +“They don’t seem to be as husky as they might be,” observed McRae. +“Just the other day they begged to be let off because they said they +were sick. Over eating, perhaps. That’s a common fault with young +players when they first come into the big League and eat at the swell +hotels.” + +“It wasn’t that I meant,” explained Robbie. “They seem to be nervous +and jumpy. Looking around as though they expected every minute to feel +somebody’s hand on their shoulder.” + +“I’ve noticed that,” said Joe. “It was only the other day I was +speaking to Jim about it. Probably it will wear off when they get a +little better used to big-league company. I’ll have a quiet little talk +with them about it.” + +For another hour they discussed matters bearing on the welfare of the +club, and then Joe went back to Mabel. + +“I thought you’d forgotten all about poor little me,” she said, with an +adorable pout of her pretty lips. + +Joe looked around to see that no one was observing them, and +straightened out the pout in a manner perfectly satisfactory to both. + +“Well, did McRae fire you, as you call it?” asked Mabel. + +“Hardly,” answered Joe, as he settled himself beside her. “In fact, +instead of kicking me downstairs he kicked me up.” + +“Meaning?” said Mabel, with a questioning intonation. + +“Meaning,” repeated Joe, “that he made me captain of the Giant team.” + +“What!” exclaimed Mabel, as though she could not believe her ears. + +“Just that,” was the reply. + +“Oh, Joe, what an honor!” exclaimed Mabel, with pride and delight. “I’m +so proud! That’s another proof of what they think of you.” + +“I suppose it is an honor,” agreed Joe, “and it will mean a nice +little addition to my salary. I’ll clean up over twenty thousand this +year altogether. And, if we get into the World Series, there will +be a few thousands more. But it means a great addition of work and +responsibility.” + +“You mustn’t overtax yourself, dear,” said Mabel, anxiously. “Remember +that your health and strength are above everything.” + +“If I felt any healthier or stronger than I am now, I’d be afraid of +myself,” replied Joe, grinning. “Don’t worry, honey. All I care for is +to make good in my new job.” + +“You’ll do that,” said Mabel, proudly, as she patted his hand. “You’d +make good in anything. You’d make a good president of the United +States.” + +“I’d be sure of one vote, anyhow, if I ran for the presidency,” laughed +Joe. “In fact, I’m afraid they’d have you pinched for repeating. You’d +try to stuff the ballot boxes.” + +The long journey ended at last, with all the players glad to be back +in what they fondly referred to as “little old New York.” There was +no brass band to meet them at the station, nor had the fans turned +out in any great numbers, as they did when the Giants returned from a +triumphant trip. It was an unusual experience for the Giants, who had +the reputation of a great road team and commonly arrived with scalps at +their belt. At present, however, they were distinctly out of favor. Nor +did they derive any comfort from the brief and sarcastic references to +their return in the columns of the city press. + +Joe and Mabel took a taxicab to the hotel where they usually made their +headquarters. Reggie, to his regret, had not been able to accompany +them, though he promised to come on later. + +“Beastly shame,” he had said, in parting, “that I could only see the +Giants when they were coming a cropper. But I’ll get to the big city +soon and see them get even with those rotters. My word! It’s been +simply disgustin’!” + +The perfect rest during the journey had been of immense benefit to +Joe’s injured leg and foot, and he was overjoyed to find that he was +now as fit as ever. The perfect physical condition in which he kept +himself had contributed toward a quick recovery. + +The relief and satisfaction of McRae and Robbie over his condition were +unbounded, for with Joe out of the game the Giants were a different and +far inferior team. + +Mabel had plenty of shopping and sightseeing to keep her spare time +employed through the day, and at night she and Joe had a delightful +time taking in the best shows on Broadway. + +The first morning that the team turned out for practice on the Polo +Grounds, Joe sought an opportunity for a quiet talk with Iredell. + +The fact that McRae had made a generous interpretation of the clause +in Iredell’s contract regarding his salary as captain had not abated +the resentment of that individual. He had been moody and grouchy ever +since his displacement, and had nursed his supposed grievance until +his heart was fairly festering with bitterness. He was sore at McRae, +but even more so at Joe, as his successor. The latter, he persuaded +himself, had intrigued to get his place. + +“I’m going to have a talk with all the boys together, Iredell,” Joe +greeted him pleasantly, in a secluded corner of the grounds. “But +first I wanted to see you personally. I just want to say that we’ve +always got along together all right, that I value you as one of the +best players on the team, and that I hope our pleasant relations will +continue.” + +But Iredell was in no mood to take the olive branch that Joe held out +to him. + +“I suppose I’ll have to do what you tell me to,” he muttered sourly. +“You’re the boss now.” + +“I don’t like that word ‘boss,’” returned Joe. “I don’t have any of the +feeling that that word implies. If I have to exercise the authority +that has been given me, it will be simply because that’s my job, and +not because I have a swelled head. McRae’s the boss of all of us. You +say you’ll have to do what I tell you to. But I’m hoping you’ll do your +best, not because I tell you to, but because you want to do whatever is +for the best interests of the team. How about it, Iredell? Does that +go?” + +“Oh, what’s the use of talking about it,” snapped Iredell. “I’ll do my +work as shortstop. You’ve got the job you’ve been working for. Let it +go at that.” + +His tone was so offensive, to say nothing of the implication of his +words, that Joe had to make a mighty effort to restrain his naturally +quick temper. But he knew that he could not rule others unless he had +first learned to master himself. So that it was with no trace of anger +that he replied: + +“Listen to me, Iredell. I haven’t worked for this job. I didn’t want +it. I hadn’t even thought of it. I was struck all in a heap when McRae +asked me to take it. And at that time, you’d already resigned. That’s +the absolute truth.” + +Iredell made no answer, but his sniff of unbelief spoke volumes. Joe +saw that while he was in this mood there was nothing to be gained by +talking longer. + +“Think it over, old boy,” he said pleasantly. “I’m your friend, and I +want to stay your friend. I know how well you can play, and I’m sure +you’re going to do your best with the rest of us to bring the pennant +once more to New York.” + +He moved away, and a little later had gathered the rest of the team in +the clubhouse. + +“I’m not going to do much talking, fellows,” he said. “McRae has +already told you that I’m to be captain of the team. I’m proud to be +captain of such a bunch. I feel that all of us are brothers. We’ve been +comrades in many a hard fight, and there are lots of such fights ahead +of us. But all our fighting will be done against the other fellows and +not among ourselves. I’m counting on every one of you to go in and work +his head off for the good of the team. That must be the only thing that +counts with any of us. + +“I don’t want to exercise a single bit of authority that I don’t have +to. But I’m not going to fall down on my job if I can help it. If I +have to call a man down, I’ll call him down. While we’re out on the +field, what I say will have to go. You may think it’s right or you may +think it’s rotten, but all the same it will have to go. But you’ll +understand that there’s nothing personal and that whatever’s done is +for the good of the team. You know I’d rather boost than roast, and +that I’ll praise a good play just as readily as I’d blame a bad one. +Now how about it, fellows? Are you with me?” + +“We’re wid ye till the cows come home!” shouted Larry, +enthusiastically. “Three cheers for the new captain!” + +Rousing cheers shook the clubhouse and sealed the compact. + +Then, with a new spirit, the Giants plunged into the pennant fight. It +was a hard fight that lay before them, and none of them underrated +it. But the grim determination that had been in evidence many times +previously was now again to the fore, and it boded ill for their rivals. + +Mabel, after a tender parting, had returned for a brief while to +Goldsboro, and Joe concentrated all the energies of brain and body on +his new task. Like the war horse, he “sniffed the battle from afar,” +and was eager to plunge into the thick of the fray. Would he emerge the +winner? + +Baseball Joe, for the time being, gave no more attention to Iredell’s +grouchiness. He knew the player felt sore, but never realized how far +that soreness might carry the fellow. + +“I’ll fix him some day, see if I don’t,” muttered Iredell to himself +when on his way to the hotel that night. “I’ll fix him. Just wait and +see! I’ll teach him to ride over me!” + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +WINGING THEM OVER + + +“So ’tis your birthday, I do be hearin’, Joe,” remarked Larry Barrett, +the jovial second baseman of the team, as the Giants were getting into +their uniforms preparatory to going out on the field. + +“That’s what,” laughed Joe, as he finished tying his shoe laces. + +“I’ll bet you were a ball player from the cradle,” grinned Larry. + +“I guess I bawled all right,” Joe replied. “And once, my mother tells +me, I pitched headlong from my baby carriage.” + +“What would you like for a birthday present?” queried Wheeler. + +“Ten runs,” replied Joe, promptly. “Give me those to-day and I won’t +ask for anything else.” + +“Pretty big order,” remarked Wheeler, dubiously. “Ten runs are a lot +to make against those Brooklyn birds. I hear they’re going to put in +Dizzy Rance to-day, and he’s a lulu. Won his last eight games and has +started in to make a record. Have a heart, Joe, and make it five.” + +“Five’s plenty,” asserted Jim, confidently. “I’m willing to bet that’s +more than the Dodgers will get, with Joe in the box.” + +“We’ll know more about that when the game’s over,” said Joe, as he +moved toward the door. + +“Gee! Look at those stands and bleachers,” remarked Jim, as he and his +chum came out on the field. “Seems as though all New York and Brooklyn +had turned out. And it’s nearly an hour before the game begins. They’ll +be turning them away from the gates.” + +“Almost like a World Series crowd,” agreed Joe, as they made their way +across the green velvet turf of the outfield toward the Giants’ dugout. + +It was a phenomenal throng for that stage of the playing season, and +was accounted for by the traditional rivalry between the two teams, +which, while hailing from different boroughs, were both included within +the limits of Greater New York. They fought each other like Kilkenny +cats whenever they came together. No matter how indifferently they +might have been going with other teams, they always braced when they +had each other as opponents. It was not an uncommon thing, even in the +seasons when the Giants had taken the series from every other team in +the League, to lose the majority of the games with the Brooklyns, even +though the latter might be tagging along in the rear of the second +division. + +But this year the Brooklyns were going strong, and it was generally +admitted that they had a look-in for the pennant. Several trades during +the previous winter had strengthened the weak places in the line-up, +and their pitching staff was recognized as one of the best in either +League. + +“Going to pick the feathers off those birds to-day, Joe?” asked McRae, +as Joe came up to the Giants’ bench, where the manager was sitting. + +“I sure am going to try,” replied Joe. “It’s about time we put a crimp +in their winning streak.” + +Joe beckoned to Mylert, and they went out to warm up. He was feeling in +excellent fettle, and he soon found that he had all his “stuff” with +him. His curve had a sharp break, his slow ball floated up so that it +seemed to be drifting, and his fast ones whizzed over like a bullet. + +“You’ve got the goods to-day, Joe,” pronounced Mylert, and he fairly +winced at the way the ball shot into his hands. “You’ve got speed to +burn. Those balls just smoke. With that control of yours you could hit +a coin. They can’t touch you. They’ll be rolling over and playing dead.” + +“That listens good,” laughed Joe. “At that, I’ll need all I’ve got to +make those fellows be good.” + +The preliminary practice gave evidence that the game would be for +blood. Both teams were on their toes, and the dazzling plays that +featured their work brought frequent roars of applause from the Giant +and Brooklyn rooters. Then the bell rang, the umpire dusted off the +plate and the vast throng settled down with delighted anticipation to +watch the game. + +The Brooklyns, as the visiting team, went first to bat. A roar went +up from the stands as Joe walked out to the mound. The Giant rooters +promptly put the game down as won. But the Brooklyns pinned their faith +to their phenomenal pitcher, Dizzy Rance, and had different ideas about +the outcome of the game. + +The first inning was short and sweet. Leete, the leftfielder of the +Dodgers, who, year in and year out, had a batting average of .300 +or better, swung savagely at the first ball pitched and raised a +skyscraping fly that Jackwell at third promptly gathered in. Mornier, +with the count at three balls and two strikes, sent up a foul that +Mylert caught close to the stands after a long run. Tonsten lunged at +the first ball and missed. The second was a beauty that cut the outer +corner of the plate at which he did not offer and which went for a +strike. Then Joe shot over a high fast one and struck him out. + +“Atta boy, Joe!” and similar shouts of encouragement came from stands +and bleachers, as Joe pulled off his glove and went in to the bench. + +Rance, the Brooklyn pitcher, did not lack a generous round of applause +as he took up his position in the box. He had already pitched two games +against the Giants and won them both. But he had never happened to be +pitted against Joe, and despite his air of confidence he knew he had +his work cut out for him. + +Curry made a good try on the second ball pitched and sent a long fly +to center that was caught by Maley after a long run. Iredell sent a +sharp single to left. Burkett slammed one off Rance’s shins, and the +ball rolled between short and second. Before it could be recovered, +Burkett had reached first and Iredell was safe at second. Wheeler tried +to wait Rance out, but when the count had reached three and two he sent +a single to center that scored Iredell from second and carried Burkett +to third. A moment later the latter was caught napping by a snap throw +from catcher to third and came in sheepishly to the bench. Rance then +put on steam and set Jackwell down on three successive strikes. + +“There’s one of the runs we promised you, Joe,” sang out Larry, as the +Giants took the field. + +“That’s good as far as it goes,” laughed Joe. “But don’t forget I’m +looking for more.” + +For the Brooklyns, Trench was an easy out on a roller to Joe, who ran +over and tagged him on the base line. Naylor dribbled one to Jackwell +that rolled so slowly that the batter reached first. But no damage was +done, for Joe pitched an outcurve to Maley and made him hit into a fast +double play, Iredell to Barrett to Burkett. + +It was snappy pitching, backed up by good support, and that it was +appreciated was shown by the shouts that came from the Giant rooters, +who cheered until Joe had to remove his cap. + +But Rance, although the Giants had got to him for three hits in +the first inning, showed strength in the second that delighted his +supporters. He mowed the Giants down as fast as they came to the bat. + +The best that Larry could do was to lift a towering fly to center that +was taken care of by Maley. Bowen lifted a twisting foul that the +Brooklyn catcher did not have to stir out of his tracks to get. Joe hit +a smoking liner that was superbly caught by Tonsten, who had to go up +in the air for it, but held on. + +In the Brooklyns’ third, Joe made a great play on a well-placed bunt by +Reis that rolled between the box and third base. Joe slipped and fell +as he grasped it, but while in a sitting position he shot it over to +first in time to nail the runner. Rance hit a sharp bounder to the box +that Joe fielded in plenty of time. Tighe went out on a Texas leaguer +that was gathered in by Larry. + +“That boy’s got ’em eating out of his hand,” exulted Robbie, his red +face beaming with satisfaction. + +“Yes, now,” agreed the more cautious McRae. “But at any time they may +turn and bite the hand that’s feeding them. They’re an ungrateful lot.” + +In their half of the inning, the Giants failed to score. Rance was +pitching like a house afire. Mylert went back to the bench after three +futile offers at the elusive sphere. Curry popped a weak fly to Trench, +and, Iredell, after fouling the ball off half a dozen times, grounded +to Mornier at first, who only had to step on the bag to register an out. + +It was Larry’s turn to be in the limelight in the Brooklyns’ half of +the fourth. Leete raised a fly that seemed destined to fall between +second and left. It was certain that Wheeler at left could not get to +it in time, though he came in racing like an express train. But Larry +had started at the crack of the bat, running in the direction of the +ball. He reached it just as it was going over his head, and with a wild +leap grasped it with one hand and held on to it. + +It was one of the finest catches ever made on the Polo Grounds. For +a moment the crowd sat stupefied. Then, when they realized that a +baseball “miracle” had occurred, they raised a din that could have +been heard a mile away. + +“Great stuff, Larry, old boy!” congratulated Joe, as the second baseman +resumed his position. “No pitcher could ask for any better support than +that.” + +“Let that go for my share of your birthday present,” returned the +grinning Larry. + +The next two went out in jig time, one on a grounder and the other on +strikes. + +The Giants added one more run in their half of the fourth by a clever +combination of bunts and singles. Joe knew that Rance was weak on +fielding bunts, and he directed his men to play on that weakness. The +Brooklyn pitcher fell all over himself in trying to handle them, and +this had a double advantage, for it not only let men get on bases but +it shook for a moment the morale of the boxman and made it easier for +the succeeding batsman. It was only by virtue of a lucky double play +that Rance got by with only one run scored against him in that inning. + +With two runs to the good, the Giants went out on the field in a +cheerful mood. They were getting onto the redoubtable Rance, not +heavily, but still they were hitting him. Joe, on the other hand, +seemed to be invincible. He was not trying for strike-outs except when +necessary. But his curves were working perfectly, his control was +marvelous, and when a third strike was in order he called upon his hop +ball or his fadeaway and it did the trick. + +And the boys behind him were certainly backing him up in fine style. +They were fairly “eating up” everything that came their way, digging +them out of the dirt, spearing them out of the air, throwing with the +precision of expert riflemen. None of them was playing that day for +records. They were playing for the team. Already the new spirit that +Joe had infused as captain was beginning to tell. + +In the Giant’s half of the fifth, Joe was the first man up. Rance tried +him on an outcurve, but Joe refused to bite. The next was a fast, +straight one, and Joe caught it fairly for a terrific smash over the +centerfielder’s head. The outfield had gone back when he first came to +the bat, but they had not gone back far enough. It was a whale of a +hit, and Joe trotted home easily, even then reaching the plate before +Maley had laid his hand on the ball. + +“Frozen hoptoads!” cried Robbie, fairly jumping up and down in +exultation. “It’s a murderer he is. He isn’t satisfied with anything +less than killing the ball.” + +“He’s some killer, all right,” assented McRae. “With one other man like +him on the team, the race would be over. The Giants would simply walk +in with the flag.” + +That mammoth hit should have been the beginning of a rally, but Rance +tightened up and the next three went out in order, one on strikes and +the other two on infield outs. + +Joe still had control of the situation, and he seemed to grow more +unhittable as the game went on. He simply toyed with his opponents, +and their vain attempts to land on the ball made them at times seem +ludicrous. + +“Sure, Joe, ’tis a shame what you’re doin’ to those poor boobs,” +chuckled Larry, as they came in to the bench together. + +“But don’t forget that they’re always dangerous,” cautioned Joe. “Do +you remember the fourteen runs they made in one of their games against +the Phillies? They may stage a comeback any minute.” + +“Not while you’re in the box, old boy,” declared Larry. “You’ll have to +break a leg to lose this game.” + +Burkett thought it was up to him to do something, and lammed out a +terrific liner to left for three bases, sliding into third just a +fraction of a second before the return of the ball. Wheeler tried to +sacrifice, but Tonsten held Burkett at third by a threatening gesture +before putting out Wheeler at first. With the infield pulled in for +a play at the plate, Jackwell double-crossed them by a single over +short that scored Burkett with the fourth run for the Giants. Barrett +went out on a grounder to Mornier, Jackwell taking second. Bowen made +a determined effort to bring him in, but his long fly to center was +gathered in by Maley. + +The “lucky seventh” was misnamed as far as the Brooklyns were +concerned, for their luck was conspicuous by its absence. Although the +heavy end of their batting order was up, they failed to get the ball +out of the infield. Leete, their chief slugger, was utterly bewildered +by Joe’s offerings and struck out among the jeers of the Giant fans. +Mornier popped up a fly that Joe gobbled up, and Larry had no trouble +in getting Tonsten’s grounder into the waiting hands of Burkett. + +The Giants did a little better, and yet were unable to add to their +score. Joe started off with a ripping single to left. Mylert tried to +advance him by sacrificing, but after sending up two fouls was struck +out by Rance. Curry sent a liner to the box that was too hot to handle, +but Rance deflected it to Tonsten who got Curry at first, Joe in the +meantime getting to second. Iredell was an easy victim, driving the +ball straight into the hands of Mornier at first. + +“Well, Joe,” chuckled Jim, as the eighth inning began, “we haven’t +given you your present yet, but we’re in a fair way to put it over. +Not to say that you’re not earning most of the present yourself.” + +“I don’t care how it comes as long as we get it,” laughed Joe, as he +slipped on his glove. + +The time was now growing fearfully short in which the men from the +other side of the bridge could make their final bid for the game. Those +four runs that the Giants had scored were like so many mountains to be +scaled, and with the airtight pitching that Joe was handing out, it +seemed like an impossible task. + +Still, they had pulled many a game out of the fire with even greater +odds against them, and they came up to the plate determined to do it +again, if it were at all possible. + +Trench got a ball just where he liked it, and sent it whistling to +left field for a single. Naylor followed with a fierce grasser that +Iredell knocked down, but could not field in time to catch the runner. +It looked like the beginning of a rally, and the Brooklyn bench was +in commotion. Their coaches on the base lines jumped up and down, +alternately shouting encouragement to their men and hurling gibes at +Joe in the attempt to rattle him. + +“We’ve got him going now,” yelled one. + +“We’ve just been kidding him along so far,” shouted another. “All +together now, boys! Send him to the showers!” + +Maley came next, with orders to strike at the first ball pitched. He +followed orders and missed. Again he swung several inches under Joe’s +throw, which took a most tantalizing hop just before it reached the +plate. + +He set himself for the third and caught it fairly. The ball started as +a screaming liner, going straight for the box. Joe leaped in the air +and caught it in his gloved hand. Like a flash he turned and hurled it +to Larry at second. Trench, who had started for third at the crack of +the ball, tried frantically to scramble back to second, but was too +late. Larry wheeled and shot down the ball to first, beating Naylor to +the bag by an eyelash. Three men had been put out in the twinkling of +an eye! + +It was the first triple play that had been made that season, and the +third that had been made on the Polo Grounds since that famous park had +been opened. It had all occurred so quickly that half the spectators +did not for the moment realize what had occurred. But they woke up, and +roar after roar rose from the stands as the spectators saw the Giants +running in gleefully, while the discomfited Brooklyns, with their rally +nipped in the bud, went out gloomily to their positions. + +“You’ll send him to the showers, will you?” yelled Larry to the +Brooklyn coaches, as he threw his cap hilariously into the air. + +Rance’s face was a study as he took his place in the box. He saw his +winning streak going glimmering. It was a hard game for him to lose, +for he had pitched in a way that would have won most games. But he had +drawn a hard assignment in having to face pitching against which his +teammates, fence breakers as they usually were, could make no headway. + +Still, he was game, and there was still another inning, and nothing was +impossible in baseball. If the Giants had expected him to crack, they +were quickly undeceived. Burkett grounded out to Trench, who made a +rattling stop and got him at first with feet to spare. Wheeler fouled +out to Tighe. Jackwell went out on three successive strikes. + +It was a plucky exhibition of pitching under discouraging conditions, +and Rance well deserved the hand that he received as he went in to the +bench. + +“I say, Joe,” remarked Jim, as his chum was preparing to go out for the +ninth Brooklyn inning. “Celebrate your birthday by showing those birds +the three-men-to-a-game stunt. It will be a glorious wind-up.” + +“I’ll see,” replied Joe, with a grin that was half a promise. + +Thompson, the manager of the Brooklyns, who had been having a little +run-in with the umpire, and was standing in a disgruntled mood near the +batter’s box, overheard the dialogue and stared in wonderment at Jim. + +“What’s that three-men-to-a-game stunt you’re talking about?” he asked. + +“Haven’t you ever heard of it?” asked Jim. + +“I never have,” replied Thompson. “And I was in the game before you +were born.” + +“Then you’ve got a treat in store for you,” Jim assured him. “Just you +watch this inning, and you’ll see that only three men will be needed to +turn your men back without a run, or even the smell of a hit. They’ll +be the pitcher, the catcher and the first baseman. The rest of the +Giants will have nothing to do and might as well be off the field. In +fact, if it wasn’t against the regulations of the game, we would call +them into the bench just now.” + +Thompson looked at Jim as though he were crazy. + +“Trying to kid me?” the Brooklyn manager asked, with a savage +inflection in his voice. + +“Not at all,” replied Jim, grinning cheerfully. “Just keep your eye on +that pitcher of ours.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +AN AMAZING FEAT + + +Thompson, still believing that Jim was trying to get a rise out of him, +walked back to his own bench, growling to himself. + +Reis was the first to face Joe in the last half of the ninth. Joe +measured him carefully, took his time in winding up, and then, with all +the signs of delivering a fast high one, sent over a floater that Reis +reached for and hit into the dirt in front of the plate. Joe ran on it, +picked it up and tossed it to Burkett for an easy out. + +Rance, the Brooklyn pitcher, came to the plate. Joe sent over a hop +that Rance caught on the under side for a foul high up back of the +rubber that Mylert caught without moving from his position. + +With two out, Tighe missed the first one that came over so fast that +it had settled in Mylert’s glove before the batter had completed his +swing. The next he fouled off for strike two. Then Joe whizzed over his +old reliable fadeaway. + +“You’re out!” cried the umpire. + +The game was over and the Giants had beaten their redoubtable foes by a +score of four to none. They had whitewashed their opponents and broken +their winning streak. + +And what was sweeter to Jim at the moment was that Joe had fulfilled +his prediction. Only the pitcher, catcher and first baseman had been +necessary to turn the Brooklyns back. The other six men of the Giant +team had had nothing to do and might as well have been off the field. +It was almost magical pitching, the climax of the art. + +Joe and Jim grinned at each other in a knowing way as the former came +into the bench. + +“You pulled it off that time all right, Joe!” exclaimed Jim gleefully, +as he threw his arm around his chum’s shoulder. “I piped off Thompson +to what you were going to do and he thought I had gone nutty. He’d have +given me an awful razz if it had failed to go through.” + +“You were taking awful chances,” laughed Joe. “Of course, I might do +that once in a while, but only a superman could do it all the time. But +in this inning, luck was with us.” + +Thompson at this moment came strolling over toward them. He was +evidently consumed with curiosity. + +“I’ll take the wind out of your sails at the start by admitting that +you put one over on me,” he said, addressing himself to Jim. “Though +how you knew what was about to happen is beyond me. How did you do it?” +he asked, turning to Joe. “Have you got a horseshoe or rabbit’s foot +concealed about you?” + +“I assure you that I have nothing up my sleeve to deceive you,” Joe +said, rolling up his sleeves in the best manner of the professional +conjurer. “It simply means that the hand is quicker than the eye.” + +“Cut out the funny stuff and tell me just how you did it,” persisted +Thompson. + +“I’ll tell you,” said McRae, who had been an amused listener to the +conversation. “That’s an old trick of Joe’s that he’s tried out when +we’ve been playing exhibition games in the spring training practice. +More than once, we’ve called in the whole team, except Joe, the +catcher, and the first baseman. Then Joe’s done just what he did this +afternoon. Of course, it doesn’t always go through, but in many cases +he has put it over.” + +“There isn’t another pitcher in the League who would dare try it!” +exclaimed Thompson. + +“There’s only one Matson in the world,” said McRae simply. “On the +level, Thompson, what would you give to have him on your team?” + +“A quarter of a million dollars,” blurted out Thompson. + +“You couldn’t have him for half a million,” said McRae, with a grin, as +he turned away. + +It was a jubilant crowd of Giants that gathered in the clubhouse after +the game. + +“How was that for your birthday present, Joe?” sang out Larry. “It +wasn’t quite what you asked for, but it was the best we could do.” + +“It was plenty,” laughed Joe. “I’d rather have those runs you gave me +than a diamond ring. Keep it up, boys, and we’ll soon be up at the top +of the League. We’ve been a long time in getting started, but now just +watch our smoke. This game pulls us out of the second division. We’re +right on the heels of the Brooklyns. Let’s give those fellows to-morrow +the same dose they got to-day. Then we’ll get after the Pittsburghs and +the Chicagos.” + +“That’s the stuff!” cried Larry. “We’ll show ’em where they get off. +They’ve been hogging the best seats in this show. Now we’ll send ’em +back to the gallery.” + +Joe smiled happily at the enthusiasm of the boys. It was what he had +been trying to instill ever since he had been made the captain of the +team. He knew that the material was there--the batting, the fielding, +and the pitching. But all this counted for nothing as long as the +spirit was lacking, the will to victory, the confidence that they could +win. + +There was just one piece of the machinery, however, that was not +working smoothly, and that was Iredell. He had been sulky and mutinous +ever since he had been displaced by Joe in the captaincy of the team. +Joe had been most considerate and had gone out of his way to be kind to +him, but all his advances had been rebuffed. + +“You’re certainly getting the team into fine shape, Joe,” said Jim, as +they made their way out of the grounds. “They played championship ball +behind you this afternoon.” + +“They sure did,” agreed Joe. “Those plays by Larry, especially, were +sparklers. I never saw the old boy in better form. He’s one of the +veterans of the game, and you might expect him to be slipping, but +to-day he played like a youngster with all a veteran’s skill. If +everybody had the same spirit, I’d have nothing more to ask.” + +“Meaning Iredell, I suppose,” said Jim. + +“Just him,” replied Joe. “It isn’t that there’s anything especially I +can lay my hands on. He plays good mechanical ball. His fielding is +good and he’s keeping up fairly well with the stick. But the mischief +of it is, it’s all mechanical. He’s like a galvanized dead man going +through the motions, but a dead man just the same. I wish I could put +some life into him. After a while, that dulness of his will begin to +affect the rest of the team. It takes only one drop of ink to darken a +whole glass of water.” + +“I noticed that in the clubhouse this afternoon,” said Jim thoughtfully, +“all the rest of the fellows were bubbling over, while he sat apart +with a frown on his face as though we’d lost the game instead of having +won it.” + +“Well, he’ll have to get over that and get over it quickly,” said Joe +with decision. “We can’t have him casting a wet blanket over the rest +of the team. The trouble is, we haven’t any one available to put in his +place just now, and it’s hard to get one at this stage of the season. +Renton’s a likely youngster, but he needs a little more seasoning +before I could trust him in such a responsible position as that of +shortstop.” + +“If that Mornsby deal had only gone through, we’d have had a +crackerjack,” said Jim regretfully. + +“We sure would!” replied Joe. “But I felt from the beginning that we +didn’t have much chance of getting him. If the St. Louis management had +let him go, they might as well have shut up shop. The fans would have +hooted them out of town. Anyway, I’d rather develop a player than buy +him. I’m going to coach young Renton with a possible view to taking +Iredell’s place, if it becomes necessary.” + +The next day Brooklyn again came to the Polo Grounds, determined to +regain their lost laurels of the day before. This time they relied on +Reuter, while McRae sent Jim into the box. + +That Reuter was good, became evident before the game had gone very far. +He had a world of speed and his curves were breaking well. Up to the +seventh inning, only two hits had been made off of him, one of which +was a homer by Joe and another a two-base hit by Burkett. His support +was superb, and more than one apparent hit was turned into an out by +clever fielding. + +Jim, in the early innings, was not up to his usual mark. He had most of +the stuff that had given him such high repute as a pitcher, except that +he could not handle his wide-breaking curve with his usual skill. The +failure of that curve to break over the plate got him several times in +the hole. He relied too much also on his slow ball when, with the dull, +cloudy weather that prevailed, speed would have been more effective. + +But, although he was not in his best form, his courage never faltered. +He was game in the pinches. Leete, for instance, in the fifth inning, +laced the first ball pitched into leftfield for a clean homer. There +was no one out when the mighty clout was made, but Jim refused to be +disconcerted. He struck out Mornier, the heavy hitting first baseman of +the Dodgers, made Tonsten hit a slow roller to the box that went for +an easy out, and fanned Trench, after the latter had sent up two fouls +in his unavailing attempt to hit the ball squarely. + +Again in the sixth, after a triple and a single in succession had +scored another run, he settled down and mowed the next three down in +order. + +But though his nerve was with him, the Brooklyn batsmen kept getting to +him, picking up one run after the other until at the end of the seventh +inning they had four runs to their credit while only one lone score had +been made by the Giants. The Brooklyn rooters were jubilant, for it +looked as though their pets had just about sewed up the game. + +But in the Giants’ half of the eighth Reuter began to crack. He started +well enough by making Curry pop to Mornier. Iredell came next and shot +a single to left, his first hit of the game and the third that had been +made off Reuter up to that time. Then Burkett followed suit with a +beauty to right that sent Iredell to third, though a good return throw +by Reis held Burkett to the initial bag. + +The two hits in succession seemed to affect Reuter’s control, and he +gave Wheeler a base on balls. Now the bags were full, with only one man +out, and the Giant rooters, who had hitherto been glum, were standing +up in their places and shouting like mad. + +McRae sent Ledwith, a much faster man than Wheeler, to take the +latter’s place on first, while he himself ran out on the coaching line +and Robbie scurried in the direction of third. + +Jackwell was next at bat, and the chances were good for a double play +by Brooklyn. But Reuter’s tired arm had lost its cunning and, try as he +would, he could not get the ball over the plate. Amid a pandemonium of +yells from the excited fans he passed Jackwell to first, forcing a run +over the plate. And still the bases were full. + +It was evident that Reuter was “through,” and Thompson signaled him to +come in. He took off his glove and walked into the bench to a chorus of +sympathetic cheers from the partisans of both sides in recognition of +the superb work he had done up to that fateful inning. + +Grimm took his place and tossed a few balls to the catcher in order to +warm up. It was a hard assignment to take up the pitcher’s burden with +the bases full. + +The first ball he put over came so near to “beaning” Larry that the +latter only saved himself by dropping to the ground. McRae signaled to +him to wait the pitcher out. He did so, with the result that he, too, +trotted to first on four bad balls, forcing another run home and making +the score four to three in favor of the Brooklyns. + +Grimm braced for the next man, Bowen, and struck him out, as Bowen let +even good balls go by, hoping to profit by the pitcher’s wildness. But +this time he reckoned without his host and retired discomfited to the +bench. + +Joe came next and received a mighty hand as he went to the plate. His +three comrades on the bases implored him to bring them home. + +Grimm was in a dilemma. Under ordinary circumstances he would have +passed Joe and taken a chance on Mylert. But to pass him now meant +the forcing home of another run, which would have tied the score. On +the other hand, a clean hit would bring at least two men home and put +the Giants ahead. There was still, however, the third chance--that +Joe might not make a hit. In that case there would be three men out, +leaving the Brooklyns ahead. + +He took the third alternative and pitched to Joe, putting all the stuff +he had on the ball. Joe swung at it and missed. Two balls followed +in succession. Then he whizzed over a high, fast one that Joe caught +fairly and sent out on a line between left and center for a sizzling +triple, clearing the bases and himself coming into third standing up. + +The Giants and their partisans went wild with joy as the three men +followed each over the plate, making the score six to four in favor of +the home team. + +And at that figure the score remained, for Jim pitched like a man +possessed in the Brooklyn’s half of the ninth and set them down as fast +as they came to the bat. + +“That’s what you call pulling the game out of the fire,” exulted Larry, +as the Giants were holding a jubilee in the clubhouse after the game. + +“Yes,” agreed Jim. “But it was a hard game for Reuter to lose. He +outpitched me up to that fatal eighth inning. He had a world of stuff +on the ball.” + +“He’s a crackerjack, all right,” agreed Joe. “And it certainly looked +as though he had us going.” + +“Didn’t have you going much that I could notice, except going around +the bases,” declared Larry, with a wide grin. “That was a corking homer +of yours, and the triple was almost as good.” + +“Better, as far as the results were concerned,” put in Jim. “For it +brought home three men and settled the game. It was a life saver, and +no mistake. Talk about Johnny on the spot. Joe on the spot is the +salvation of the Giants!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +CLEVER STRATEGY + + +“Quit your kidding,” laughed Joe. “Let’s just say that the breaks of +the game were with us and let it go at that. The main thing is that +we’ve put another game on the right side of the ledger. We’ve turned +the Brooklyns back, and now it’s up to us to give the same dose to the +Bostons and the Phillies.” + +“They’ll be easy,” prophesied Curry, as he finished fastening his shoe +laces. + +“Don’t fool yourself,” cautioned Joe. “They’re playing better now than +they were earlier in the season, and they won’t be such cinches as they +were in the last series. We’ll have to step lively to beat them, and +keep trying every minute. Ginger’s the word from now on.” + +“Ginger” had been his watchword ever since he had been made captain of +the team. He had tried to inspire them with his own indomitable energy +and vim, and was gratified to see that with the exception of Iredell he +was succeeding. It was doubly necessary in the case of the Giants, for +most of the team was composed of veterans. They were superb players, +but some of them were letting up on their speed and needed prodding to +keep them at the top of their form. + +Still there had been an infusion of new blood, and McRae was constantly +on the lookout for more. The Giants’ roster contained a number of +promising rookies, such as Renton, Ledwith, Merton and others, and Joe +was constantly coaching them in the fine points of the game. + +In Merton, especially, he thought he had all the material of a +promising pitcher. The youngster had been obtained from the Oakland +Seals, and had won a high reputation in the Pacific Coast League. He +had speed, a good assortment of curves, and a fair measure of control. +But pitching against big leaguers was a very different matter from +trying to outguess minor league batters, and Joe had not thought it +advisable as yet to send him in for a full game. + +One of his chief faults was that opponents could steal bases on him +with comparative impunity. It was almost uncanny to note the ease with +which a runner on the bases could detect whether Merton was going to +pitch to the batter or throw the ball to first. Joe was not long in +discovering the reason. + +“Here’s your trouble, Merton,” he said. “You invariably lift your +right heel from the ground when you are about to throw to the plate. +You keep it on the ground when you’re planning to throw to first. So, +by watching you, those fellows can get a long lead off first and easily +make second. Just try now, and see.” + +“You’re right,” admitted Merton, after practising a few minutes. “Funny +that I never noticed that before. But none of the fellows in the +Pacific Coast League noticed it, either. They didn’t steal much on me +there.” + +“That’s just because they were minor leaguers,” returned Joe. “But +you’re in big-league company now, and the wise birds on the other teams +get on to you at once.” + +Merton was grateful for the tip, and practised assiduously until he had +got rid of the mannerism. He was docile and willing to learn, and Joe +could see his pitching ability increase from day to day. + +Not only in pitching, but in batting, Joe was able to be of incalculable +value to the younger members of the team. How to outguess the pitcher, +when to wait him out, how to walk into the ball instead of drawing away +from it, the best way of laying down bunts--these and a host of other +things in which he was a past master were freely imparted to his charges +and illustrated by object lessons that were even more effective than +the spoken word. + +McRae and Robbie were delighted with the results of the change of +captains, and more and more they gave him a free hand, knowing that +Joe would get out of the Giants all that was in them. And, knowing the +power of the Giant machine when going at full speed, that was all that +they asked. + +The next series on the Giants’ schedule was with the Boston Braves on +the latter’s grounds. As Joe had anticipated, the Braves put up a much +stiffer fight than they had earlier in the season. They were going +well, had already passed the Phillies and the Cardinals and were making +a desperate attempt to get into the first division. + +Markwith pitched the first game, and did very well until the last two +frames. Then a veritable torrent of hits broke from the Bostons’ bats +and drove the southpaw from the mound. Joe took his place, and the +hitting suddenly ceased. But the damage had already been done, and the +game was placed in the Boston column. + +Jim pitched in the second game and chalked up a victory. Young Merton +was given his chance in the third, and justified Joe’s confidence by +also winning, although the score was close. + +Joe himself went in for the fourth and won, thus getting three out +of four in the series, which, for a team on the road, was not to be +complained of. + +With the Phillies, on the latter’s grounds, the Giants cleaned up the +first three games right off the reel. In the fourth, the Phillies woke +up and played like champions. They fielded and batted like demons, so +well indeed that when the ninth inning began, the Phillies were ahead +by a score of three to two. + +In the Giants’ half, with one man on base, Joe cut loose with a homer +that put his team a run to the good. Not daunted, however, the Phillies +came in for their half. Two men were out, and a couple of Giant fumbles +had permitted two to get on the bases. + +Mallinson, the heaviest batter of the Phillies, was up. He shook his +bat menacingly and glared at Joe. With the team behind him the least +bit shaky on account of the fumbles, Joe tried a new stunt on Mallinson. + +“I’m going to tell you exactly the kind of a ball I’m going to throw to +you,” he remarked, with a disarming grin. + +“Yes, you are,” sneered Mallinson, unbelievingly, while even Mylert, +the Giant catcher, looked bewildered. + +“Honest Injun,” declared Joe. “This first one is going to be a high +fast one right over the plate and just below the shoulder.” + +“G’wan and stop your kidding,” growled the burly Philadelphia batter. + +He set himself for a curve, not believing for a moment that Joe would +be crazy enough to tell him in advance what he was going to pitch. It +was just on that disbelief that Joe had counted. + +Joe wound up and hurled one over exactly as he had promised. Mallinson, +all set for a curve, was so flustered that he struck at it hurriedly +and missed. + +Joe grinned tantalizingly, while Mallinson glowered at him. + +“Didn’t believe me, did you?” Joe asked. “Why don’t you have more faith +in your fellow men? I ought to be real peeved at you for your lack of +confidence. But I’m of a forgiving nature and I’ll overlook it this +time.” + +“Cut it out,” snapped Mallinson savagely. “Go ahead and play the game.” + +“No pleasing some fellows,” mourned Joe plaintively. “Now this time, +I’m going to pitch an outcurve. Ready? Let’s go.” + +Mallinson, sure that this time he was going to be double-crossed, got +ready for a high fast one, and the outcurve that Joe pitched cut the +corner of the plate and settled in Mylert’s glove for the second strike. + +“You see!” complained Joe. “There you are again. What’s the use of my +tipping you off if you don’t take advantage? Don’t you believe me? +Doesn’t anybody ever tell the truth in Philadelphia?” + +Mallinson tried to say something, but he was so mad that he could only +stutter, while his face looked as though he were going to have a fit of +apoplexy. + +“Now,” said Joe, “this is your last chance. I’m going to give you my +hop ball this time, and that’s just because it’s you. I wouldn’t do it +for everybody. It’ll take a jump just as it comes to the plate.” + +By this time Mallinson was in an almost pitiable state of bewilderment. +Would the pitcher again keep his word? Or would Joe figure that now +that he had twice tipped him off correctly, Mallinson would really +get set for the hop ball and that now was the time to fool him with +something else? + +He was so up in the air by this time that he could not have hit a +balloon, and he struck six inches below the hop ball that Joe sent +whistling over the plate for an out. The game was over and the Giants +had won. + +“What was all that chatter that was going on between you and Mallinson?” +asked McRae, as he and Robbie, with their faces all smiles, came up to +Joe. “I couldn’t quite get what it was from the bench. But you seemed to +get his goat for fair.” + +Joe told them, and the pair went into paroxysms of laughter, Robbie +choking until they had to pound him on the back. + +“For the love of Pete, Mac!” he gurgled, as soon as he could speak, +“you’ll have to do something with this fellow or he’ll be the death +of me yet. To win a ball game just by telling the batsman what he was +going to pitch to him! Did you ever hear anything like it before in +your life?” + +“I never did,” replied the grinning McRae. + +At the clubhouse later, there were guffaws of laughter as Mylert +described the way that Joe had stood Mallinson on his head. + +“And me thinking Joe had simply gone nutty!” Mylert said. “When he +pitched that first ball just as he said, I didn’t know where I was at. +Then the second one got me going still more. But I saw that it had +Mallinson going, too, and then I began to catch on. How on earth did +you ever come to think of that, Joe?” + +“Just a matter of psychology,” Jim answered for him. “And mighty good +psychology, if you ask me. Baseball Joe’s a dabster at that.” + +“Sike-sike what?” asked Larry, whose vocabulary was not very extensive. + +“Psychology,” repeated Jim, with a grin. “No, it isn’t a new kind of +breakfast food. Joe simply knew how Mallinson’s mind would work and he +took advantage of it. Mallinson coppered everything Joe said to him. +He figured that Joe was there to deceive him. He couldn’t conceive that +Joe would tell him the truth. And so it was just by telling the truth +that Joe got him.” + +“It just got by because it was new,” laughed Joe. “I couldn’t do it +often, for if I did they’d begin to take me at my word, and then they’d +bat me all over the lot.” + +By the time the Eastern inter-city games were over, the Giants had +considerably bettered their team standing. They had passed the +Brooklyns, who had let down a good deal and were now playing in-and-out +ball. The Chicagos were still in the lead, with Pittsburgh three games +behind them, but pressing them closely. Then came the Giants, two games +in the rear of the men from the Smoky City. The Cincinnati Reds brought +up the rear of the first division, but the conviction was strong in the +minds of the Giants that it was either the Pirates or the Cubs they had +to beat in order to win the pennant. + +On the eve of the invasion of the East by the Western teams, McRae +called his men together for a heart-to-heart talk in the clubhouse. + +“You boys know that I can give you the rough edge of my tongue when you +lay down on me,” he said, as he looked around on the group of earnest +young athletes, who listened to him with respectful attention. “But you +know, too, that I’m always ready to give a man credit when he deserves +it. I’m glad to say that just now I’m proud of the men who wear the +Giant uniform. You’ve done good work in cleaning up the Eastern teams. +You’ve played ball right up to the end of the ninth inning, and many a +game that looked lost you’ve pulled out of the fire. + +“Now, that’s all right as far as it goes. But the Western clubs are +coming, and they’re out for scalps. You remember what they did to us +on our first trip out there. They gave us one of the most disgraceful +beatings we’ve had for years. They took everything but our shirts, and +they nearly got those. Are you going to let them do it again?” + +There was a yell of dissent that warmed McRae’s heart. + +“That’s the right spirit,” he declared approvingly. “Now, go in and +show the same spirit on the field that you’re showing in the clubhouse. +Beat them to a frazzle. Show them that you’re yet the class of the +League. Don’t be satisfied with an even break. That won’t get us +anywhere. Take three out of four from every one of them. Make a clean +sweep if you can. Keep on your toes every minute. You’ve got the +pitching, you’ve got the fielding, you’ve got the batting, and you’ve +got the best captain that ever wore baseball shoes. What more does any +club want?” + +“Nothing!” shouted Larry. “We’ll wipe up the earth with them!” + +“That’s the stuff,” replied McRae. “Now go out and say it with your +bats. I want another championship this year, and I want it so bad that +it hurts. You’re the boys that can give it to me, and I’m counting on +you to do it. Show them that you’re Giants not only in name, but in +fact. That’s about all.” + +“What’s the matter with McRae?” cried Curry, as the manager, having +said his say, turned to leave. + +“He’s all right!” came in a thundering chorus from all except Iredell, +who maintained a moody silence. + +McRae waved his hand and vanished through the door. + +The Cincinnati Reds were the first of the invaders to make their +appearance at the Polo Grounds. They always drew large crowds, not +only because they usually played good ball against the Giants, but +especially because of the popularity of Hughson, their manager, who for +many years had been a mainstay of the Giants and the idol of New York +fans. + +Hughson was one of the straight, clean, upstanding men who are a +credit to the national game. McRae had taken him when he was a raw +rookie and given him his chance with the Giants to show what he could +do. The result had been a sensation. In less than a year Hughson +had leaped into fame as the greatest pitcher in the country. He had +everything--courage, speed, curves and control--and with them all +a baseball head that enabled him to outguess the craftiest of his +opponents. + +For a dozen years he had been the chief reliance of the Giants and one +of the greatest drawing cards in the game. At the time that Joe had +joined the Giants, however, Hughson’s arm was beginning to fail. The +latter was quick to discover Joe’s phenomenal ability and, instead of +showing any mean jealousy, had done his best to develop it. Between him +and Joe a friendship had sprung up that had never diminished. + +Hughson’s services were in demand as a manager and he was snapped up by +the Cincinnati club to take charge of the Reds. With rather indifferent +material to start with, he had built up a strong team that had several +times given the Giants a hot race for the championship. + +On the afternoon of the first game, Hughson, big and genial as ever, +shook Joe’s hand warmly when the latter met him near the plate. + +“We’re going to give you the same dose that we did when you were on our +stamping ground the last time, Joe,” he remarked, with a laugh, after +they had interchanged greetings. “I love the Giants, but, oh, you Reds!” + +“If you’re so sure of it, why go through the trouble of playing the +game?” retorted Joe. + +“Oh, we’ll have to do that as a matter of form and to give the crowd +their money’s worth,” joked Hughson. “But honestly, Joe, we’re going +to put up the stiffest kind of a battle. My men have their fighting +clothes on, and they’re going good just now.” + +“I’ve noticed that,” replied Joe. “You took the Pirates neatly into +camp in that last series. The return of Haskins has plugged up a weak +point in your outfield. I see he didn’t lose his batting eye while he +was a hold-out.” + +“No,” said Hughson, “he’s as good as ever. I began to think we’d never +come to terms on the question of salary. You see, after his phenomenal +season last year he got a swelled head and demanded a salary that was +out of all reason. Said he wouldn’t play this year unless he got it. +But we got together on a compromise at last, and now he’s in uniform +again and cavorting around like a two-year-old. Wait until you see him +knock the ball out of the lot this afternoon.” + +“I’ll wait,” retorted Joe with a grin, “and I’ll bet I’ll wait a good +long while.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +DEEPENING MYSTERY + + +After a little more chaffing, Joe left Hughson and walked over towards +the Giants’ dugout. He felt a touch on his shoulder and, turning +around, saw Jackwell. + +“What is it, Dan?” he asked, noting at the same time that the player +was pale. + +“I don’t feel quite in shape, Captain,” said Jackwell in a voice that +was far from steady. “I was wondering whether you couldn’t put someone +in my place to-day.” + +“What’s the matter?” asked Joe. “Look here, Jackwell,” he went on +sharply, “are you trying to pull some of that ptomaine poisoning stuff +again? Because, if you are, I tell you right now, you’re wasting your +time.” + +“It--it isn’t that,” stammered Jackwell, nervously fingering his cap. +“I just feel kind of unstrung, shaky-like. I’m afraid I can’t play the +bag as it ought to be played, that’s all.” + +“Jackwell,” commanded Joe sternly, “come right out like a man and tell +me what’s the matter with you. Lay your cards on the table. Are you +playing for your release? Do you want to go to some other team?” + +“No, no! Nothing like that!” ejaculated Jackwell, in alarm. “I’d rather +play for the Giants than for any other team in the country.” + +“Well, I’ll tell you straight that you won’t be playing for the Giants +or any other team very long if this sort of thing keeps on,” said Joe +sharply. “What do you think this is, a sanitarium for invalids? Here, +McRae’s taken you from the bush league and given you the chance of your +lives with the best team in the country. Do you want to go back to the +sticks?” + +“Nothing like that,” muttered Jackwell, twisting about uneasily. + +“Then go out and play the game,” commanded Joe. “I’m getting fed up +with all this mystery stuff. There’ll have to be a show-down before +long, unless you get back your nerve.” + +Jackwell said no more and went back to the bench, where he had a +whispered colloquy with Bowen, who seemed equally nervous. + +When they went out to their positions, Joe noticed that both had their +caps drawn down over their faces much more than usual. It could not +have been to keep the sun out of their eyes, for clouds obscured the +sky and rain threatened. + +Fortunately, that is, for the Giants, for despite Hughson’s prediction, +it was not the Reds’ winning day. Jim pitched for the Giants, and +though he was nicked for seven hits, he was never in danger and held +his opponents all the way. He did not have to extend himself, as his +teammates, by free batting, gave him a commanding lead as early as the +third inning, and after that the Giants simply breezed in. + +Allison was the first of the Cincinnati pitchers to fall a victim to +the fury of the Giants’ bats. In the third inning, with the Giants +one run to the good, Barrett, the first man up, sent a sharp single +to left. Iredell followed with another in almost identically the +same place, and an error by the Red shortstop filled the bases. Then +Jackwell singled sharply over second, bringing in two runs. + +It was clear that Allison’s usefulness for that day was at an end, and +Hughson replaced him by Elkins. Bowen lifted a sacrifice to Gerry in +center and another run came over the plate. Mylert doubled and Jackwell +scampered home. Curry hit to third and Mylert was tagged on the base +line. Burkett was passed, as was also Wheeler. Then Joe, who, in the +new shake-up of the batting order, occupied the position of “clean-up” +man, justified the name by coming to the plate and hammering out a +mighty triple that cleared the bases. There he was left, however, for +Larry, up for the second time in the same inning, popped an easy fly +that was gathered in by the second baseman. Seven runs had been the +fruit of that avalanche of hits in that fateful inning. + +From that time on it seemed only a question of how big would be the +score. Two other pitchers were called into service by Hughson before +the game was over, and although the torrent of Giant hits had almost +spent its force, they came often enough to keep the Red outfielders on +the jump. + +In the eighth the Reds made a rally and succeeded in getting three men +on bases with only one man out. But the rally ended suddenly when Jim +made Haskins, the star batter of the Reds, hit to short for a snappy +double play that ended the inning. + +No further runs were made by either side, and the first game of the +Western invasion went into the Giants’ column by a score of ten to two. + +In the clubhouse, after the game, Joe asked Jackwell and Bowen to stay +after the others had gone, in order that he might have a word with them. + +“I don’t want to pry into your personal affairs, boys,” he said to them +kindly, when they were at last left alone. “I’d be the last one to do +that. But I’m captain of this team, and I’ve got to see that my men +are in fit condition to play. And if there’s anything that prevents you +showing your best form, it’s up to me to find just what it is.” + +They made no answer, and Joe went on: + +“I notice that whatever it is that’s bothering you seems to affect you +both. You both were sick, or said you were, at the same time the other +day. You, Jackwell, told me that you were not feeling fit to-day, and +although Bowen didn’t say anything, I suppose it was because you told +him it was of no use. I noticed that right after your talk with me, you +went back to Bowen and held a whispered conversation with him. And when +you went out on the field, you both pulled your caps over your faces +more than usual. + +“Then, too, neither of you played your usual game to-day. Luckily, +we had such a big lead that the errors didn’t lose the game, but +in a close game any one of them might have been fatal. That was a +ridiculously easy grounder, Jackwell, that you fumbled in the fourth, +and in the sixth you failed to back up Iredell on that throw-in by +Curry. And that was a bad muff you, Bowen, made of Haskins’ fly to +center, to say nothing of the wild throw you made to second right +afterwards. + +“Now, what’s the trouble? Let’s have a showdown. Speak up.” + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +TROUBLE BREWING + + +Still Jackwell and Bowen stood mute, neither of them venturing to meet +Joe’s gaze. + +“If you don’t tell it to me, you’ll have to tell it to McRae,” +suggested Joe. “I’m trying to let you down easy, without calling it +to his attention. If we can settle it among ourselves, so much the +better. Is it some trouble at home that’s weighing on your mind? Is it +something about money matters? If it’s that, perhaps I can help you +out.” + +“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Matson,” said Jackwell, who seemed by +common consent to be the spokesman for the two. “But it isn’t either of +those two. It’s something else that neither Ben nor I are quite ready +yet to talk about. + +“I know very well that you have a right to know anything that’s +interfering with our playing the game as it ought to be played. And +I’ll admit, and I guess Ben will, too, that we were off our game +to-day. But I think we’ll soon be able to settle the trouble so it +won’t bother us any more. + +“I wish you could see your way clear to give us a little more time. +Let Ben and me have time to think and talk it over together. If we can +settle the matter without letting any one else know about it, we’d much +rather do so.” + +Joe pondered for a moment. + +“I’m willing to go as far as this,” he announced at last. “I’ll give +you a little more time, on this condition. If I note any further +falling off in your play, or you come to me with any excuses to be let +off from a game, I’m going to come down on you like a load of brick. +Then you’ll have to come across, and come across quick, or you’ll be +put off the team. Do you understand?” + +“That’s all right,” said Jackwell. “You won’t have any further cause to +complain of me, Mr. Matson. I’ll play my very best.” + +“I’ll work my head off to win,” declared Bowen. + +They kept their promise in the series of games with the Western teams +that followed. Jackwell played at third with a skill that brought back +the memory of Jerry Denny, and Bowen covered his territory splendidly +in the outfield. It seemed as though Joe’s problem was solved, as far +as they were concerned. + +But the worry about them was replaced by another regarding Jim. There +was no denying that the latter was not doing his best work. He was +intensely loyal and wrapped up in the success of the team. But the +opposing teams were getting to him much more freely than they had +before that season. He was getting by in many of his games because the +“breaks” happened to be with him, and because the Giants, with the +new spirit that Joe had infused into them, were playing a phenomenal +fielding game. But there was something missing. + +There was nothing amiss in Jim’s physical condition. His arm was in +perfect shape and his control as good as ever. But his mind was not on +the game, as it had formerly been. He worked mechanically, sometimes +abstractedly. He was always trying, but it was as though he were +applying whip and spur to his energies, instead of having them act +joyously and spontaneously. + +Joe knew perfectly well what was worrying his chum. Ever since that +involuntary hesitation of Mabel’s, when asked about Clara, Jim had been +a different person. Where formerly he and Joe had laughed and jested +together on the closest terms of friendship and mutual understanding, +there was now a shadow between them, a very slight and nebulous +shadow, but a shadow nevertheless. Jim’s old jollity, the bubbling +effervescence, the sheer joy in living, were conspicuous by their +absence. + +It was a matter that could not be talked about, and Joe, grieved to +the heart, could only wait and hope that the matter would be cleared up +happily. To his regret on his chum’s account was added worry about the +influence the trouble might have on the chances of the Giants. + +For if there was any weak place in the Giants’ armor, it was in the +pitching staff. At the best, it was none too strong. Joe himself, of +course, was a tower of strength, and Jim was one of the finest twirlers +in either League. But Markwith, though still turning in a fair number +of victories, was past his prime and unquestionably on the down grade. +In another season or two, he would be ready for the minors. Bradley +was coming along fairly well, and Merton, too, had all the signs of a +comer, but they were still too unseasoned to be depended on. + +If the deal for Hays had gone through, he would have been a most +welcome addition to the ranks of the Giant boxmen. But the Yankees had +had a change of heart, and had decided to retain him for a while. + +So Joe’s dismay at the thought of Jim, his main standby, letting down +in his efficiency was amply justified. + +The Cincinnatis came back, as Hughson had prophesied, and took the next +game. But the two following ones went into the Giants’ bat bag, and +with three out of four they felt that they had got revenge for the +trimming that had been handed to them on their last trip to Redland. + +St. Louis came next, and this time the Giants made a clean sweep of the +series. They were not so successful with the Pittsburghs, and had to be +satisfied with an even break. But when the latter went over the bridge +the Brooklyns rose in their might and took the whole four games right +off the reel, thus enabling the Giants to pass them and take second +place in the race. + +Then came the Chicagos, who were still leading the League, but only by +the narrow margin of one game. If the Giants could take three out of +four from them, the Cubs would fall to second place. + +Joe had made his pitching arrangements so that he himself would pitch +the first and fourth games. He did so, and won them both. He had never +pitched with more superb skill, strength and confidence, and the +ordinarily savage Cubs were forced to be as meek as lapdogs. + +They got even, to an extent, with Markwith, whom they fairly clawed +to pieces in the second game. Jim pitched in the third, and but for a +senseless play might have won. + +That play was made by Iredell in the ninth inning, with the Giants +making their last stand. The Cubs were three runs to the good. One man +was out in the Giants’ half, Curry was on third and Iredell was on +second, with Joe at the bat. + +Suddenly, moved by what impulse nobody knew, Iredell tried to steal +third, forgetting for the moment that it was already occupied. + +“Back!” yelled Joe in consternation. “Go back!” + +With the shout, Iredell realized what he had done, and turned to go +back. But it was too late. The Cub catcher had shot the ball down to +second, and Holstein, with a chuckle, clapped the ball on Iredell as he +slid into the bag. + +A roar, partly of rage, partly of glee, rose from the spectators, and +Iredell was unmercifully joshed as he made his way back to the bench. + +Joe, a minute later, smashed out a terrific homer on which Curry and he +both dented the plate. But the next man went out on strikes, and with +him went the game. If Iredell had been on second, he also would have +come home on Joe’s circuit clout and the score would have been tied. +The game would have gone into extra innings, with the Giants having at +least an even chance of victory. + +As it was, the Chicagos were still leading the League by one game when +they packed their bats and turned their backs upon Manhattan. + +McRae was white with rage, as he told Iredell after the game what he +thought of him. + +“You ought to have your brain examined,” he whipped out at him. “That +is, if you have enough brain to be seen without a microscope. To steal +third when there was a man already on the bag! You ought to have a +guard to see that the squirrels don’t get you. What in the name of the +Seven Jumping Juggernauts did you do it for?” + +“I didn’t know there was a man there,” said Iredell lamely. + +McRae looked as though he were going to have a fit. + +“Didn’t know a man was there!” he sputtered. “Didn’t know a man was +there! Didn’t know a-- Look here, you fellows,” he shouted to the rest +of the Giants gathered round. “I want you to understand there are no +secrets on this team. You tell Iredell after this whenever there’s a +man on third. Understand?” + +He stalked away from the clubhouse in high dudgeon to share his woes +with the ever-faithful Robbie. + +It was a hard game to lose, but Joe, as he summed up the results of the +Western invasion felt pretty good over the record. The Giants had won +eleven out of sixteen games from the strongest teams in the League, and +were now only one game behind the leaders. They had climbed steadily +ever since he had become captain. + +But though he was elated at the showing of the team his heart was +heavily burdened by his personal troubles. His mother was still in a +precarious condition. He tore open eagerly every letter from home, only +to have his hopes sink again when he learned that she was no better. +Sometimes the strain seemed more than he could bear. + +Then there was Jim, dear old Jim, with the cloud on his brow and look +of suffering in his eyes that made Joe’s heart ache whenever he looked +at him. From being the soul of good fellowship, Jim had withdrawn +within himself, a prey to consuming anxiety. He seemed ten years older +than he had a year ago. And as a player, he had slipped undeniably. He +was no longer the terror to opposing batsmen that he had been such a +short time before. Joe gritted his teeth, and mentally scored Clara, +who had brought his friend to such a pass. + +But, troubled as he was, Joe summoned up his resolution and bent to his +task. His work lay clearly before him. He was captain of the Giants. +And the Giants must win the pennant! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +OUT FOR REVENGE + + +“Joe,” said McRae, on the eve of the Giants’ second trip West, “I want +to have a serious talk with you.” + +“That sounds ominous, Mac,” replied Joe, with a twinkle in his eye. +“What have I been doing?” + +“What I wish every member of the team had been doing,” responded McRae. +“Pitching like a wizard, batting like a fiend, and playing the game +generally as it’s never been played before in my long experience as +a manager. No, it isn’t you, Joe, that I have to growl about. You’re +top-notch in every department of the game, and as a captain you’ve more +than met my expectations. You’ve brought the team up from the second +division to a point where any day they may step into the lead.” + +“Give credit to the boys,” said Joe, modestly. “They’re certainly +playing championship ball. That is, with one exception,” he added +hesitatingly. + +“With one exception,” repeated McRae. “Exactly! And it’s just about +that exception I want to talk to you. Of course, we’re both thinking of +the same man--Iredell.” + +Joe nodded assent. + +“I’ve worked myself half sick trying to brace him up,” he said. “But +he’s taken a bitter dislike to me since he was displaced as captain +of the team. He only responds in monosyllables, or oftener yet with +a grunt. He’s such a crack player when he wants to be that I’ve been +hoping he’d wake up and change his tactics.” + +“Same here,” said McRae. “He’s been with the team for a long time, and +for that reason I’ve been more patient with him than I otherwise would. +But there comes a time when patience ceases to be a virtue, and I have +a hunch that that time is now.” + +“You may be right,” assented Joe. “I’m sorry for Iredell.” + +“So am I,” replied McRae. “I’m sorry to see any man throw himself away. +And that’s just what Iredell is doing. If it were only a slump in his +playing, such as any player has at times, it would be different. But +it’s more than that. I’ve had detectives keeping track of him for +the last week or two, and they report that he has been drinking and +frequenting low resorts. You know as well as I do, that no man can do +that and play the game. So I’m going to bench him for a while and see +if that doesn’t bring him to his senses. If it does, well and good. If +it doesn’t, I’ll trade him at the end of the season.” + +“That’ll mean Renton in his place,” said Joe, thoughtfully. + +“Do you think he measures up to the position?” inquired McRae. + +“I’m inclined to think he will,” affirmed Joe. “Of course, he isn’t the +player that Iredell is when he’s going right. But he’ll certainly play +the position as well as Iredell has since we returned from the last +trip. He is an upstanding, ambitious young chap, and he’ll play his +head off to make good. He has all the earmarks of a coming star. With +Larry on one side of him and Jackwell on the other, and with you and me +to drill the fine points of the game into him, I think he’ll fill the +bill.” + +“Then it’s a go,” declared McRae. “I’ll have a talk with Iredell +to-night. You tell Renton that he’s to play short to-morrow, and that +it’s up to him to prove that he’s the right man for the job.” + +Joe did so, and the young fellow was delighted to learn that his chance +had come. + +“I’ll do my best, Mr. Matson,” he promised, “and give you and the team +all I’ve got. If I fall down, it won’t be for the lack of trying.” + +Pittsburgh was the first stop on the Giants’ schedule, and Forbes +Field was crowded to repletion when the teams came out on the field. +The local fans had been worked up to a high pitch of enthusiasm by the +closeness of the race, and they looked to see their favorites put the +Giants to rout, as they had on the first visit of the latter to the +Smoky City. + +“Look who’s here,” said Jim to Joe, as the two friends drew near to the +grandstand before the preliminary practice. + +“Meaning whom?” asked Joe, as his eyes swept the stands without +recognizing any one he knew. + +“In the second row near that post on the right of the middle section,” +indicated Jim. + +Joe glanced toward that part of the stand, and gave a violent start of +surprise, not unmixed with a deeper emotion. + +“That lob-eared scoundrel, Lemblow!” he ejaculated. “And confabbing +with Hupft and McCarney.” + +“Evidently as thick as thieves,” commented Jim. “A precious trio. I +wonder they have the face to show themselves at a baseball game when +they’ve done the best they could to bring the sport into disgrace.” + +“Three of the worst enemies we have in the world,” murmured Joe, as his +mind ran over the exciting events of the previous season. + +Hupft and McCarney had been members of the Giant team that year. They +were good players, but had entered into a conspiracy with a gang of +gamblers--who had bet heavily against the Giants--to lose the pennant. +Lemblow was a minor-league pitcher who had long wanted to get a chance +to play with the Giants. If Joe, their star pitcher, could be put +out of the game, Lemblow figured that his chance for a berth would +be better. He also, therefore, had fallen in with the plans of the +gambling ring, and had, seemingly, stopped at nothing to bring Joe to +grief. How their plans miscarried, how Hupft and McCarney had been put +on the blacklist that debarred them forever from playing in organized +baseball, how Lemblow had been exposed and disgraced, are familiar to +those who have read the preceding volume of this series. + +“Wonder what they’re doing here,” puzzled Joe. + +“Rogues naturally drift together,” said Jim. “I heard some time ago +that the bunch was playing with one of the semi-pro teams in the +Pittsburgh district. But they usually play only on Saturdays and +Sundays, so I suppose they’re choosing this way to spend their off +time. I suppose if we could hear what they’re saying about us at this +moment, our ears would be blistered.” + +“Whatever it is doesn’t matter,” laughed Joe. “They made acquaintance +with our fists once, and I don’t think they’re anxious to repeat the +experience. But I guess we’d better pick out catchers and begin to warm +up. I’ve a hunch that the Pirates are going to pitch Miles to-day, and +if they do we’ll need the best we have in stock to turn them back.” + +By the time the bell rang for the beginning of the game, the stands +were black with spectators. The Giant supporters were comparatively +few, but they made up in vehemence what they lacked in numbers. + +From the beginning it was evident that the game would be a pitchers’ +duel. Miles was in superb form, and up to the ninth inning had only +given three hits, and these so scattered that no runs resulted. + +But Joe was in the box for the Giants and was pitching for a no-hit +game. Up to the ninth, not even the scratchiest kind of hit had been +registered from his delivery. + +Could he keep it up? The crowd waited breathlessly for the answer. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +STEALING HOME + + +With Burkett, Barrett and Joe at the bat for the Giants in their half +of the ninth inning, it looked as though the nine might have a chance +to score. + +But Miles had turned those same batters back earlier in the game, and +he nerved himself to repeat. + +“Murderer, are you?” he sneered, as the burly Burkett came to the bat, +and referring to a nickname gained because of the many balls “killed.” +“Well, see me send you to the electric chair.” + +“Aw, pitch with your arm instead of your mouth,” retorted Burkett. +“You’re due to blow up anyway. You’re only a toy balloon, and I’m going +to stick a pin in you.” + +But Miles had the last laugh, for he fanned Burkett with three +successive strikes, and the latter went sheepishly back to the bench. + +“That pin must have lost its point,” Miles called after him. “I knew +you were bluffing all the time.” + +Larry came up to the plate, swinging three bats. He threw away two of +them and faced the pitcher. + +“Why don’t you throw that one away too?” queried Miles. “You might as +well, for all the good it’s going to do you.” + +“Your name is Miles, ain’t it?” asked Larry. “Well, that’s the way I’m +going to hit the ball--miles.” + +He lunged savagely at the first ball that came over the plate and +lashed it into the crowded grandstand for what would have been a sure +homer, if it had not been a few inches on the wrong side of the foul +line. + +Larry kicked at the decision, but to no avail, and he came back +disappointedly to the plate. But the mighty clout had sobered Miles +somewhat, and the next two were out of Larry’s reach and went as balls. +Larry fouled off the next for strike two, and let the next go by for +the third ball. + +“Good eye, Larry,” called Joe approvingly. “He’s in the hole now and +will have to put the next one over. Soak it on the seam.” + +Larry caught the next one fairly, and it started on a journey between +right and center. Platz, the Pirate rightfielder, took one look at it +and turned and ran in the direction the ball was going. At the back of +the park was a low fence that separated the field from the bleachers. +Just as the ball was passing over this, Platz reached out his hand and +grabbed it. The force of the ball and the rate at which he was running +carried him head over heels to the other side, but when he rose, the +ball was in his hand. + +It was a magnificent catch, and well deserved the thunderous applause +that rose from the stand, applause in which even the Giant supporters +joined, though it seemed to sound the death knell of their hopes. + +“Hard luck, old man, to be robbed that way,” said Joe consolingly, as +Larry came back, sore and muttering to himself. + +“To crack out two homers in one turn at bat and not even get a hit,” +mourned Larry. “Sure, if I was starvin’ and it started to rain soup, +I’d be out in it with only a fork to catch it with.” + +Joe received a generous hand as he came to the bat, due not only to his +general popularity but to the wonderful game he had so far pitched. + +“Oh, you home-run king!” shouted an enthusiastic fan. “Show them that +you deserve the name. Win your own game.” + +“Watch Miles pass him,” yelled another. + +Whether Miles was deliberately trying to pass him, Joe could not tell. +In any event, the first two balls pitched were wide of the plate, and +the crowd began to jeer. + +The third was by no means a good one, but still it was within reach, +and Joe reached out and hit it between third and short to leftfield. +With sharp fielding it would have gone for only a clean single, but the +leftfielder fumbled it for a moment, and Joe, noting this, kept right +on to second, which he reached a fraction of a second before the ball. + +That extra base was worth a great deal at that stage, for now a single +would probably bring Joe in for the first and perhaps the winning run +of the game. + +But would that single materialize? There were already two men out, and +the chances were always against the batter. + +Joe noticed that Miles was getting nervous. Wheeler was at the bat, and +Miles was so anxious to strike him out that he was more deliberate than +usual in winding up. Joe took a long lead off the bag, and watched the +pitcher with the eye of a hawk. + +The first ball whizzed over the plate for a strike. Joe noted that +Wheeler hit full six inches under the ball. Evidently his batting eye +was off. There was little to be hoped for from that quarter. + +When Miles started his long wind-up, Joe darted like a flash for third. +The startled catcher dropped the ball, and Joe came into the bag +standing up. + +“Easy to steal on you fellows,” Joe joshed Miles, as he danced around +the bag. + +“That’s as far as you’ll get,” snapped Miles. “I’ve got this fellow’s +number.” + +And Joe was inclined to think he was right, for when the next ball went +over, Wheeler missed it “by a mile.” One more strike, and the inning +would be over. + +Jamieson, the Pirate catcher, threw the ball back to Miles. Before it +had fairly left his hand Joe was legging it to the plate. There was a +yell from the spectators, and Miles, aghast at Joe’s audacity, threw +hurriedly to Jamieson. + +Twenty feet from the plate, Joe launched himself into the air and +slid into the rubber in a cloud of dust. The ball had come high to +Jamieson, and he had to leap for it. He came down with it on Joe like a +thunderbolt, and the two rolled over and over. + +“Safe!” cried the umpire. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +A TEST OF NERVE + + +The play was so close and so much depended on it that there was a rush +of Pirate players to the plate to dispute the decision. But the umpire +refused to change it, and curtly ordered them to get back into the game. + +Joe picked himself up, and, smiling happily, walked into the Giants’ +dugout, where he was mauled about by his hilarious clubmates, while +McRae and Robbie beamed their delight. + +“You timed that exactly, Joe,” cried Robbie, “and you came down that +base path like a streak. It’s plays like that that stand the other +fellows on their heads. Look at Miles. He’s mad enough to bite nails. +You’ve got his goat for fair.” + +“It looks like the winning run,” said McRae. “And it’s lucky that you +didn’t depend on Wheeler to bring you in, for there goes the third +strike. Now it’s up to you to hold the Pirates down in their last half.” + +“And rub it in by making it a no-hit game,” adjured Robbie, as Joe put +on his glove and went out to the box. + +Joe needed no urging, for his blood was up and his imagination was +fired by the prospect of doing what had not been done in either League +so far that season. + +But the Pirates were making their last stand in that inning, and he +knew that he would have his work cut out for him. Their coachers were +out on the diamond, trying to rattle him and waving their arms to get +the fans to join in the chorus. From stands and bleachers rose a din +that was almost overpowering. + +Joe sized up Murphy, the first man up, and sent one over that fairly +smoked. Murphy lashed out savagely and hit only the empty air. + +“Strike one!” cried the umpire. + +Murphy gritted his teeth, got a good toe hold, and prepared for the +next. Joe drifted up a slow one that fooled him utterly. + +Then for the third, Joe resorted to his fadeaway, and Murphy, baffled, +went back to the bench. + +Jamieson, who succeeded him, gauged the ball better and sent it on a +line to the box. A roar went up that died away suddenly when Joe thrust +out his gloved hand, knocked it down and sent it down to first like a +bullet, getting it there six feet ahead of the runner. + +Then Miles, the last hope, came up, and Joe wound up the game in a +blaze of glory by letting him down on three successive strikes. + +The Giants had won 1 to 0 in the best-played game of the year. The +newspaper correspondents exhausted their stock of adjectives in +describing it in the next day’s papers. + +Only twenty-seven men had faced Joe in that game. Not a man had reached +first. Not a pass had been issued. Not a hit had been made. It was one +of the rarest things in baseball--a perfect game. + +And as the crowning feature, the one run that gave the victory to the +Giants had been scored by Joe himself by those dazzling steals to third +and home. + +It was a good omen for the success of the Western trip, and the Giant +players were jubilant. + +“No jinx after us this time,” chuckled Larry. + +“If there is, he got a black-eye to-day,” laughed Jim. “Gee, Joe, that +was a wonderful game. You won it almost by your lonesome. The rest +didn’t have much to do.” + +“They had plenty,” corrected Joe. “More than one of those Pirate clouts +would have gone for a hit if it hadn’t been for the stone-wall defense +the boys put up. No man ever won a no-hit game with bad playing behind +him.” + +At the hotel table that night Joe noticed that Iredell was not present. + +“Wonder where Iredell is,” he remarked to Jim, who was sitting beside +him. + +“Search me,” answered the latter. “He may be in later. He’s so grouchy +just now that he seems to be keeping away from the rest of the fellows +as much as he can. You can’t get a pleasant word out of him these days. +I spoke to him to-day on the bench, and he nearly snapped my head off.” + +“Too bad,” remarked Joe, regretfully. “I’ve gone out of my way to be +friendly with him, but he won’t have it. Seems to think that I’m to +blame for all his troubles.” + +They would have been still more concerned about the missing member of +the team, could they have seen him at that moment. + +Iredell, on his way to the hotel, had drifted into one of the low +resorts which ostensibly sold only soft drinks, but where it was easy +enough to get any kind of liquor in the back room. To his surprise, he +saw Hupft, McCarney and Lemblow sitting at one of the tables. + +There was a momentary hesitation on the part of the trio before they +ventured to speak to him, for they did not feel sure how their advances +would be received. But a glance at his face showed that he was in a +dejected and reckless mood, and that decided them. + +“Hello, Iredell,” called out McCarney, with an assumption of boisterous +cordiality. “Sit down here and take a load off your feet. Have +something with us at my expense.” + +Three months before, Iredell would have scorned the invitation. Now he +accepted it. + +They talked of indifferent matters, the others studying Iredell +intently. + +“I noticed you weren’t playing to-day,” remarked McCarney, with a +sickly grin. + +“No,” said Iredell, bitterly. “I ain’t good enough for the Giants any +more. They’ve benched me and put that young brat, Renton, in my place.” + +“Case of favoritism, I suppose,” said McCarney, sympathetically. “Why, +you can run rings around Renton when it comes to playing short!” + +“That fellow, Matson, has got it in for me,” growled Iredell. “But I’ll +get even with him yet.” + +“Sure, you will,” broke in Hupft. “Nobody with the spirit of a man +would take that thing lying down. He’s jealous of you, that’s what he +is. You’ve been captain once, and he’s afraid you may be again, and so +he wants to freeze you off the team.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE WARNING BUZZ + + +“Matson has a swelled head,” declared McCarney. “He thinks he’s the +whole show. He’s done us dirt, and now he’s thrown you down. Are you +going to stand for it?” + +“No, I’m not!” snarled Iredell, now in the ugliest of moods. “I’ll get +even with him if it’s the last thing I do.” + +“That’s the way I like to hear a man talk,” said Lemblow. “I owe him +a lot for the way he’s treated me, and so does every man here. We all +hate him like poison. Then why don’t we do something? It ought to be +easy enough for the four of us to figure out some way to put the kibosh +on him.” + +“It would be easy enough if he weren’t so much in the limelight,” said +Hupft, uneasily. “If we put anything across on him, the whole country +would be ringing with it. The League itself would spend any amount of +money to run us down.” + +“Bigger men than he is have got theirs,” rejoined McCarney. “It all +depends on the way it’s done. Now, a scheme has popped into my head +while we’ve been talking. I don’t know how good it is, but I think it +may work. If it goes through, we’ll have our revenge. If it doesn’t +we’ll be no worse off and we can try something else. Now listen to me.” + +They put their heads together over the table, while McCarney in a low +voice unfolded his scheme. That it was a black one was evident from the +involuntary start the others gave when it was first broached. But as +McCarney went on to explain the impunity with which he figured it could +be carried out and the completeness of their revenge if it succeeded, +they gave their adhesion to it. Iredell was the most reluctant of the +four, but his drink-inflamed brain was not proof against the arguments +of the others, and he finally acquiesced and put up his share of the +estimated expense. + +The next day witnessed another battle royal between the Giants and the +Pirates. Jim pitched, and although his work was marked by some of the +raggedness that Joe knew only too well the reason for, he held the +Pittsburghs fairly well, and the Giants batted out a victory by a score +of 7 to 3. + +“Sure of an even break, anyway, on the series,” remarked Curry +complacently, after the game. + +“Yes,” replied Joe. “But that doesn’t get us anywhere. That only shows +that we’re as good as the other fellows. We want to prove that we’re +better. To play for a draw is a confession of weakness. I want the next +two games just as hard as I wanted the first two. That’s the spirit +that we’ve got to have, if we cop the flag.” + +But though Markwith twirled a good game the next day and was well +supported, the best he could do was to carry the game into extra +innings, and the Pirates won in the eleventh. + +“Beaten, but not disgraced,” was Joe’s laconic comment, as he and +Jim made their way to the hotel. “Let’s hope we’ll have better luck +to-morrow.” + +“I’ve had a box sent up to your room, Mr. Matson,” said the hotel +clerk, as he handed the young captain his key. “It came in a little +while ago.” + +“Thanks,” said Joe, and went upstairs with Jim to the room they +occupied together. + +In the corner was a wooden box, about two feet long, a foot wide, and +of about the same depth. On the top was Joe’s name and the address +neatly printed, but nothing else, except the tag of the express +company. + +“Wonder what it is,” remarked Joe, with some curiosity. + +“It isn’t very heavy,” said Jim, as he lifted it and set it down again. +“Some flowers for you perhaps from an unknown admirer,” he added, with +a grin. + +“It’s nailed down pretty tightly,” said Joe. “Got anything we can open +it with?” + +“Nothing here,” answered Jim, as he searched about the room. “Guess +we’ll have to phone down to the office and have them send us up a +chisel to pry the cover off.” + +“Oh, well, it will keep,” said Joe. “I’m as hungry as a wolf, and I +want to get my supper. We’ll stop at the desk on our way back and get +something from the clerk.” + +They had a hearty meal, over which they lingered long, discussing the +game of the afternoon. Then they stopped at the desk, secured a chisel, +and returned with it to their room. + +Jim switched on the electric light, while Joe lifted the box and placed +it on a table, preparatory to opening it. + +“What’s that?” Jim exclaimed suddenly, turning from the switch. + +“What’s what?” queried Joe in his turn. + +“That buzzing sound.” + +“You must be dreaming,” scoffed Joe. “I didn’t hear anything.” + +“It seemed to come from the box when you lifted it up,” said Jim. “Lift +it up again.” + +Joe did so, and this time both of them heard a faint buzzing, whirring +sound that, without their exactly knowing why, sent a little thrill +through them. + +Again he lifted it with the same result. + +The two young men looked at each other with speculation in their eyes. + +“Lay off it, Joe,” warned Jim, as a thought struck him. “Perhaps it’s +an infernal machine.” + +“Nonsense,” laughed Joe, though the laugh was a little forced. “Who’d +send me anything like that?” + +“There are plenty who might,” affirmed Jim, earnestly. “Remember those +crooks we saw at the game the other day! They hate you for exposing +them. I wouldn’t put anything past them. They’d go to all lengths to +injure you.” + +Joe took out his flashlight and sent the intense beam all over the +sides of the box. Suddenly he uttered an ejaculation, and pointed to a +number of small holes, not visible on a casual inspection. + +“Look!” he cried. “Air holes! Jim, there’s some living thing in that +box!” + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE PACKAGE OF MYSTERY + + +“A living thing!” exclaimed Jim, in wonderment. + +“Yes,” replied Joe, whose quick mind had already reached a conclusion. +“And I can make a guess at what it is. It’s a rattlesnake!” + +“What?” cried Jim, aghast. “Oh, no, Joe, you must be dreaming. No one +would send you a thing like that.” + +“Well, I’ll bet that somebody has,” said Joe, grimly. “That would +explain the buzz we heard just now. It was the whirr of the snake’s +rattles. We disturbed him when we lifted the box, and he’s given us +warning that he’s on the job. Lucky we didn’t open the box while it was +on the floor. See here.” + +He lifted the box and let it fall with a sharp jolt on the table. This +time there was no mistaking the angry rattle that issued from the box. +They had heard it more than once when they had occasionally come across +one of the deadly reptiles while out hunting. It was one of the sounds +that once clearly heard could never be mistaken for anything else. Even +now, with the box closed, it sent a thrill of horror through them. + +Their faces were pale as they looked at each other and realized what +might have been the fate of one or both of them but for that ominous +warning. + +“You see the dope?” questioned Joe, with an angry note in his voice. “I +would be curious to see what had been sent to me, and would open the +box probably with my face close above it. Then something would strike +me like a bolt of lightning, and it would be good-night. I would have +been out of the game with neatness and dispatch.” + +“The scoundrel!” ejaculated Jim, fiercely. “Oh, if I only had my hands +on whoever did it!” + +“I’d like to have a hand in settling that little matter, too,” said +Joe, with a blaze in his eyes that boded ill for the miscreant if he +should ever be discovered. “But that can wait. The first thing to do is +to put this rattler beyond the power of doing mischief.” + +Jim’s eyes searched the room for some weapon. + +“No,” said Joe, “there’s a safer way than that. That ugly head must +never be thrust alive out of that box. Just turn on the water in the +bathtub.” + +They had a private bath adjoining their room, and Jim turned on the +tap. When the tub was half full, Joe brought in the box and put it +in the tub, placing sufficient weight upon it to keep it beneath the +surface of the water. + +“Those air holes will do the business, I think,” said Joe. “In a few +minutes the box will be full of water. We’ll leave it there a little +while, and then we’ll open the box and see if we guessed right.” + +At the expiration of twenty minutes, they drained the water out of the +tub. Then Joe got the chisel, and with considerable effort forced open +the cover of the box. + +“You see,” he said. + +Jim saw and shuddered. + +Lying in the water that was still seeping out through the air holes was +a rattlesnake all of four feet long. + +They viewed the creature with a feeling of loathing. But still deeper +was the feeling they had against the scoundrels who had chosen that +cowardly way of attempting to injure Joe. The snake, after all, was +just the instrument. Infinitely worse were the rascals who had employed +it as their weapon. + +“We’ve had some pretty narrow escapes,” said Joe. “And this is one of +them. If you hadn’t happened to hear that buzz, I might be a dead man +this minute.” + +“It’s too horrible for words!” exclaimed Jim, “It seems incredible +that any one could plan such a thing for their worst enemy. Who do you +think did it?” + +“One guess is as good as another,” replied Joe. “But if you ask me, I +should say that the man or men who did it sat in the grandstand on the +first day we played in this city.” + +“Lemblow, Hupft and McCarney,” said Jim. “One or perhaps all of them. +Well, why not? Lemblow tried deliberately to harm us both last year +when he pushed that pile of lumber over from the scaffold above us. We +came within an ace of being killed. If he were ready to harm us then, +why shouldn’t he be again, especially as he hates us worse now than he +did before?” + +“The box was certainly sent from somewhere in this city,” said Joe, +examining the cover carefully. “There’s nothing to indicate that it +came by railroad. And there are plenty of rattlesnakes in this part of +Pennsylvania. Some of the stores exhibit them as curiosities.” + +“It’s up to us to put the police on the trail right away,” suggested +Jim. + +“I don’t know about giving this thing publicity,” mused Joe +thoughtfully. “In the first place, it would create a sensation. It +would be featured on the first page of every newspaper in the country. +And you can see in a minute how it might react against baseball. The +public would begin to figure that gamblers were trying to put the +Giants out of the race. They haven’t forgotten the Black Sox scandal +that came near to ruining the game. We’ve got to think of the game +first of all. You remember what hard work we had to save the League +last year, and how we had to forego punishing the scoundrels in order +to keep every inkling of the gamblers’ scheme from the public. Baseball +has to be above suspicion.” + +“Then do you mean to say that whoever did this is to get away scot +free?” demanded Jim, hotly. + +“No,” said Joe, grimly, “I don’t mean that. When the season closes, +I’m going to make a quiet investigation of my own. And if I find the +villains I’ll thrash them within an inch of their lives and make them +wish they had never been born. But they won’t tell why I did it, and I +certainly won’t. At any cost, this thing must be kept from the public. +The good of the game comes before everything else.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +DROPPING BACK + + +“I suppose you are right, Joe,” assented Jim, regretfully. “But it +makes me boil not to be able to put the scoundrels behind prison bars. +Those human snakes ought to have some punishment meted out to them.” + +“They surely ought,” agreed Baseball Joe. “But we’ll have to postpone +their punishment. Everything will have to wait till the end of the +season. Apart from anything else, if we found them out now and had them +arrested, see how it would break into our work. We’d have to leave the +team to come here to testify at the trial and perhaps stay away for +weeks, and that would cost the Giants the pennant. But speaking of this +fellow here in the box, what are we going to do with him? We can’t +leave him here.” + +“It’s rather awkward,” remarked Jim. “I suppose we could take him down +to the cellar and have him burned in the furnace.” + +“Not without arousing the curiosity of the furnace man and leading +to talk,” objected Joe. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do. We leave town +to-morrow night. We’ll wrap the snake up in a compact package and carry +it along in a suitcase. Then at night while the train is speeding +along, we’ll open a window and drop him out.” + +They agreed on this as the best solution. + +“I suppose there’s no question that the snake is dead,” remarked Jim, +with an inflection of uncertainty in his voice. “It would be mighty +awkward to have him come to life again in the suitcase.” + +“I guess he’s drowned all right,” returned Joe. “He was a long time +under water. But just to make assurance doubly sure, I’ll cut off his +head.” + +He took out his heavy jackknife and severed the reptile’s head from his +body. Handling the grisly creature was a repugnant task, and they were +glad when it was finished. + +“Guess I’ll keep this head,” remarked Joe, as a thought came to +him. “I’ll slip it into a jar of alcohol and that will preserve it +indefinitely.” + +“What on earth do you want it for?” queried Jim. “I shouldn’t think +you’d care for that kind of souvenir.” + +“I have a hunch it may come in handy some time,” answered Joe. “Now +let’s wrap up this body and get it out of our sight.” + +Their dreams that night were featured by wriggling, writhing forms. + +“I’m glad I’m not scheduled to pitch to-day,” remarked Jim, at +breakfast. “I’m afraid the Pirates would bat me all over the lot. I +never felt less fit.” + +“Such an experience isn’t exactly the best kind of preparation for box +work,” replied Joe, with a ghost of a smile. “I guess Bradley will +start, while I’ll stand ready to relieve him if he gets in a jam. I’m +hoping, though, that he’ll pull through all right.” + +After lunch they took a taxicab to the grounds, but the vehicle got in +a traffic jam, and it was later than they expected when they finally +reached Forbes Field. + +They hurried over to the clubhouse and were entering the door when they +met Iredell, who was coming out. + +Iredell gave a sharp ejaculation and started back, while his face went +as white as chalk. + +“Why, what’s the matter, Iredell?” asked Joe. + +“N--nothing,” stammered Iredell, by a mighty effort regaining control +of himself and walking away. + +Their wondering glances followed him, and they noticed that his gait +was wavering. + +“What do you suppose was the reason for that?” asked Jim. + +“I’m afraid he’s been drinking again,” conjectured Joe, regretfully. +“His nerves seem to be all unstrung. When he looked at me, you might +think that he saw a ghost.” + +“Perhaps he did,” said Jim, slowly but significantly. + +“What do you mean?” asked Joe, quickly. + +“Just what I say,” answered Jim. “Perhaps he thought that you +were--well, in the doctor’s hands, and that what he saw must be a +ghost.” + +“You don’t mean----” + +“You know what I mean.” + +“No, no!” exclaimed Joe, in horror. “Lemblow, Hupft, McCarney? Yes! But +Iredell! A man on our own team! A man we’ve played with for years! No, +Jim, I can’t believe it possible.” + +“Perhaps not,” admitted Jim. “I hate even to think of it. I hope I’m +wrong. But drink, you know, will weaken a man’s moral fiber until he’s +capable of anything. Iredell’s been steadily going to the dogs of late. +Perhaps he’s fallen in with McCarney’s gang. He knows all of them, and +a drinking man isn’t particular about his company. Let a man hate you +and then let him drink, and you have a mighty bad combination. Just +suppose Iredell was in the plot. Suppose he knew that rattler was sent +to you yesterday. Wouldn’t he act just as he did when he saw you turn +up safe and sound to-day?” + +“It certainly was queer,” admitted Joe, half-convinced. “I can only +hope you’re wrong. At any rate, it won’t hurt to keep our eyes on him +and be doubly on our guard.” + +Bradley showed more form that afternoon than he had before that +season, and took the Pirates into camp in first class fashion by a +score of 5 to 3. Apart from victory itself, it was gratifying to McRae +and Robbie to note that Bradley was improving rapidly and furnishing +a reinforcement to Joe and Jim, who, in a pitching sense, had been +carrying the team on their backs. + +Three out of four from so strong a team as the Pittsburghs was a good +beginning for the swing around the Western circuit, and the Giants were +in high feather when they arrived in Cincinnati. + +“Hate to do it, old boy,” declared the grinning McRae, as he shook +hands with Hughson, “but we’ll have to take the whole four from you +this time.” + +“Threatened men live long, Mac,” retorted Hughson. “Just for being +so sassy about it, I don’t think we’ll give you one. Just remember +the walloping we gave you the last time you were here. That wasn’t a +circumstance compared to what’s coming to you now.” + +As it turned out, both were false prophets, for each team took two +games. + +“Five out of eight aren’t so bad for a team away from home,” Jim +remarked. + +“Better than a black eye,” admitted Joe. “But still not good enough. We +want twelve games out of the sixteen before we start back home.” + +It was an ambitious goal, but the Giants reached it, taking three out +of four from the Chicagos and making a clean sweep in St. Louis. It was +the best road record that the Giants had made for a long time past, and +it was a jubilant crowd of athletes that swung on board the train for +New York. + +“I’m already spending my World Series money,” crowed Larry, the +irrepressible, to his comrades gathered about him in the smoker. + +“Better go slow, Larry,” laughed Joe. “There’s many a slip between the +cup and the lip. We haven’t got the pennant clinched yet, by any means. +And even if we win the pennant, there’s the World Series, and that’s +something else again. It looks as though the Yankees would repeat in +the American, and you know what tough customers they proved last time. +And when Kid Rose gets going with that old wagon-tongue of his----” + +“Kid Rose!” interrupted Larry, with infinite scorn. “Who gives a hoot +for Kid Rose? What’s Kid Rose compared with Baseball Joe?” + +Joe’s caution was justified by what followed after the Giants’ return +home. Suddenly, without warning, came one of the mysterious slumps that +no baseball man can explain. If they had gone up like a rocket, they +came down like the stick. They fielded raggedly, batted weakly, and +fell off in all departments of the game. Perhaps it was the reaction +after the strain of the Western trip. Whatever the cause, the slump was +there. + +McRae raged, Joe pleaded. They shook up the batting order, they +benched some of the regulars temporarily, and put the reserve men in +their places. Nothing seemed to avail. The “jinx” was on the job. The +Phillies and Boston trampled them underfoot. In three weeks they had +lost the lead, and the Chicagos and Pittsburghs had crowded in ahead of +them. + +Still Joe kept his nerve and struggled desperately to turn the tide. +He himself had never pitched or batted better, and what occasional +victories were turned in were chiefly due to him. But he was only one +man--not nine--and the Giants kept on steadily losing. + +Only one ray of light illumined the darkness for Baseball Joe. Mabel +had come to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +UNDER HEAVY STRAIN + + +“I can’t believe you are real,” said Joe, contentedly, lounging in a +big chair and watching Mabel as she flitted about the room, putting +small things in order and seeming by her very presence to make the +hotel room a home. “I think you must be a dream or something. Come sit +down here and let me look at you.” + +Mabel sat down beside him and looked at him with dancing eyes. + +“I might almost think you were glad to see me, Joe dear,” she said. +Then, as Joe moved toward her, added quickly: “Do you know you haven’t +asked me a single thing about the home folks yet?” + +Joe’s face clouded and he rubbed a hand across his forehead. + +“Truth is, I’ve been afraid to,” he confessed. “I have a hunch that +neither mother nor Clara has been frank in their letters to me. I’ve +been worried sick!” he finished, in an unusual outburst of feeling. + +Mabel, studying the new lines about his mouth and the strained look of +his eyes, was inclined to be worried herself, though not so much for +Mother Matson as for Joe. She said, as cheerfully as she could: + +“I wouldn’t worry so dreadfully, Joe, if I were you. Mother’s heart is +stronger than it has been for some time and she is wonderfully brave +and courageous.” + +“She would be,” muttered Joe, adding in swift anxiety: “In the last +letter I had from her she said she was in the hospital and the +operation was slated to take place in about a week’s time. That would +make it somewhere around day after to-morrow. Good heavens! I can’t +bear to think of it!” + +“You mustn’t, any more than you can help,” said Mabel, gently. “It +won’t do Mother Matson or the rest of us any good for you to get down +sick yourself, Joe. I wonder Dougherty doesn’t order you off the team +for a rest.” + +“You wrote in one of your letters that you had taken a flying trip to +Riverside,” Joe reminded her, and Mabel nodded. + +“I didn’t want to stay long. Mother Matson was so sick and I was afraid +she would think she must exert herself to entertain me. So I just +stayed overnight and caught the morning train back to Goldsboro.” + +“Did Mother give you any message for me?” Joe’s voice was husky. + +“Just her love--and this,” said Mabel, softly. She held out her hand, +and in the palm of it lay a tiny, heart-shaped locket. Joe recognized +it as one that had long rested in his mother’s jewelry case. He took +it and opened it, and the sweet face of his mother in her youth smiled +back at him. + +Joe got up abruptly and went to the window, standing for a long time +looking out, with his back to his wife. Mabel knew that he was having a +struggle with himself, and waited quietly until he turned and came back +to her. + +“If I could get away from the team long enough to go to her!” he said +huskily. “But I can’t just now. It’s impossible. I’ve got to keep after +the men every minute, or they’re apt to go to pieces.” + +“She doesn’t expect you just now, dear,” said Mabel, soothingly. “She +knows you can’t leave the team. Now don’t worry.” + +Joe sank down in the chair again, his head in his hands. Finally he +looked up and asked: + +“How about Clara? Are things as bad there as we thought they were?” + +“I’m afraid so, Joe. It seems to me that Clara is getting more and +more entangled with that millionaire all the time. He reads poetry to +her, too, in spite of the fact that he’s a great, strapping, athletic +looking chap.” + +“Oh, then you saw him?” cried Joe, all interest at once. + +“Saw him!” repeated Mabel, with a short laugh. “You might better ask me +if I saw anything else. He was around the place from morning to night. +I think if Mother Matson hadn’t been in such poor health he would have +come around to breakfast, too.” + +Joe got to his feet and strode around the room, hands thrust deep in +his pockets. + +“Serious as all that!” Mabel heard him mutter to himself. “How does +Clara act? How does she treat this--boob?” he demanded, suddenly +stopping short in front of Mabel and glaring at her in exasperation. +“Does she encourage him?” + +“You might call it that,” Mabel returned, with a puzzled frown. +“She certainly accepts his attentions. Lets him take her out in his +beautiful car, plays tennis with him, and listens while he reads his +foolish poems to her.” + +Joe literally ground his teeth in futile rage and exasperation. He +began again his restless pacing of the room. + +“Did you have a chance to talk to her?” he continued his +cross-examination. “Did you ask her what she meant by treating a fine +fellow like Jim so shabbily?” + +“You forget, Joe dear, that I’m not Clara’s guardian. It wasn’t my +place to take her to task. All I could do was try to sound her. She +evaded all my questions with some light answer, and when I asked her +point-blank whether she intended to turn Jim down in favor of her +millionaire----” + +“What did she say?” interrupted Joe, swiftly. + +“She merely remarked that I ought to know better. She seemed to be +offended, and if I had pressed things just then the result might have +been a real quarrel. I thought the best thing to do was drop the whole +thing. After all, Clara is old enough to know her own mind.” + +“I doubt it!” said Joe, bitterly, adding in helpless indignation as he +again faced his wife: “Can you imagine any reasonably intelligent girl +turning down good old Jim for a flossy millionaire?” + +“Well, money sometimes dazzles a girl, especially young and very pretty +ones like Clara,” returned Mabel, judicially. “I tell you what let’s +do, Joe. I know it would be lovely to have our first dinner alone +to-night, but don’t you think we might include Jim? It might cheer him +up.” + +“It would be an act of charity,” agreed Joe. “Jim is pretty low in his +mind these days. I’m sure he guesses there is something wrong.” + +But in spite of their whole-souled attempt to give Jim a good time +that night, both Joe and Mabel felt that they had failed. Jim tried +to rouse himself and meet their fun with some of his own, but nothing +could disguise the fact that his heart was not in it. + +He asked one or two listless questions about Clara, almost, Mabel +thought, as though from a sense of duty, and after that maintained a +dead silence on the subject they both knew was uppermost in his mind. + +They had dined in a jolly restaurant full of lights and music, but +despite the hilarity all about them, their party had been a dismal +failure. They were glad when the last course was over and they could +leave the place. + +It was when they had reached the hotel and Mabel had slipped into +another room to remove her hat and cloak that Joe turned to his chum +with a casual question. + +“Got your letter from Clara all right this week, did you?” he asked, in +a tone that was not quite natural. + +Jim looked at him, surprised, then turned away before he answered +shortly: + +“Not yet.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +BLUNDERING OLD REGGIE + + +“Oh, Joe, I do believe I’ll go shopping to-day.” + +Mabel turned from the window where she had been standing looking down +into the street. It was a glorious day, bright and sunshiny, and her +face reflected the brightness of it. + +“I do so like to shop in nice weather,” she added, as she saw Joe’s +indulgent smile. “And if you like, I’ll stop and buy you some gorgeous +neckties.” + +“Dear girl, is that a threat or a promise?” teased Joe. + +“Very well, I shall be completely selfish and buy everything for +myself,” Mabel promptly replied, adding with a sigh: “How you do wreck +my generous impulses!” + +“Didn’t mean to, honey, honestly,” said Joe, contritely, adding with a +courage that none appreciated more than Mabel herself: “If you buy me a +necktie, I swear to wear it whatever happens!” + +Mabel made a face at him and disappeared into the other room, returning +almost immediately with her hat and coat on. + +“I won’t have much time between practice and the game,” Joe told her, +as they went down together in the elevator. “So have a good time, girl. +Take in a show if you like.” + +Mabel promised to enjoy herself, and a few moments later they parted in +the sunny street, going their separate ways. Mabel turned to wave to +him before she was swallowed up in the crowd, and Joe thought with a +full heart how lucky he was. + +“If I were in poor old Jim’s place now, how would I feel?” he asked +himself, and instinctively thrust the unpleasant thought away from him. +He knew the agony of mind he would have suffered if at any time he had +been in danger of losing Mabel, and pity for his chum took on a new +intensity. He was almost afraid to meet Jim for fear of seeing that +hopeless, lost look in his eyes. + +“He certainly knows--or guesses--something,” he told himself. “If I +get a chance to-day I’ll sound him out on the subject. After all, it +sometimes helps a patient to have the wound lanced.” + +After the Giants had dropped another game, the chums, tired and +disgruntled, turned their steps toward the hotel again. Jim seemed +more than ordinarily depressed and met Joe’s attempts at conversation +with discouraging monosyllables. Several times Joe tried to lead up to +the subject of Clara, only to be rebuffed by Jim’s laconic replies. + +After that Joe relapsed into silence, studying his chum thoughtfully. +The thing was getting serious. Jim’s silence and moroseness were +growing on him. And the worst of it was that he did not seem to care. +It was this very lethargy that Joe found most alarming. He would have +welcomed an outburst of some sort, even condemnation of Clara and her +actions. It was Jim’s brooding taciturnity that baffled him. + +They had almost reached the hotel when Joe felt a hand on his arm and +turned to find himself confronted by a dazzling person. He blinked, and +discovered that the vision was Reggie, dressed as always, in the latest +fashion from smart soft hat to immaculate spats. Reggie swung his cane +and beamed. Perhaps because the friendly face with its inevitable +monocle was a welcome contrast to Jim’s moodiness, Joe greeted his +brother-in-law with more than usual enthusiasm. + +“Say, but you’re a sight for sore eyes, old chap!” he cried. “When did +you blow in?” + +“About an hour ago. Been busy all this time lookin’ up a novel tie or +two. Stopped in all the shops hereabouts and, bah Jove, the best they +could show me was a creation of salmon pink with yellowish polka dots. +No taste, no taste whatever, one might say!” + +“Poor old Reggie!” said Joe, piloting him toward the hotel entrance +and looking invitingly at Jim. “I’ll put you wise to a couple of shops +where you can get all the novel neckties you want. Come on upstairs, +old boy, and see Mabel. She’ll be pleasantly surprised. Coming, Jim?” + +Jim hesitated for a moment, then nodded. The three stepped into the +elevator and were swiftly shot up to the fourth floor. As they left the +elevator, Reggie looked Jim over critically and gave vent to one of his +too-frank observations. + +“Lookin’ rather seedy, old chap,” he said. “Off the feed bag and +sleepin’ badly, eh?” + +“Not at all. I’m feeling as fit as a fiddle,” retorted Jim, brusquely. + +The curt tone caused Reggie to look at the other in mild surprise, and, +seeing that he was about to give voice to this emotion, Joe quickly +changed the subject, keeping the conversation on safe ground until they +reached the door of his rooms. + +Mabel had not yet returned from her shopping expedition, and Joe felt +curiously deserted as he led the way into the quiet place. + +“Mabel is out buying up the department stores,” he said. “Reckon she +will be back most any time now. Tell us about yourself, Reggie. Every +one well at home?” + +Reggie glanced briefly at Jim, who had slumped into a chair and was +staring abstractedly out of a window, then turned to Joe. + +“Very well, old chap. In excellent health and spirits,” he replied, +puffing at a cigarette. “Missing Mabel, of course. It is really quite +remarkable how that girl stirs things up. Bah Jove, it’s a gift. Bally +place gone dead without her, you know.” + +“Do you think you can tell me anything about that?” inquired Joe, with +a humorously uplifted eyebrow. “I know all there is to know about +missing Mabel!” + +Jim turned from the window, rousing himself with difficulty from his +abstracted mood. + +“I think she’s coming now,” he said. “Thought I caught a glimpse of a +red hat in the crowd. Guess I’ll be going, Joe,” he added, listlessly. +“You three will have a lot to talk about.” + +“Hang around, old boy,” urged Reggie, cordially, placing the monocle in +his eye the better to stare at the disconsolate Jim. “Always regard you +as one of the family, don’t we? You would be offending Mabel by running +away just as she arrives, you know. Stick around, old chap. She will +be here presently. Ah, here she is now.” He rose quickly, the monocle +falling to his immaculate waistcoat, the most genuine pleasure on his +thin face. + +He took a step toward the door, but Joe was before him. He caught his +young wife--and several bulky parcels--in a bear’s hug, and when she +emerged several seconds later, her face was flushed and the little red +hat was set distractingly over one eye. + +“Oh, Joe, and it was a new one, too!” she wailed, evidently referring +to the hat. “I had such a gorgeous time. I bought and bought and +bought-- Who is that in the corner? Reggie, you old darling! Come here +and give me a hug. Oh, this is just the best surprise ever.” + +“Rippin’. Had an idea you would like it all along,” replied Reggie, +complacently, as he favored his sister with a brotherly embrace. “You +look perfectly stunning, you know. I say,” he added thoughtfully, “did +you see old Jim, hidin’ over here in his corner? I take it your neglect +is not intentional? No feud or the like, is there?” + +“Oh, Reggie, don’t be so silly,” said Mabel, flushing a little as she +went over to Jim. “I just didn’t see him at first, that’s all.” + +She held out her hand and Jim squeezed it heartily. There was a dumb +suffering in his eyes that tugged at her heart. If she could only tell +him something about Clara, something reassuring and heartening! + +Mabel was in the midst of a laughing recital of her shopping tour when +the telephone rang and Joe, answering it, found that McRae was in the +hotel lobby waiting to speak to him. Reluctantly Joe excused himself, +while Mabel disappeared into the other room to get ready for dinner. + +Reggie, left alone with Jim, turned his quizzical gaze upon the latter. +It was evident that Reggie was very much puzzled by Jim’s strange +behavior. And when Reggie scented a mystery he headed straight for the +solution of it with a doggedness worthy of a better cause. + +“Hard luck the team’s been runnin’ in lately, old chap?” he began. + +“No hard luck about it. Bad playing. Bad team work,” snapped Jim. + +“Well, you shouldn’t worry, anyway, old chap, you really shouldn’t,” +reproved Reggie, mildly. “Bad for the game you know, and bad for the +good old constitution.” + +Jim looked at him, a slow anger in his eyes. + +“If I never had anything worse than my constitution to worry about, I’d +be all right,” he said, and turned his back upon Reggie, hoping that +such action would terminate the conversation. But Reggie, in sublime +ignorance, blundered on. + +“I say, Jim, I’ve got it now. Worried because Clara couldn’t come on +with Mabel, eh? No doubt she wanted to come--rather. I say, old chap,” +he added, archly, lighting another gold-tipped cigarette, “better tend +to your knittin’.” + +Jim, who had risen and was moodily pacing up and down, stopped and +looked at Reggie. + +“What’s that?” + +The quiet of his tone disarmed Reggie, who went on beaming pleasantly. + +“Why, that millionaire who is hangin’ around Clara, you know. Mabel +has told you, hasn’t she? Have I spilled the beans, Jim--let the jolly +old cat out of the bag, and all that? Frightfully sorry. I thought you +knew----” + +Reggie’s explanations and excuses wavered into silence before the +expression on Jim’s face. At that moment he thought of nothing but +escape, and with a few muttered phrases about “huntin’ up Joe,” +blundered from the room, leaving Jim to his furious thoughts. + +When, a few moments later, the door opened to admit Joe, Jim turned +upon him, all the pent-up worry and nerve strain of the last few weeks +finding vent in a flood of words. + +“I knew you and Mabel were holding something back all the time, Joe. +I’ve known from Clara’s letters, for a long time, that something was +wrong. If you’re a friend of mine and have any regard for me, tell me +about this millionaire who is hanging around Clara.” + +“Has Reggie----” + +“Yes, Reggie has!” retorted Jim, grimly. “Go ahead, Joe, and tell me +the truth.” + +Seeing that there was nothing for it, Joe told all he knew about Jim’s +rival, glossing over the details and making as light of the whole thing +as possible. + +“So that’s that!” said Jim, quietly, when Joe’s explanation had +stumbled into silence. “The end of everything!” + +Joe, feeling deeply for his chum but powerless to comfort him, said, +with a forced cheerfulness, “All this probably sounds a hundred times +worse than it really is, Jim. When you go down there----” + +“If she wants to marry for money, let her!” interrupted Jim, with sudden +ferocity. “Do you suppose I’d deprive her of her pet millionaire? Not +much!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +GETTING A CONFESSION + + +“It cuts me to the heart, Jim,” said Joe, with deep feeling, laying his +hand affectionately on his chum’s arm. “I can’t tell you how sick I +feel about the whole thing. Nothing that affects you can fail to affect +me. You know that, don’t you, Jim?” + +“Of course I do, Joe. You’ve been a brother to me ever since I joined +the Giants. Whatever success I’ve had in my work has been due to your +kindness, your teaching, your encouragement. Don’t think I’ll ever +forget it. I shouldn’t have burst out the way I did, but you can’t know +the misery I’ve endured in the last few weeks. It was bad enough when +I only had a vague suspicion that things weren’t right. Now it seems +more than I can stand. It’s hard, Joe, to see your house of cards come +tumbling to the ground.” + +“I know it is, Jim,” replied Joe, with warm sympathy. “But take it from +me, Jim, your house hasn’t fallen yet. I’m sure that Clara is true +blue at heart, and that no matter how things look, there must be some +explanation that will clear up everything.” + +“I hope so,” said Jim, though there was not much hopefulness in his +tone. “I’ve got to know soon or I’ll go crazy. You see how this thing +has knocked me out of my stride. I’m not pitching up to my usual form, +and you know it.” + +“I’ve noticed it, of course,” said Joe. “And I’ve guessed the reason. +You’ve got all the old stuff, all the strength and cunning, but you +haven’t been able to use it because of the burden on your mind. Even +at that, though, you’ve been turning in more victories than the other +fellows.” + +“Which isn’t saying much, the way the team is running now.” + +“All the more reason for taking a big brace, old boy!” exclaimed Joe, +giving him a hearty slap on the shoulder. “Try to throw off your +troubles and work your head off for the success of the team.” + +“I’ll do it,” promised Jim, as he shook his chum’s hand to bind the +bargain. + +“Good,” said Joe, heartily. “And promise me one thing, Jim. Don’t +hint at anything of this in your letters to Clara. Nothing can +really be explained in a letter. Nothing in the world has caused +so much estrangement, so much heartache, as trying to arrange a +misunderstanding by letter. You can’t say just what you want, and what +you do say is never understood just in the way you want it to be. Wait +until you can see Clara face to face, and I’ll bet the whole thing will +be cleared up in five minutes.” + +“But that will be at the end of the season!” exclaimed Jim, in dismay. + +“Not so long as that, I guess,” said Joe. “I’m going to see if I can’t +by some means get Clara to make a flying visit to New York.” He paused +a moment, and his brow clouded with anxiety. Then he resumed: “Of +course she can’t do it right now because my mother is in too critical a +condition. But if the operation turns out all right and she has a good +recovery, it might be managed. If not, I have something else in mind +that I’ll talk to you about later.” + +To Joe’s already overburdened mind was added another worry in the game +with the Bostons the next afternoon. + +Jackwell and Bowen, while they had been affected by the general +slump of the team, had given no evidence of a return of the peculiar +nervousness that had marked their actions earlier in the season. But +Joe noticed on that afternoon, the frequent looks at the stand and the +pulling of their caps over their faces for which he had before taken +them to task. + +Merton was pitching, and Joe was playing in left. In the fourth +inning, an easy fly came out to Bowen and he made a miserable muff. +Jackwell also made a couple of errors at third. In each case the +blunders were costly, as they let in runs. + +“What made you drop that fly, Bowen?” Joe asked, as the Giants came in +from the field. + +“I lost it in the sun,” replied Bowen. “At this time in the year the +sun comes over the grandstand in such a way that it’s right in my eyes.” + +“Haven’t heard you complain of it before,” remarked Joe, dryly. “For +the rest of this game I’ll play center, and you shift over to left.” + +The change was made accordingly. In the eighth inning another fly came +to Bowen and again he dropped it while the crowd booed. The error let +in what proved to be the winning run for the Bostons. + +“I want to see you fellows after the game,” said Joe, curtly, to the +two men. “Wait around the clubhouse after the others have gone.” + +When the clubhouse was finally deserted by all but the three, Joe +turned to them sternly. + +“I’m fed up with this mystery stuff,” he said. “It’s got to end right +here. It lost the game for us this afternoon, but it isn’t going to +lose another. Come across now and make a clean breast of it.” + +The two men looked at each other uncertainly. + +“You heard me,” said Joe. “Out with it now, or I’ll see that you’re +fired off the team.” + +“All right, Mr. Matson,” Jackwell spoke up with sudden resolution. +“I’ll tell you just what the trouble is. Ben and I are afraid that +detectives are after us.” + +“Detectives!” ejaculated Joe, with a start. “What are they after you +for? What have you been doing?” + +“Nothing wrong,” declared Jackwell, earnestly, and Bowen echoed him. + +“Why should they be after you, then?” asked Joe, with a faint tinge of +skepticism in his tone. + +“We got mixed up in a shady business,” explained Jackwell, with a look +of misery on his face. “But we didn’t know there was anything wrong +about it till it went up with a bang. You see, Mr. Matson, this is +the way it came about. Last winter, Ben and I were rather up against +it--short of ready money. You know what poor salaries they pay in the +league we came from. We were down in Dallas, Texas, and the oil boom +was on. We saw an ad for men to sell oil stocks, and we answered it. +The fellow at the head of it--Bromley was his name--was a smooth sort +of chap and could talk any one into anything. From his description, +we thought his oil well was an honest-to-goodness well, and we sold +a lot of stock for him. Then came the blow-up, and it turned out +that his well was just a dry hole in the ground. He got out from +under just before the crash came, and I heard he went to Mexico. The +federal officers got after him and all connected with it. We heard that +warrants were out for us, and we skipped North. But until the company +broke we thought they were straight as a string. We wouldn’t have had +anything to do with it if we had thought it was crooked. We were just +roped into it. That’s as true as that we’re sitting here this moment. +All that either of us got out of it was part of our salaries and part +of the commissions that were promised.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +IN THE DEPTHS + + +The story had a ring of sincerity that was not without its appeal to +Joe. Still, he knew that some of the most plausible stories are told +by the worst of crooks, and before accepting it fully he determined to +make some investigations on his own account. + +“Dallas is a long way from here,” he remarked, as he eyed the two men +keenly. “What makes you think the federal agents are looking for you?” + +“Because we know some of the men that are in the Dallas branch,” +replied Jackwell, “and on several occasions we’ve seen one or more of +them at the Polo Grounds and at other fields on the circuit.” + +“That doesn’t say they’re looking for you,” said Joe. “I suppose all +of them take in a game when they get a chance. Besides,” he went on, +as another thought struck him, “if they really wanted you, it would be +no trick to get you. Your names appear in the papers in the scores of +the game every day. Every one that follows the game knows Jackwell and +Bowen.” + +“True enough,” admitted Jackwell, a little shamefacedly. “But, as a +matter of fact, we didn’t go by our own names while in Dallas. You +see we thought the rest of the baseball players would think that we +were kind of hard up to be working in the season when most of them are +resting. I can see now that it was a foolish sort of feeling. But, +as Ben said, actors and actresses don’t go by their right names, and +authors use names that are not their own, and we had as much right to +do it as they had.” + +“I suppose you had,” admitted Joe. “Though in business I think it’s a +mistake not to go under your own name. What names did you go by?” + +“Dan was Miller and I was Thompson,” put in Bowen, who up to now had +let Jackwell do most of the talking. “So you see they don’t know +Jackwell and Bowen, but they might recognize our faces, just the same. +I suppose they have descriptions of us, and that’s the reason we hate +to go on the field when we see they’re around.” + +“And why you pull your caps down over your faces when you do go out,” +added Joe. “Well, boys, I’m glad you’ve told me what’s been bothering +you. Perhaps the very telling will take some of the load off your mind. +For the present, I’m going to take your word for it that you didn’t +knowingly do any wrong. But I tell you frankly that I’m going to have +the matter looked up, and if you haven’t told me the truth, you’ll have +to get off the team. McRae won’t have any one on the Giants that isn’t +as white as a hound’s tooth, as far as character is concerned. + +“But in the meantime, you’ve got to play ball. We can’t let your +personal troubles interfere with the success of the Giants. There’s +been many a time when I’ve had a load of trouble on my mind, but I’ve +played ball just the same. The chances are that you’re magnifying this +thing, anyway. You don’t really know that there are any warrants out +for you at all. You say you heard there were, but the chances are that +if there were they’d have nabbed you before you heard anything about +the warrants. Those government fellows don’t hire a brass band to let +you know they’re coming. Perhaps you’re tormenting yourselves about +something that never happened. And even if it did, the agents have lots +of bigger cases to look after, and they may have forgotten that you’re +alive. But whether they have or not, the thing that interests me just +now as captain of the Giants, is whether or not you fellows are going +to play the game. How about it?” + +“I will, Mr. Matson,” said Jackwell, with decision. “I’m going to put +this thing out of my mind and play the game for all it’s worth.” + +“Count me in on that,” declared Bowen, with emphasis. + +“That’s the stuff!” returned Joe. “Just remember that the coward +dies a thousand deaths while the brave man dies only once. Half the +troubles that worry us in life are those that never happen. Now forget +everything but that you’re ball-players, that as honest men you owe +your best services to the team, and that the Giants have got to win the +flag this year. That’s all for now.” + +The results of this heart-to-heart talk were not long in coming. Both +Jackwell and Bowen seemed to brace up wonderfully. The former took +in everything that came his way and made plays that seemed almost +impossible. Bowen ranged the outer garden in first-class style and put +Wheeler and Curry on their mettle to keep up with him. + +The brace that they had taken was not long in communicating itself to +other members of the team, and the Giants began to come out of their +slump. A stern chase is proverbially a long chase, and it proved so in +this case, for the Pirates and the Chicagos had made hay while the sun +shone, and had piled up a commanding lead. But the case, though hard, +was not yet desperate, and the Giants had not relinquished hope of +coming out ultimately at the head of the heap. + +As Joe had promised himself, he looked up the Dallas matter. He had +fully made up his mind that if the men had been guilty of crookedness +they would have to get off the team. He would miss their playing +sorely, and would have all kinds of trouble in plugging up the holes +that would be left by their departure, but anything was better than a +scandal that would damage the game. Of course, the ultimate decision +would be made by McRae, but Joe knew his manager well enough to feel +sure that he would be in accord with him in this matter. + +Joe got in touch with a lawyer, who in turn communicated confidentially +with a Dallas law firm, asking it to make inquiries in the oil-well +case and find out whether there had been any warrants or indictments +out for men named Miller and Thompson, and if so, to find out the exact +charges on which the instruments were based. + +A week or so elapsed before a reply was received. Joe tore the letter +open eagerly and ran his eyes over the contents. Then he gave a shout +of exultation and brought his hand down on his knee with a resounding +slap. + +“What’s the matter?” asked Jim, looking up in some surprise. “Any one +left you a million dollars?” + +“Not exactly that,” laughed Joe. “But I’ve just learned something that +makes me feel mighty good, just the same.” + +His elation was caused by these words in the letter: + + “In re Miller and Thompson, we beg to report that there were + no warrants or indictments handed down for these men in the + Bromley case. Investigation convinced officials that they had + no guilty knowledge of the fraud. The only documents connected + with them were subpœnas calling them as witnesses before the + Grand Jury. Their testimony was not needed, however, as a + true bill was found against Bromley, who is an international + swindler with many aliases. He is believed to have fled to + Mexico. A reward of five thousand dollars is offered for his + capture.” + +“Maybe this won’t be good news for Jackwell and Bowen,” chuckled Joe, +as he folded up the letter. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +OFF HIS STRIDE + + +Joe pitched the next day against the Phillies, and won a hard fought +battle. Atkins, the Philly pitcher, was in capital form, and the game +was a seesaw affair, first one and then the other getting the lead, and +it was not until the ninth inning that the contest was decided. + +Farley, the third baseman of the Quaker team, was a “rough house” +player, who never hesitated to transgress the rules of the game, +provided that he could get away with it. + +One of his favorite tricks was to grab the belt of an opposing player +as he rounded third base. This was often sufficient to throw the runner +off his stride and slow him up for a second, and in a game where +fractions of a second often marked the difference between a run and an +out, the momentary delay many times permitted the ball to get to the +plate before the runner. + +He resorted to the same trick also, when the third base was occupied by +an opponent and a long fly was hit to the outfield. If the ball was +caught, the runner, of course, had to touch the bag after the catch +before he started for the plate. Just as he started, Farley would grab +his belt. The umpire’s eyes would be on the ball to see if it were +caught, and Farley could do this with impunity. + +It was of little use complaining to the umpire, for that functionary, +not having seen the action, could not well punish it. His eyes were his +only guide in making decisions. + +Twice in this series with the Phillies the Giants had lost in this way +what would have been sure runs. + +On the day in question, Joe had made a two-bagger and had got to third +on a fielder’s choice. There was but one man out, and the proper play +at this juncture was a long sacrifice fly to the outfield. + +Wheeler got the signal and obeyed orders. He sent out a towering fly +that settled into the rightfielder’s hands. The ball had gone high +rather than far, which gave the outfielder a good chance to get it home +in time to nail the runner. + +If Joe was to make the plate, he had to get a quick start and do some +fast running. The fly was caught, and Joe broke from the bag just as +Farley grabbed his belt. But not for a second did Joe slacken speed. He +flew along the base path at a rattling clip and beat the ball to the +rubber by an eyelash. + +With the roar that went up from the crowd was mingled boisterous +laughter. + +Farley was standing at third with a ludicrous look of bewilderment on +his face, holding in his hand Joe’s belt. He did not seem to know what +to do with it, and shifted it from one hand to another as though it +were a hot potato. + +Joe had unfastened it on the sly as he stood at the bag, and when +Farley grabbed it, it came away in his hand without Joe even feeling +it. Farley had braced himself for the pull, and the lack of resistance +nearly threw him to the ground. He had to stagger some steps before he +could regain his balance. + +Peal after peal of uproarious laughter at Farley’s foolish appearance +rose from the spectators. If ever there was a case of being “caught +with the goods,” Farley furnished it at that moment. + +And the merriment swelled up anew when Joe walked out to third, and +with his hand on his heart and a ceremonious bow, politely asked +Mr. Farley to return his property. With his face flaming red from +mortification, Farley threw it to him with a scowl and a grunt, and Joe +with a tantalizing grin took his time in putting it on. + +“Joe,” said McRae, as he shook his hand, “when it comes to outguessing +the other fellow there’s nobody in the game that can compare with +you. You spring things that nobody ever thought of before. To-day’s an +instance. More power to you, my boy.” + +Though the Giants had made an immense improvement over their previous +recent showing, they were still far from the form they had showed on +their last Western trip. And a great part of this, Joe had to admit to +himself, was due to Jim’s indifferent showing. + +It was not that Jim did not try. He was intensely loyal to the team, +of which he had been one of the principal supports. But the old +spontaneity was lacking. He had to force himself to his work, where +formerly it had been a joy to him. And no man can do his best work +under those conditions. Twice within the last few weeks he had been +batted out of the box. + +“Joe,” said McRae to his captain, “on the dead level, what is the +matter with Jim? He isn’t the pitcher he was last season or in the +early part of this. What ails him?” + +“I’ll tell you, Mac,” replied Joe, who saw the opening he desired. “Jim +has heart trouble.” + +“What?” cried McRae, in consternation. “Did a doctor tell him so?” + +“It isn’t a case for a doctor,” explained Joe. “The only one who can +cure Jim’s trouble is a certain girl.” + +“Oh, that’s it!” exclaimed McRae with relief. “The girls! The girls! +The mischief they make!” + +“Don’t forget you were young once yourself, Mac,” said Joe, with a +grin. “Now I want to ask you a favor. I have an idea that five minutes’ +talk with that girl will set things all right. Why not give Jim a few +days off? I don’t ask this simply because Jim is my friend. I think it +will be for the good of the team.” + +“We’re pretty hard up for pitchers,” said McRae, dubiously. + +“I’ll double up while he’s gone,” promised Joe. “I’ll pitch his game as +well as my own. I’m as fit as a fiddle.” + +“You’re always that,” answered McRae. “Well, have it your own way,” and +he walked away muttering again: “The girls! The girls!” + +“Jim,” said Joe, later that afternoon, “how about taking a train +to-morrow afternoon for Riverside?” + +Jim jumped about a foot. + +“Do you mean it?” he cried. + +“Sure thing,” replied Joe. “I’ve fixed it up with Mac.” + +“Glory hallelujah!” shouted Jim. “Joe, you’re the best ever! Where’s +that suitcase of mine?” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +TAKEN BY SURPRISE + + +“At last I’ll know where I stand, anyway,” muttered Jim to himself, +as the train sped on toward Riverside. “It wouldn’t have done a bit +of good to write to her. Her letters are so vague and unsatisfactory +these days. I must see her. Then I’ll be able to tell whether there is +anything to this story of my millionaire rival.” + +He tried to make himself think that there was nothing in what Reggie +had let slip, in what Joe had reluctantly told him. Surely, they had +been mistaken. Clara, after all that had passed between them, could not +treat him so shabbily! + +And yet--the thought made him frown and bite his lip fiercely--where +there was so much smoke it seemed certain there must be some fire. Long +before he had known definitely of a rival with millions who had been +besieging Clara with his attentions, he had thought he sensed a change +in her attitude toward him. Her letters had not been so regular. Once +or twice he had missed them altogether. Those that did come had left +him vaguely disappointed, unhappy. The reason for his dissatisfaction +had eluded him. Then suddenly, it had all become clear. Clara was being +won away from him by a chap with more money than he had! He clenched +his hands and his mouth became grim. At any rate he would have one +satisfaction. He would tell this fellow just what he thought of him, +and that in no uncertain terms! Perhaps the chap would give him some +excuse for thrashing him. His eyes glinted and his fists clenched. + +The swift motion of the train was grateful to him. It seemed to keep +time with his hurried thoughts. But the knowledge that every mile of +ground they covered brought him nearer to Clara was more terrifying +than anything else. He thought of the last time he had boarded a train +to go to his sweetheart, and the lines about his mouth grew deeper. He +dreaded what he might find at the end of the journey. + +He had expected a letter from Clara that morning, had hoped he would +get it before leaving. But, as had been the case more and more often in +the last few weeks, he had been disappointed, had been forced to start +on his trip with no word from her. + +He took out a magazine and tried to read. The words were a meaningless +blur before his eyes, and he threw the magazine away from him with an +exclamation of disgust. What good was he, anyway? He could not, even +for a few moments, force his mind away from his troubles. + +And so it was with a mixture of perturbation and relief that he at last +came to an alert consciousness of his surroundings, to find himself at +the next station to Riverside. He pulled himself together and prepared +to face facts. His uncertainty was nearly at an end. It seemed to him +that nothing that could happen in the future could be any worse than +what he had already been through. + +Before the train had stopped at Riverside, Jim had flung himself and +his one bag on to the platform. He glanced about him quickly to assure +himself that no old acquaintances were around the place, then started +off at a brisk pace in the direction of the Matson home. + +As he approached nearer his destination, he unconsciously slackened +his pace. He had sent Clara no word of his coming. That part had been +intentional. Since he was about to find out the truth, it would be far +better to take the girl by surprise than to warn her of his coming and +so give her time to prepare for it. + +Perhaps, he thought bitterly, and his steps lagged still more, Clara +would not even care to deceive him with a show of affection. This +hated millionaire might even have dazzled her to the extent of a +broken engagement with him, Jim. + +At the thought, new anger kindled in him, and he strode forward with +resolution. At the moment, all he cared about was a meeting with his +rival. He did not know how soon that desire was to be gratified. + +A turn in the road brought him within view of the pleasant Matson +home. At the familiar sight of it, something swelled in Jim’s throat. +He had felt so a part of that household, had been so wonderfully sure +of Clara’s love. Could it be possible that all his faith had been +misplaced, all his hopes and dreams only idle and vain imaginings? + +The house was coming nearer, seemed to be rushing to meet him. With +every step he dreaded more to know the secret it was hiding from him. + +He had reached the gate, had swung it open noiselessly. The porch steps +invited--the steps where he and Clara had often sat in the twilight, +dreamily planning their life together. But for some reason he avoided +them. + +He had no desire to see any one but Clara just then, and instinct +told him he would find her in the garden. So to the garden he turned, +hungrily drinking in the fragrance of the flowers, the ache at his +heart more poignant as each new and familiar object met his eye. + +He heard voices and stopped still. One of them was Clara’s. She +was laughing lightly at some pleasantry directed to her in a deep, +masculine voice. + +At the sound, Jim suddenly saw red. All the anxiety, the worry, the +heartache of the last few weeks, took toll at once. With a grumble of +wrath away down in his throat, he almost ran the remaining few feet +that hid from him the two in the garden. + +Clara was sitting on a rustic bench. She wore a pretty dress of rosy +material that matched the color in her cheeks. She was looking up at a +blond giant whose attitude expressed complete devotion. The giant was +speaking in the deep, musical voice which had so infuriated Jim. + +“Miss Matson, I’m going to Europe in a few days and I must know if I +have any chance at all with you. It isn’t possible for me to go on this +way----” + +“Good afternoon,” said Jim, in a voice of suppressed emotion. “Sorry to +intrude.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A FRESH SPURT + + +Joe had taken the first occasion to see Jackwell and Bowen alone after +he had received the letter from Dallas. + +“I’ve learned that there were papers out against you in Dallas in +connection with that oil swindle,” he said, with an assumed expression +of gloom. + +“Then they were after us, just as we thought!” exclaimed Jackwell, in +alarm, while Bowen turned pale. + +“They were after you all right, but only as witnesses,” laughed Joe, +tossing them the letter. “Read that.” + +The expression of relief and happiness that came to both, as they +scanned the welcome lines, was good to see. + +“I’d rather have that than a million dollars!” cried Jackwell, his face +fairly beaming with delight. + +“We can’t thank you enough for such good news,” said Bowen, equally +jubilant. + +“That’s all right,” said Joe. “I had a hunch right along that you +fellows were on the square. All the thanks I want now is to have you +play the game. You’ve been doing well lately, and I want you to keep it +up.” + +“That isn’t a circumstance to what we’re going to do,” promised +Jackwell, and Bowen nodded assent. “From this time on, just watch our +smoke.” + +And Joe had no reason to complain of their work for the rest of the +season. With the incubus removed that had been lying on their spirits, +they played like wild men, and their work soon enthroned them as +favorites with the Giant fans. + +Now the Giants were really climbing again, and the grounds began to be +crowded as in the days of old. The games were played “for blood” from +the ring of the gong. + +And what put the capsheaf on Joe’s satisfaction was that Jim came +bursting in upon him one morning like a whirlwind, his face radiant, +and sheer delight in living shining in his eyes. + +Joe sprang up to greet him, and Jim grabbed him and whirled him around +the room until both of them were gasping for breath. + +“For the love of Pete, Jim!” expostulated Joe, laughingly. + +“I’m a curly wolf!” shouted Jim. “I eat catamounts for breakfast and +pick my teeth with pine trees! Where are those Cubs and Pirates and +all the rest of that riffraff? Lead me to them! I want ber-lud!” + +“You’ll get your chance,” answered Joe, grinning. “Now sit down and try +to be sensible for a minute.” + +“Sensible!” scoffed Jim. “Who wants to be sensible? I’m happy!” + +“And so am I,” laughed Joe, “because of the news you bring.” + +“I haven’t told you any yet,” countered Jim. + +“Yes, you have,” declared Joe. “You’ve told me everything. I know that +everything’s all right between you and Clara.” + +“Clara!” repeated Jim, dwelling on the name. “Clara! Say, Joe, that +sister of yours is--is-- Oh, well, what’s the use? There isn’t any word +in the English language to describe her. She’s--she’s----” + +“Yes, I know,” laughed Joe. “I’m her brother. Now, old boy, take a +minute to get your breath, and then tell me the whole story.” + +So Jim perforce had to restrain his ecstasies and get down to earth, +while Joe listened happily to all the details of the visit that had +swept away the last shadow of misunderstanding between his sister and +his dearest friend. + +“You were right, Joe, when you said that five minutes’ talk, face to +face, would wipe out all misunderstanding,” said Jim. “Why, in less +than five minutes after I saw her I was the happiest fellow on earth. +If you could have seen the way she flew to me!” + +“What about that Pepperil?” asked Joe. + +“Never was in it for a minute,” declared Jim, happily. “Of course, the +poor man was in love with her; but you can’t blame him for that. Who +wouldn’t be? As a matter of fact, I think he was trying to propose to +her at the time I got there. But she forgot he was alive when she saw +me. You see, she’d simply tolerated him for the sake of your father’s +invention that Pepperil had arranged to finance. She couldn’t be rude +to him for fear of injuring the deal, though he bored her to death. +What with the nuisance of his hanging around there and your father’s +anxiety about his invention and your mother’s sickness and the cares of +the household bearing down upon her, the poor girl was nearly crazy. +Told me that when she sat down to write to me her head was in such a +whirl that she hardly knew what she was writing. That’s why her letters +sometimes seemed so abstracted and unsatisfying. But now the deal has +gone through, your mother’s getting steadily better, Pepperil’s sailing +for Europe, and we’re going to be married as soon as the baseball +season is over.” + +“Fine!” cried Joe, his eyes beaming. + +“And to think that I ever doubted her for a minute!” Jim berated +himself. “Joe, I’m the meanest hound dog that ever lived. I’m not fit +for such a girl. Why, Joe, she’s----” + +“Yes, I know,” interrupted the grinning Joe. “Write me a letter and +describe her perfections in that. But honestly, Jim, I’m as happy as +you are.” + +“You can’t be!” declared Jim. “It isn’t possible for any one to be as +happy as I am.” + +“Well, only a little less happy,” corrected Joe. “And there’s some one +else that will be just as happy as I am. Mabel will be in the seventh +heaven. She’s worried herself sick.” + +“Too bad.” + +“Feel fit to pitch now?” asked Joe, after a while. + +“Fit?” cried Jim. “That’s no word for it. Bring on your teams. They’ll +all look alike to me.” + +And Jim proved in the games that followed that this was no idle boast. +He was superb, the old invincible Jim, toying with his opponents and +turning in victory after victory. McRae rubbed his eyes and Robbie +chortled in glee. + +“Sure, Mac, ’twas the best thing you ever did, letting Jim off to see +that girl of his,” said Robbie. “’Tis a new man he is since he came +back.” + +The Giants were now like a team of runaway horses. They could not +be stopped. With their pitching staff going at top speed, the team +played behind them like men possessed. At home or on the road made no +difference. The Giants were simply bent on having that pennant, and +they strode over everything in their way. + +They kept their stride without faltering, and in the last weeks of the +season were rapidly closing in on the Chicagos, who were struggling +desperately to maintain their lead. + +On the last Western trip, their strongest opposition was encountered in +Pittsburgh, and they had to exert themselves to the utmost. + +The first game resulted in a Giant victory by a close margin, the +visiting team just managing to nose through after a terrific struggle. + +Just after the game had ended, Jackwell made a sudden rush for the +grandstand. Bowen, to whom he had shouted, was close behind him. + +Joe and Jim followed to see what it was all about, and found a stout, +red-faced man in the grasp of the two athletes, while a policeman was +edging his way through the crowd. + +“Arrest this man!” cried Jackwell, to the officer. “He’s a swindler. +His name is Bromley, and he’s wanted in Texas. Detectives have been +searching all over the country for him.” + +The man denied it, but Jackwell persisted. The officer turned +uncertainly to Joe. + +“I don’t know the man,” said Joe. “But I know that the federal agents +are after a man named Bromley. If this isn’t the man, he can easily +establish his identity at headquarters. These men seem to be pretty +sure of him.” + +The officer put his hand on the man’s arm. + +“Better come with me and see the Chief,” he said, and the man, still +protesting, was led away. Later, federal agents identified him as the +man wanted, and Jackwell and Bowen split the five thousand dollar +reward between them. + +“Glad those boys have settled their account with that rascal,” remarked +Joe, after the crowd had dispersed. + +“Yes,” replied Jim. “I wish we could say as much.” + +“You mean with the McCarney crowd?” + +“Just that. My blood fairly boiled when I saw those scoundrels in the +stand this afternoon.” + +“Were they there?” asked Joe. + +“Very much there! Heads close together and talking all the time. +Probably hatching up some other plan to down you. I tell you, Joe, +you’re in danger every minute that you’re in this town!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE SNAKE’S HEAD + + +“I suppose I am,” replied Joe, impressed by the earnestness of Jim’s +tone. “It’s up to us to keep our eyes open. Luckily, we have only three +more days to stay here. All I want is to have them keep away from me +till the season’s ended. Then the tables will be turned, and I’ll get +after them.” + +Joe and Jim changed into their street clothes and came out of the +clubhouse. All the other men had gone, except Iredell, who had not +quite finished dressing. + +“Dandy weather,” remarked Joe, as they lingered for a moment on the +steps. “What do you say, Jim, to a little auto ride to-morrow morning, +along the Lincoln pike? Splendid road and fine scenery.” + +“I’m on,” assented Jim. “I’d like nothing better.” + +The weather was perfect the next day, and shortly after breakfast +the chums hired a speedy little car and set out for their ride. The +machine purred along smoothly, with Joe at the wheel, and as travelers +were comparatively few at that early hour, they had the road largely +to themselves, and on the long stretches could let the car out to an +exhilarating speed. + +“This is the life!” exclaimed Jim, jubilantly, as he settled back in +his seat and drew in long breaths of the invigorating air. “It does a +fellow good sometimes to-- Look out, Joe! Look out!” + +His shout of alarm was torn from him by a great motor truck that +came darting at high speed from a side road that had been partially +concealed by trees and underbrush. + +It came thundering down upon the little car as though it were bent on +annihilating it. + +Joe’s quick glance took in the danger, and he swerved sharply to one +side. Not sharply enough, however, to escape the impact altogether. The +truck caught the car a glancing blow that hurled it like a catapult +against a fence at the side of the road, which at that point ran along +the edge of a deep ravine. + +The car crashed through the fence, and had it not been that one of the +wheels struck the trunk of a tree, would have plunged headlong into the +gulch. The blow slewed the machine around, where it hung partly over +the edge. + +Jim had been thrown against the windshield and his hands were cut by +the flying glass. Joe had clung desperately to the wheel, and though +badly shaken up, had sustained no injury. + +Without waiting to see the extent of the damage, the truck had gone on +at breakneck speed. By the time the young men had leaped to the ground, +the truck had vanished around a turn in the road. + +Joe and Jim looked at each other, pale with anger. + +“Are you hurt, Jim?” asked Joe, as he saw the blood on his comrade’s +hands. + +“Only scratches,” was the reply. “And I’m so thankful I’m not dead that +I don’t mind little things like that.” + +“It’s almost a miracle that we’re not lying at this moment at the +bottom of the ravine,” said Joe, soberly. “What do you think of those +fellows? Did you ever see such reckless driving?” + +“It wasn’t reckless,” declared Jim, grimly. “It was deliberate. That +fellow was trying to run us down.” + +“What?” exclaimed Joe. + +“Just that,” reiterated Jim. “Did you see the man who was driving?” + +“No,” said Joe. “I only saw the truck. I was too busy trying to get the +car out of the way to notice the driver.” + +“Well, I saw him,” said Jim. “That is, I saw part of him. He had his +coat drawn up and his cap pulled down so as to hide his face. But I +caught sight of the biggest pair of lob ears I ever saw on any man. +Does that mean anything to you?” + +“Lemblow!” exclaimed Joe. + +“Lemblow,” assented Jim. “And probably the rest of the gang were in the +truck back of him. I tell you, Joe, those fellows are out to do you. +They failed in their first attempt, and so they tried this.” + +“And they came mighty near putting this across,” said Joe. “But how on +earth did they know we were going on this ride? We didn’t mention it to +anybody.” + +“No,” agreed Jim, “not directly. But when we first spoke of it +yesterday afternoon, we were on the clubhouse steps. Iredell was still +in there, dressing, and the door was open.” + +“By George, you’ve hit it!” cried Joe. “Jim, the time has come for a +showdown. We won’t wait till the end of the season. We may not see the +end of the season if this kind of thing is allowed to go on. I’m going +to get even with those scoundrels before we leave Pittsburgh.” + +“I’m with you till the cows come home,” declared Jim. “I’m aching to +get my hands on them. But how are you going to do it?” + +“By shadowing Iredell,” replied Joe. “It’s a dead certainty that he’ll +meet the rest of the gang to talk things over before we leave the city. +We’ll keep him in sight every night from now on and follow him to their +meeting place. Then we’ll trim the bunch.” + +“Good dope!” ejaculated Jim. “And now let’s get this car out to the +side of the road where the owners can send for it. There’ll be a +good-sized dent in our bankrolls by the time we get through paying for +the damage.” + +They took care not to speak of the incident to any one, and at the game +that afternoon showed no antipathy or suspicion in regard to Iredell. +Several times they noticed the covert glances of that individual +directed toward Jim’s scratched hands--glances in which malignity was +mingled with disappointment--but they gave no sign, and conducted +themselves exactly as usual. + +But not for a moment was Iredell out of their sight without their +knowing where he was. All their faculties were intent upon using him as +an unwitting guide to the rendezvous of the gang. + +For a time after supper, Iredell hung around the lobby of the hotel. It +was nearly ten o’clock before he sauntered carelessly into the street, +where Joe and Jim were ensconced in the shadow of convenient doorways. + +Iredell walked along slowly at first, glancing about from side to +side, but as he saw nothing to arouse his suspicion, he quickened his +steps and soon was making rapidly for the outskirts of the city. Joe +and Jim followed at some distance, keeping in the shadows as much as +possible. + +In a little while they found themselves in a cheap quarter of the city, +not far from the bank of the Allegheny River. Factories and slag heaps +alternated with shabby dwellings, dimly lighted stores, and low resorts. + +Standing in a lot, with no houses for a considerable distance on either +side, was an old one-story shack. From its battered and dilapidated +appearance, it seemed unfit for human habitation. But that some one was +in it was indicated by the light from a smoky oil lamp that threw a +flickering beam through the open window. + +Iredell pushed his way along the weed-grown path and knocked three +times. After a moment the door was opened and Iredell entered. + +Joe and Jim waited for a brief time, and then, with the stealth of +Indians, crept up near the open window. Bushes were growing all around +the house, and behind these the two friends crouched. The brushwood was +so thick that they were perfectly safe from detection, while at the +same time they had a clear vision of the room and its inmates. + +They had no difficulty in identifying the latter. Hupft, McCarney, +Lemblow and Iredell were seated around a table, engaged in an excited +conversation. + +There was practically no other furniture in the room than the table and +chairs. It was evident that none of the gang lived there, but that they +had picked out an abandoned house where they could meet in security and +talk with freedom. + +There was no attempt to lower their voices, and the unseen listeners +had no difficulty in hearing every word that was said. + +“So we’ve made another flivver,” growled McCarney, pounding the table +angrily with his fist. + +“Seems so,” said Iredell, moodily. “They turned up at the game this +afternoon just as though nothing had happened. Barclay had some +scratches on his hand, but Matson was unhurt. At least he didn’t show +any signs of injury.” + +“I’m beginning to think we can’t down that fellow,” muttered Hupft. “No +matter what we do, he comes up smiling.” + +“Nonsense!” snarled Lemblow. “He’s had luck, that’s all. The pitcher +that goes to the well too often is broken at last. There’s luck in odd +numbers, and the third time we’ll get him.” + +Joe felt in his pocket and took out an object that was roughly oblong +in shape. He gripped it tightly in his hand and waited. + +Jim, who had noted the action, reached out and touched his friend’s arm. + +“What’s the game?” he whispered. + +“You’ll see in a minute,” returned Joe. “When I start, you follow me.” + +“Lemblow’s right,” cried McCarney, rising to his feet, his face +inflamed with passion. “We’ve failed twice, but the third time we’ll +get him. We’ll get him so hard----” + +He never finished the sentence. + +Something whizzed through the open window with terrific force and +caught him right between the eyes. Taken by surprise, and partly +stunned by the force of the blow, he went down heavily to the floor. + +With startled shouts, the other three leaped to their feet and stood +staring at the table on which the missile had fallen. Iredell leaned +forward, took one look and jumped back with a terrified yell. + +“It’s a rattlesnake’s head!” he screamed in horror. + +His shriek was echoed by the other rascals as they fell back from the +table, trembling as though with palsy. + +The next instant, Joe and Jim, who had jumped through the window, were +upon the rascals, dealing out blows with the force of trip-hammers. +Iredell went down from a terrific right on the chin, and lay +motionless. Hupft and Lemblow tried to fight back, but their nerves +were so unstrung and they had been so overwhelmed with surprise at the +sudden onslaught that their efforts were pitiful. Joe and Jim, all +their pent up indignation putting double strength into their muscular +arms, gave them the beating of their lives, until they cowered in a +corner, covering their faces with their hands and whimpering for mercy. + +“I guess that will do, Jim,” said Joe at last. “They’ll carry the marks +of this for a long time, and they’ll remember this night as long as +they live. + +“Now listen to me, you rascals,” he said, with withering scorn, as +his eyes bored through the discomfited conspirators. “What you’ve got +to-night isn’t a circumstance to what’s coming to you if you ever +dare to lift a finger against me again. I could have every one of you +arrested and put behind bars for years to come if I wanted to, but I +prefer to settle my own quarrels. But just one more move on your part, +and you’ll go where the dogs won’t bite you for a while. + +“As for you, Iredell,” he continued, in a slightly gentler tone, +addressing his teammate who was now sitting up on the floor, still half +dazed, “I could have you fired off the team in disgrace and blacklisted +forever, if I told McRae of this dirty work of yours. But I remember +that you have a family and that you’ve played on the same team with +me for years, and I’m going to give you one more chance. No one will +hear of this if you go straight from now on. Cut out these dogs of +companions and play the game like a man. + +“Come along, Jim,” he concluded, “I guess our night’s work is done. +We’ll leave the snake’s head behind as a souvenir.” + +The night’s work was indeed done, and done so effectively that Joe +suffered no more trouble from the precious trio. As for Iredell, the +lesson had been sufficient, and while there never was a resumption of +the cordial relations of previous years, he gave no further cause for +complaint. At the end of the season he was traded, as young Renton had +filled his place so well that the Giants could do without him. + +The Giants “cleaned up” in Pittsburgh, and did so well with the other +teams that the last day of the season found them tied with Chicago for +the lead. The Cubs had played out all their games. The Giants still had +one to play with Brooklyn. If they won, they would have the pennant. If +they lost, the flag would go to Chicago. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE FINAL BATTLE + + +The game was to be played on the Polo Grounds, and excitement was at +fever heat. It seemed as though the whole male population of Greater +New York had determined to see that game. Men waited in line all night, +and from early morning the surface cars and elevated trains were packed +with people going to the grounds. + +The weather was fair, and the lovers of the game had a day that was all +that could be desired. The turf had been rolled and groomed till it +looked like green velvet. + +The odds were in the Giants’ favor, because they were the stronger +team and because they were playing on their own grounds. Still, they +had been whipped by the same team before on the same grounds, and they +might be again. And the nervous tension they were under because of the +importance of the game made them the more liable to break at critical +points in the contest. The Brooklyns, on the other hand, had nothing +to lose, and for that very reason might be the cooler-headed. + +McRae had picked Joe as his pitching “ace” for this deciding contest. +Grimm had been selected as the boxman for the delegation from across +the bridge. At the moment, he was going better than any other of the +Dodgers’ staff, and any team that whipped him would know at least that +it had been in a fight. + +But on that day Joe feared no pitcher in the League. He was in +magnificent shape in mind and body. In the preliminary practice with +Mylert he made the latter wince, as the balls came over smoking hot. + +“Save that stuff for the Brooklyns, Joe,” Mylert protested, “or you’ll +have me a cripple before the bell rings.” + +Not only Joe’s arm but his heart felt good that day. Mabel was sitting +in a box, watching him proudly, and he felt that he simply couldn’t +lose. She was his mascot, and he carried near his heart the little +glove that had rested there when he won the championship of the world. + +Beside her sat Clara, flushed and happy and as sweet as a rose. She had +come on from Riverside, bringing the glad news that Mrs. Matson was +making astonishing progress and had now almost entirely regained her +health. + +So it was with a mind at peace and spirits high that Joe faced the +doughty sluggers of the team from across the big bridge. + +From the very start, it was apparent that he had “everything.” Never +had he been in finer form. Brain and muscle worked in perfect unison. +Every ball he pitched had a reason behind it. He knew the weaknesses of +every batter, and played upon them. The man who was death on low balls +got a high one, and _vice versa_. His speed, his change of pace, his +curve, his fadeaway, his hop, his control--all of these obeyed him as +though under the spell of a magician. If ever a man made a ball “talk,” +Joe did that day. + +Again and again the Brooklyns switched their tactics. Sometimes they +lashed out at the first ball pitched. Again they tried to wait him out. +These failing, they resorted to bunting. Nothing was of any avail. They +were simply up against unhittable pitching. + +Inning after inning went by without a score. In the fourth, Naylor made +a scratch, and in the seventh, Leete hit the ball for a clean single. +But on these occasions, Joe tightened up, and no man got as far as +second, despite the desperate efforts of their comrades to advance the +runner. + +Grimm, too, was pitching fine ball, but not by any means airtight. The +Giants had gotten to him for six hits, but, with one exception, no two +had been allowed in the same inning, and the Giants were as scoreless +as their opponents. + +Grimm had thought discretion the better part of valor when Joe had +faced him, and had twice passed him deliberately to first. The boos +of the spectators failed to disturb Grimm’s equanimity. His motto was +“safety first.” On a third occasion, his cunning miscarried, and Joe, +walking into the ball in desperation, had clouted it for a two baser. +But as two were out at the time and the next man fanned, he was left +holding second. + +In the ninth, Joe put on extra steam and fanned three men in a row, +amid the cheers of the Giant rooters. + +Then the Giants came in for their last half. Grimm made Burkett hit +a grounder to first that was an easy out. Larry sent a Texas leaguer +behind second that was gathered in by the guardian of that bag. Then +Joe came to the bat. + +Grimm still had no mind to give him a hit, and the first two balls were +wide of the plate. He tried to put the third in the same place, but his +control faltered and the ball came within Joe’s reach. + +There was a mighty crash, and the ball started on a line between right +and center. At the crack of the bat, Joe was off like a frightened +jackrabbit. He rounded first and started for second. + +Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the right- and centerfielders +running for the ball, which had struck the ground and was rolling +toward the wall. He knew that it would rebound, and that one of the +fielders would “play the angle,” and thus get it the sooner. + +The people in the stands had risen now, and were shouting like madmen. +He caught just one glimpse of Mabel, standing in her box with her hands +pressed on her heart. + +He made second and kept on for third. On and on he went, as though on +wings. His heart beat like a trip hammer. His lungs seemed as though +they would burst. The wind whistled in his ears. He had never run like +that in his life. + +He rounded third and made for home. The ball was coming, as he knew +from the shouts of the spectators and the warning yells of his +comrades. Down that white stretch he tore. He saw the catcher set +himself for the coming ball, knew from his eyes that the ball was near. +With one mighty leap, he threw himself to the ground in a marvelous +hook slide that swung his body out of the catcher’s reach and yet +just permitted his outstretched fingers to touch the plate before the +catcher put the ball on him. + +“Safe!” cried the umpire. The game was won, the pennant cinched, and +the Giants once more were the champions of the National League. + +What Mabel thought of Joe she told him privately. What McRae and +Robbie and his teammates thought of him they told him publicly. What +the newspapers thought of him they told the world. As pitcher, as +batter, and as captain, Baseball Joe was proclaimed the king of them +all. + +And what Mr. and Mrs. Matson, the former happy because of the success +of his invention, the latter because of her restoration to health, +thought of their famous son they told to him a few weeks later at a +wedding ceremony in the Riverside home, when Clara placed her hand in +Jim’s and made him the happiest of men. + + +THE END + + + + +THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES + +By LESTER CHADWICK + +_12mo. Illustrated. Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents +additional._ + + +[Illustration] + + 1. BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS + _or The Rivals of Riverside_ + + 2. BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINE + _or Pitching for the Blue Banner_ + + 3. BASEBALL JOE AT YALE + _or Pitching for the College Championship_ + + 4. BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE + _or Making Good as a Professional Pitcher_ + + 5. BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE + _or A Young Pitcher’s Hardest Struggles_ + + 6. BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS + _or Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis_ + + 7. BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES + _or Pitching for the Championship_ + + 8. BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD + _or Pitching on a Grand Tour_ + + 9. BASEBALL JOE: HOME RUN KING + _or The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record_ + + 10. BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE + _or Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy_ + + 11. BASEBALL JOE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM + _or Bitter Struggles on the Diamond_ + + 12. BASEBALL JOE CHAMPION OF THE LEAGUE + _or The Record that was Worth While_ + + 13. BASEBALL JOE CLUB OWNER + _or Putting the Home Town on the Map_ + + 14. BASEBALL JOE PITCHING WIZARD + _or Triumphs Off and On the Diamond_ + + +_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue._ + + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York + + + + +CHAMPION SPORTS STORIES + +By NOEL SAINSBURY, JR. + + +[Illustration] + +_Every boy enjoys sport stories. Here we present three crackerjack +stories of baseball, football, and basketball, written in the +vernacular of the boy of today, full of action, suspense and thrills, +in language every boy will understand, and which we know will be +enthusiastically endorsed by all boys._ + +_Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in color. Price 50 cents per +volume._ + +_Postage 10 cents additional._ + + + 1. CRACKER STANTON + _Or The Making of a Batsman_ + +Ralph Stanton, big, rawboned and serious, is a product of the +backwoods and a crack rifle shot. Quick thinking and pluck bring him a +scholarship to Clarkville School where he is branded “grind” and “dub” +by classmates. How his batting brings them first place in the League +and how he secures his appointment to West Point make CRACKER STANTON +an up-to-the-minute baseball story no lover of the game will want to +put down until the last word is read. + + + 2. GRIDIRON GRIT + _Or The Making of a Fullback_ + +A corking story of football packed full of exciting action and good, +clean competitive rivalry. Shorty Fiske is six-foot-four and the +product of too much money and indulgence at home. How Clarkville School +and football develop Shorty’s real character and how he eventually +stars on the gridiron brings this thrilling tale of school life and +football to a grandstand finish. + + + 3. THE FIGHTING FIVE + _Or the Kidnapping of Clarkville’s Basketball Team_ + +Clarkville School’s basketball team is kidnapped during the game for +the State Scholastic Championship. The team’s subsequent adventures +under the leadership of Captain Charlie Minor as he brings them +back to the State College Gymnasium where the two last quarters of +the Championship game are played next evening, climaxes twenty-four +pulsating hours of adventure and basketball in the FIGHTING FIVE.... + + + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York + + + + +MYSTERY AND ADVENTURE BOOKS FOR BOYS + +_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Colored jackets._ + +_Price 50 cents per volume._ + +_Postage 10 cents additional._ + + +[Illustration] + +=SOUTH FROM HUDSON BAY=, by E. C. BRILL + +A thrilling tale of the coming of settlers from France and Switzerland +to the wilderness of the Prairie country of the Red River district, and +the adventures of three boys who find themselves entangled in the fate +of the little colony. + + +=THE SECRET CACHE=, by E. C. BRILL + +The father of two boys, a fur hunter, has been seriously injured by an +Indian. Before he dies he succeeds in telling the younger son about +a secret cache of valuable furs. The directions are incomplete but +the boys start off to find the Cache, and with the help of men from a +nearby settlement capture the Indian and bring him to justice. + + +=THE ISLAND OF YELLOW SANDS=, by E. C. BRILL + +An exciting story of Adventure in Colonial Days in the primitive +country around Lake Superior, when the forest and waters were the +hunting ground of Indians, hunters and trappers. + + +=LOST CITY OF THE AZTECS=, by J. A. LATH + +Four chums find a secret code stuck inside the binding of an old book +written many years ago by a famous geologist. The boys finally solve +the code and learn of the existence of the remnant of a civilized Aztec +tribe inside an extinct crater in the southern part of Arizona. How +they find these Aztecs, and their many stirring adventures makes a +story of tremendous present-day scientific interest that every boy will +enjoy. + +These books may be purchased wherever books are sold + +_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_ + + + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York + + + + +THE BOMBA BOOKS + +By ROY ROCKWOOD + +_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With Colored jacket._ + +_Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional._ + + +[Illustration] + +_Bomba lived far back in the jungles of the Amazon with a half-demented +naturalist who told the lad nothing of his past. The jungle boy was a +lover of birds, and hunted animals with a bow and arrow and his trusty +machete. He had only a primitive education, and his daring adventures +will be followed with breathless interest by thousands._ + + 1. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY + 2. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING MOUNTAIN + 3. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT CATARACT + 4. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND + 5. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED CITY + 6. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON TERROR TRAIL + 7. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE SWAMP OF DEATH + 8. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE SLAVES + 9. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON THE UNDERGROUND RIVER + 10. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE LOST EXPLORERS + 11. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN A STRANGE LAND + 12. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE PYGMIES + 13. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE CANNIBALS + 14. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE PAINTED HUNTERS + 15. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE RIVER DEMONS + 16. BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE HOSTILE CHIEFTAIN + + +These books may be purchased wherever books are sold + +_Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue_ + + + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes: + + --Copyright notice provided as in the original printed text--this + e-text is public domain in the country of publication. + + --Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_); text in + bold by “equal” signs (=bold=). + + --Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. + + --Archaic and variable spelling is preserved. + + --Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. + + --The author’s em-dash style have been retained. + + --Inconsistencies in formatting and punctuation of individual + advertisements have been retained. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team, by +Lester Chadwick + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 44716 *** |