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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37056-h.zip b/37056-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..86297a3 --- /dev/null +++ b/37056-h.zip diff --git a/37056-h/37056-h.htm b/37056-h/37056-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..294dfaf --- /dev/null +++ b/37056-h/37056-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9670 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<!-- $Id: header.txt 236 2009-12-07 18:57:00Z vlsimpson $ --> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars, + by Lester Chadwick. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + +/* Guiguts standard. */ +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: x-small; + text-align: right; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.caption {font-weight: bold;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + +.figleft { + float: left; + clear: left; + margin-left: 0; + margin-bottom: .5em; + margin-top: .5em; + margin-right: 1em; + padding: 0; + text-align: center; +} + + +/* ===================== */ +/* DACSoft custom styles */ +/* ===================== */ + +/* Indented paragraph */ +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1em; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +.noi{ + text-indent: 0em; +} + +/* Chapter breaks. */ +hr.cb { + width: 65%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +/* Section, thought breaks. */ +hr.tb { + width: 35%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +/* Title page borders and content. */ +.tp1 { + border: 2px solid black; + padding: 2px; + text-align: center; + margin: auto; + width: 358px; +} + +.tp2 { + border: 1px solid black; + padding: 2px; + text-align: center; + margin: auto; + width: 350px; +} + +/* End of book box. */ +.ep1 { + border: 1px solid black; + padding: 2px; + text-align: center; + margin: auto; + width: 458px; +} + +.ep2 { + border: 1px solid black; + padding: 2px; + text-align: center; + margin: auto; + width: 450px; +} + +.subtitle { + font-size: 1.5em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.author { + font-size: 1.25em; + margin-top: 2em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.works { + font-size: .75em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +/* Table of Contents column padding. */ +td.pr {padding-right:10px;} + + +/* Advertisement formatting. */ +.adtitle { + font-size: 1.5em; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +.adauthor { + font-size: 1.25em; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +ol {list-style-position:inside;} + +li {margin-top: 1em;} + + +/* Transcriber's Notes. */ +.tnote { + background-color: #DDE; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding-bottom: .5em; + padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; +} + +.tntitle { + font-size: 1.25em; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars, by Lester Chadwick + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars + or The Rivals of Riverside + +Author: Lester Chadwick + +Release Date: August 12, 2011 [EBook #37056] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 504px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="504" height="600" alt="cover" title="cover" /> +</div> + +<hr class="cb" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 376px;"><a name="frontispiece" id="frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/image01.jpg" width="376" height="600" alt="JOE WAS DOING GOOD WORK." title="JOE WAS DOING GOOD WORK." /> +<span class="caption"><a href="#Page_217">JOE WAS DOING GOOD WORK.</a></span> +</div> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<div class="tp1"> +<div class="tp2"> +<h1> Baseball Joe of + the Silver Stars</h1> + +<p class="noi center">OR</p> + +<p class="noi subtitle"><i>The</i> Rivals <i>of</i> Riverside</p> + +<p class="noi author"><i>By</i> LESTER CHADWICK</p> + +<p class="noi works">AUTHOR OF<br /> +“THE RIVAL PITCHERS,” “A QUARTERBACK’S<br /> +PLUCK,” “BATTING TO WIN,” ETC.</p> + +<p> </p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 50px;"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="100%" alt="logo" title="logo" /> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<p class="noi works">NEW YORK</p> + +<p class="noi center">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY</p> +</div> +</div> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p class="noi center"><span class="smcap">BASEBALL JOE of the SILVER STARS</span></p> + +<p class="noi center"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1912, by<br /> +Cupples & Leon Company</span> +</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<col style="width:20%;" /> +<col style="width:70%;" /> +<col style="width:10%;" /> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">CHAPTER</td> + <td align="left"></td> + <td align="right">PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">I</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">A Hot Game</a></td> + <td align="right">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">II</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">Tieing the Score</a></td> + <td align="right">11</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">III</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">Mrs. Matson is Worried</a></td> + <td align="right">23</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">IV</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">A Row with Sam</a></td> + <td align="right">31</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">V</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">Joe Helps the Manager</a></td> + <td align="right">41</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VI</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">Joe Has Hopes</a></td> + <td align="right">50</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">Laughed at</a></td> + <td align="right">58</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">VIII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">A Mean Protest</a></td> + <td align="right">66</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">IX</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">Joe in the Game</a></td> + <td align="right">73</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">X</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">A Tight Contest</a></td> + <td align="right">80</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XI</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">Joe’s Run</a></td> + <td align="right">89</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">Discontent</a></td> + <td align="right">96</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Scientific Practice</a></td> + <td align="right">103</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIV</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">A Kettle of Apple Sauce</a></td> + <td align="right">110</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XV</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">Joe Overhears Something</a></td> + <td align="right">119</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVI</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">Mr. Matson is Alarmed</a></td> + <td align="right">129</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">A Throwing Contest</a></td> + <td align="right">136</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XVIII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">Another Defeat</a></td> + <td align="right">143</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XIX</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">Joe is Watched</a></td> + <td align="right">151</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XX</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">“Would You Like to Pitch?”</a></td> + <td align="right">161</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXI</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">To the Rescue</a></td> + <td align="right">167</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">A Delayed Pitcher</a></td> + <td align="right">174</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXIII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">Joe in the Box</a></td> + <td align="right">185</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXIV</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Sam Arrives</a></td> + <td align="right">191</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXV</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">Joe Foils the Plotters</a></td> + <td align="right">197</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXVI</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">Sam Resigns</a></td> + <td align="right">208</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXVII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">Bad News</a></td> + <td align="right">215</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXVIII</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">The Fight</a></td> + <td align="right">221</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXIX</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">The Challenge</a></td> + <td align="right">228</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td class="pr" align="right">XXX</td> + <td align="left" class="smcap"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">The Winning Throw—Conclusion</a></td> + <td align="right">233</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>BASEBALL JOE</h2> + + + +<hr class="tb" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>A HOT GAME</h3> + + +<p>“Come on, Sam, get a move on. I thought +you’d be out on the diamond long ago. What’s +the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I had to help dad put in some fence posts. +I’m through now, Darrell, and I’ll be right with +you.”</p> + +<p>“Setting fence posts; eh?” and Darrell Blackney, +the young manager of the Silver Star baseball +nine of Riverside looked critically at Sam Morton, +the team’s pitcher. “Well, Sam, I hope it didn’t +make you stiff so that you can’t put some good +balls over the plate. It’s going to be a hot game +all right.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, forget it!” cried Sam, as he finished +buttoning his jacket while he joined his chum. +“We’ll beat ’em to a frazzle all right. I’m going +to pitch my head off to-day.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +</p><p>“You may—if you don’t go to pieces the way +you once did.”</p> + +<p>“Say, what you talking about?” demanded +Sam, with some warmth. “I can pitch all right, +and don’t you forget it.” He seemed unnecessarily +aroused.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know you can pitch,” spoke Darrell +easily, “only I don’t want you to be too sure about +it. You know the Resolutes of Rocky Ford have +a strong team this season, and their pitcher +is——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know what Hen Littell is as well as +you,” broke in Sam. “He thinks he’s a whole lot, +but you wait. I’ve got a new drop ball, and——”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, you’d ought to have been out on +the diamond this morning, practicing with Bart +Ferguson. He’s got a new catching glove, and if +you and he can connect on the curves we may do +some good work. But I wish you’d had some +practice this morning.”</p> + +<p>“So do I, but dad made me help him, and I +couldn’t very well get off. I tried to sneak away, +but he got on to my game and put a stop to it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, of course if you had to help your +father that’s different,” spoke Darrell, who was a +manly young chap, somewhat in contrast to Sam, +who was not as upright as he might have been.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +Sam had a boastful and confident air that caused +many to dislike him, but as he was the best pitcher +the Silver Stars had had in some seasons his short-comings +were overlooked.</p> + +<p>And certainly Sam had been pitching pretty +good ball thus far. True, at times, he “went up in +the air,” but all pitchers are likely to do this on +occasions. Sam had great belief in his own ability.</p> + +<p>There was considerable baseball feeling in the +little town of Riverside, located on the Appelby +River, in one of our New England States. Though +the nine was an amateur one, and composed of +lads ranging from fourteen to nineteen years of +age, yet many fast games had been seen on the +village diamond, which was kept in good shape by +volunteers. A small admission sum was charged +to view the contests and from this the boys were +able to buy their uniforms, balls, bats, and other +things. With some of the money the grounds +were renovated from time to time, and the fences, +bleachers and grandstand kept in order.</p> + +<p>There was a sort of informal county league +existing among several nines in the towns surrounding +Riverside, and perhaps the bitterest +rivals of the Silver Stars were the Resolutes of +Rocky Ford, a place about five miles farther up +the stream than Riverside. To-day one of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +games in the series was to take place, and the +occasion, being Saturday, was a gala one in the +home town of the Silver Stars, on whose grounds +the contest was to take place.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’ll have a little time for practice before +the game begins,” remarked Darrell as he +and Sam walked toward the diamond. “We’ve +got about an hour yet.”</p> + +<p>“Are the Resolutes here?”</p> + +<p>“They hadn’t come when I passed the grounds +a little while ago on my way to see you. I couldn’t +imagine what kept you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it was all dad’s fault. Hang it all——”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” broke in Darrell quickly. +“Dads are all right as a rule.” He had lost his +own father not long since, and his heart was still +sore. He could not bear to have any one speak +disrespectfully of parents. “I guess we’ll make +out all right,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Oh, sure we will!” exclaimed Sam, full of +confidence. “They won’t have a look in.”</p> + +<p>“Well, hurry up and get in some practice with +Bart,” advised the manager.</p> + +<p>“Who’s going to cover first to-day?” inquired +Sam, as they hurried along the streets, which were +already beginning to fill with the crowds making +their way to the game.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span></p> +<p>“I think I am for most of the time,” answered +Darrell. “George Rankin and I talked it over +and decided that would be a good way to lead off. +Later, if I find I’m needed on the coaching line, +I’ll let Tom Davis take my place.”</p> + +<p>“Tom isn’t much good.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I think he is.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t he miss two hot throws to first base in +the game last Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“That was because you put them over his head. +You want to be careful, Sam, when there are two +on the bags, how you throw to first. Lots of times +I have to jump for your throws, and if I wasn’t +pretty quick at it they’d get by me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, you won’t have any complaint to-day. +I’ll get ’em there all right. But you’d better +stay in the whole game yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see. Hark, what’s that?”</p> + +<p>The inspiring notes of a coaching horn echoed +down the village street.</p> + +<p>“Sounds like a tally-ho,” remarked Sam.</p> + +<p>Just then there swung into view a large stage, +drawn by four horses, the vehicle filled with a +cheering, shouting and laughing crowd of boys.</p> + +<p>“That’s the Resolute team,” said Darrell. +“They’re coming in style all right.”</p> + +<p>Again there came the thrilling notes of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +bugle, blown by some one in the stage. Then followed +another large vehicle, filled with a throng +of cheering lads.</p> + +<p>“They’ve brought a crowd along,” commented +Sam.</p> + +<p>“Yes, maybe they’re depending on rooters to +help them win the game.”</p> + +<p>“Well, our fellows can root some too,” spoke +the pitcher. “I’m glad there’s going to be a big +crowd. I can pitch better then.”</p> + +<p>“Well, do your best,” urged the manager. +“There’s Percy Parnell and Fred Newton over +there. I thought they were out on the field long +ago.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe they had to set fence posts too.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” assented Darrell with a laugh. +“And here comes Tom Davis. Who’s that with +him?” and the pitcher and manager glanced at a +tall, well-formed lad who was walking beside the +substitute first baseman. “Evidently a stranger +in town,” went on Darrell.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’ve seen him before,” remarked Sam. +“He lives down on our street. The family just +moved in. His name is Batson, or Hatson, or +something like that. His father works in the +harvester factory.”</p> + +<p>“Hum,” mused Darrell. “He looks like a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +decent sort of chap,” and he gazed critically at +the stranger. “Maybe he’d like to join our club,” +for the ball team was a sort of adjunct to a boys’ +athletic organization.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ve got enough fellows in now,” said +Sam quickly.</p> + +<p>“Always room for one more,” commented the +manager, who was ever on the lookout for good +material for the nine. Perhaps Sam suspected +something like this, for he glanced quickly at his +companion.</p> + +<p>“Say, if you think I’m not good enough——” +began the pitcher, who was noted for his quick +temper.</p> + +<p>“Now, now, drop that kind of talk,” said Darrell +soothingly. “You know we’re all satisfied +with your pitching. Don’t get on your ear.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I won’t then,” and Sam smiled frankly.</p> + +<p>By this time Percy Parnell, the second baseman, +and Fred Newton, the plucky little shortstop, had +joined the pitcher and the manager, and greetings +were exchanged.</p> + +<p>“Are we going to wallop ’em?” asked Fred.</p> + +<p>“Sure thing,” assented Sam.</p> + +<p>“It’s going to be a hot game all right,” was +Percy’s opinion.</p> + +<p>“All the better,” commented Darrell. “Say<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +the people are turning out in great shape, though. +I’m glad to see it. We need a little money in our +treasury.”</p> + +<p>They turned in at the players’ gate. The Resolute +team had preceded them, and already several +of the members of that nine were in their uniforms +and out on the diamond. They were lads +of the same age as their rivals, and had about the +same sort of an organization—strictly amateur, +but with desires to do as nearly as possible as the +college and professional teams did.</p> + +<p>But there was a great difference, of course, and +mainly in the rather free-and-easy manner in +which the rules were interpreted. While it is true +that in the fundamentals they played baseball according +to the general regulations, there were +many points on which they were at variance, and a +professional probably would have found much at +which to laugh and be in despair. But what did +it matter as long as the boys, and those who +watched them, enjoyed it? Not a bit, in my +opinion.</p> + +<p>As the Silver Star lads proceeded to the improvised +dressing rooms under the grandstand, several +more of the Resolute players hurried out, buttoning +jackets as they ran.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll get you fellows to-day all right!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> +shouted Henry (otherwise known as Hen) Littell, +pitcher and captain of the Resolutes.</p> + +<p>“All right, the game’s yours—if you can take +it,” called back Darrell, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>The diamond soon presented an animated scene, +with many players and a few substitutes pitching, +catching or batting balls about. The crowds were +beginning to arrive and occupy seats in the small +grandstand or on the bleachers. Many preferred +to stand along the first and third base lines, or seat +themselves on the grass.</p> + +<p>Approaching the grounds about this time were +the two lads of whom Sam and Darrell had spoken +briefly. One was Tom Davis, the substitute first +baseman and the other boy whom Sam had referred +to as “Batson” or “Hatson.” Sam had +it nearly right. The lad was Joe Matson, and as +he is to figure largely in this story I will take just +a moment to introduce him to you.</p> + +<p>Joe was the son of Mr. and Mrs. John Matson, +and had lately moved to Riverside with his parents +and his sister Clara, who was a year his junior. +The family had come from the town of Bentville, +about a hundred miles away. Mr. Matson had +been employed in a machine works there, and had +invented several useful appliances.</p> + +<p>Located in Riverside was the Royal Harvester<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +Works, a large concern. In some manner Mr. +Isaac Benjamin, the manager, had heard of the +appliances Mr. Matson had perfected, and, being +in need of a capable machinist, he had made +Mr. Matson an offer to come to Riverside. It +had been accepted, and the family had moved in +shortly before this story opens.</p> + +<p>Joe was a tall, well-built lad, with dark hair and +brown eyes, and a way of walking and swinging +his arms that showed he had some athletic training. +He had made the acquaintance of Tom +Davis, who lived in the house back of him, and +Tom had asked Joe to go to the game that day.</p> + +<p>“For it’s going to be a good one,” said Tom +proudly, since he was a member of the nine, even +though only a substitute.</p> + +<p>“Who’s going to win?” asked Joe, as they approached +the grounds.</p> + +<p>“We will, if——” and then Tom stopped suddenly, +for there was a yell from inside the fence +and a moment later a ball came sailing over it, +straight toward the two lads.</p> + +<p>“Look out!” yelled Tom. “That’s a hot one! +Duck, Joe, duck!”</p> + +<p>But Joe did not dodge. Instead, he spread his +legs well apart and stood ready to catch the swiftly-moving +horsehide in his bare hands.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>TIEING THE SCORE</h3> + + +<p>Ping! The ball came in between Joe’s palms +with a vicious thud, but there it stuck, and a +moment later the newcomer had tossed it back +over the fence with certain and strong aim.</p> + +<p>“I guess some one will pick it up,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” assented Tom. “Say, that was a good +stop all right. Have you played ball before?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, just a little,” was the modest and rather +quiet answer. In fact Joe Matson was rather a +quiet youth, too quiet, his mother sometimes said, +but his father used to smile and remark:</p> + +<p>“Oh, let Joe alone. He’ll make out all right, +and some of these days he may surprise us.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that was a pippy stop all right,” was +Tom’s admiring, if slangy, compliment. “Let’s +go in, I may get a chance to play.”</p> + +<p>Joe turned toward the main entrance gate, and +thrust one hand into his pocket.</p> + +<p>“Where you going?” demanded Tom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span></p> +<p>“Into the grounds of course. I want to get a +ticket.”</p> + +<p>“Not much!” exclaimed his companion. +“You don’t have to pay. Come with me. I invited +you to this game, and I’m a member of the +team, though I don’t often get a chance to play. +Members are allowed to bring in one guest free. +I’ll take you in. We’ll use the players’ gate.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Joe briefly, as he followed his +new friend.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a good place to see it from—almost +as good as the grandstand,” said Tom, as they +moved to a spot along the first base line. +“Though you can go up and sit down if you like. +I’m going to put on my things. I may get a chance +at first.”</p> + +<p>“No, I’ll stay here,” said Joe. “Then I can +see you make some good stops.”</p> + +<p>“I can if Sam doesn’t put ’em away over my +head,” was the reply.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, that’s so. You started to say that +you thought our side—you see I’m already a +Silver Star rooter—that our side would win, if +something didn’t happen.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, and then that ball came over the +fence. Well, we’ll win, I think, if Sam doesn’t go +to pieces.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span></p> +<p>“Who’s Sam?”</p> + +<p>“Sam Morton, our pitcher. He’s pretty good +too, when he doesn’t get rattled.”</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll hope that he doesn’t to-day,” +said Joe with a smile. “But go ahead and dress.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” assented Tom, and he started off +on a run to the dressing rooms. It was only just +in time, too, for at that moment Darrell came +hastening up to him.</p> + +<p>“Why haven’t you got your suit on?” the manager +asked. “You’ll probably play some innings +anyhow, and I don’t want any delay.”</p> + +<p>“All right—right away,” Tom assured him. +“I’m on the job.”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think will win?” asked a youth +sitting next to Joe on the grass.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” began Joe slowly. “I +haven’t seen either team play.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, then you’re a stranger here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, just moved in.”</p> + +<p>“I saw you with Tom Davis. You must be that +Matson lad he told me lived back of him.”</p> + +<p>“I am, and I hope Tom’s side wins.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff! So do I. But those Resolutes +have a good nine.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, go on!” broke in a lad back of Joe. +“They haven’t any good batters at all.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span></p> +<p>“What’s the matter with Hank Armstrong?” +demanded some one.</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s pretty good, but Ford Lantry or +Seth Potter on our team can bat all around +him.”</p> + +<p>“How about their pitcher?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s pretty good,” admitted the lad who +had first addressed Joe.</p> + +<p>“But he can’t come up to Sam Morton when +Sam is at his best,” said some one else, joining in +the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Yes—<i>when</i> he’s at his best,” repeated another +lad. “Those Resolutes have it in for us, +but we’re going to wipe up the ground with them +to-day all right.”</p> + +<p>“Like fun!” exploded a Resolute sympathizer. +“I’ll bet you——”</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” broke in the voice of the umpire, +and the clanging of the gong warned the players +and others to clear the field.</p> + +<p>“We’re last at the bat,” said Tom, “and that +means a whole lot.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented Joe, and then the Silver Star +pitcher took his place in the box and exchanged a +few preliminary balls with the catcher, Bart Ferguson.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” yelled the young umpire again,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> +selecting some pebbles with which to keep score.</p> + +<p>Hank Armstrong, the sturdy left fielder of the +Resolutes, was the first at the bat for his side, and +with a vicious swing he hit the first ball which +Sam pitched to him. Squarely on the bat he +caught it with a resounding ping!</p> + +<p>Away it sailed straight over Sam’s head and +over the head of the second baseman. Farther +and farther it went, until the centre fielder began +running back to get it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, wow! Pretty one! Pretty one!”</p> + +<p>“Go on! Go on!”</p> + +<p>“Make a three bagger of it!”</p> + +<p>“Run, you beggar!”</p> + +<p>These and many other cries speeded Armstrong +on. He was running fast and reached second well +in advance of the ball. But he dared not go on to +third.</p> + +<p>“Hum, if they hit Sam like that too often he +won’t last very long,” commented Tom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that was a fluke,” declared Rodney +Burke, who sat behind Joe.</p> + +<p>There was a surprised and disconcerted look +on Sam’s face as he gazed at the next batter. No +sooner had the ball left Sam’s hand, that Armstrong +was away for third like a shot, for he was +a notorious base stealer. Bart threw to third, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +the ball went too high and the baseman jumped +for it in vain. Armstrong came in with the first +run.</p> + +<p>“Begins to look bad!” yelled Tom in Joe’s ear, +for the cheers and exultant yells of the Resolute +crowd made ordinary talking impossible.</p> + +<p>But that was all the visiting team got that inning, +for Sam struck out two men, and the third +fouled to Bart.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll see what our fellows can do,” commented +Tom.</p> + +<p>Seth Potter, the left fielder, was first up, and he +had two strikes and three balls called on him in +short order. Then he got under a pretty one and +made first.</p> + +<p>“Watch out now, and run down when he +throws!” cried Darrell, who was coaching.</p> + +<p>Seth did run, but was caught at second. Jed +McGraw, the centre fielder, was next up and +knocked a safety, getting to first.</p> + +<p>Then came Ford Lantry, who played right field, +and he knocked a pretty three-bagger which +brought in McGraw and the run. At that the +Silver Star crowd went wild with joy, but it was +all they had to crow over as the next two men +struck out and Lantry died on third.</p> + +<p>The next two innings were marked by goose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +eggs for both sides, and in the fourth inning the +Silver Stars brought in two runs, while their opponents +could not seem to connect with the +ball.</p> + +<p>“Old Sam is doing fine!” cried Tom.</p> + +<p>“Yes, he seems to have good control,” commented +Joe.</p> + +<p>“But he lacks speed,” said Rodney Burke.</p> + +<p>“Oh, cheese it! Do you want to give all our +secrets away to these fellows?” asked Tom in a +low voice, indicating the many Resolute sympathizers +who were all about.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s true,” murmured Rodney, and Joe +felt a sudden wild hope come into his heart.</p> + +<p>The game went on enthusiastically, if not correctly +from a professional or college baseball +standpoint. Many errors were made and several +rules were unconsciously violated. The young +umpire’s decisions might have been questioned +several times, and on numerous occasions the game +was stopped while the respective captains, and +some of the players, argued among themselves, or +with the umpire. But the disputes were finally +settled, though there was a growing spirit of dissatisfaction +on both sides.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” yelled the umpire, at the conclusion +of an argument in the fifth inning.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<p>It was then that the Resolutes did some heavy +stick work, and tallied three runs to the enthusiastic +delight of the team and its supporters.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to do better than this,” murmured +Darrell to Captain Rankin and Sam when they +took the field at the end of that inning, and a big +circle stared at them from the score board as the +result of their efforts.</p> + +<p>“I’m doing all I can!” snapped Sam. “I’m +not getting decent support.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, cut it out! Of course you are!” asserted +Rankin.</p> + +<p>A single tally by each side in the sixth, and two +for the Silver Stars and one for the Resolutes in +the seventh, brought the game to that usual breathing +spot. The score was now a tie, and the excitement +was growing.</p> + +<p>“For cats’ sake beat ’em out, fellows!” pleaded +Darrell. “Use your bats. They’re to hit the +ball with, not to fan the air!”</p> + +<p>Perhaps his frantic appeal had some effect, for +in the next inning the Resolutes only got one run, +while, when the Silver Stars came to bat to close +the inning, they hammered out three, putting them +well ahead.</p> + +<p>But there was trouble brewing. Sam’s arm was +giving out. He realized it himself but he dared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +not speak of it. Grimly he fought against it, but +he saw that the other side was aware of it.</p> + +<p>“Come on now, we’ll get his goat!” yelled the +captain of the Resolutes. Then began what may +be regarded as the cruel practice of yelling discouraging +remarks at the man in the box. Sam +was plainly told that he was “rotten” while other +and less mild epithets were hurled at him.</p> + +<p>These had their effect. He gave two men their +base on balls, and he made a number of wild +throws to first where Tom Davis had replaced +Darrell Blackney. However, by a strong brace +Sam managed to hold his opponents runless, +though in this saving work he was nobly assisted +by his fellows, and by the quickness of Tom in not +letting the wild balls get by him. Tom was a magnificent +high jumper, which served him in good +stead.</p> + +<p>The ending of the eighth saw the score nine to +seven in favor of the Silver Stars, they having +brought in three runs.</p> + +<p>It began to look, in spite of Sam’s trouble, as if +the home team would win. There was a riot of +cheers when the Resolutes went to bat in the +ninth inning, and despite the fact that they were +two runs behind, their supporters did not fail +them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<p>“Win! Win! Win!” they yelled.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ll win all right,” said Captain Littell +grimly.</p> + +<p>And he and his men gave good evidence of doing +so a few minutes later. Sam literally “went +to pieces.” He lost all control of the ball, and +was fairly “knocked out of the box.” There was +a look of despair on the faces of his mates.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with him?” demanded +Joe, who was surprised at the sudden slump.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’s what he does every once in a +while,” said a disgusted Silver Star supporter. +“You can’t depend on him. Wow, that’s rotten!” +for Sam had delivered a ball that was batted over +the right-field fence.</p> + +<p>Instantly there was a wild scene. Two men +were on second and third base respectively when +this “homer” was knocked and they came racing +in. The home-run batter followed.</p> + +<p>“Ring around the rosey!” yelled the Resolute +captain. “If we had more on base they’d all +come in. Hit at anything, fellows! Hit everything.”</p> + +<p>It looked as if they were doing it, for they made +six runs that inning, which brought the score to +thirteen to nine in favor of the visitors.</p> + +<p>“Five runs to win, and four to tie,” murmured<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +Darrell as his men came in from the field for their +inning. “Can we do it?”</p> + +<p>How it was done even he scarcely knew, for so +fierce was the rivalry between the teams, and so +high the excitement, that several times open +clashes were narrowly averted. But the four +runs were secured, and though the Silver Stars +played their best they could not get another one. +But even to tie the score after Sam’s slump was +something worth while.</p> + +<p>“Ten innings! It gives us another chance for +our white alley,” murmured Tom to Joe, as the +first baseman made ready to go on the sack again. +“If we can get one run, and hold them down to a +goose egg it will do.”</p> + +<p>But the Resolutes seemed to have struck a winning +streak. Sam could not pull himself together, +and got worse. Darrell was in despair, and there +was gloom in the hearts of the Riverside residents.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t they another pitcher they can put +in?” asked Joe of one of his neighbors.</p> + +<p>“No, and if they had Sam would raise such a +row that it might bust up the team. He’ll play it +out.”</p> + +<p>In the tenth inning the Resolutes pounded out +three more runs, batting Sam all over the field, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +when the Silver Stars came up the score was sixteen +to thirteen against them.</p> + +<p>“Oh, for a bunch of runs!” pleaded Darrell, +as his men went to bat.</p> + +<p>But they couldn’t get them. The Resolute +pitcher with a grin on his freckled face sent in +curve after curve and struck out two men in short +order. Then Tom Davis knocked a little pop fly +which was easily caught, and the game ended in a +riot of yells, as a goose egg went up in the tenth +frame for the Silver Stars. They had lost by a +score of sixteen to thirteen, and there were bitter +feelings in their hearts against their rivals.</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you get a pitcher who can pitch?” +demanded one of the Resolutes.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you insult me!” cried Sam striding forward. +“I can pitch as good as your man.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, listen to him! He’s dreaming!” some +one yelled, laughingly.</p> + +<p>“I am; eh? Well, I’ll show you!” cried Sam +angrily, and the next instant, in spite of the effort +of Darrell to hold him back, he had leaped for the +lad who had mocked him, and had struck him a +heavy blow.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>MRS. MATSON IS WORRIED</h3> + + +<p>“What do you mean by that?” demanded the +lad whom Sam had struck.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I mean by it. I mean you can’t +insult me!”</p> + +<p>“I can’t, eh? Well, I can whip you all right,” +and with those words Sam was nearly knocked off +his feet by a return blow.</p> + +<p>“Here, cut that out!” yelled Darrell.</p> + +<p>“Aw, what’s eating you?” demanded another +of the Resolute crowd. “If you fellows are looking +for a fight you can have it; eh boys?”</p> + +<p>“Sure thing!” came in a chorus, as the players +crowded up, with bats in their hands.</p> + +<p>“This may be serious,” murmured Darrell to +Tom. “See if you can’t stop Sam from fighting.”</p> + +<p>But it was too late, as Sam and his opponent +were at each other hammer and tongs.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to fight?” sneered the lad who +had accosted the manager.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> +<p>“Afraid?”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not.”</p> + +<p>“Then come on,” and the lad, half in fun perhaps, +gave Darrell a shove.</p> + +<p>Now Darrell, though disliking fistic encounters, +was no coward and he promptly retaliated with a +blow that knocked his enemy down.</p> + +<p>“Wow! It’s a fight all right!” yelled another +lad, and then Darrell and his antagonist were at it.</p> + +<p>The crowd from the stands and bleachers now +began thronging about the enraged players. There +had always been more or less bad blood between +the two rival nines and now, when the Resolutes +had taken a game that was almost won away from +the Silver Stars, the feeling broke out anew.</p> + +<p>On all sides there were impromptu battles going +on. Some of the lads were good-natured about it, +and only indulged in wrestling contests, but others +were striking viciously at each other and soon +there were some bloody noses and blackened eyes +in evidence.</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you whether I can pitch or not!” +yelled Sam, as he aimed a hard blow at the lad +with whom he had first had an encounter. He +missed his aim, and went whirling to one side, to +be met by a blow as he turned about, and almost +sent down.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span></p> +<p>“Do you want anything?” suddenly demanded +a lad stopping in front of Joe, who was standing +near Tom. Joe recognized his questioner as the +Resolute shortstop.</p> + +<p>“No, he’s a stranger here—he isn’t on the +nine,” said Tom quickly.</p> + +<p>“Well, can’t he fight?” was the sneering demand.</p> + +<p>“Yes, if I want to, but I don’t want to,” and +Joe answered for himself.</p> + +<p>“I’ll make you want to,” was the retort, and +Joe was struck in the chest. He was not a lad to +stand for that and he retaliated with such good +effect that his opponent went down in a heap on +the grass, and did not arise for some seconds. +When he did stagger up, and saw Joe calmly waiting +for him, the lad moved off.</p> + +<p>“You can fight all right,” he mumbled. “I’ve +had enough.”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Darrell had disposed of his lad, and +Tom, who was engaged with a small lad who +made a sneering remark, grabbed hold of the +chap and shook him until the lad begged for +mercy.</p> + +<p>Sam and his opponent were still at it hot and +heavy when there arose a cry:</p> + +<p>“Cheese it—here come the cops!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> +<p>Riverside boasted of a small police force, and +while it was not very formidable, most of the lads +came from homes where a report of their arrest +for fighting would meet with severe punishment. +Their ardor suddenly cooled and, almost as soon +as it had started, the impromptu battle was over. +The victorious nine gathered up their belongings +and moved off the diamond, jeering at their defeated +rivals.</p> + +<p>“It was their fault—they started the fights,” +declared Tom Davis.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I guess it was,” admitted Darrell. +“Well come on, fellows. They beat us, and +though I think it wasn’t exactly square on some of +the decisions, we can take our medicine. We’ll do +better next time.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean me?” demanded Sam half +fiercely.</p> + +<p>“I mean—all of us,” spoke Darrell slowly, +“including myself.”</p> + +<p>“Some excitement; eh?” asked Tom, as he +linked his arm in that of Joe Matson and walked +along with him.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but it was a good game just the same.”</p> + +<p>“You play, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“I used to, at Bentville, where we moved +from,” answered Joe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span></p> +<p>“Have a good team?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty good.”</p> + +<p>“Where’d you play?”</p> + +<p>“Well, mostly at pitching. I like that better +than anything else.”</p> + +<p>“Hum!” mused Tom. “It takes a pretty +good one to pitch these days. It isn’t like it used +to be. Pitching is a gift, like poetry I guess. You +can’t go in and pitch right off the reel.”</p> + +<p>“I know it,” answered Joe quietly. “But it’s +my one ambition. I want to go to a good boarding +school and get on the team as pitcher.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope you do,” and Tom laughed +frankly. “I wouldn’t mind that myself, though +I don’t know as I care so much for pitching.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the best part of the game!” cried Joe, +and his eyes shone and he seemed to lose some of +his usual quiet manner. “I’d like it above everything +else!”</p> + +<p>“Got any curves?” asked the practical Tom.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know as I have—yet. I’m +practicing though.”</p> + +<p>“Got any speed?”</p> + +<p>“They used to say I had, back there in Bentville.”</p> + +<p>“Hum! Well, I don’t believe there’s much +chance for you here. Sam has the Silver Stars<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> +cinched. But he was rotten the last half of to-day’s +game. That’s what made us lose it. Yes, +it takes some pumpkins to pitch now-a-days.”</p> + +<p>The boys walked on down the street after Tom +had discarded his suit. Before them and behind +them were other players and spectators, talking +of nothing but the game and the fight that had followed. +The Resolutes, cheering and singing triumphantly, +had departed in their big stages, and in +the hearts of the Silver Stars was gloom and despair.</p> + +<p>“Well, come over and see me sometime,” invited +Tom, as he parted from Joe.</p> + +<p>“I will. You come over and see me.”</p> + +<p>The boys went their respective ways—Joe walking +rather slowly and thinking of what had just +taken place.</p> + +<p>“How I would like to pitch—and go to boarding +school!” he mused as he walked toward his +house. As he entered the side door he saw his +mother sitting at the dining room table. Something +about her attracted his attention—aroused +his fears. The cloth had been spread, and +though it was supper time, for the game had lasted +until late, there were no dishes on the table.</p> + +<p>“Why mother!” exclaimed Joe, struck by a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +queer look on her face. “What is the matter? +Has anything happened?”</p> + +<p>“Oh Joe!” she exclaimed starting up, as +though she had not heard him come in. “Oh, no, +nothing is the matter,” she went on, and she tried +to smile, but it was only an attempt. “I forgot it +was so late. Your father was home, but he went +out again.”</p> + +<p>“Where?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. He said he had some business +to attend to. But I must hurry with the supper. +Where were you?”</p> + +<p>“At the ball game. There was a fight. Our +side lost. Oh, how I wish I had been pitching! If +ever I go to that boarding school I’m going to try +for the nine, first thing!”</p> + +<p>“Oh yes, you’re always talking about a boarding +school, Joe. Well, I—I hope you can +go.”</p> + +<p>“Mother, I’m sure something has happened!” +exclaimed Joe, putting his arms around her and +patting her on the shoulder, for she was a little +woman.</p> + +<p>“No, really,” she assured him. “I’m just a +little worried, that’s all. Now you can help me set +the table if you will. Clara has gone to take her +music lesson and isn’t back yet.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<p>“Of course I will!” exclaimed Joe. “But +what are you worried about, mother? I wish +you’d tell me.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t now, Joe. Perhaps I will some time. +It isn’t anything serious—yet,” and with that Mrs. +Matson hurried out of the room.</p> + +<p>She smiled as she left her son, but when she +reached the kitchen the same serious look came +over her face again.</p> + +<p>“I hope what he fears doesn’t come to pass,” +she remarked to herself. “Poor Joe! it would +be too bad if he couldn’t go to a boarding school +when his heart is so set on it. And to become a +pitcher! I wish he had some higher ambition in +life, though I suppose all boys are alike at his +age,” and she sighed.</p> + +<p>“Hum,” mused Joe as he went about setting +the table, for the Matsons kept no girl and Joe +and his sister often helped their mother with the +housework when their school duties permitted. +“Something is worrying mother,” the lad went on. +“I hope it isn’t anything about father’s business +in the harvester works. He took a risk when he +gave up his position in Bentville and took a new +one here. But that was an exciting game all +right,” and Joe smiled at the recollection as he +went on putting the plates around at their places.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>A ROW WITH SAM</h3> + + +<p>“What are you thinking about, Joe?”</p> + +<p>It was his sister Clara who asked the question, +and she had noticed that her brother was rather +dreaming over his books than studying. It was +the Monday night after the Saturday when the +memorable game with the Resolutes had taken +place.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing much,” and Joe roused himself +from a reverie and began to pour over his books.</p> + +<p>“Well, for ‘nothing much’ I should say that +it was a pretty deep subject,” went on Clara with +a laugh, as she finished doing her examples. “It +isn’t one of the girls here, is it Joe? There are a +lot of pretty ones in our class.”</p> + +<p>“Oh—bother!” exclaimed Joe. “Let a fellow +alone, can’t you, when he’s studying? We +have some pretty stiff work I tell you!” and he +ruffled up his hair, as if that would make his lessons +come easier. “It’s a heap worse than it was +back in Bentville.”</p> + +<p>“I think so too, but I like it, Joe. We have a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +real nice teacher, and I’ve met a lot of pleasant +girls. Do you know any of the boys?”</p> + +<p>“Hu! I guess you want me to give you an +introduction to them!” exclaimed Joe.</p> + +<p>“No more than you do to the girls I know,” retorted +his sister, “so there!”</p> + +<p>“Now, now,” gently remonstrated Mrs. Matson, +looking up from her sewing, “you young +folks keep on with your lessons. Your father +can’t go on reading his paper if you dispute so.”</p> + +<p>Involuntarily Joe and his sister glanced to +where Mr. Matson sat in his easy chair. But he +did not seem to be reading, though he held the +paper up in front of him. Joe fancied he saw a +look of worriment on his father’s face, and he +wondered if he was vexed over some problem in +inventive work, or whether he was troubled over +business matters concerning his new position.</p> + +<p>Then there came to the lad’s mind a memory +of his mother’s anxiety the night he had come in +from the game, and he wondered if the two had +any connection. But he knew it would not do to +ask, for his father seldom talked over business +matters at home.</p> + +<p>Finally, seeming to feel Joe’s look, Mr. Matson, +after a quick glance at his son, began to scan +the paper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<p>“Go on with your studying, Joe and Clara,” +commanded Mrs. Matson with a smile. “Don’t +dispute any more.”</p> + +<p>“I was only asking Joe if he knew any nice +boys,” spoke Clara in vindication. “I know how +fond he was of playing baseball back in Bentville, +and I was wondering if he was going to play +here.”</p> + +<p>“Guess I haven’t much chance,” murmured Joe +half gloomily, as he drew idle circles on the back +blank leaf of his book.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” asked Clara quickly. “The girls +say the boys have a good nine here, even if they +were beaten last Saturday. There’s going to be +another game this Saturday, and Helen Rutherford +is going to take me.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, there’s a good enough team here,” +admitted Joe. “In fact the Silver Stars are all +right, but every position is filled. I <i>would</i> like to +play—I’d like to pitch. I want to get all the practice +I can on these small teams, so when I go to +boarding school I’ll have something to talk about.”</p> + +<p>“And you’re still set on going to boarding +school?” asked Mrs. Matson, sighing gently as +she looked at her son.</p> + +<p>“I certainly am—if it can be managed,” replied +Joe quickly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span></p> +<p>Mr. Matson started so suddenly that the paper +rattled loudly, and his wife asked:</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, John, did something in the +news startle you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh—no,” he said slowly. “I—I guess I’m +a bit nervous. I’ve been working rather hard lately +on an improvement in a corn reaper and binder. +It doesn’t seem to come just right. I believe I’ll +go to bed. I’m tired,” and with “good-nights” +that were not as cheerful as usual he left the room. +Mrs. Matson sighed but said nothing, and Joe +wondered more than ever if any trouble was brewing. +He hoped not. As for Clara she was again +bent over her lessons.</p> + +<p>The Silver Star nine was variously made up. A +number of lads worked in different town industries, +one even being employed in the harvester +works where Mr. Matson was employed. Others +attended school.</p> + +<p>Joe Matson had attended the academy in the +town of Bentville whence they moved to Riverside, +and on arriving in the latter place had at once +sought admission to the high school. He was +given a brief examination, and placed in the junior +class, though in some of the studies the pupils there +were a little ahead of him, consequently he had to +do some hard studying.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> +<p>The ambition to attend a boarding school had +been in Joe’s mind for a long while, and as his +father was in moderate circumstances, and soon +hoped to make considerable from his patents, Joe +reasoned that his parents could then afford to send +him.</p> + +<p>Among others on the nine who attended the +high school were Darrell Blackney and Sam Morton, +who were in the senior class, and Tom Davis, +whose acquaintance Joe had made soon after coming +to Riverside. There was a school nine, but it +was made up of the smaller boys and Joe had no +desire to join this. In fact none of the lads who +were on the Silver Stars belonged to the school +team.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m through, thank goodness!” finally +exclaimed Clara, as she closed her books.</p> + +<p>“And I am too,” added Joe, a moment later. +“Hope I don’t flunk to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Are you going to the game Saturday?” asked +Clara.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I guess so. Wish I was going <i>in</i> it, but +that’s too much to hope for.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know any one on the nine?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Tom Davis.”</p> + +<p>“He’s the boy back of us, isn’t he? His sister +Mabel is in my class.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> +<p>“Yes,” assented Joe, “but Tom is only a substitute.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe you could be that at first, and then get +a regular place,” suggested Clara.</p> + +<p>“Um!” murmured Joe. He didn’t have a very +high opinion of girls’ knowledge of baseball, even +his sister’s.</p> + +<p>When Joe reached home from school the following +afternoon he saw his mother standing on +the front steps with a letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Joe!” she exclaimed, “I was just waiting +for you. Your father——”</p> + +<p>“Is there anything the matter with father?” +the lad gasped, his thoughts going with a rush to +one or two little scenes that had alarmed him +lately.</p> + +<p>“No, nothing at all,” answered his mother with +a smile. “But he just hurried home from the +factory with this note and he wanted you, as soon +as you came home, to take it to Moorville. It’s +for a Mr. Rufus Holdney there. The address is +on it, and I guess you can find him all right. +You’re to wait for an answer. Go on your wheel. +It’s only a few miles to Moorville, and a straight +road, so your father says.”</p> + +<p>“I know where it is,” answered Joe. “Tom +Davis has relatives there. He pointed out the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +road to me one day. I’ll go right away. Here, +catch hold of my books, mother, and I’ll get my +wheel out of the barn,” for a barn went with the +house Mr. Matson had rented.</p> + +<p>A little later the lad was speeding down the +country road that pleasant spring afternoon. Joe +was a good rider and was using considerable +strength on the pedals when suddenly, as he turned +a sharp curve, he saw coming toward him another +cyclist. He had barely time to note that it was +Sam Morton, the pitcher of the Silver Stars, and +to utter a warning shout when he crashed full into +the other lad.</p> + +<p>In a moment there was a mix-up of wheels, legs +and arms, while a cloud of dust momentarily hid +everything from sight. At first Joe did not know +whether or not he was hurt, or whether Sam was +injured. Fortunately Joe had instinctively put on +the brake with all his strength, and he supposed +the other lad had done likewise.</p> + +<p>Then, as the dust cleared away, and Joe began +to pull his arms and legs out of the tangle, and +arise, he saw that Sam was doing the same thing.</p> + +<p>“Hope you’re not hurt much!” was Joe’s first +greeting.</p> + +<p>“Humph! It isn’t your fault if I’m not,” was +the ungracious answer, as Sam felt of his pitching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +arm. “What do you mean by crashing into a fellow +that way for, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know that curve +was so sharp. I’d never ridden on this road before.”</p> + +<p>“Well, why didn’t you blow your horn or ring +your bell or—or something?”</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you?” demanded Joe with equal +right.</p> + +<p>“Never mind. Don’t give me any of your +talk. You’re one of the fresh juniors at school, +aren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I’m ‘fresh,’” replied Joe +quietly, “but I am a junior. I’m sorry if I hurt +you, but I couldn’t help it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes you could, if you knew anything about +riding a wheel.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you I couldn’t,” and Joe spoke a bit +sharply. “I was into you before I knew it. And +besides, you ran into me as much as I did into +you.”</p> + +<p>“I did not. If you don’t know enough to ride +a wheel, keep off the roads!” snarled the pitcher. +“If I’m stiff for Saturday’s game it will be your +fault.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you won’t be stiff,” spoke Joe, and he +said it sincerely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> +<p>“And if my wheel is broken you’ll have to pay +for it,” went on Sam.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think that’s right,” said Joe firmly. +“It was as much your fault as mine, and my wheel +may be broken too. I’m going to look,” he added +as he lifted his bicycle from where it was entangled +with Sam’s.</p> + +<p>A bent pedal, which would not interfere with its +use, was all the damage Joe’s wheel had sustained +and beyond a few bent spokes and a punctured +tire Sam’s seemed to have suffered no great +harm.</p> + +<p>“I’ll help you straighten those spokes,” said +Joe cheerfully. “It won’t take but a minute. I +can have my father straighten my pedal at the factory. +And I’ll help you mend and pump up your +tire. I’m sorry——”</p> + +<p>“Look here!” burst out Sam in a rage, “I +don’t want any of your help. You’re too fresh. +You come banging into a fellow, knocking him all +over and then you think you can square things by +offering to help him. I don’t want any of your +help!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well,” replied Joe quietly. “Then +I’ll be going on. I’ve got an errand to do. But +I’d like to help you.”</p> + +<p>“Mind your own business!” snapped Sam, still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +rubbing his pitching arm. He made no motion to +pick up his wheel.</p> + +<p>Joe was half minded to make an angry retort +but he thought better of it. He wheeled his bicycle +to the hard side-path of the road, and, ascertaining +that his letter was safe, prepared to mount +and ride away.</p> + +<p>“And mind you, if my arm is stiff, and I can’t +pitch Saturday it will be your fault, and I’ll tell the +fellows so,” called Sam as he leaned over to pick +up his wheel.</p> + +<p>“All right, only you know it isn’t so,” replied +Joe quietly.</p> + +<p>As he pedaled on he looked back and saw Sam +straightening some of the bent spokes. The +pitcher scowled at him.</p> + +<p>“Hum,” mused Joe as he speeded up. “Not a +very good beginning for getting on the nine—a +run-in with the pitcher. Well, I guess I wouldn’t +be in it anyhow. I guess they think I’m not in +their class. But I will be—some day!” and with +a grim tightening of his lips Joe Matson rode on.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>JOE HELPS THE MANAGER</h3> + + +<p>“Well now, I’m real sorry,” said Mrs. Holdney +when, a little later, Joe dismounted at her +door, and held out the letter for her husband. +“Rufus isn’t home. You can leave the letter for +him, though.”</p> + +<p>“No, I have to have an answer,” replied Joe. +“I think perhaps I’d better wait.”</p> + +<p>“Well, maybe you had, though I don’t know +when Rufus will be back. Is it anything of importance?”</p> + +<p>“I guess it must be,” spoke the lad, for, though +he did not know the contents of his father’s letter, +he reasoned that it would be on no unimportant +errand that he would be sent to Moorville.</p> + +<p>“Hum,” mused Mrs. Holdney. “Well, if you +want to wait all right, though as I said I don’t +know when my husband will be back.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know where he’s gone? Could I go +after him?” asked Joe eagerly. He was anxious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +to deliver the letter, get an answer, and return +home before dark.</p> + +<p>“Well, now, I never thought of that!” exclaimed +Mrs. Holdney. “Of course you might +do that. Rufus has gone down town, and most +likely you’ll find him in the hardware store of +Mr. Jackson. He said he had some business to +transact with him, and he’ll likely be there for +some time.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll ride down there on my wheel. I +guess I can find the place. Is it on the main +street?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, turn off this road when you get to the +big granite horse-drinking trough and swing in +to your right. Then turn to your left when you +get to the post-office and that’s Main Street. Mr. +Jackson’s store is about a block in.”</p> + +<p>The lad repeated the woman’s directions over +in his mind as he rode along, and he had no difficulty +in picking out the hardware store. He was +wondering how he would know Mr. Holdney, but +concluded that one of the clerks could point him +out.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Holdney is here,” said a man behind +the counter to whom Joe applied. “He’s in +the office with Mr. Jackson.”</p> + +<p>“I wonder if I could send a letter in to him,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +ventured the lad, for he did not want to wait any +longer than he had to.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid not,” answered the clerk. “Mr. +Jackson is very strict about being disturbed when +he’s talking business.”</p> + +<p>“Then I guess I’ll have to wait,” said Joe with +a sigh. “I wonder if he’ll be in there long?”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t want to say for sure,” spoke the +clerk, leaning over the counter in a confidential +manner and speaking in a whisper. “I wouldn’t +even dare to guess,” he went on with a look toward +the private office whence came the murmur of +voices, “but I’ll venture to state that it will be +some time. Mr. Jackson never does anything in +a hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Does Mr. Holdney?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he’s just the opposite. He’s as quick +as a steel trap. Too quick, that’s the trouble. +He and Mr. Jackson are good friends, but when +Mr. Holdney springs something sudden on my +boss, why Mr. Jackson is slower than ever, thinking +it over. I guess you’ll have to wait some time. +Is there anything you’d like to buy?”</p> + +<p>“No, I think not,” said Joe with a smile, and +then he sat down on one of the stools near the +counter while the clerk went off to wait on a customer. +The lad was getting impatient after nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +an hour had passed and there was no sign of Mr. +Holdney coming out. The murmur of voices continued +to come from the private office—one voice +quick and snappy, and the other slow and drawling—an +indication of the character of the two men.</p> + +<p>“I wish they’d hurry!” thought Joe. He began +to pace back and forth the length of the store, +and he was just thinking he would have to ride +home in the darkness, and was wondering whether +there was oil in his bicycle lamp, when the door of +the private office opened and two men came out.</p> + +<p>“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Joe to himself. +The men were still talking, but Joe concluded that +their business was about over so he chanced going +up to them.</p> + +<p>“Excuse me,” he said, “but I have a letter for +Mr. Holdney. It’s from my father, Mr. Matson.”</p> + +<p>“Eh, what’s—that—son?” asked the older of +the two men, in drawling tones.</p> + +<p>“It’s for me. I’m Mr. Holdney!” exclaimed +the other quickly. “From Mr. Matson, eh? +Well tell him I can’t help him any more. I haven’t +any spare—but wait a minute, I’ll write my answer.”</p> + +<p>“Hadn’t—you—better—read—the—letter—first,” +mildly and slowly suggested Mr. Jackson.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> +<p>“Humph! I know what it is all right!” exclaimed +the other quickly. “But I’ll read it. Let’s +have it!” He almost snapped it from the lad’s +hand and Joe wondered what could be the business +relations between his father and this man.</p> + +<p>With a flourish and a quick motion Mr. Holdney +tore open the envelope and read the letter almost +at a glance.</p> + +<p>“Hum!” he exclaimed. “Just as I expected. +No, I’m done with that business. I can’t do any +more. You may tell your father—hold on, +though, I’ll write it,” and, whipping out a lead +pencil Mr. Holdney scribbled something on the +back of Mr. Matson’s note.</p> + +<p>“So you’re John Matson’s son; eh?” he asked +of Joe.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Hum! Go to school?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, the Riverside High.”</p> + +<p>“Hum! Ever invent anything?”</p> + +<p>“No, not yet,” answered Joe with a smile.</p> + +<p>“That’s right—never do it. It’s a poor business. +Play ball?”</p> + +<p>“I did in Bentville where we lived, but I haven’t +had a chance here yet.”</p> + +<p>“Hum! Yes, Bentville. That’s where I met +your father. Here’s the answer. There you are.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +Now don’t lose it,” and quickly handing the communication +to Joe, Mr. Holdney turned and resumed +his talk with the hardware merchant.</p> + +<p>Joe was a little dazed by the quickness of it all, +and there were many questions running through +his mind. Somehow the manner of Mr. Holdney—the +message he had started to ask Joe to deliver +by word of mouth, his apparent refusal of something +Mr. Matson had evidently asked him to do—all +made Joe vaguely uneasy. He connected it +with his father’s nervousness the night before and +with his mother’s anxiety.</p> + +<p>“But there’s no use worrying until I have to,” +concluded Joe with a boy’s philosophy as he left +the hardware store, and truth to tell, he was thinking +more of his chances of going to boarding +school in the fall perhaps, and whether or not he +would get an opportunity to play ball, than he was +of any possible trouble.</p> + +<p>On leaving the hardware store Joe was surprised +to find it growing dusk. Gathering clouds +added to the gloom and he made up his mind that +the last part of his homeward journey would be +made in darkness.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ll see if I have any oil in the lamp,” +he remarked as he was about to mount his wheel. +“If I haven’t I can get some here.” But he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +found, on shaking the lantern, that it was filled +enough to carry him to Riverside, and he was soon +pedaling along that country road.</p> + +<p>The clouds continued to gather, and as the journey +back was partly up hill, and as the bent pedal +did not permit of fast riding, Joe soon found it +necessary to alight and set the lamp aglow.</p> + +<p>He was riding on, looking carefully ahead of +him, to avoid stones and ruts that the gleam of +light revealed, when, as he came to rather a lonely +spot on the road, he heard, just ahead of him, a +commotion.</p> + +<p>There was a sound of carriage wheels scraping +on the iron body guards, the tramping of a horse’s +feet, and then a voice called out:</p> + +<p>“Whoa now! Stand still, can’t you, until I see +what’s the matter? Whoa! Something’s broken, +that’s evident, worse luck! And I’m two miles +from nowhere. Whoa, now!”</p> + +<p>“Where have I heard that voice before?” +mused Joe as he rode more slowly so as not to +have another collision in the darkness.</p> + +<p>He could hear some one jump to the ground and +then the restless horse quieted down under the +soothing words of the driver.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s broken all right,” the voice went on.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +“And how in the mischief am I going to mend it? +Whoa, now!”</p> + +<p>Then Joe rode up, and in the glow of his light +he saw Darrell Blackney, the manager of the Silver +Stars, who was standing beside a carriage one +side of the shafts of which hung down from the +axle. The bolt had evidently broken.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Joe, dismounting.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that?” quickly asked Darrell.</p> + +<p>“I’m Joe Matson,” was the answer. “I know +you. I’m in the junior high class.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. Matson, I think I heard Tom Davis +speak of you. Well, I’ve had an accident. I was +out driving when all at once one side of the shafts +fell down. It’s a bad break I’m afraid; bolt +sheared off.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a wonder your horse didn’t run away.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Prince is pretty steady; aren’t you Prince +old fellow?” and Darrell patted the animal’s nose. +“But what the mischief am I to do? It’s too far +to go to the next town and leave Prince here, and +I can’t ride him, for he isn’t used to it and might +throw me off.”</p> + +<p>“Can I help you?” asked Joe. “I might ride +to the nearest place and get a bolt, if you told me +what kind.”</p> + +<p>“All the places would be closed by this time I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +guess,” was the rueful answer. “Much obliged to +you just the same. I certainly am in a pickle! +Next time I go out driving I’ll bring part of a +hardware store along.”</p> + +<p>“What sort of a bolt is it?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Oh, just an ordinary carriage one, flat headed. +Bring your light here, if you don’t mind, and I’ll +take a look at it. I could only tell it was broken +by feeling in the dark.”</p> + +<p>In the glow of the bicycle lamp it could be seen +that the bolt had broken squarely in two in the +middle, and could not be used again. But at the +sight of it, as Darrell held the two parts in his +hand, Joe uttered an exclamation.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked the manager of +the Silver Stars.</p> + +<p>“I think I have the very thing!” said Joe quickly. +“I’ve got some spare bolts in my tool bag. +They may not be the same size, but they’ll hold the +shaft in until you get home I think. I’ll take a +look.”</p> + +<p>“Good for you!” cried Darrell. “Most anything +will do in a pinch. Even a piece of wire, +but I can’t find any along the road in the dark. I +hope you have something,” and while Joe opened +his tool bag Darrell patted the somewhat restive +horse.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>JOE HAS HOPES</h3> + + +<p>“Yes, here’s the very thing, I guess!” said +Joe, after rummaging about in his leather tool case. +He produced a short but heavy bolt with a nut.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t exactly the same thing,” remarked +Darrell, after looking at it carefully, “but it will +do, if it’s long enough. Would you mind holding +Prince’s head while I try it? He might start up, +just as I got the shaft in place, and hurt my fingers, +if he didn’t make me drop the bolt. Then we’d +have a sweet time hunting for it in the dark.”</p> + +<p>Joe went to the animal’s head and patted the +cold, velvety nose while the other lad lifted up the +dropped shaft and fitted it in place. He was +fumbling about in the flickering light of the bicycle +lantern which he had temporarily fastened to the +dashboard.</p> + +<p>“Will it do?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Yes, it’s just the cheese. Lucky I met you, or, +rather that you met me, or I don’t know what I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +would have done. The bolt is just long enough. +Now if I can get the nut on——”</p> + +<p>“There’s a wrench in my tool bag,” interrupted +Joe. “Shall I get it for you?”</p> + +<p>“No, thanks, you stay by Prince. I can find +it. You haven’t been in town long, have you?” +asked Darrell, as he was working away over the +nut, which was a little tight.</p> + +<p>“No, about a week. I was at the Resolute ball +game though.”</p> + +<p>“You were? It was a shame it broke up the +way it did, but I don’t think it was our fault, +though Sam Morton is pretty quick tempered.”</p> + +<p>Joe had good reason to know that.</p> + +<p>“No,” he answered from the darkness near the +horse’s head, “it was the fault of the Resolutes all +right. They ought to have been satisfied after +pulling the game out of the fire the way they did.”</p> + +<p>“I should say so! They never ought to have +won it, and they wouldn’t have, only Sam sort of—well +they got his ‘goat’ I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented Joe, while Darrell went on +fumbling with the wrench and nut.</p> + +<p>“Do you play at all?” came the manager’s voice +from the vicinity of the flickering light.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” and Joe’s tone was eager while his +heart was strangely beating. It was a chance he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +had never dared hope for, to have the manager of +the Silver Stars ask him that.</p> + +<p>“Where?” came the next inquiry.</p> + +<p>“In Bentville, where I used to live.”</p> + +<p>“Oh. Have a good team?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty fair.”</p> + +<p>“Where’d you play?”</p> + +<p>“I used to pitch.” There was a pause and then, +emboldened by what had happened, Joe went on. +“I don’t suppose there’s a vacancy in your nine, is +there?” and he laughed half whimsically.</p> + +<p>“No, hardly, that is, not in the box,” said Darrell +slowly. “Sam has his faults, but he’s the best +pitcher we’ve had in a long time and I guess we’ll +keep him. There, that’s fixed,” he went on, tapping +the bolt to see that it was firmly in place. +“Now I can go on, I guess. I’m a thousand times +obliged to you. I don’t know what I’d have done +only for you. After this I’m going to carry a light, +and some spare bolts.”</p> + +<p>He handed Joe back the wrench and took the +lamp off the dashboard.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you a bolt in place of this the next +time I see you,” the manager went on, as he held +the lamp out to our hero.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it isn’t necessary. I don’t need it for my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +wheel. It was just one of some odds and ends that +I carry with me.”</p> + +<p>Darrell stood looking at Joe, whose face was +illuminated brightly by the full focus of the lamp. +The manager seemed struck by something.</p> + +<p>“I say!” he exclaimed, “you look as if you +were built to play ball. Were you at it long?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, a couple of years.”</p> + +<p>“Pitch all that time?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, only just the last few months of the +season. Our regular pitcher left and I filled in.”</p> + +<p>“I see. Hum, well, as I said we haven’t any +vacancy in the box, but by Jove! come to think of +it I might give you a chance!”</p> + +<p>Joe’s heart leaped wildly and he could hardly +answer.</p> + +<p>“Can you, really?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but not as a regular, of course—at least +that is not right off the bat. But if you’d like to +try for place at centre field I believe I can manage +it.”</p> + +<p>Joe’s heart was a little despondent. Centre +field was not a very brilliant place in which to shine +with the Stars, but it was a start and he realized +that.</p> + +<p>“I’d be glad of the chance,” he managed to say.</p> + +<p>“All right, I’ll keep you in mind. You see our<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +regular centre fielder, Jed McGraw, is going to +leave. His folks are moving out west and we’ll +have to have some one in his place. I don’t know +when he’s going, but it’s this week or next. I’d +like to do something for you, to sort of pay you +for what you did for me to-night, and——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t want anything for this!” exclaimed +Joe.</p> + +<p>“I know you don’t, but it just happened so. I +might not have known you except for this accident, +and as I said we will need some one to fill in at +centre field. Len Oswald is the regular substitute, +but he doesn’t practice much, and he’s got a job +over at Fordham so he can’t always be sure of getting +off Saturday afternoons, which is when we +mostly play. So I’ll put you down as sub now and +perhaps as regular—it depends on Len.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks!” Joe managed to say and he found +himself hoping that Len would have to work every +Saturday during the season.</p> + +<p>“We need some one with experience,” went on +Darrell, “and I’m glad I could give you the +chance. Tom Davis was saying you got mixed up +in the row the other day.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. I seem to be getting the habit,” replied +Joe with a laugh. “I had one with Sam Morton +on this road a little while ago.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span></p> +<p>“You don’t say so! How did it happen?”</p> + +<p>Joe gave all the details.</p> + +<p>“Hum! Well, Sam sure has a quick temper,” +went on the young manager. “But he’s all right +soon after it,” he added in extenuation. “He’ll +be friendly with you in a few days and forget all +about it. I wouldn’t hold a grudge against him, +if I were you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I shan’t. It was both our faults.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll be getting on,” remarked Darrell, +after a pause. “Come and see me sometime. I’ll +see you at school to-morrow, and if there’s anything +doing I’ll let you know.”</p> + +<p>The two boys’ hands met in a friendly clasp and +then the manager, getting into his carriage, drove +off. A little later, his heart filled with hope, Joe, +having put back his lantern and tool bag pedaled +toward home.</p> + +<p>“This was a lucky day for me, even if it did +look bad after that crash with Sam Morton,” he +said to himself. “I’m going to play ball, after +all!”</p> + +<p>There was rather a grave look on Mr. Matson’s +face when Joe handed him the reply from +Mr. Holdney, and told of his interview.</p> + +<p>“So he can’t help me—Oh, well, never mind,” +and Mr. Matson turned aside and went into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +room where he kept a desk. Mrs. Matson followed, +closing the door after her, and for some +time the voices of the two could be heard in low +but earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter; nothing wrong I hope?” +asked Clara.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I guess not,” answered Joe, though he +was vaguely uneasy himself. Then came the +thought of his talk with the baseball manager and +his heart was light again.</p> + +<p>Supper was rather a quiet affair that night, and +Mr. Matson spoke but little, quite in contrast to +his usual cheerful flow of conversation. Mrs. +Matson, too, seemed preoccupied.</p> + +<p>“I think I’m going to get on the Stars!” exclaimed +Joe, when he got a chance to tell of his +experiences that day.</p> + +<p>“That’s good,” said Mr. Matson heartily. +“There’s no game like baseball.”</p> + +<p>“But it doesn’t fit a boy for anything,” complained +Mrs. Matson. “It doesn’t help in any of +the professions.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a profession in itself!” declared Joe +stoutly.</p> + +<p>“I hope you don’t intend to adopt it,” spoke his +sister.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know. I might do worse. Look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +at some of those big New York players getting +thousands of dollars a year.”</p> + +<p>“But look how long it takes them to get to that +place,” objected Clara, who liked to argue.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, I’m young yet,” laughed Joe.</p> + +<p>In his room that night, while preparing for bed +Joe got to thinking of the possibility mentioned +by Darrell Blackney.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to play my head off in centre field,” +said Joe, “and I’m going to practice batting, too. +Stick work counts. I’m going to practice pitching, +also. Who knows, maybe I’ll get a chance in the +box if Sam ever slumps.</p> + +<p>“Wow! If I ever do!” and standing before an +imaginary batter Joe flung out his arm as if delivering +a swift curve. With a crash his fist hit a +picture on the wall and brought it clattering down +to the floor.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” called Clara sharply from the +next room.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I was just practicing pitching,” answered +Joe sheepishly, as he picked up the picture, the +glass of which had fortunately not broken.</p> + +<p>“Well, you’d better practice going to sleep,” +responded his sister with a laugh.</p> + +<p>Joe smiled. He had great hopes for the future.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>LAUGHED AT</h3> + + +<p>“What’s that in your pocket, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Which pocket?”</p> + +<p>“Your coat. I declare, you’ve got something +in both pockets,” and Clara approached her +brother as if with the intention of making a personal +inspection of two big bulges on either side +of his coat. “What are they?” she persisted, as +Joe backed away. Brother and sister had just gotten +up from the breakfast table, and were about to +start to school.</p> + +<p>“Oh, never mind!” exclaimed Joe hastily, as +he looked for his cap. “Got your lessons, Clara?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I have. But I’m curious to know +what makes your pockets bulge out so. Don’t you +know it will spoil your coat?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care,” and Joe made another hasty +move to get out of reach of Clara’s outstretched +hand. But he was not successful, and, with a laugh, +his sister caught hold of the bulging pocket on his +left side.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> +<p>“A ball!” she declared. “A baseball upon my +word! Two of them! Oh, Joe, are you really +going to play on the nine Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get a chance if Jed +McGraw leaves in time. But I’m taking a couple +of old balls to practice throwing this afternoon +when I come from school.”</p> + +<p>“You’re starting in early,” commented Clara. +“I hope you don’t sleep with a baseball under your +pillow the way we girls do with pieces of wedding +cake,” and she laughed merrily.</p> + +<p>“I’d be willing to sleep with a ball and a bat +under my pillow if I thought I’d get in the game +by it,” admitted Joe frankly. “But I’m not hoping +too much. Well, I’m going. Good-bye momsey,” +and he stopped to kiss his mother before he +hastened away to school. He looked at her closely +to discover whether there was any trace of worry, +but she smiled at him.</p> + +<p>“I may not be home early,” he told her. “I’m +going down to the fairgrounds.”</p> + +<p>“What for?” she asked quickly. “There isn’t +a show there, is there?”</p> + +<p>“No, but I want to do a little baseball practicing, +and that place is well out of the way.”</p> + +<p>“Baseball practice on the fairgrounds. +How——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> +<p>But she did not wait to finish her question for +she exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“My cake is burning in the oven. Good-bye, +Joe!” and she ran to the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what Sam Morton will say?” Joe +reflected as he walked along. “I certainly hope his +arm isn’t lame, even if it was as much his fault as +mine. I don’t want him to tell the fellows I’m to +blame for him losing a game—if he should.”</p> + +<p>Fearing that the same thing might happen to +him as when Clara laughed at him for having the +two baseballs in his pockets, Joe slipped to his +desk as soon as he reached the school, and hid the +balls away back among his books. The balls were +two old ones he had used when on the Bentville +nine, and they were still in fair condition.</p> + +<p>“I’m not going to let the fellows get on to the +fact that I’m practicing, until there’s more of a +chance for me than there is now,” thought our +hero, as he went out on the school grounds to +watch the lads at play.</p> + +<p>An impromptu game was going on, but Joe did +not join. Darrell Blackney passed him, and in answer +to Joe’s nod of greeting asked:</p> + +<p>“Did you get home all right?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. How about you?”</p> + +<p>“Fine. The bolt was all right. I haven’t forgotten.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +I’ll see McGraw to-day and find out when +he’s going to leave. Then if Oswald can’t say for +sure whether he’ll be with us, you’ll go in at centre +field.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” exclaimed Joe, his eyes bright with +anticipation.</p> + +<p>As Darrell passed on, Joe saw Sam Morton +approaching. At first he had a notion of turning +away and avoiding what he felt would be an unpleasant +scene. But Joe was nothing of a coward +and he realized that, sooner or later, he would +have to meet the pitcher with whom he had had +the collision. So he stood his ground.</p> + +<p>“How’s your arm?” he asked pleasantly, as +Sam approached.</p> + +<p>“Hu! None the better for what you did to it.”</p> + +<p>“What <i>I</i> did?” and Joe’s voice took on a surprised +tone. “Do you still insist it was my fault?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty near,” went on Sam, but Joe noticed +that he was not quite so vindictive as before. “It +isn’t as stiff as I thought it would be, though.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you can pitch all right Saturday,” went +on Joe. He wanted very much to hint at the fact +that he, too, might be in the game, but Sam was +not a lad to invite confidences, especially after +what had taken place. Joe liked comradeship. He +liked the company of boys of his own age and he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +was just “hungry” to talk baseball. But, aside +from Tom Davis, as yet he had no chums with +whom he could gossip about the great pastime.</p> + +<p>In Bentville he was looked up to as one of the +nine, and, though the team was not as good a one +as was the Silver Stars, still it was a team, and +Joe was one of the principal players. Coming to +a strange town, and being distinctly out of the +game, made him feel like a “cat in a strange garret,” +as he said afterward.</p> + +<p>But with a grim tightening of his lips he made +up his mind not to give way to gloomy thoughts, +and he determined that he would be on the town +team and one of the best players.</p> + +<p>As the warning bell rang, Tom Davis came hurrying +across the school campus.</p> + +<p>“I called for you!” he shouted to Joe who, +with a crowd of other lads, was going in the building, +“but you’d gone.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” replied Joe, grateful for the friendly +spirit shown. “I’ll wait next time.” He liked +Tom, and was glad to have him for a chum.</p> + +<p>Joe thought lessons would never be finished that +day, but the classes were finally dismissed and +then, without waiting for Tom, though he thought +this might be construed as rather unfriendly, our +hero hastened off in the direction of the fairgrounds.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +There was a high wooden fence around +this plot, and it gave Joe just the chance he wanted, +for he was going to practice pitching, and he didn’t +want any witnesses.</p> + +<p>“I wish I had half a dozen balls,” he murmured +as he went in through one of the gates which was +unlocked. “I wouldn’t have to chase back and +forth so often. But two will do for a while.”</p> + +<p>He laid his books down on the grass, took out +the horsehide spheres and, measuring a distance +from the fence about equal to the space from the +pitcher’s box to home plate, he began to pitch the +balls.</p> + +<p>With dull thuds the balls struck the fence, one +after the other, and fell to the ground. Joe picked +them up, took his place again in the imaginary +box, and repeated the performance.</p> + +<p>His arm, that was a bit stiff at first, from lack +of practice since coming to Riverside, gradually +became limber. He knew that his speed, too, was +increasing. He could not judge of his curves, and, +truth to tell he did not have very good ones as yet, +for he had only recently learned the knack. But +he had the right ideas and a veteran professional +pitcher, who was a friend of one of the Bentville +nine’s members, had showed Joe the proper manner +to hold and deliver the ball.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span></p> +<p>“I wish I had some one back there to give me a +line on myself,” thought Joe, as he pitched away, +a solitary figure on the grounds. “I don’t know +whether I’m getting them over the plate, or a mile +beyond,” for he had laid down a flat stone to serve +as “home.”</p> + +<p>“Anyhow this will improve my speed,” he reasoned, +“and speed is needed now-a-days as much +as curves.”</p> + +<p>Time and again he pitched his two horsehides, +ran to pick them up as they dropped at the foot of +the fence, and then he raced back to his “box” to +repeat the performance. He was rather tiring of +it, and his arm was beginning to feel numb in spite +of his enthusiasm, when he heard some one laughing. +The sound came from behind him, and, turning +quickly, Joe saw Sam Morton standing leaning +up against his wheel, and contemplating him with +mirth showing on his face.</p> + +<p>“Well, well!” exclaimed Sam. “This is pretty +good. What are you trying to do, Matson, knock +the fence down? If you are, why don’t you take +a hammer or some stones instead of baseballs? +This is rich! Ha! Ha!”</p> + +<p>For a moment Joe was tempted to make an +angry answer, for the hot blood of shame mounted +to his cheeks. Then he said quietly, and with as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> +much good-nature as he could summon on the spur +of the moment:</p> + +<p>“I’m practicing, that’s all. I came here as I +didn’t want to lose the balls, and the fence makes +a good backstop.”</p> + +<p>“Practicing, eh? What for?” and once more +Sam laughed in an insulting manner.</p> + +<p>“To improve my pitching. There may be a +chance to get on the team, I understand.”</p> + +<p>“What team; the Silver Stars?”</p> + +<p>Sam’s voice had a harsh note in it.</p> + +<p>“Yes.” And Joe nodded.</p> + +<p>“So you’re practicing pitching, eh? And you +hope to get on our nine. Well let me tell you one +thing, Matson; you won’t pitch on the Silver Stars +as long as I’m on deck, and I intend to remain for +quite a while yet. Pitching practice, eh? Ho! +That’s pretty good! What you’d better practice +is running bases. We may let you run for some of +the fellows, if you’re real good. Or how would +you like to carry the bats or be the water boy? I +understand there’s a vacancy there. Pitcher! Ha! +Ha!” and Sam doubled up in mirth. Joe’s face +flushed, but he said nothing.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>A MEAN PROTEST</h3> + + +<p>Finally Sam ceased his laughter, straightened +up and prepared to ride out of the fairgrounds on +his wheel.</p> + +<p>“I was just going past,” he said, in needless explanation, +“when I heard something banging +against the fence. First I thought it might be one +of the cattle left over from the last show, but +when I saw it was you, Matson—Oh, my! It’s +too rich! I’ll have to tell the boys.”</p> + +<p>“Look here!” exclaimed Joe, who disliked as +much as any one being laughed at, “what have you +got against me, anyhow? Are you afraid I’ll displace +you as pitcher?”</p> + +<p>“What’s that? Not much. You couldn’t do +that you know,” and Sam laughed again.</p> + +<p>“Then what do you want to be so mean for?” +asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“None of your business, if you want to know,” +snapped Sam. “But if you think you’re going to +get on our team you’ve got another think coming.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +Look out, now, don’t break the fence with those +balls, or the fair committee might make you pay +for it,” and with this parting insult Sam rode out +of the grounds.</p> + +<p>Joe’s heart was beating fast, and he clenched his +hands. He would liked to have gone after Sam +and given him a well deserved thrashing, but he +knew that would never do.</p> + +<p>“I’ve just got to grin and bear it!” murmured +Joe through his clenched teeth. “If the fellows +laugh at me I’ll have to let ’em laugh. After all I +can stand it, and I <i>do</i> want to get on the team.</p> + +<p>“Queer why Sam Morton should be so down +on me. I don’t see his reason unless it’s jealousy, +or because he’s mad at me for running into him. +Maybe it’s both.</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s no use practicing any longer. My +arm is tired, and besides he might be hiding behind +the fence to laugh some more. I’ll have to find a +different place if I want to practice getting up my +speed and curves.”</p> + +<p>Picking up the balls and his books Joe slowly +made his way out of the grounds. Sam Morton +was nowhere in sight, for which the young ball +player was glad.</p> + +<p>“Maybe this will end it,” thought Joe. “He +just wanted to amuse himself at my expense.” But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +our hero was soon to find that the vindictive spirit +of the pitcher was not quelled.</p> + +<p>“Coming out to see us practice this afternoon?” +asked Tom Davis of Joe several days +later. “We’re getting ready to play the Red +Stockings of Rutherford, Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I’ll come,” answered Joe. “Will it be a +good game?”</p> + +<p>“It ought to. The Red Stockings used to have +a good nine but they struck a slump and lately +we’ve been beating them. But I hear they have a +new pitcher and they may make it hard for us. +Say, what’s this yarn Sam is telling about you +practicing down on the fairgrounds.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s true enough,” answered Joe with a +flush. “I thought I’d get up some speed. I’ve got +a chance to get on the nine.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so; I hadn’t heard it. Gee! I hope +you do. How you going to manage it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know as Darrell wants it +known,” was the answer, “but I’ll tell you,” and +Joe proceeded to relate his talk with the manager, +about the prospective leaving of McGraw.</p> + +<p>“That’s so, Jed is going away,” admitted Tom. +“I had forgotten about that. Say, I hope he +leaves before Saturday and then you can get a +chance to play.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span></p> +<p>“What about Len Oswald, the substitute centre +fielder?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Len is practically out of it. He can’t get +off Saturday afternoons any more. Too much +business in that Fordham grocery where he works. +That’s a good thing for you. I’m real glad of it, +Joe. But say, if you want to practice pitching, why +didn’t you ask me to catch for you?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want to bother you?”</p> + +<p>“Aw, get out. I’d be glad to do it. Next time +you want to try it tip me off and we’ll go some +place where Sam can’t bother us. He’s a mean +chap sometimes. I don’t like him, but some of the +fellows think he’s all there. He sure can pitch, and +I guess that’s why we keep him. But come on, let’s +go to practice. There may be a scrub game and +you can get in on it.”</p> + +<p>Joe and Tom found quite a crowd assembled on +the Riverside diamond when they arrived. The +nine and the substitutes were in uniforms, and Darrell +Blackney and George Rankin were talking to +the team, giving them some points about the coming +game with the Red Stockings.</p> + +<p>“I guess we’ve got enough for a scrub game,” +announced the captain, as Joe and Tom strolled +up. “Tom, you play first on the scrub. And let’s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> +see—what’s your name?” and he turned to Joe, +who introduced himself.</p> + +<p>“He’s a friend of mine,” added Tom, “so +treat him right.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” exclaimed the captain. “Well, he +can play on the scrub if he wants to. Out in the +field,” he added.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, that’s Matson, whom I was telling +you about,” put in the manager, and then he added +something in a low voice which Joe could not +catch.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” called the umpire, and the impromptu +contest was underway. Joe narrowly +watched Sam’s pitching and even though he regarded +the lad as unfriendly to him, our hero +could not but admit that his rival in the box was +doing good work.</p> + +<p>“But I think I can equal him if I have a +chance,” thought Joe, and he was not given to idle +boasting, either. “Oh, if I only get the chance!” +he exclaimed in a whisper.</p> + +<p>Then a high fly came his way and he had to get +down to business and stop his day-dreaming. He +ran back to get under the ball, and made a pretty +one-handed catch. There was some applause from +the little group of spectators.</p> + +<p>“Good eye!” yelled Tom Davis.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> +<p>“That’s the stuff!” cried some one else, and +Joe felt a warm thrill of pleasure as he threw the +ball in.</p> + +<p>Of course the first team won, for the scrub was +composed of odds and ends, with some substitutes +from the Silver Stars, but Joe had done his best to +hold down the score.</p> + +<p>“Good work, Matson,” complimented Darrell, +when the contest was over. “By the way, I’ve +about decided in your case. You can get ready to +play centre field Saturday. McGraw can’t be with +us, and we can’t count on Oswald. Have you a +uniform?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Joe eagerly.</p> + +<p>“A uniform; what for?” asked Sam Morton +quickly. He had come up behind Joe and Darrell, +and had heard the last part of the conversation.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I forgot to tell you fellows that Matson +is our new member of the team,” went on the manager. +“Shake hands with him, boys. I’ve been +watching him play to-day and I think with a little +practice he’ll make good.”</p> + +<p>“Where’s he going to play?” demanded Sam +roughly, while the lads crowded around Joe, congratulating +him, asking him questions as to where +he had played ball before, and shaking hands with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +him. “Where’s he going to play?” and Sam +pointed what seemed like an accusing finger at +Joe.</p> + +<p>“Centre field—McGraw’s place,” answered the +manager briefly.</p> + +<p>“Regular or substitute?” demanded Sam.</p> + +<p>“Practically a regular,” replied Darrell. “We +can’t count on Oswald any more, now that his busy +season has begun.”</p> + +<p>Every member of the Silver Stars save Sam had +shaken hands with Joe. The pitcher now stood +facing our hero.</p> + +<p>“I want to protest!” suddenly exclaimed Sam, +looking Joe full in the face.</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Darrell.</p> + +<p>“What business is it of yours, anyhow, Sam?” +asked the captain. “Darrell and I have settled +this. Matson plays.”</p> + +<p>“Then I want my protest noted!” went on +Sam angrily. “We’re supposed to be a local team—every +one on it belongs in town.”</p> + +<p>“So does Joe Matson!” broke in Tom Davis.</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s only just moved in, and how do we +know but what he’ll move out again?” demanded +Sam. “I protest against him being a regular, or +even a substitute, member of the Silver Stars!”</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>JOE IN THE GAME</h3> + + +<p>There was a period of silence following Sam’s +unfair protest. Then could be heard a low murmur +from some of his mates.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what’s eating him, anyhow?”</p> + +<p>“What’s he got against Matson?”</p> + +<p>“Something has Sam by the ear all right.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, guess he didn’t like the way the scrub +batted him around.”</p> + +<p>These were some of the comments made, not +loud enough for Sam to hear, for he was a power +in the nine, and none of the lads wanted to get on +bad terms with him.</p> + +<p>For a moment all eyes were turned on Sam and +then toward Joe who, it can easily be imagined, +was much embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think your protest is a fair one,” said +Darrell at length.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so either,” added Captain +George Rankin. “Just because Matson is a newcomer<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +in town is no reason why he can’t play with +us.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, that’s right!” put in Seth Potter. “You +weren’t born here yourself, Sam, and neither were +lots of us. We moved here.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve lived in Riverside nearly all my life,” +snapped the pitcher, “and I like to see a representative +team. If we need a new member why +not pick one who has been living here longer than +a couple of weeks?”</p> + +<p>“Look here!” exclaimed Darrell. “I don’t +think this is fair to me.”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?” asked Sam, for the manager +had spoken with some warmth.</p> + +<p>“Just this much. You elected me manager and +the captain and I were to select the players. Now, +when we make our choice, there comes a kick. It +isn’t right. Rankin and I decided to give Matson +a chance, and he gets it. That goes, too!” and +the manager looked straight at Sam.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, if you put it that way I suppose I +might as well keep still about it,” and Sam, shrugging +his shoulders, turned away. He had not yet +shaken hands with Joe.</p> + +<p>“As for there being other players just as good +and who have lived here longer, that may be true,” +went on Darrell. “I’m not saying Matson is the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> +only fellow I could pick for centre field, and I’m +not saying anything against any of the fellows on +the scrub when I don’t take them. We want the +best team we can get to represent the Silver Stars +and Matson is my choice for the place. If you +want to go over my head——”</p> + +<p>“No! No!” came a chorus of objections. +“It’s all right!”</p> + +<p>“Then Matson plays Saturday,” concluded the +manager. “All of you be out for practice to-morrow +afternoon again. Matson, report in uniform.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” and Joe’s heart was fairly thumping +under his coat. The chance he had longed for +had come at last.</p> + +<p>As Sam was walking away Joe resolved on a +bold stroke, rather a grandstand play as he confessed +to himself afterward, but he could not forego +it. Striding up to the disgruntled pitcher Joe +held out his hand and asked:</p> + +<p>“Won’t you shake?”</p> + +<p>Sam turned and faced him. For several seconds +he stood staring Joe straight in the eyes while the +crowd of boys looked on. Then with a sneer, and +ignoring the proffered hand, Sam said:</p> + +<p>“I prefer to pick my own friends. I don’t +want them made for me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span></p> +<p>He turned on his heel and walked off.</p> + +<p>There was another period of silence like that +following his protest. Then some one said:</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m glad I haven’t got <i>his</i> disposition.”</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” cried Sam angrily, and turning +back he seemed about to rush at the throng +he faced.</p> + +<p>“There now, that’ll do!” exclaimed Darrell, +who was anxious to avoid a scene. “Forget it, +fellows. Sam, you get your arm good and limber +for Saturday. We want to beat the Red Stockings +by a big score to make up for what the Resolutes +did to us last Saturday. I’m going to arrange for +another game with them soon, and maybe we can +turn the tables.”</p> + +<p>“Sure we can!” cried several.</p> + +<p>“So limber up, Sam,” the manager went on, +“and have your arm in good shape.”</p> + +<p>“It will be in bad shape if I get run down by +any more amateur cyclists,” sneered Sam as he +looked meaningly at Joe, but no one made any +further reference to the recent collision.</p> + +<p>At practice the next day Joe took his place with +the regular Silver Star team, and he showed up +well in the impromptu contest against the scrubs. +He made several good catches, and though his +stick work might have been improved, still it was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +pretty good, for the scrub pitcher was not to be +despised.</p> + +<p>“I guess you’ll do,” complimented Darrell, at +the close of the contest. “Keep it up, don’t get +rattled, and you’ll be all right. I can see you’ve +played before.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I’ve got lots to learn yet,” admitted +Joe cheerfully.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we all have,” assented the manager with +a laugh.</p> + +<p>On the Saturday of the game with the Red +Stockings, Joe was up early. He had overhauled +his old uniform and gotten Clara to put a few +needed stitches in it. He had it out on the clothes +line in the back yard, beating some of the dust and +dirt from it to freshen it up, when Tom hailed him +from over the fence.</p> + +<p>“I say, Joe, what sort of a shirt have you got?”</p> + +<p>“Same one I used on the Bentville Boosters; +that was the name of our nine.”</p> + +<p>“I see. A good name all right, but it will look +funny to see that in among the uniforms of the +Silver Stars. Your stockings and pants will do, +but the shirt——” and Tom paused suggestively.</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” admitted Joe. “I didn’t think +about that. It’s a different color from yours, and +I haven’t time to get another.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> +<p>“Never mind!” called Tom. “I tell you what +you can do. Use my shirt. It’s the regular Star +one, with the name on.”</p> + +<p>“Won’t you want it?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think I’m going to get a chance to +play. Darrell will probably hold down first all +through the game. If I have to go in I can borrow +some other fellow’s. But I want you to look +right from the start.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” called Joe as Tom disappeared in +the house to get his shirt. It fitted Joe well, and +he arranged to get his own in time for the next +game.</p> + +<p>“Say, there’s a big crowd here all right!” exclaimed +Joe, as he and Tom neared the enclosed +diamond that afternoon, and saw the stands well +filled.</p> + +<p>“Yes, so much the better. The Red Stockings +always draw well. I hope we beat. Do your +prettiest.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I will. There’s Sam warming up.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I hope he doesn’t go up in the air. Better +hurry up and get in practice.”</p> + +<p>Joe ran out on the diamond, which was thronged +with the home team and visiting players. Balls +were being caught and batted about, and the new +player was soon doing his share.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> +<p>“Now keep cool,” Darrell advised him, “and +above all don’t have a row with Sam. I can’t +understand why he has such a grudge against you, +but he has and there’s no use letting it be known +any more than it is.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t do or say anything if he doesn’t,” +promised Joe. “But I’m not going to let him +knock me down and then wipe his feet on me.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not. I’ll see that he’s decent, anyhow. +Well, I guess it’s time we started. I see +they have some new players. Maybe we won’t +beat them as easily as I hoped.”</p> + +<p>The practice balls were called in, players were +selecting their sticks, the batting order had been +decided on, and the final arrangements made.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” called the umpire, and the Silver +Stars took the field. Joe walked out to centre. +His heart was beating high. It was his first +chance to show what he could do in a match game +with his new team and he wanted to make good. +But oh! how he longed to be in the pitching box +occupied by Sam Morton!</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” called the umpire again, and +Sam, “winding up,” let fly a swift white ball +toward the expectant batter.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>A TIGHT CONTEST</h3> + + +<p>“Strike one!” yelled the young umpire, as the +ball landed with a resounding thud in Bart Ferguson’s +big mitt.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!” called several in the crowd.</p> + +<p>“Send back the Reds with a whitewash brush,” +added another enthusiast.</p> + +<p>“I guess Sam’s in form to-day,” remarked Tom +Davis to Rodney Burke near whom he sat. Tom +was not playing, for Darrell was holding down +the initial bag.</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit and see what happens along about +the seventh inning,” said Rodney. “Sam generally +falls down then if he’s going to.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope he doesn’t, that’s all,” said +Tom, and then he gave all his attention to watching +the game.</p> + +<p>“Ball one,” was the next decision of the umpire.</p> + +<p>“Aw what’s the matter with you?” cried Sam, +starting toward home where Bart stood holding +the ball. “That clipped the plate as good as any<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> +one would want. You’d better get a pair of +glasses, Kern. You can’t see straight.”</p> + +<p>“I can see as well as you!” retorted Frank +Kern, the umpire.</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t anywhere near over the plate,” retorted +Jack King, the batter.</p> + +<p>“Aw, you don’t know a good ball when you +get one,” snapped Sam. “I guess——”</p> + +<p>“That’ll do now!” called Darrell sharply +from first. “This isn’t a kid game. Play ball. +Don’t be always kicking, Sam.”</p> + +<p>“Who is always kicking?” demanded the +pitcher, and it was evident to all that he was in unusually +bad temper.</p> + +<p>“I hope it isn’t on my account,” thought Joe +who, from his position in deep centre, was waiting +for anything that might come his way. He +had been told to play far out, for King was known +as a heavy hitter.</p> + +<p>Sam received the ball from Bart with a scowl +and wound up for the next delivery. Sam was a +natural pitcher. That is, he had good control, as +a rule, and he made his shoulder and back do most +of the work of the pitching arm, as all professionals +do. Still his unpleasant temper often made +his efforts go to waste.</p> + +<p>“Strike two!” called the umpire this time, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +there was no doubt about it for King had swung +viciously at the ball. But Sam had sent in a puzzling +little drop, and the knowledge that he had +fooled a good batter brought a smile to his otherwise +scowling face.</p> + +<p>“Here’s where I get you!” he predicted.</p> + +<p>But alas for his hopes! The bat met the ball +squarely and Sam had made the mistake of sending +a fast ball to a heavy hitter enabling King to +knock out a pretty three bagger. Far back as Joe +had stationed himself he was not far enough and +he had to turn and run after the horsehide. And +how he did run! He was thinking desperately +what would happen if he missed it! He made up +his mind that he would not, yet it was not within +the power of any one to get to the spot before +the ball fell.</p> + +<p>Joe felt it graze the tips of his fingers as it +rushed downward but that was all. He heard +himself groan involuntarily in anguish as the ball +hit the ground with a thud. He lost no time in +idle regrets however, but picked it up and made a +throw to third in time to hold King there, for the +doughty player had a notion of continuing on +home.</p> + +<p>“Good try old man!” yelled some spectators +on the benches nearest Joe. He felt that his effort<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +was somewhat appreciated but he wondered +what Darrell would think of it. Sam was scowling +again, whether at Joe’s perfectly natural miss, +or the fact that he was hit for three bases was +impossible to guess.</p> + +<p>“Try for the next one,” called Darrell cheerfully, +and Sam did with such success that Bigney, +who was second up for the Red Stockings, only +pounded out a little drizzler that Sam quickly +gathered in and threw to first. King was still +held on third. Smart fanned out, and then came +Steel, who, after knocking a couple of fouls, was +fooled on a little in-shoot which made three out, +King dying on third and the side being retired +with no runs.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not so bad,” said Sam as he walked in to +the bench.</p> + +<p>“I guess we’ve got their number all right,” +assented Darrell. He saw Joe coming in from +centre and the manager stopped to speak to him.</p> + +<p>“Nobody could have gotten that ball,” he said, +for he realized that the new player might blame +himself unjustly. “I didn’t think King had it in +him, or I’d have told you to play out to the limit. +He won’t get you that way again.”</p> + +<p>“I guess not!” exclaimed Joe heartily.</p> + +<p>The make up and batting order of the Silver<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +Stars was the same as in the game with the Resolutes +save that Joe was in Jed McGraw’s place, +and this brought him second to the bat. Potter +was up first and managed to get a single.</p> + +<p>“Now, bring him in,” commanded Darrell with +a smile at Joe, as the latter picked out a bat. He +was very nervous, as any lad would have been, +playing his first game with a new team. He did +want to make good!</p> + +<p>“I’ll try,” he said simply.</p> + +<p>Painter, the Red Stocking pitcher, had no phenomenal +speed and his curves could not be depended +on to break at the right places. Still he +was a good “bluffer” and he made many a batter +think that he was getting a very swift ball. Often +it would look as though it was going to hit the +man at the plate and he would instinctively step +back, disconcerting his own aim.</p> + +<p>Joe let the first ball pass, and was somewhat +surprised to have a strike called on him. But he +did not kick, for, as a matter of fact, the horsehide +had clipped the plate.</p> + +<p>“I’ll get the next one,” thought Joe grimly. +Then Painter worked his usual trick, of throwing +a ball close in, and Joe bent his body like a bow.</p> + +<p>“Strike two!” yelled the umpire and Joe felt +a flash of anger. But he said nothing, and when<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +the next ball came he swung viciously at it. He +heard the heart-stirring ping! and, dropping his +bat, he legged it for first as Potter darted to +second.</p> + +<p>But Joe had not hit the ball nearly as hard as +he thought he had, and the result was that the +shortstop gathered it in, and, by a quick throw to +first, caught our hero there.</p> + +<p>“Quick, to second!” yelled the coacher, but +Potter dropped and slid, being counted safe.</p> + +<p>“One down, only two more!” yelled Murphy, +captain and catcher of the “Reds,” as they were +called for short.</p> + +<p>Joe felt his face burning with shame as he +walked back to the bench.</p> + +<p>“Humph! I thought we were going to see +some wonders!” murmured Sam Morton sarcastically.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right, Matson—it was an even chance, +and you found the ball,” said Darrell quickly. +He knew the danger of a new player becoming +discouraged.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Joe quietly.</p> + +<p>Lantry got a single which sent Potter to third, +but the next two men struck out and with two +men left on bases the Silver Stars had to take the +field again with only a goose egg to their credit.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span></p> +<p>The game ran along to the ending of the third +inning with neither side getting a run. Each team +made some scattering hits but the fielding was +evenly good, and no one crossed the home plate. +Joe made one fine catch in the beginning of the +third and received a round of applause that did +his heart good.</p> + +<p>Sam was pitching pretty good ball, occasionally +being found for a two bagger, but any short-comings +in this line were more than made up in the +support he received from his mates.</p> + +<p>“It’s going to be a tighter game than I thought +it was,” murmured Darrell, at the close of the +fourth inning, when his side had managed to get +in one run to tie the tally which the Reds had +secured. “They’ve got a better team than I gave +them credit for.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t think they’re going to beat us, do +you?” asked Sam anxiously.</p> + +<p>“I—well—I hope not,” was the hesitating answer.</p> + +<p>“Does that mean you don’t think I’m doing all +I ought to?” demanded the pitcher defiantly.</p> + +<p>“Of course not. I know you wouldn’t throw +the game. Only I wish we could strike more of +them out,” and the manager looked anxiously over +the field as his players were stationing themselves.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span></p> +<p>“Wait and see what I do this inning,” invited +Sam. “Perhaps you want that new fellow to go +in the box in my place.” His voice was sneering +now.</p> + +<p>“Who, Joe Matson?” asked Darrell quickly.</p> + +<p>“That’s who I mean,” replied Sam surlily.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be foolish,” was the manager’s quiet +answer. “You know he hasn’t had any experience +in the box—or at least enough to play on our +team, though I think he’ll make a good fielder. +Now do your prettiest Sam. You can, you know.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” assented the pitcher, and once +more the game was underway.</p> + +<p>The fifth inning was productive of one run for +the Silver Stars and this after they had retired +their rivals hitless, for Sam did some excellent +pitching. There was a howl of delight as the first +tally came in, making the score two to one in favor +of our friends. And there was none out.</p> + +<p>“Now we ought to walk away from them,” +called Darrell to his players. Joe came up to bat +and to his delight he got a single. He was advanced +to second when the next player connected +with the ball, and then followed some see-sawing +on the part of the pitcher and the second baseman, +in an endeavor to catch Joe napping.</p> + +<p>Once our hero thought he saw a good chance<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +to steal third and he was about to take it when +something warned him to come back. He did, +and only just in time, for the pitcher threw to +second. It was a close shave.</p> + +<p>Joe slid head foremost and as his fingers +touched the bag the second baseman leaped up in +the air to catch the ball which the pitcher had +wildly thrown high.</p> + +<p>When the baseman came down, making a wild +effort to touch Joe, the iron cleat of one shoe +caught the little finger of Joe’s left hand and cut +it cruelly.</p> + +<p>The plucky centre fielder tried to stifle the +groan of anguish that rose to his lips, but it was +impossible. The baseman was aware of the accident.</p> + +<p>Dropping the ball he knelt over Joe.</p> + +<p>“I’m mighty sorry, old man!” he exclaimed. +“Are you hurt much?”</p> + +<p>“No—no. I—I guess not,” murmured Joe, +and then all got black before his eyes, and there +was a curious roaring in his ears.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>JOE’S RUN</h3> + + +<p>“Water here! Bring some water!” yelled +Smart, who was holding down second base for +the Reds. “He’s fainted I guess.”</p> + +<p>There was a rush of players toward Joe, and +Darrell was the first to reach him.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, old man?” he asked sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I spiked him,” answered Smart, +ruefully. “I jumped for the ball, and came down +on his hand I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Too bad,” murmured Darrell.</p> + +<p>They turned Joe over, for he was lying on his +face, and saw his left hand covered with blood.</p> + +<p>“Where’s that first-aid kit?” called Tom +Davis, who had rushed on the field on seeing his +friend hurt.</p> + +<p>“Here it is,” answered Rodney Burke, who +acted as the amateur surgeon on the few times his +services had been required. “I’ll bandage it up. +Had we better get a doctor?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> +<p>Meanwhile some water had been sprinkled in +Joe’s face and some forced between his lips. He +opened his eyes as the others were washing the +blood from his hand.</p> + +<p>“I—I’m all right,” he murmured, as he strove +to rise.</p> + +<p>“Now that’s all right—you just lie still,” commanded +Darrell. “Look at it Rod, and see how +bad it is.”</p> + +<p>Fortunately the wound was not as serious as +had at first seemed and when cleansed of dirt and +blood it was seen to be a long cut, lengthwise of +the finger.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have that done up in a jiffy,” remarked +Rodney, who was not a little proud of his skill. +His father was a physician, and had shown the +son how to make simple bandages. The wound +was cleansed with an antiseptic solution and +wrapped in the long narrow strips of bandage +cloth. Joe got to his feet while this was being +done, and, after a little water containing aromatic +spirits of ammonia had been given to him, he declared +that he was all right.</p> + +<p>“Are you sure?” asked Darrell anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Sure, I’ll bring in a run yet if some one knocks +the ball far enough,” said Joe with a smile, though +it was rather a feeble one.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span></p> +<p>“Nonsense, you can’t run after that,” exclaimed +Murphy, the Red captain. “Give him a +man,” he added generously to his rival. “We +don’t care.”</p> + +<p>“I think I had better send Newton down to run +for you,” said Captain Rankin.</p> + +<p>“But I’m going to play,” insisted Joe.</p> + +<p>“Yes, next inning,” he was assured, and the +game went on.</p> + +<p>However, even the substitution of a runner in +Joe’s place availed nothing, as the side was soon +afterward retired with the men expiring on bases, +and the one run was all the Silver Stars could +gather in. Still that made the score two to one in +their favor.</p> + +<p>There was a big surprise in the next inning. +The Reds came to bat full of confidence, and the +first man up rapped out as pretty a three bagger +as had been pulled off that day. It went to deep +right field, for which Joe was thankful, as even +with his finger protected by a bandage and a heavy +glove on his hand, he felt that he would wince at +catching a swift ball, and might possibly muff it. +That was what the right fielder did, though he +managed to pick it up quickly enough to prevent +the player from going on in to home.</p> + +<p>Whether the fact of being hit for a long poke<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +made Sam lose his temper, or the knowledge that +part of his support consisted of a wounded player +made him nervous, was not manifest, but the fact +remains that the pitcher “went up in the air” +after that. He gave one man his base on balls, +and when the next player came up, and rapped out +a two bagger the man at third went on in, and +there was a man holding down third while one on +second nearly made the bases full.</p> + +<p>“Easy now,” cautioned Darrell to Sam. +“Hold ’em down.”</p> + +<p>“Um!” grunted Sam, and what he meant by it +might be imagined, but he <i>did</i> strike out the next +two men. Then came a single which resulted in a +tally being made, being the second run of the +inning. Sam shut his teeth grimly. There were +now two out and two men on bases and Sam felt +his nerve leaving him. But by a strong effort he +braced himself, and did the trick to the next man, +stopping the winning streak of the Reds just in +time.</p> + +<p>“Three to two against us,” murmured Darrell +as he looked at the score board when he and his +mates came in for their turn at the bat. “That +isn’t going as I’d like to see it. Say, fellows, we’ve +got to knuckle down if we want to pull this game +out of the fire.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> +<p>“That’s what,” murmured George Rankin, +and, perhaps involuntarily, he glanced at Sam.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know what you fellows mean without +you saying so!” snapped the pitcher. “I wish +you’d keep your remarks to yourselves. I can +pitch all right.”</p> + +<p>“No one said you couldn’t,” declared Darrell +gently.</p> + +<p>But it was very little that the Silver Stars could +accomplish. Two men went down to inglorious +defeat. The third knocked a nice single but died +on first when the Red pitcher with seeming ease +struck out the fourth batter. And it was not due +so much that the visiting boxman had speed or +curves, as to the fact that he could fool the batters +with easy balls.</p> + +<p>“We seem to have struck a hoodoo,” said Darrell +in despairing tones as they took the field +again. “Sam, our only hope is in you. Not a run +for us this inning and they got two.”</p> + +<p>“They won’t get any more!” declared Sam +savagely.</p> + +<p>He made good his boast, for not a man got beyond +second, and of those who performed this +feat there was but one. A big circle went up in +the Red’s frame for the ending of the first half of +the seventh inning.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> +<p>But the Silver Stars fared no better, and for the +next inning the result was the same, neither side +being able to score. The tally was three runs to +two in favor of the visitors when the ninth inning +opened.</p> + +<p>The Silver Stars didn’t like to think of that +inning afterward. There were numerous errors, +wild throws and muffs. Joe let a ball slip through +his fingers when by holding it he might have prevented +a run, but it happened to hit on the cut +place, and the agony was such that he let out an +exclamation of pain.</p> + +<p>But he was not the only one who sinned. Sam +was “rotten,” to quote Tom Davis, and “issued +a number of passes.” One man got to first by +virtue of being hit and when the inning was over +there were three runs in the Red’s box.</p> + +<p>“Six to two against us,” murmured Darrell. +“It looks bad, fellows—it looks bad.”</p> + +<p>Joe was first up to the bat.</p> + +<p>“Do you think you can hit?” asked the captain +anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. I can hold my little finger away +from the bat and I’ll be all right.”</p> + +<p>“Then hit for all you’re worth,” begged Darrell. +“We need all we can get.”</p> + +<p>Joe clenched his teeth grimly and made up his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +mind he would not be fooled as he had been several +times before.</p> + +<p>The Red pitcher was smiling in a tantalizing +way and Joe felt himself almost hating him for it.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to hit you! I’m going to hit you!” +he found himself murmuring over and over again +in his mind.</p> + +<p>And hit Joe did. The first delivery was a ball, +but the second Joe knew was just where he wanted +it. With all his force he swung at it and as he +sped away toward first, with all the power of his +legs he saw the horsehide sailing on a clean hit in +a long, low drive over the centre fielder’s head.</p> + +<p>Joe heard the ball strike the farther fence and +a wild hope came into his heart that he might +make a home run.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to do it! I’m going to do!” he +whispered to himself as he turned first and sped +like the wind for second base. Could he beat the +ball in? That was what he was asking himself. +That was what hundreds of frantic fans were asking +themselves.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>DISCONTENT</h3> + + +<p>“Leg it, Joe! Leg it!”</p> + +<p>“Keep on! Keep on!”</p> + +<p>“He can’t get you in time!”</p> + +<p>“A home run! A homer, old man!”</p> + +<p>“Keep a-going! Keep a-going!”</p> + +<p>These and other frantic appeals and bits of +advice were hurled at Joe as he dashed madly on. +He had a glimpse of the centre fielder racing madly +after the ball, and then he felt for the first time +that he really had a chance to make a home run. +Still he knew that the ball travels fast when once +thrown, and it might be relayed in, for he saw the +second baseman running back to assist the centre +fielder.</p> + +<p>“But I’m going to beat it!” panted Joe to himself.</p> + +<p>The grandstand and bleachers were now a mass +of yelling excited spectators. There was a good +attendance at the game, many women and girls<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +being present, and Joe could hear their shrill +voices mingling with the hoarser shouts of the +men and boys.</p> + +<p>“Keep on! Keep on!” he heard yelled encouragingly +at him.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff, old man!” shouted Darrell, +who was coaching at the third base line.</p> + +<p>“Shall I go in?” cried Joe as he turned the +last bag.</p> + +<p>Darrell took a swift glance toward the field. +He saw what Joe could not. The centre fielder +instead of relaying in the ball by the second baseman +(for the throw was too far for him), had +attempted to get it to third alone. Darrell knew +it would fall short.</p> + +<p>“Yes! Yes!” he howled. “Go on in, Joe! +Go on in!”</p> + +<p>And Joe went.</p> + +<p>Just as the manager had anticipated, the ball +fell short, and the pitcher who had run down to +cover second had to run out of the diamond to +get it. It was an error in judgment, and helped +Joe to make his sensational run.</p> + +<p>He was well on his way home now, but the +pitcher had the ball and was throwing it to the +catcher.</p> + +<p>“Slide, Joe! Slide!” yelled Darrell above the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> +wild tumult of the other players and the spectators.</p> + +<p>Joe kept on until he knew a slide would be +effective and then, dropping like a shot, he fairly +tore through the dust, feet first, toward home +plate. His shoes covered it as the ball came +with a thud into the outstretched hands of the +catcher.</p> + +<p>“Safe!” yelled the umpire, and there was no +questioning his decision.</p> + +<p>“Good play!” yelled the crowd.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff, old man!” exclaimed Darrell, +rushing up and clapping Joe on the back.</p> + +<p>“A few more like that and the game will either +go ten innings or we’ll have it in the ice-box for +ourselves,” commented Captain Rankin gleefully.</p> + +<p>But the hopes of the Silver Stars were doomed +to disappointment. Try as the succeeding men +did to connect with the ball, the best that could be +knocked out was a single, and that was not effective, +for the man who did it was caught attempting +to steal second and two others were struck +out.</p> + +<p>That ended the game, Joe’s solitary run being +the only one tallied up, and the final score was +three to six in favor of the Red Stockings.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for the Silver Stars!” called<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +the captain of the successful nine and they were +given with right good feeling.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for the Red Stockings,” responded +Darrell. “They were too much for us,” +and the cheers of the losers were none less hearty +than those of their rivals.</p> + +<p>“And three cheers for the fellow who made +the home run!” added a Red Stocking player, and +our hero could not help blushing as he was thus +honored.</p> + +<p>“It was all to the pepper-castor, old man,” +complimented Darrell. “We didn’t put up a very +good game, but you sort of stand out among the +other Stars.”</p> + +<p>“And I suppose the rest of us did rotten!” +snarled Sam Morton as he walked past.</p> + +<p>“Well, to be frank, I think we <i>all</i> did,” spoke +Darrell. “I’m not saying that Joe didn’t make +any errors, for he did. But he made the only +home run of the game, and that’s a lot.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” sneered the disgruntled +pitcher. “You’ll be blaming me next +for the loss of the game.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Darrell +quickly. “I think we’ve all got to bear our share +of the defeat. We ought to have played better,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +and we’ve got to, if we don’t want to be at the tail +end of the county league.”</p> + +<p>“And that means that I’ve got to do better +pitching, I suppose?” sneered Sam.</p> + +<p>“It means we’ve <i>all</i> got to do better work,” +put in Captain Rankin. “You along with the +rest of us, Sam. You know you were pretty well +batted to-day.”</p> + +<p>“Any fellow is likely to be swatted once in a +while. Look at some of the professionals.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not saying they’re not,” admitted the captain. +“What I do say is that we’ve all got to +perk up. We’ve got to take a brace, and I’m not +sparing myself. We’re not doing well.”</p> + +<p>“No, that’s right,” admitted several other players. +In fact there was a general feeling of discontent +manifested, and it was very noticeable. +Darrell Blackney was aware of it, and he hoped it +would not spread, for nothing is so sure to make a +team slump as discontent or dissatisfaction.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Joe!” exclaimed a girl’s voice, and he +turned to see his sister walking toward him over +the field. “That was a fine run you made.” She +had two other girls with her and Joe, who was a +bit bashful, turned to execute a retreat.</p> + +<p>“I believe you never met my brother,” went on +Clara, and there was a trace of pride in her tone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +“Miss Mabel Davis,” said Clara, presenting her +to Joe, “and Miss Helen Rutherford.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard my sister speak of you,” murmured +the young centre fielder.</p> + +<p>“And I’ve heard my brother speak of <i>you</i>,” +said Mabel, and Joe was conscious that he was +blushing.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got to wash up now,” he said, not knowing +what to talk about when two pretty girls, to +say nothing of his own sister, were staring at +him.</p> + +<p>“Does your hand hurt you much?” asked +Mabel.</p> + +<p>“No—it’s only a scratch,” said Joe, not with +a strict regard for the truth.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I thought I’d faint when I saw you lying +there so still,” spoke Clara with a little shudder.</p> + +<p>“So did I,” added Helen, and then Joe made +his escape before they could “fuss” over him +any more.</p> + +<p>There was considerable talk going on in the +dressing room when Joe entered. He could hear +the voice of Sam Morton raised in high and seemingly +angry tones.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m not going to stand for it!” the +pitcher said.</p> + +<p>“Stand for what?” asked Darrell in surprise.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> +<p>“Being accused of the cause for the loss of this +game!”</p> + +<p>“No one accuses you,” put in the captain.</p> + +<p>“You might as well say it as look it,” retorted +Sam. “I tell you I won’t stand for it. Just because +that new fellow made a home run you’re all +up in the air about him, and for all the hard work +I do, what do I get for it? Eh? Nothing, that’s +what!”</p> + +<p>“Now, look here,” said Darrell soothingly, +“you know you’re talking foolishly, Sam.”</p> + +<p>“I am not!” cried the pitcher petulantly. +“Either Joe Matson leaves the team or I do, and +you can have my resignation any time you want +it!”</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>SCIENTIFIC PRACTICE</h3> + + +<p>There was a period of silence following Sam’s +offer of his resignation, and no one seemed to +know just what to say. Several of the lads glanced +at Joe, as if expecting him to say something in his +own defense. In fact the young centre fielder was +about to speak but he did not get the chance, for +Sam exclaimed again:</p> + +<p>“Well, do you want my resignation, Darrell?”</p> + +<p>“You know I don’t!” declared the manager.</p> + +<p>“Then things have got to be changed!”</p> + +<p>“Look here!” burst out Darrell. “I’ve stood +about all I’m going to from you, Sam Morton. +There has got to be a change in this team.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I’m giving you a chance to +make,” the pitcher fairly sneered. “You can fill +my place any time you like.”</p> + +<p>“But I’m not going to,” and though Darrell +spoke pleasantly there was a sternness in his +words. “Fellows, it’s like this,” he went on. +“The Silver Stars are a good team and you know +it. So does every one in this town, but the last<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +two games we’ve played in hard luck, and——”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say it was my pitching?” demanded +Sam.</p> + +<p>“No more than it was the way we all played. +As I said, we’ve got to take a brace. I don’t know +what’s gotten into you, Sam, to say you’ll resign if +Joe Matson plays. What have you against him?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hate to see a newcomer made so much +of. Here we fellows have worked hard all season, +and——”</p> + +<p>“And you’re going to work hard the <i>rest</i> of the +season!” exclaimed Darrell. “Let me tell you +that! I’m not going to hear any more talk of +resignations, and this bickering has got to stop. +Otherwise we’ll be the laughing stock of the +county. You all played pretty well to-day, but +you all need to do better.”</p> + +<p>“All but Matson; I suppose he’s the star,” +sneered Sam.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” burst out Joe, unable to stand +the taunts of the pitcher any longer, “if you +think——”</p> + +<p>“Now, go easy,” advised Darrell with a smile. +“I’m giving this little lecture. I give Matson due +credit for one of the three runs we got,” he went +on, “but that’s not saying that he didn’t make +errors. We all did.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> +<p>“Oh, fellows!” he pleaded and they could see +that he was very much in earnest, “let’s get together +and wallop every nine we play against +from now on! Take a brace. Forget all this feeling +and get together. Matson and Morton, I +want you to shake hands, will you?”</p> + +<p>“I’m willing,” assented Joe eagerly, advancing +toward Sam.</p> + +<p>The latter hesitated a moment and then, feeling +the eyes of all in the dressing room on him, he +mumbled:</p> + +<p>“Well, as long as you don’t think he’s the star +of the Stars, I’ll shake. Maybe I was a bit hasty,” +he went on, and this was a great deal for Sam +Morton to admit. He and Joe shook hands, +though it cannot be said that there was any warmth +on the part of the pitcher. Still it was better than +open enmity, though Joe wondered if Sam would +be really friendly.</p> + +<p>“That’s better,” commented the manager with +something like a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“And don’t let this go any further,” suggested +the captain. “We don’t want it known that there +came near being a break in the Stars. Now get +together, fellows. Show up at practice strong next +time, and we’ll win our next game!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> +<p>“That’s the way to talk!” cried Tom Davis, +and the crisis was passed—for a time.</p> + +<p>And, to the delight of Joe, he found that he +had made many new friends, chiefly because of his +sensational run. The members of the team, of +course, crowded around him congratulating him, +and asking him how he did it. But, in addition, +there now flocked into the dressing room a crowd +of lads who had witnessed the game. Some of +them were high school pupils who knew Joe, at +least by sight, but they now came up and spoke to +him. Other town lads did the same thing.</p> + +<p>“Gee! It’s great to be popular!” exclaimed +Tom, with a mock sigh. “Why wasn’t I born a +home-run hitter instead of good looking, I wonder?”</p> + +<p>“Get out!” laughed Joe. “Don’t make me +get a swelled head.”</p> + +<p>“No danger, I guess,” retorted Tom.</p> + +<p>Darrell and the captain strolled up to Joe, who +had finished dressing.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s over, for a while,” said Darrell +in a low voice, evidently referring to the unpleasant +little incident. “I want to ask you to do some +practicing, Matson. You need to try throwing a +bit, for it’s a long heave in from centre field and, +to be frank, you aren’t any too good at it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> +<p>“I’ll practice every day,” exclaimed our hero +eagerly.</p> + +<p>“And I’ll coach him,” added Tom.</p> + +<p>“Get out, you lobster, you need coaching yourself,” +said the captain with a laugh. “You’ll get +rusty if Darrell doesn’t get off first and give you +a chance.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it more often now,” said the manager. +“I want to be more on the coaching line. Two +wallops in two weeks is more than the Stars can +stand.”</p> + +<p>“Who do we play next week?” asked Tom.</p> + +<p>“The Denville Whizzers, but I don’t imagine +we’ll have much trouble with them,” said the manager. +“However, it won’t do to take any chances. +Practice hard, fellows,” and with that he left the +dressing room.</p> + +<p>Sam Morton had gone out some time before +and Joe and Tom soon followed. As they strolled +down the street toward their homes Tom said:</p> + +<p>“Say Joe, I was in earnest in saying I’d coach +you. I believe you do need practice in throwing, +and if you haven’t given up the idea of pitching +some day——”</p> + +<p>“I’ll never give up the idea until I’m knocked +out of the box,” declared Joe.</p> + +<p>“Good! Then I’ll help coach you. I was going<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +to say it wasn’t much fun practicing alone, and +as a matter of fact it doesn’t do much good.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ve been reading up about baseball +lately. I got a book on pitching, and——”</p> + +<p>“Say, will you lend it to me?” asked Joe eagerly. +“Or tell me where I can buy one?”</p> + +<p>“Sure I will. I was going to say that it has +articles in it by star professional pitchers and a lot +of them agree that it isn’t much use just to go out +and throw a ball at a spot on the backstop or the +fence.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the best way then?” asked Joe, who +had supposed from his limited knowledge that to +practice at hitting a certain spot with the ball was +about the best he could do.</p> + +<p>“Why, they say the best is to get something +like a home plate—a flat stone say—and pitch +over it with some one to catch for you.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose that would be a good way,” began +Joe doubtfully, “but who’s going to catch for +me?”</p> + +<p>“I am!” exclaimed Tom quickly. “I said just +now that I’d coach you. I’ll do more than that, +I’ll catch for you. And the book I spoke of has +other tricks of practice, so a fellow can get good +control of a ball. That’s the thing pitchers need<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> +it says—control. Say, we’ll have some fun, you +and I, down in a vacant lot practicing. When +can you come?”</p> + +<p>“How about Monday afternoon?”</p> + +<p>“Suits me first rate.”</p> + +<p>“All right, we’ll make it then, and we’ll get in +some scientific practice for you. Maybe after all, +you’ll pitch in Sam’s place before the season is +over.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t want to do it, if it’s going to make +a row in the team.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t let that worry you. Lots of the +fellows don’t like Sam any too well. They’d as +soon have some one else in the box if he could +deliver the goods. Well, so long; see you Monday, +if not before.”</p> + +<p>“I guess I’m glad dad moved to Riverside after +all,” mused Joe as he walked toward home. “I +was afraid I wouldn’t like it at first, but now I’m +on the team it’s all right. I hope dad doesn’t have +any business troubles though. I wonder what is +wrong for I’m sure something is. I hope it +doesn’t prevent me from going to boarding school +next year,” and with this reflection Joe went in +the house.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>A KETTLE OF APPLE SAUCE</h3> + + +<p>“Well, Joe, are you all ready?” It was Tom +Davis, and he had called at Joe’s house on his way +from school, as Tom had to remain in physics +class to finish an experiment, and Joe had gone +on ahead.</p> + +<p>“I sure am, Tom. Where are we going to +practice? Over on the fairgrounds?”</p> + +<p>“No, that’s too far. We’ll go down in the +vacant lots back of Mrs. Peterkin’s house. There’s +a high fence back of her house and that will be a +good backstop, in case I can’t hold your hot ones.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I guess you can all right,” replied Joe +with a laugh, “though I wish I did have lots of +speed.”</p> + +<p>“Say now, don’t make that mistake,” said Tom +earnestly, as Joe came out to join him, having +picked up some old balls and a pitcher’s glove.</p> + +<p>“What mistake?”</p> + +<p>“Trying for speed before you have control. I +saw an article about that in the pitching book last +night. I brought it along. Here it is,” and both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +boys looked eagerly over the book as they walked +along.</p> + +<p>As Tom had said, some of the best authorities +on pitching did advocate the trying for control before +a prospective boxman endeavored to get +either speed or curves.</p> + +<p>“The thing seems to be,” remarked Joe, “to +get a ball just where you want it, ten times out of +ten if you can, and then when you can do that, try +for the in and out shoots and the drop.”</p> + +<p>“That’s it,” agreed Tom. “Are you any good +at throwing stones?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Why?”</p> + +<p>“Well, one fellow says that the lad who can +throw a stone straight can generally throw a ball +straight. We’ll have a contest when we get down +to the lots. Nobody will see us there.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not,” remarked Joe. “I don’t want +to be laughed at the way I was when Sam caught +me down at the fairgrounds. I guess he thought +I was trying for his place then, and that’s what +made him mad.”</p> + +<p>The two friends were soon down behind the +high board fence that marked the boundaries of +the Peterkin property. It was rather a large +place—the Peterkin one—and was occupied by an +aged couple. Mrs. Alvirah Peterkin was quite a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +housewife, always engaged in some kitchen or +other household duties, while Ebenezer, her husband +“puttered” around the garden, as the folks +of Riverside expressed it.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess we’re all ready,” remarked +Tom, when he had picked out a large flat stone to +represent home plate. He took his position behind +it, with his back to the fence, so that if any +balls got by him they would hit the barrier and +bound back.</p> + +<p>Joe began to pitch, endeavoring to bear in mind +what the book had said about getting the balls +where he wanted them.</p> + +<p>“That was pretty far out from the plate,” +called Tom dubiously, after one effort on the part +of his chum.</p> + +<p>“I know it was. Here’s a better one.”</p> + +<p>“Good! That’s the stuff. It was a strike all +right—right over the middle. Keep it up.”</p> + +<p>For a time Joe kept this up, pitching at moderate +speed, and then the temptation to “cut +loose” could not be resisted. He “wound up” as +he had seen professional pitchers do and let the +ball go. With considerable force it went right +through Tom’s hands and crashed up against the +fence with a resounding bang. It was the first +ball Tom had let get past him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> +<p>“That was a hot one all right!” the catcher +called, “but it was away out.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I’ll slow down again,” said Joe. He +was a little disappointed that he could not combine +speed and accuracy.</p> + +<p>The boys were about to resume their practice +when a face, fringed with a shock of white hair on +top, and a little ring of whiskers encircling it below, +was raised over the edge of the fence, and a +mild voice demanded:</p> + +<p>“What you boys up to now—tryin’ to knock +down my fence?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hello, Mr. Peterkin,” called Tom. +“We’re just playing baseball—that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Where’s the rest of ye?” the old man wanted +to know.</p> + +<p>“This is all there are of us,” replied Tom, +waving his hand toward Joe.</p> + +<p>“Humph! Fust time I ever heard of two boys +playin’ a ball game all by themselves,” commented +the aged man with a chuckle. “But I s’pose it’s +one of them new-fangled kind. Land sakes, what +th’ world a-comin’ t’ anyhow, I’d like t’ know? +Wa’al, keep on, only don’t knock any boards offen +my fence,” he stipulated as he resumed the making +of his garden.</p> + +<p>The boys laughingly promised and resumed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +their practice. Tom was a good catcher and he +had an accurate eye. He did not hesitate to tell +Joe when the balls were bad and he was a severe +critic, for he had taken an honest liking to the +newcomer, and wanted to see him succeed.</p> + +<p>“Just try for control,” was the gist of his advice. +“The rest if it will take care of itself.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you want to pitch and let me catch for +you?” asked Joe after a bit, fearing that he was +somewhat selfish.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t specially need any practice at +throwing,” said Tom. “First is my position. I +like it better than any other, and catching is the +best practice I can have for that. Keep it up.”</p> + +<p>So Joe kept on, using moderate speed after the +warning of Mr. Peterkin, so that no more balls +struck the fence. But then again came the almost +irresistible desire to put on “steam,” and indulging +in this Joe sent in another “hot one.”</p> + +<p>Almost the instant it left his hand Joe realized +that he had lost control of the ball and that it was +going wild. He instinctively reached out to pull +it back, but it was too late.</p> + +<p>“Grab it!” he yelled to Tom.</p> + +<p>The plucky little first baseman made a magnificent +jump up in the air, but the ball merely grazed +the tip of his up-stretched glove. Then it went on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +over the fence at undiminished speed. An instant +later there was the cry of alarm.</p> + +<p>“Who did that?” demanded the voice—a +voice full of anger. “Who threw that ball? Oh! +Oh! Of all things! I demand to know who did +it?”</p> + +<p>Joe and Tom were silent—looking blankly one +at the other. Up over the fence rose the mild and +bewhiskered face of Mr. Peterkin.</p> + +<p>“Boys,” asked the aged man gently. “Did +anything happen? It sounds like it to me.”</p> + +<p>“I—I threw the ball over the fence,” admitted +Joe.</p> + +<p>“Hum! Then I’m afraid something <i>did</i> happen,” +went on Mr. Peterkin still more gently. +“Yes, I’m <i>sure</i> of it,” he added as the sound of +some one coming down the garden path could be +heard. “Here comes Alvirah. Something has +happened. Do—do you want to run?” he asked, +for rumor had it that Mrs. Peterkin was possessed +of no gentle temper and Mr. Peterkin—well, he +was a very mild-mannered man, every one knew +that. “Do you want to run?” he asked again.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Tom.</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” added Joe. “If we broke a +window we’ll pay for it—I’ll pay for it,” he corrected +himself, for he had thrown the ball.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span></p> +<p>Mrs. Peterkin advanced to where her husband +was working in the garden. The boys could not +see the lady but they could hear her.</p> + +<p>“You didn’t throw that ball, did you, Ebenezer?” +she asked. “If you did—at your age—cutting +up such foolish tricks as playing baseball—I—I’ll——”</p> + +<p>“No, Alvirah, I didn’t do it, of course not,” +Mr. Peterkin hastened to say. “It was a couple +of boys. Tom Davis and a friend of his. They +were playing ball back of the fence and——”</p> + +<p>“And they’ve run off now, I’ll venture!” exclaimed +the rasping voice of Mrs. Peterkin.</p> + +<p>“No—no, I don’t think so, Alvirah,” said Mr. +Peterkin mildly. “I—I rather think they’re there +yet. I asked ’em if they didn’t want to run +and——”</p> + +<p>“You—asked them—if—they—didn’t—want—to—run?” +gasped Mrs. Peterkin, as if unable +to believe his words. “Why, the very—idea!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I knew they’d pay for any damage they +did,” said her husband quickly, “and I—er—I +sort of thought—well, anyhow they’re over +there,” and he pointed to the fence.</p> + +<p>“Let me see them! Let me talk to them!” demanded +Mrs. Peterkin.</p> + +<p>“Stand on that soap box an’ ye kin see over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +the fence,” said Mr. Peterkin. “But look out. +The bottom is sort of soft an’ ye may——”</p> + +<p>He did not finish his sentence. The very accident +he feared had happened. Mrs. Peterkin, being +a large and heavy woman, had stepped in the +middle of the box. The bottom boards, being old, +had given way and there she was—stuck with both +feet in the soap box.</p> + +<p>“Ebenezer!” she cried. “Help me! Don’t +you know any better than to stand there staring at +me? Haven’t you got any senses?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I’ll help you, Alvirah,” he said. +“I rather thought you’d go through that box.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’d no business to let me use it!” she +snapped.</p> + +<p>“It allers held <i>me</i> up when I wanted to look +over the fence,” he said mildly. “But then of +course I never stepped in the middle of it,” he +added as he helped his wife pull aside the broken +boards so she could step out. “I kept on the +edges.”</p> + +<p>“Have those boys gone?” she demanded when +free.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so. I’ll look,” he volunteered +as he turned the soap box up on edge and peered +over the fence. “No, they’re here yet,” he answered +as he saw Joe and Tom standing there,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +trying their best not to laugh. “Was you wantin’ +to speak with ’em, Alvirah?”</p> + +<p>“Speak with them! Of course I do!” she cried. +“Tell them to come around to the side gate. I’ll +<i>speak</i> to them,” and she drew herself up like an +angry hen.</p> + +<p>“Did—did they smash a window?” asked Mr. +Peterkin.</p> + +<p>“Smash a window? I only wish it was no +worse than that!” cried his wife. “They threw +their nasty baseball into a kettle of apple sauce +that was stewing on the stove, and the sauce +splashed all over my clean kitchen. Tell them to +come around. I’ll <i>speak</i> to them!”</p> + +<p>“I—I guess you’d better come in, boys,” said +Mr. Peterkin softly, as he delivered the message +over the fence. Then he added—but to himself—“Maybe +you might better have run while you had +the chance.”</p> + +<p>“We’re in for it I guess,” murmured Tom, as +he and Joe went around to the side gate.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>JOE OVERHEARS SOMETHING</h3> + + +<p>“Are you the boys who threw the baseball +through my kitchen window into my kettle of +apple sauce?” demanded Mrs. Peterkin, as she +confronted the two culprits.</p> + +<p>“I threw it,” admitted Joe.</p> + +<p>“But we didn’t know it went into the apple +sauce,” added Tom.</p> + +<p>“Nor through the window,” spoke Joe for +want of something better to say. “It was a wild +throw.”</p> + +<p>“Humph!” exclaimed the irate lady. “I +don’t know what kind of a throw it was but I +know <i>I</i> was wild when I saw my kitchen. I never +saw such a sight in all my born days—never! You +come and look at it.”</p> + +<p>“If—if you please I’d rather not,” said Joe +quickly. “I’ll pay you whatever damages you +say, but I—I——”</p> + +<p>“I just want you to see that kitchen!” insisted +Mrs. Peterkin. “It’s surprising how mischievous +boys can be when they try.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span></p> +<p>“But we didn’t try,” put in Tom. “This was +an accident.”</p> + +<p>“Come and see my kitchen!” repeated Mrs. +Peterkin firmly and she seemed capable of taking +them each by an ear and leading them in.</p> + +<p>“You—you’d better go,” advised Mr. Peterkin +gently.</p> + +<p>So they went, and truly the sight that met their +eyes showed them that Mrs. Peterkin had some +excuse for being angry. On the stove there had +been cooking a large kettle of sauce made from +early apples. The window near the stove had +been left open and through the casement the ball, +thrown with all Joe’s strength, had flown, landing +fairly into the middle of the soft sauce.</p> + +<p>The result may easily be imagined. It splattered +all over the floor, half way up on the side +walls, and there were even spots of the sauce on +the ceiling. The top of the stove was covered with +it, and as the lids were hot they had burned the +sugar to charcoal, while the kitchen was filled with +smoke and fumes.</p> + +<p>“There!” cried Mrs. Peterkin, as she waved +her hand at the scene of ruin. “Did you ever see +such a kitchen as that? And it was clean scrubbed +only this morning! Did you ever see anything like +that? Tell me!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<p>Joe and Tom were both forced to murmur that +they had never beheld such a sight before. And +they added with equal but unexpressed truth that +they hoped they never would again.</p> + +<p>“I’m willing to pay for the damage,” said Joe +once more, and his hand went toward his pocket. +“It was an accident.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe it was,” sniffed Mrs. Peterkin. “I +won’t say that it wasn’t, but that won’t clean my +kitchen.”</p> + +<p>Joe caught at these words.</p> + +<p>“I’m willing to help you clean up!” he exclaimed +eagerly. “I often help at home when my +mother is sick. Let me do it, and I’ll pay for the +apple sauce I spoiled.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll help,” put in Tom eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Who is your mother?” asked Mrs. Peterkin, +looking at Joe.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Matson,” he replied.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’re the new family that moved into +town?” and there was something of a change in +the irate lady’s manner.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we live in the big yellow house near——”</p> + +<p>“It’s right back of our place, Mrs. Peterkin,” +put in Tom eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Hum! I’ve been intending to call on your +mother,” went on Mrs. Peterkin, ignoring Tom.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +“I always call on all the new arrivals in town, but +I’ve been so busy with my housework and Spring +cleaning——”</p> + +<p>She paused and gazed about the kitchen. <i>That</i>, +at least, would need cleaning over again.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she resumed, “I always call and invite +them to join our Sewing and Dorcas Societies.”</p> + +<p>“My mother belonged to both!” exclaimed Joe +eagerly. “That is in Bentville where we lived. +I heard her saying she wondered if there was a +society here.”</p> + +<p>“There is,” answered Mrs. Peterkin majestically, +“and I think I shall call soon, and ask her +to join. You may tell her I said so,” she added +as if it was a great honor.</p> + +<p>“I will,” answered Joe. “And now if you’ll +tell me where I can get some old cloths I’ll help +clean up this muss.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Peterkin slowly. +Clearly her manner had undergone a great change. +“I suppose boys must have their fun,” she said +with something like a sigh. “I know you didn’t +mean to do it, but my apple sauce is spoiled.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll pay for it,” offered Joe eagerly. He was +beginning to see a rift in the trouble clouds.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Mrs. Peterkin, “it’s all right. I +have plenty more apples.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></p> +<p>“Then let us help clean the place?” asked +Tom.</p> + +<p>“No, indeed!” she exclaimed, with as near a +laugh as she ever indulged. “I don’t want any +men folks traipsing around my kitchen. I’ll clean +it myself.”</p> + +<p>“Well, let us black the stove for you,” offered +Tom.</p> + +<p>“That’s it, Alvirah,” put in Mr. Peterkin quickly. +He rather sided with the boys, and he was +glad that the mention of Joe’s mother, and the +possibility of Mrs. Peterkin getting a new member +for the societies, of both of which she was president, +had taken her mind off her desire for revenge. +“Let the boys black the stove. You +know you always hate that work.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I suppose they could do <i>that</i>,” she admitted +somewhat reluctantly. “But don’t splatter +it all over, though the land knows this kitchen +can’t be worse.”</p> + +<p>Behold then, a little later, two of the members +of the Silver Star nine industriously cleaning hardened +apple sauce off the Peterkin kitchen stove, +and blackening it until it shone brightly.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad Sam Morton can’t see us,” spoke +Tom in a whisper.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> +<p>“Yes; we’d never hear the last of it,” agreed +Joe.</p> + +<p>They finished the work and even Mrs. Peterkin, +careful housekeeper that she was, admitted that +the stove “looked fairly good.”</p> + +<p>“And be sure and tell your mother that I’m +coming to call on her,” she added, as Joe and Tom +were about to leave.</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” answered the centre fielder, and +then he paused on the threshold of the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“Have you forgotten something?” asked Mrs. +Peterkin, who was preparing to give the place a +thorough scrubbing.</p> + +<p>“We—er—that is——” stammered Joe.</p> + +<p>“It’s their baseball, I guess,” put in Mr. Peterkin. +“It is in the kettle of apple sass, Alvirah.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; so it is,” she agreed, and this time +she really laughed. “Well, you may have it,” +she added. “I don’t want it.” With a dipper she +fished it up from the bottom of the kettle, put it +under the water faucet to clean it, and held it out +to Joe.</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” he said as he took it and hurried off +with Tom, before anything more could be said.</p> + +<p>“Whew!” exclaimed Tom, when they were out +in the lots again. “That was a hot time while it +lasted. And we got out of it mighty lucky, thanks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +to your mother. Mrs. Peterkin is great on the +society business, and I guess she thought if she +gave it to us too hot your mother wouldn’t call on +her. Yes, we were lucky all right. Want to practice +some more?”</p> + +<p>“Not to-day,” replied Joe with a smile. “I’ve +had enough. Besides, this ball is all wet and slippery. +Anyhow there’s lots more time, and I guess +the next day we do it we’ll go down to the fairgrounds.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there’s more room there, and no kettles +of apple sauce,” agreed Tom, with a laugh.</p> + +<p>As Tom had an errand to do down town for his +father he did not accompany Joe back to their +respective homes.</p> + +<p>“I’ll see you to-night,” he called to his chum, +as they parted, “and we’ll arrange for some more +practice. I think it’s doing you good.”</p> + +<p>“I know my arm is a bit sore,” complained Joe.</p> + +<p>“Then you want to take good care of it,” said +Tom quickly. “All the authorities in the book +say that a pitching arm is too valuable to let anything +get the matter with it. Bathe it with witch +hazel to-night.”</p> + +<p>“I will. So long.”</p> + +<p>As Joe had not many lessons to prepare that +night, and as it was still rather early and he did<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +not want to go home, he decided to take a little +walk out in the country for a short distance. As +he trudged along he was thinking of many things, +but chief of all was his chances for becoming at +least a substitute pitcher on the Silver Stars.</p> + +<p>“If I could get in the box, and was sure of +going to boarding school, I wouldn’t ask anything +else in this world,” said Joe to himself. Like all +boys he had his ambitions, and he little realized +how such ambitions would change as he became +older. But they were sufficient for him now.</p> + +<p>Before he knew it he had covered several miles, +for the day was a fine Spring one, just right for +walking, and his thoughts, being subject to quick +changes, his feet kept pace with them.</p> + +<p>As he made a turn in the road he saw, just ahead +of him, an old building that had once, so some of +the boys had told him, been used as a spring-house +for cooling the butter and milk of the farm to +which it belonged. But it had now fallen into disuse, +though the spring was there yet.</p> + +<p>The main part of it was covered by the shed, +but the water ran out into a hollowed-out tree +trunk where a cocoanut shell hung as a dipper.</p> + +<p>“Guess I’ll have a drink,” mused Joe. “I’m as +dry as a fish and that’s fine water.” He had once<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +taken some when he and Tom Davis took a country +stroll.</p> + +<p>As he was sipping the cool beverage he heard +inside the old shed the murmur of voices.</p> + +<p>“Hum! Tramps I guess,” reasoned Joe to +himself. But a moment later he knew it could not +be tramps for the words he heard were these:</p> + +<p>“And do you think you can get control of the +patents?”</p> + +<p>“I’m sure of it,” was the answer. “He doesn’t +know about the reverting clause in his contract, +and he’s working on a big improvement in a +corn——”</p> + +<p>Then the voice died away, though Joe strained +his ears in vain to catch the other words. Somehow +he felt vaguely uneasy.</p> + +<p>“Where have I heard that first voice before?” +he murmured, racking his brains. Then like a flash +it came to him. The quick, incisive tones were +those of Mr. Rufus Holdney, of Moorville, to +whom he had once gone with a letter from Mr. +Matson.</p> + +<p>“And if you can get the patents,” went on +Mr. Holdney, “then it means a large sum of +money.”</p> + +<p>“For both of us,” came the eager answer, and +Joe wondered whom the other man could be.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span></p> +<p>“You are sure there won’t be any slip-up?” +asked Mr. Holdney.</p> + +<p>“Positively. But come on. We’ve been here +long enough and people might talk if they saw us +here together. Yet I wanted to have a talk with +you in a quiet place, and this was the best one I +could think of. I own this old farm.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then I’ll be getting back to Moorville. +Be sure to keep me informed how the thing +goes.”</p> + +<p>“I will.”</p> + +<p>There was a movement inside the shed as if the +men were coming out.</p> + +<p>“I’d better make myself scarce,” thought Joe.</p> + +<p>He had just time to drop down behind a screen +of bushes when the two men did emerge. Joe had +no need to look to tell who one was, but he was +curious in regard to the other. Cautiously he +peered up, and his heart almost stopped beating as +he recognized Mr. Isaac Benjamin, the manager +of the Royal Harvester Works where the boy’s +father was employed.</p> + +<p>“There’s some crooked work on hand, I’ll bet +a cookie!” murmured Joe, as he crouched down +again while the two men walked off up the country +road.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>MR. MATSON IS ALARMED</h3> + + +<p>Joe Matson did not know what to do. He +wanted to rush away from where he was concealed, +get home as quickly as possible, and tell +his father what he had overheard. While Mr. +Matson’s name had not been mentioned, knowing, +as Joe did, that his parent was engaged on some +patents, seeing Mr. Benjamin, manager of the +Harvester works, and having heard the conversation +between him and Mr. Holdney, the lad was +almost certain that some danger threatened his +father.</p> + +<p>“And yet I can’t get away from here until +they’re well out of sight,” reasoned Joe. “If I +go now they’ll see or hear me, and they’ll be +bound to suspect something. Yet I’d like to warn +dad as soon as I can. There’s no telling when they +may put up some job against him.”</p> + +<p>But Joe could only crouch down there and wait.</p> + +<p>At length he could stand it no longer. He reasoned +that the men must be far enough away by +this time to make it safe for him to emerge.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> +<p>“They’re on the road to Riverside,” thought +Joe, “and I may run into them, but if I see them +I can slip into the fields and go around. Mr. Benjamin +doesn’t know me, for he’s hardly ever +noticed me when I’ve been to the Harvester works +to see dad. But Mr. Holdney might remember +me. I can’t take any chances.”</p> + +<p>Cautiously he emerged from the bushes, and +looked as far down the road as he could. There +was no one in sight, and he started off. A little distance +farther on, the road made a sharp turn and, +just at the angle stood an old barn which hid the +rest of the highway from sight until one was right +at the turn. It was a dangerous place for vehicles, +but the owner of the barn had refused to set it +back.</p> + +<p>No sooner had Joe turned this corner than he +came full upon Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Holdney +standing just around the barn, apparently in deep +conversation. At the sight of Joe they looked up +quickly, and Mr. Benjamin exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Ha! Perhaps this lad can tell us. We want +to hire a carriage. Do you know any one around +here who would let us take one for a short time?”</p> + +<p>Joe, who had started back at the unexpected +sight of the two men, took courage on hearing this, +and realizing that he had not yet been recognized.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> +<p>“I don’t know any one around here,” he said. +“I’m pretty much of a stranger myself, but have +you tried at this farmhouse?” and he pointed toward +the one where the owner of the barn +lived.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we don’t want a farm horse!” exclaimed +Mr. Holdney. “We want something that has +some speed.” Then, as he looked more fully at +Joe he exclaimed: “Haven’t I seen you somewhere +before, my lad? I’m sure I have!”</p> + +<p>He took a step toward our hero, and Joe’s heart +gave a flutter. He was almost certain that Mr. +Holdney would recognize him and then the next +step would be to ask where he had been. The +men might at once suspect that he had at least +come past the place where they had been talking in +secret, and they might even suspect that he had +listened to them. Joe was in a predicament.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure I’ve met you somewhere before,” +went on Mr. Holdney, in his quick, nervous tones. +“Do you live around here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Joe vaguely. “But I don’t +know where you could get a fast horse unless it’s +in town—in Riverside.”</p> + +<p>He was about to pass on, hoping the men would +not further bother him, when Mr. Holdney, coming +a step nearer, said with great firmness:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> +<p>“I’m sure I’ve seen you before. What’s your +name?”</p> + +<p>Like a flash a way out of it came to Joe, and +that without telling an untruth.</p> + +<p>“I play on the Silver Stars,” he said quickly. +“You may have seen me at some of the games,” +which was perfectly possible.</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” exclaimed Mr. Holdney. “I +knew it was somewhere. Now——”</p> + +<p>“I’m going into Riverside,” went on Joe quickly. +“If you like I’ll stop at the livery stable and +tell them to send out a rig for you if you want to +wait here for it.”</p> + +<p>“The very thing!” exclaimed Mr. Benjamin. +“Let him do that, Rufus. Here’s a quarter to pay +for your trouble, my lad.”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you!” exclaimed Joe with a laugh. +“I’m glad to do you a favor.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” assented Mr. Benjamin. “If +you’ll send out a two-seated carriage and a man to +drive it we’ll be obliged to you. Then we can +drive over and see Duncan,” he added to Mr. +Holdney. “We’ll fix this thing all up now.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and if it’s my father you’re trying to +‘fix,’” mused Joe, “I’ll do my best to put a stop +to it. Now, it’s up to me to hurry home,” and +telling the men that he would do the errand for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +them, the lad hastened off down the road, leaving +the two conspirators in earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>The livery stable keeper readily agreed to send +out the carriage, and then Joe lost no time in hurrying +to his house.</p> + +<p>“Has father come home yet?” he asked of +his mother, for sometimes Mr. Matson came from +the harvester works earlier than the regular stopping +time.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Mrs. Matson, “why, what is +the matter, Joe? Has anything happened?” for +she noticed by his face that something out of the +usual had occurred.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” he answered slowly. He +was revolving in his mind whether or not he ought +to tell his mother. Then, as he recollected that his +father always consulted her on business matters, +he decided that he would relate his experience.</p> + +<p>“Mother,” he said, “isn’t father interested in +some sort of a patent about corn?”</p> + +<p>“About corn? Oh, I know what you mean. +Yes, he is working on an improvement to a corn +reaper and binder. It is a machine partly owned +by the harvester people, but he expects to make +considerable money by perfecting the machine. It +is very crude now, and doesn’t do good work.”</p> + +<p>“And if he does perfect it, and some one gets<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +the patents away from him, he <i>won’t</i> make the +money!” exclaimed Joe.</p> + +<p>“Joe, what do you mean?” cried his mother +in alarm. “I am sure something has happened. +What is it?”</p> + +<p>“It hasn’t happened yet, but it may any time,” +answered the lad, and then he told of what he had +overheard, and his ideas of what was pending.</p> + +<p>“That’s why I wanted to see father in a hurry, +to warn him,” he concluded.</p> + +<p>“Joe, I believe you’re right!” exclaimed Mrs. +Matson. “Your father ought to be told at once. +I don’t know what he can do—if anything—to +prevent these men getting ahead of him. Oh, it’s +too bad! I know he always suspected Mr. Benjamin +of not being strictly honest, but Mr. Holdney +used to be his friend and on several occasions +has loaned your father money. Oh, this is too +bad, but perhaps it isn’t too late. If I were you +I’d go down toward the harvester works and you +may meet father coming home. Then you can tell +him all about it, and he may want to go back and +get some of his papers, or parts of the machine, +from his office so those men can’t take them.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the very thing, mother!” cried Joe. +“You ought to have been a man—or a boy and a +baseball player! You can think so quickly. That<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> +reminds me; I had quite an experience to-day. Just +say ‘apple sauce’ to me when I get back, and I’ll +tell you all about it.”</p> + +<p>“It can’t be possible!” exclaimed Mr. Matson, +when Joe, having met him just outside the harvester +works, told him of what he had heard. “It +hardly seems possible that they would do such a +thing. But I’m glad you told me, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Do you think they meant you, dad? I didn’t +hear them mention your name.”</p> + +<p>“Of course they meant me!” declared Mr. +Matson. “The warning came just in time, too, +for only to-day I finished an important part of the +machinery and the pattern of it is in my office now. +I must go back and get it. Wait here for me.”</p> + +<p>As Joe stood at the outer gate of the big harvester +plant he heard the sound of a carriage approaching, +and turning around he saw Mr. Benjamin +and Mr. Holdney coming along in the rig +Joe had had sent out to them only a little while +before.</p> + +<p>“I thought better to drive back here first, and +go see Duncan later,” Mr. Benjamin was saying, +and then both men caught sight of our hero.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>A THROWING CONTEST</h3> + + +<p>“Ha!” exclaimed Mr. Benjamin. “There’s +that same lad again!”</p> + +<p>“What lad?” quickly demanded Mr. Holdney. +“Oh, the one who sent us out this rig. I wonder——”</p> + +<p>“Did you want to see any one around the +works?” interrupted Mr. Benjamin. “I don’t +want to seem impolite, after the service you rendered, +but we don’t allow loiterers here.”</p> + +<p>A number of thoughts passed rapidly through +Joe’s mind. He realized that his father might +come out at any moment and be seen by the manager +carrying off the valuable patterns. Mr. Matson +ought to be warned, for Joe realized that if +they were to frustrate the conspiracy it would be +best that the men did not know that they were on +the verge of discovery.</p> + +<p>“I want to take a message to Mr. Matson,” +said Joe boldly, for this was the truth. He had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +quickly formed a plan in his mind, and he hoped +that it would not be discovered that he was Mr. +Matson’s son. It was this very trick of quick +thinking that afterward became of so much service +to Joe in his notable career on the diamond.</p> + +<p>“Oh, then it’s all right,” said Mr. Benjamin. +“You may go in. You’ll find Mr. Matson in his +office, I dare say.” He smiled at Joe in what he +doubtless meant to be a friendly fashion, but the +young baseball player could not help but see the +hypocrisy in it.</p> + +<p>Not pausing to exchange any other talk, Joe +slipped in through the big iron gate and made his +way to his father’s office. He had been there +before.</p> + +<p>Just as he reached it the heavy whistle blew, announcing +closing time, and hundreds of hands began +pouring from the various machine and casting +shops.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Joe!” called Seth Potter, who played +left field for the Silver Stars. “What you doing +here, looking for a job?” Seth was employed in +one of the offices, and was considered a valuable +young man.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I want to learn how to make a machine +so I don’t miss any flies that come my way,” +laughed Joe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span></p> +<p>“That’s right! Going to play with us Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“I hope so,” and then, with a few other pleasant +words, Seth hurried on, and Joe sought his +father. He found Mr. Matson wrapping up some +models.</p> + +<p>“Quick dad!” he exclaimed. “Mr. Benjamin +and Mr. Holdney are out at the gate. They just +drove up. I slipped in to warn you!”</p> + +<p>“Good, Joe! I’m glad you did. I wouldn’t +want them to see me taking these things away, for +it would tell them that their game was discovered, +and I want to find out more of what their plans +are before they are aware of it.”</p> + +<p>“But how you going to get out?” asked his +son. “They’re there yet,” he added, for he could +look from a window and see the carriage still at +the gate.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you and I can slip out the back way. It’s +lucky you told me. There, I’m ready,” and having +locked his desk, Mr. Matson took his package and +with Joe went out of a rear exit, going home by +a roundabout way so that the conspirators did not +see them.</p> + +<p>“My! I wish this thing hadn’t happened, or +that it was postponed for a while,” said Mr. Matson +thoughtfully as he walked along.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span></p> +<p>“Why, is it likely to be serious, dad?”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid so. You see I have a peculiar arrangement +with the harvester concern in regard to +things that I might invent. It is too complicated +to go into all the details, but I have to trust to +their honor to give me my rights in certain matters. +If they wanted to they could deprive me of the +benefits of my patents and the law could not help +me. So I have to be very careful. Up to now I +have trusted Mr. Benjamin implicitly, but now—now +I will be on my guard. It is a lucky thing +you overheard that talk.”</p> + +<p>There was an earnest consultation between Mr. +and Mrs. Matson that night, to which Joe and his +sister were not admitted, for it was business they +would not have understood. But at the close they +were told to say nothing of what had happened +that day.</p> + +<p>“I will keep right on at the harvester works +as if nothing had occurred,” said Mr. Matson, +“and then they will not get suspicious. But I will +do the most important and secret work on my invention +here at home.”</p> + +<p>“Now that it is all settled,” said Clara, “I’m +going to say ‘apple sauce’ to you, Joe. What +does it mean?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,” and the young baseball player<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +laughed. “Well I guess you’ve got to join the +Dorcas and Sewing societies, mother, to keep me +out of a scrape,” and with many funny touches Joe +told about his wild throw that day, making an +amusing story of it.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I would have given anything if some of +the girls and I could have been there when you +and Tom were blacking the stove!” exclaimed +Clara with a laugh.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you weren’t,” declared Joe, “though +it’s lucky we didn’t have to mop up the floor. +After this I’m going to go a mile away from her +house when I want to practice throwing.”</p> + +<p>“I should think you would,” agreed Mr. Matson.</p> + +<p>“But you’ll join those societies; won’t you +mother?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I suppose I’ll have to, in order to keep +you out of prison,” she agreed with a laugh. “But +please don’t make any more engagements for me, +as my time is pretty well occupied.”</p> + +<p>It was two days after this when Tom Davis, +coming out of school, caught up with Joe who was +a little in advance of him.</p> + +<p>“Got anything special to do?” asked the substitute +first baseman.</p> + +<p>“No, why?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> +<p>“I thought maybe you’d like to go out in the +lot again, and have some more practice.”</p> + +<p>“Back of Mrs. Peterkin’s house?” asked Joe +with a smile.</p> + +<p>“I should say not! But I’ve got a new scheme. +I read about it in that baseball book. We’ll have +a contest for long distance throwing and accuracy.”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Why you and I’ll go down in the same lots +but we’ll throw in the other direction. Then we +can’t hit anything. We’ll see who can throw the +farthest. You’ll need to practice that if you are +to play centre field.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the other contest?”</p> + +<p>“For straight aim. I’ll get an old basket, and +we’ll see who can land the most balls in it. Want +to try?”</p> + +<p>“Sure. Anything to improve myself,” said Joe +earnestly.</p> + +<p>A little later he and his chum were on their way +to the vacant lots. As they walked along they met +several other lads, some of whom played on the +regular team, a few from the High School nine, +and some from the Silver Star scrub.</p> + +<p>“What’s doing?” demanded Rodney Burke.</p> + +<p>“We’re going to see who is the best thrower,” +answered Tom.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span></p> +<p>“Give us a show at it?” requested Ford Wilson.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” assented Joe. “The more, the merrier.”</p> + +<p>Soon a jolly crowd of youngsters were taking +turns at the long distance throwing. After several +tries the record lay between Joe and Rodney +Burke, and they played off a tie, Joe winning by +about seven feet.</p> + +<p>“That’s a good throw all right,” complimented +the loser.</p> + +<p>“A fellow who’s playing centre field needs to +have a pretty good heave,” said Joe. “Especially +if he’s up against a heavy-hitting team.”</p> + +<p>“And that’s been our luck for some time past,” +spoke Tom. “Well, now for the basket test.”</p> + +<p>This was more difficult than straight throwing +for distance and several of the lads dropped out, +being disqualified by failures. But Tom, Joe and +Rodney remained in, and for a time it was pretty +even between them. Finally it narrowed down to +Tom and Joe, and they were just ready to throw +the deciding round when a new voice called out:</p> + +<p>“Any objections to me joining?”</p> + +<p>Joe and the others turned, to see the half-mocking +face of Sam Morton.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>ANOTHER DEFEAT</h3> + + +<p>For a moment there was some embarrassment, +as Sam was not in the habit of mingling with this +crowd of boys. He had his own friends, not +very many, to tell the truth, but he was usually +with them. The lads did not know exactly how +to take his request, but Joe came to the rescue.</p> + +<p>“Sure you can come in,” he said heartily. +“We’re just seeing who can put the most balls in +the basket.”</p> + +<p>“What good do you think that does?” asked +Sam.</p> + +<p>“Well, doesn’t it help a fellow to get a straight +aim?” asked Tom, half defiantly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know,” was the rather sneering +answer. “It might, if you kept at it long enough.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s see you try it,” suggested Rodney Burke, +who did not hold Sam in much awe.</p> + +<p>Carelessly the Silver Star pitcher accepted a +ball that Joe obligingly held out. He threw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +quickly and the ball landed squarely in the basket. +Then he did the trick again, and there was a little +murmur of applause, for only a few of the boys +had “two straight” to their credit.</p> + +<p>“Joe did three straight a while ago,” said Tom +proudly. “He and I are playing off a tie.”</p> + +<p>Sam did not answer but threw again, and the +ball went wide of the basket by two feet at least. +Rodney laughed.</p> + +<p>“You’re not such a much, even if you are the +pitcher,” he declared.</p> + +<p>“Who asked you anything about it?” demanded +Sam savagely.</p> + +<p>He darted a look of anger at the lad, but as +Rodney was well built and had a reputation for +“scrappiness” Sam concluded not to tackle him +just then.</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you how to throw!” he exclaimed +the next moment, and two balls went squarely in +the basket. “Now, let’s see you and Matson play +it off,” commanded Sam to Tom as though he was +in the habit of having his wishes complied with.</p> + +<p>Whether it was nervousness or not, or whether +he wanted to see his chum do well when Sam was +present, was not made manifest, but Tom did not +come up to his previous record, and Joe easily won. +In fact Joe made a much better score than Sam,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> +and there were several curious glances directed at +the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you want to try it some more?” asked +Rodney Burke, and there was mockery in his +voice.</p> + +<p>“No!” half-growled Sam. “I’ve got to save +my arm for the next game. We’re going to win +that sure. So long,” and with that he turned and +strode away.</p> + +<p>“As cheerful as a bear with a sore nose,” remarked +Rodney.</p> + +<p>Ordinarily but little importance would have been +attached to the coming game with the Denville +Whizzers, but on account of two previous defeats, +Darrell Blackney and George Rankin had several +conferences concerning it. The captain and manager +were plainly worried.</p> + +<p>“Do you wish you had some one else to put in +the box?” asked Rankin.</p> + +<p>“Well, not exactly,” was the answer. “I +haven’t lost faith in Sam, but I do wish we could +depend more on him. He’ll pitch fine for several +innings and then go to pieces. He tries to use +too much speed and too many varieties of curves, +I think.”</p> + +<p>“By the way, what do you think of young +Matson?” asked the captain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> +<p>“I think a good deal of him. He doesn’t +amount to much as yet, but he’s in earnest and he’s +got grit. In time I think he’ll make a player.”</p> + +<p>“He wants to pitch.”</p> + +<p>“I know he does, but it’s out of the question +yet. Have you any line on him?”</p> + +<p>“Not yet,” answered Rankin, “but I’ll keep +my eyes open. He’s a good fielder all right, now +that he isn’t so nervous. He wants to play his +head off. But Sam—well, we can’t do any better +right away, and—well, I guess we’ll win this +game.”</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to!” insisted the manager earnestly, +“if we want the people of Riverside to support +us. They won’t come to see a losing home team +all the while.”</p> + +<p>The game with the Whizzers was to take place +on their grounds, and early on that morning the +Silver Stars, some substitutes, and a crowd of +“rooters” got ready for the trip. Denville was +about seven miles from Riverside, back from the +stream, and could be reached by trolley. A special +car had been engaged for the team.</p> + +<p>The game started off well, and the Silver Stars +got three runs in their half of the first inning. +The home team was blanked and for a time it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +looked as if there would be an easy victory for +the visitors.</p> + +<p>Sam was pitching in good form, and had struck +several men out. For three innings the home +team did not get a run, and there was only one to +their credit in the fourth. There was gloom and +despair among their supporters while the “rooters” +of the visiting team were happy singing +songs and yelling.</p> + +<p>Joe played well and had two outs to his credit +on long flies, with no errors to mar his record. +But he noticed that as the home team came to the +bat in their half of the fifth, in which the Silver +Stars had made two runs, that Darrell and the +captain were in earnest consultation with Sam. +They seemed to be remonstrating with him, and +Joe heard the manager say:</p> + +<p>“Take it easy now; we have the game on ice.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know how to play ball,” retorted the +pitcher.</p> + +<p>Then began a series of happenings. With a +lead of four runs when the last half of the fifth +started it would have seemed that the Stars might +have won out. But Sam fell a prey to the applause +of the crowd and began to do “grandstand” +work. He contorted his body unnecessarily +in winding up for a delivery. He hopped<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +about before pitching the ball and he failed to +study the batters, though he had had plenty of +chance to do so.</p> + +<p>The result was that he went to pieces through +sheer weariness and began giving balls. Then the +home team, realizing what was happening, began +to pound him, and to steal bases. In their half of +the fifth the home team made six runs, putting +them two ahead.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to stop that!” said Darrell, with +a shake of his head.</p> + +<p>“We sure have,” agreed the captain.</p> + +<p>There was somewhat of a brace on the part of +the Stars and they made one run in their part of +the sixth. But the Whizzers kept pace with them. +The seventh inning resulted in one run for the +visitors and none for the home team and that +made only a lead of one for the home nine.</p> + +<p>Joe brought in a run in the eighth, but as if it +had been prearranged the home team duplicated +so the score at the beginning of the ninth stood +eight to nine in favor of the home team.</p> + +<p>“We need two runs to win, if we can serve +them goose eggs for lunch,” said the Silver Star +captain grimly. “Go to it, boys; beat ’em +out.”</p> + +<p>“Sure we will,” said Sam airily, and he brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +in one of the needed two runs. Darrell contributed +the other, and when the visiting team took +the field they were one ahead.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let a man get to first!” cried Captain +Rankin.</p> + +<p>But it was not to be. Sam gave the first man +his base on balls and there was a groan of anguish +from his fellows and the Riverside crowd. Then +the second man whacked out what appeared to be +a pretty three bagger, scoring the runner from +first. The batter slipped on his way from second +to third, however, and was put out when Joe +made a magnificent throw in from deep centre.</p> + +<p>With one out Sam gathered himself together +and struck out the next man. Then came to the +bat the mightiest walloper of the rival team.</p> + +<p>“Wait for a good one. Make him give you +what you want,” advised the coacher to the +batter.</p> + +<p>And the latter did wait, for when he got what +he wanted he “slammed it” away out in centre +field.</p> + +<p>“A home run! A home run!” yelled the frantic +crowd.</p> + +<p>“And win the game!” shouted a score of the +players’ friends. “Come on, baby-mine!”</p> + +<p>Joe was madly racing after the ball, which had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +gone away beyond him. He got it and hurled it +to second for a relay home, as a quick glance had +shown him the man rounding third.</p> + +<p>Straight and true the ball went and the baseman +had it. Then he sent it to Catcher Ferguson +as the runner was racing in. Sam had run from +his box and stood watching and expectant near +home plate.</p> + +<p>The runner dropped and slid and Bart Ferguson, +as the ball landed in his mitt, reached over to +touch him.</p> + +<p>“Safe!” howled the umpire, and it meant the +defeat of the Silver Stars.</p> + +<p>For a moment there was silence and then Sam, +stepping up to the umpire, a lad smaller than himself, +said:</p> + +<p>“Safe, eh? Not in a thousand years! You +don’t know how to umpire a game. Safe! I +guess not!” and drawing back his fist Sam sent it +crashing into the face of the other lad.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>JOE IS WATCHED</h3> + + +<p>There was an uproar in an instant. Players +started for Sam and the unoffending lad whom he +had struck. There were savage yells, calling for +vengeance. Even Sam’s mates, used as they were +to his fits of temper, were not prepared for this. +The Whizzer players were wild to get at him, but, +instinctively Darrell, Joe, Rankin, and some of the +others of the Silver Stars formed a protecting +cordon about their pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Are you crazy, Sam? What in the world did +you do that for?” demanded the manager.</p> + +<p>“He made a rank decision, an unfair one!” +cried Sam, “and when I called him down he was +going to hit me. I got in ahead of him—that’s +all.”</p> + +<p>“That’s not so!” cried the Whizzer captain. +“I saw it all.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right!” chimed in some of his mates.</p> + +<p>“Farson never raised his hand to him!” declared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> +another lad, who had been standing near +the umpire. “You’re a big coward to hit a chap +smaller than you are!” he called tauntingly to +Sam.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m not afraid to hit you!” cried the +pitcher, who seemed to have lost control of himself. +“And if you want anything you know how +to get it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and I’m willing to take it right now,” +yelled the other, stepping up to Sam.</p> + +<p>There might have been another fight then and +there, for both lads were unreasonable with anger, +but Darrell quickly stepped in between them.</p> + +<p>“Look here!” burst out the Stars’ manager, +in what he tried to make a good-natured and reasoning +voice, “this has got to stop. We didn’t +come here to fight, we came to play baseball and +you trimmed us properly.”</p> + +<p>“Then why don’t you fellows take your medicine?” +demanded the home captain. “What +right has he got to tackle our umpire?”</p> + +<p>“No right at all,” admitted Darrell. “Sam +was in the wrong and he’ll apologize. He probably +thought the man was out.”</p> + +<p>“And he <i>was</i> out!” exploded the unreasonable +pitcher. “I’ll not apologize, either.”</p> + +<p>“Wipe up the field with ’em!” came in murmurs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +from the home players. Several of the lads +had grasped their bats.</p> + +<p>It was a critical moment and Darrell felt it. +He pulled Sam to one side and whispered rapidly +and tensely in his ear:</p> + +<p>“Sam, you’ve got to apologize, and you’ve got +to admit that the runner was safe. There’s no +other way out of it.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose I won’t?”</p> + +<p>There was defiance in Sam’s air. Darrell took +a quick decision.</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll put you out of the team!” was his +instant rejoinder, and it came so promptly that +Sam winced.</p> + +<p>Now it is one thing to resign, but quite another +to be read out of an organization, whether it be +a baseball team or a political society. Sam realized +this. He might have, in his anger, refused +to belong to the Silver Stars and, later on he could +boast of having gotten out of his own accord. +But to be “fired” carried no glory with it, and +Sam was ever on the lookout for glory.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that?” he asked of Darrell. +“Won’t you fellows stick up for me?”</p> + +<p>He looked a vain appeal to his mates.</p> + +<p>“I mean every word of it,” replied the manager +firmly. “We fellows would stick up for you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +if you were in the right, but you’re dead wrong +this time. It’s apologize or get out of the team!”</p> + +<p>Once more Sam paused. He could hear the +angry murmurs of the home players as they +watched him, waiting for his decision. Even some +of his own mates were regarding him with unfriendly +eyes. He must make a virtue of necessity.</p> + +<p>“All right—I—I apologize,” said Sam in a +low voice. “The runner was safe I guess.”</p> + +<p>“You’d better be sure about it,” said the captain +of the Whizzers, in a peculiar tone as he +looked at Sam.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m sure all right.”</p> + +<p>“And you’re sorry you hit our umpire?” persisted +the captain, for Sam’s apology had not been +very satisfactory.</p> + +<p>“Yes. You needn’t rub it in,” growled the +pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Then why don’t you shake hands with him, +and tell him so like a man?” went on the home +captain.</p> + +<p>“I won’t shake hands with him!” exclaimed +the small umpire. “I don’t shake hands with +cowards!”</p> + +<p>There was another murmur, and the trouble +that had been so nearly adjusted threatened to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +break out again. But Darrell was wise in his +day.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right!” he called, more cheerily +than he felt. “You fellows beat us fairly and on +the level. We haven’t a kick coming, but we may +treat you to a dose of the same medicine when we +have a return game; eh, old man?” and he made +his way to the opposing captain and the manager +and cordially shook hands with them. There was +a half cheer from the Whizzers. They liked a +good loser.</p> + +<p>“Yes, maybe you can turn the tables on us,” +admitted the other manager, “but I hope when +we do come to Riverside you’ll have a different +pitcher,” and he glanced significantly at Sam.</p> + +<p>“No telling,” replied Darrell with a laugh. +“Come on, fellows. We’ll give three cheers for +the team that beat us and then we’ll beat it for +home.”</p> + +<p>It was rather a silent crowd of the Silver Stars +that rode in the special trolley. Following them +was another car containing some of the “rooters.” +They made up in liveliness what the team +members lacked in spirits, for there were a number +of girls with the lads, Joe’s sister and Tom’s +being among them, and they started some school +songs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> +<p>And the gloom that seemed to hang over the +Stars was not altogether because of their defeat. +It was the remembrance of Sam’s unsportsmanlike +act, and it rankled deep.</p> + +<p>On his part it is doubtful if Sam felt any remorse. +He was a hot-tempered lad, used to having +his own way, and probably he thought he had +done just right in chastising the umpire for what +he regarded as a rank decision.</p> + +<p>Darrell, Rankin and some of the others tried to +be jolly and start a line of talk that would make +the lads forget the unpleasant incident, but it is +doubtful if they succeeded to any great extent.</p> + +<p>The manager was seriously considering the +future of the team. Was it wise to go on with +such a pitcher as Sam who, though talented, could +not be relied upon and who was likely to make +“breaks” at unexpected times?</p> + +<p>“Yet what can we do?” asked Darrell of the +captain. “Is there another man we could put in +or get from some other team?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe any other team would part +with a good pitcher at this time of the season,” +replied Rankin. “Surely not if he was a real +good one, and we want one that <i>is</i> good. As +for using some of the other fellows in Sam’s place,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +I don’t know of any one that’s anywhere near as +good as he is.”</p> + +<p>“How about Percy Parnell? He’s pitched +some, hasn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but you know what happened. He was +knocked out of the box and we were whitewashed +that game.”</p> + +<p>“Say!” exclaimed Darrell. “I just happened +to think of it. That new fellow—Joe Matson. +He told me he used to pitch in his home town—Bentville +I think it was. I wonder if he’d be any +good?”</p> + +<p>“Hard telling,” replied the captain, somewhat +indifferently. “We ought to do something, anyhow.”</p> + +<p>“I tell you what I’m going to do,” went on +Darrell. “I’m going to write to some one in +Bentville. I think I know an old baseball friend +there, and I’ll ask him what Matson’s record was. +If he made good at all we might give him a tryout.”</p> + +<p>“And have Sam get on his ear?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care whether he does or not. Things +can’t be much worse; can they?”</p> + +<p>“No, I guess not. Go ahead. I’m with you +in anything you do. Three straight wallops in +three weeks have taken the heart out of me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> +<p>“Same here. Well, we’ll see what we can do.”</p> + +<p>Joe reached home that night rather tired and +discouraged. He felt the defeat of his team keenly, +and the more so as the nine he had played with +in Bentville had had a much better record than +that of the Silver Stars—at least so far, though +the Silver Stars were an older and stronger +team.</p> + +<p>“I wonder if I’m the hoodoo?” mused Joe. +“They lost the first game I saw them play, and +the next one I played in they lost, and here’s this +one. I hope I’m not a jinx.”</p> + +<p>Then he reviewed his own playing in the two +games where he had had a chance to show what he +could do, and he had no fault to find with his +efforts. True, he had made errors; but who had +not?</p> + +<p>“I’m going to keep on practicing,” mused Joe. +“If I can work up in speed and accuracy, and +keep what curving power I have already, I may +get a chance to pitch. Things are coming to a +head with Sam, and, though I don’t wish him any +bad luck, if he <i>does</i> get out I hope I get a chance +to go in.”</p> + +<p>Following this plan, Joe went off by himself one +afternoon several days later to practice throwing +in the empty lot. He used a basket to hold the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +balls he pitched and he was glad to find that he +had not gone back any from the time when he +and Tom, with the other lads, had had their contest.</p> + +<p>“If I can only keep this up,” mused the lad, +“I’ll get there some day. Jove! If ever I should +become one of the big league players! Think of +taking part in the World’s series! Cracky! I’d +rather be in the box, facing the champions, than +to be almost anything else I can think of. Forty +thousand people watching you as you wind up and +send in a swift one like this!”</p> + +<p>And with that Joe let fly a ball with all his +speed toward the basket. He was not so much intent +on accuracy then as he was in letting off some +surplus “steam,” and he was not a little surprised +when the ball not only went <i>into</i> the basket +but <i>through</i> it, ripping out the bottom.</p> + +<p>“Wow!” exclaimed Joe. “I’m throwing +faster than I thought I was. That basket is on +the fritz. But if I’d been sending a ball over the +plate it would have had some speed back of it, +and it would have gone to the right spot.”</p> + +<p>As Joe went to pick up the ball and examine the +broken basket more closely a figure peered out +from a little clump of trees on the edge of the +field where the lad was practicing. The figure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +watched the would-be pitcher closely and then +murmured:</p> + +<p>“He certainly has <i>speed</i> all right. I’d like to +be back of the plate and watch him throw them +in. I wonder if he has anything in him after all? +It’s worth taking a chance on. I’ll wait a bit +longer.”</p> + +<p>The figure dodged behind the trees again as +Joe once more took his position. He had stuffed +some grass in the hole in the peach basket he was +using, and again he threw in it.</p> + +<p>He was just as accurate as before, and, now +and then, when he cut loose, he sent the ball with +unerring aim and with great force into the receptacle, +several times knocking it down off the stake +on which it was fastened.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know as there’s much use in writing +to Bentville to find out about him,” mused the +figure hidden by the trees. “If he’s got that +speed, and continues to show the control he has +to-day, even without any curves he’d be a help to +us. I’m going to speak to Rankin about it,” and +with that the figure turned away.</p> + +<p>Had Joe looked he would have seen Darrell +Blackney, manager of the Silver Stars, who had +been playing the innocent spy on him.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>“WOULD YOU LIKE TO PITCH?”</h3> + + +<p>“Come now, fellows, let’s get into practice. +Are all the scrub here?”</p> + +<p>Darrell Blackney looked around over the +diamond, where about twenty lads were assembled +one fine afternoon.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about the scrub, but all our fellows +are on hand,” replied Rankin. “Is it all +arranged about the game Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we’re to play the Fayetteville Academy +lads on their grounds.”</p> + +<p>“A trip out of town, eh? That’s two in two +weeks.”</p> + +<p>“Well it gives our fellows experience in playing +on some other diamond than their own.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, it doesn’t much matter. The Fayettevilles +will be easy fruit for us.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be too sure. They’re a younger team, +that’s true, and they haven’t been doing well this +season, but neither have we of late.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> +<p>“Oh, we’ll beat ’em,” declared the captain confidently.</p> + +<p>“I think so myself, but I don’t want you to +take too many chances. Here comes Sam. You +and he get in for some warm-up work, Bart, and +I’ll get the scrub together.”</p> + +<p>Darrell went about the diamond, calling to the +various members of the “scrub,” or second +team.</p> + +<p>“We haven’t any pitcher,” remarked Blake +Carrington, who acted as captain of the scrub organization.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter with Slater?”</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t showed up, and none of the other +fellows feel like getting in the box against you +boys. You’ll have to find us a pitcher before we +can play.”</p> + +<p>A sudden idea came to Darrell.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he answered. “I guess I can. +Wait a minute.”</p> + +<p>He ran over to where Rankin was talking to +some of his players.</p> + +<p>“Can you play Tom Davis in centre field for +to-day?” asked the manager.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I guess so. Why?”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to have Joe Matson pitch on the +scrub. It will be a good time to get a line on him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> +and I’ll see if he shapes up as well as the day he +did when I watched him practice.”</p> + +<p>“All right; maybe it will be a good idea.”</p> + +<p>Joe hardly knew what to say when Darrell, as +calmly as if he had done it several times before, +asked him to go in the box for the scrub and pitch +against the Silver Stars.</p> + +<p>“And do your best,” added Darrell. “I don’t +care how many of our fellows you strike out. +Every one, if you can.”</p> + +<p>Joe’s heart gave a bound of delight. It might +be the beginning of the very chance he had been +waiting for so long. He calmed himself with an +effort for he did not want to get “rattled.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” he answered as though he had +been used to such sudden emergency calls all season. +“I’ll see what I can do. I’d like a chance +to warm up, though.”</p> + +<p>“Sure. You and Jake Bender go over there +and practice for five minutes. Then we’ll play a +five-inning game.”</p> + +<p>The Stars were to bat first, and there was a +mocking smile on the face of Sam Morton as he +watched his rival go to the box.</p> + +<p>“Don’t strike us all out,” called Sam. “We’ve +had hard luck enough lately.”</p> + +<p>The game began, and it was for “blood” from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> +the very start. Joe was a trifle nervous, especially +when he had two balls called on his first two efforts. +Then he braced himself, and, not trying +for speed, sent in a slow, easy ball that completely +fooled the batter, who eventually struck out.</p> + +<p>“Pretty good for a starter,” complimented +Darrell. Sam Morton scowled.</p> + +<p>The next batter hit an easy fly which was so +promptly gathered in by the shortstop that there +was little use in the player starting for first. Then +Joe struck out the next lad after he had hit a +couple of fouls.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!” cried Tom Davis, as he +patted his chum on the back. “You’ll be in the +box for the Stars yet.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get me all excited,” begged Joe with a +smile. Yet he could not help feeling elated.</p> + +<p>There was a viciousness in the pitching of Sam +when he toed the plate that showed how his feelings +had been stirred. He was evidently going to +show how much superior he was.</p> + +<p>He did strike out two men, and then came Joe’s +turn at the bat. Our hero thought he detected a +gleam of anger in Sam’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“He’d just as soon hit me with a ball as not,” +thought Joe, “and if he does it will hurt some. +And he may be trying to bluff me so that I won’t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> +stand up to the plate. I’ll see what I can do to +him.”</p> + +<p>Consequently, instead of waiting for the ball to +get to him Joe stepped up and out to meet it before +the curve “broke.” He “walked right into it,” +as the baseball term has it, and the result was that +he whacked out a pretty two-bagger that brought +his mates to their feet with yells. Sam bit his lips +in anger, but he kept his temper by an effort and +struck out the next man so that Joe’s effort resulted +in nothing.</p> + +<p>The game went on, and when Sam at bat faced +Joe, our hero could not help feeling a trifle nervous. +He had sized up Sam’s style of batting, +however, and was prepared.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to give him a slow ball with an in-shoot +to it,” decided Joe. “He keeps back from +the plate and this will make him get still farther +back. I’m going to strike him out.”</p> + +<p>And strike him out Joe did, though not until +after Sam had hit one foul that was within a shade +of being fair. But when on his next two strikes +he fanned the wind, there was a look of wonder +and gratification on the face of Darrell.</p> + +<p>“I believe Joe is going to make good,” he said +to Rankin.</p> + +<p>“It sure looks so. What about it?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> +<p>“You’ll see in a minute. I’m going to give him +a chance to pitch part of the game against the +Fayetteville Academy nine—that is if you agree +to it.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, go as far as you like.”</p> + +<p>At the close of the game, which was won by +the Stars, though by a small margin, Darrell approached +Joe.</p> + +<p>“Well?” asked the new pitcher diffidently.</p> + +<p>“You did first rate. How would you like to +pitch part of the game Saturday?”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean it?” was the eager question.</p> + +<p>“Certainly. I’ll put you in for a few innings +toward the end, after we’ve cinched it, for I think +it will be easy for us.”</p> + +<p>It was not the highest honor that could have +come to Joe, but he realized what it meant.</p> + +<p>“I’d like it immensely,” he said, “but won’t +Sam—what about him?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care anything about him,” said Darrell +quickly. “I’m running this team. Will you +pitch?”</p> + +<p>“I sure will!” and Joe’s heart beat high with +hope.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI</h2> + +<h3>TO THE RESCUE</h3> + + +<p>Joe Matson felt as though he was walking in +the air when he went home that afternoon following +the scrub game. That his ambition was about +to be realized, and so soon after joining the team, +was almost unbelievable.</p> + +<p>“Why, what’s the matter, Joe?” asked Clara, +as her brother fairly pranced into the house, +caught her around the waist and swung her in the +start of a waltz.</p> + +<p>“Matter? Plenty’s the matter! I’m going to +pitch on the Stars Saturday. Hurray!”</p> + +<p>“My! Any one would think you were going +to pitch up <i>to</i> the stars the way you’re going on. +Let go of me; you’ll have my hair all mussed up!”</p> + +<p>“That’s easily fixed. Yes, I’m going to pitch.”</p> + +<p>“Against whom?”</p> + +<p>“The Fayetteville Academy, on their grounds. +It won’t be much of a game, and I’m not to go in +until it’s in the ice box——”</p> + +<p>“In the ice box?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, the refrigerator you know—safe. Then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +I’m to try my hand at putting ’em over. Of course +I’d like to go the whole nine innings but I can’t +have everything at the start. It’s mighty decent +of Darrell to give me this chance. Aren’t you +glad, sis?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course I am. I’d like to see the game, +but I’ve used up all of my allowance for this week, +and——”</p> + +<p>“Here!” and Joe held out a dollar. “Blow +yourself, sis.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what horrid slang!”</p> + +<p>“I mean go to the game on me. I’ll stand +treat. Take a girl if you want to and see yours +truly do himself proud.”</p> + +<p>Joe hunted up his mother to tell her the good +news. He found her in the room which his father +had fitted up as a workshop since the suspicious +actions of Mr. Benjamin at the harvester factory. +Mrs. Matson was looking over some +papers, and there was on her face the same worried +look Joe had seen there before.</p> + +<p>“Has anything happened, mother?” he asked +quickly, his own good news fading away as he +thought of the trouble that might menace his +father.</p> + +<p>“No, only the same trouble about the patent,” +she said. “There is nothing new, but your father<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +thinks from the recent actions of Mr. Benjamin +that the manager suspects something. Your +father is getting some papers ready to go to +Washington, and I was looking them over for him. +I used to work in a lawyer’s office when I was a +girl,” she went on with a smile, “and I know a +little about the patent business so I thought I +would help your father if I could.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s nothing wrong?”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly, and if all goes right he will soon +have his patent granted, and then those men can +not harm him. But you look as though you had +good news.”</p> + +<p>“I have,” and the lad fairly bubbled over in +telling his mother of the chance that had so unexpectedly +come to him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Matson was quite enthusiastic about Joe’s +chance when he came home from work, and together +they talked about it after supper.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could go see the game,” said Mr. +Matson, “but I am too busy.”</p> + +<p>“How is the patent coming on?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Oh, pretty good. Thanks to you I was +warned in time. If I had left my drawings, patterns +and other things in the shop I’m afraid it +wouldn’t be going so well. Mr. Benjamin evidently +suspects something. Only to-day he asked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +me how I was coming on with it, and he wanted to +know why I wasn’t working on it any more. I had +to put him off with some excuse and he acted very +queer. Right after that I heard him calling up +Mr. Holdney on the telephone.”</p> + +<p>“But your worry will be over when your application +is allowed,” suggested Mrs. Matson.</p> + +<p>Joe went to his baseball practice with a vim in +the days that intervened before the game that +was to be so important to him. Tom Davis +helped him, and several times cautioned his chum +about overdoing himself.</p> + +<p>“If your arm gets stiff—it’s good-night for +you,” he declared, in his usual blunt way. +“You’ve got to take care of yourself, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, but I want to get up more speed.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right. Speed isn’t everything. +Practice for control, and that won’t be so hard on +you.”</p> + +<p>And, as the days went on, Joe realized that he +was perfecting himself, though he still had much +to learn about the great game.</p> + +<p>It was the day before the contest when our hero +was to occupy the box for the first time for the +Stars. He and Tom had practiced hard and Joe +knew that he was “fit.”</p> + +<p>Joe wondered how Sam Morton had taken the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +news of his rival’s advance, but if Sam knew he +said nothing about it, and in the practice with the +scrub he was unusually friendly to Joe. For Darrell +decided not to have the new pitcher go into the +box for the Stars until the last moment. He did +not want word of it to get out, and Joe and the +catcher did some practice in private with signals.</p> + +<p>The last practice had been held on the afternoon +prior to the game, and arrangements completed +for the team going to Fayetteville. Joe +was on his way home on a car with Tom Davis, +for Riverside boasted of a trolley system.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel?” asked Tom of his chum.</p> + +<p>“Fine as a fiddle.”</p> + +<p>“Your arm isn’t lame or sore?”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit, I can——”</p> + +<p>Joe was interrupted by a cry from two ladies +who sat in front of them, the only other occupants +of the vehicle save themselves. The car was going +down hill and had acquired considerable speed—dangerous +speed Joe thought—and the motorman +did not seem to have it well under control.</p> + +<p>But what had caused the cry of alarm was this. +Driving along the street, parallel with the tracks, +and about three hundred feet ahead of the car, was +a boy in an open delivery wagon. He was going +in the same direction as was the electric vehicle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span></p> +<p>Suddenly his horse stumbled and fell almost +on the tracks, the wagon sliding half over the +animal while the boy on the seat was hemmed in +and pinned down by a number of boxes and baskets +that slid forward from the rear of the wagon.</p> + +<p>“Put on your brakes! Put on your brakes!” +yelled the conductor to the motorman. “You’ll +run him down!”</p> + +<p>The motorman ground at the handle, and the +brake shoes whined as they gripped the wheels, +but the car came nearer and nearer the wagon. +The conductor on the rear platform was also putting +on the brakes there.</p> + +<p>Suddenly the horse kicked himself around so +that he was free of the tracks, lying alongside +them, and far enough to one side so that the car +would safely pass him. There was a sigh of relief +from the two women passengers, but a moment +later it changed to a cry of alarm, for the boy +on the seat suddenly fell to one side, and hung +there with his head so far over that the car would +hit him as it rushed past. The lad was evidently +pinned down by the boxes and baskets on his legs.</p> + +<p>“Stop! Stop the car!” begged one of the ladies. +The other had covered her eyes with her hands.</p> + +<p>“I—I can’t!” cried the motorman. “It’s got +too much speed! I can’t stop it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> +<p>Joe sprang to his feet and made his way along +the seat past Tom, to the running board of the +car, for the vehicle was an open one.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going?” cried Tom.</p> + +<p>“To save that lad! He’ll be killed if the car +strikes him!”</p> + +<p>“Let the motorman do it!”</p> + +<p>“He can’t! He’s grinding on the brakes as +hard as he can and so is the conductor. I’ve got +to save him—these ladies can’t! I can lean over +and pull him aboard the car.”</p> + +<p>“But your arm! You’ll strain your arm and +you can’t pitch to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>For an instant Joe hesitated, but only for an +instant. He realized that what Tom said was +true. He saw a vision of himself sitting idly on +the bench, unable to twirl the ball because of a +sprained arm. Then Joe made up his mind.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to save him!” he cried as he hurried +to the front end of the running board. Then, +clinging to the upright of the car with his left arm, +he stretched out his other to save the lad from +almost certain death, the conductor and motorman +unable to lend aid and the women incapable. +There was not room on the running board for +Tom to help Joe.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII</h2> + +<h3>A DELAYED PITCHER</h3> + + +<p>The motorman was grinding away at the +brakes but the heavy car continued to slide on, for +the hill was steep. The horse lay quiet now, for a +man had managed to get to him and sit on his +head, so the animal could not kick and thresh +about with the consequent danger of getting his +legs under the trolley. The car would pass the +horse and the wagon by a good margin, but the +boy, leaning far over, was sure to be hit unless +Joe saved him, and no one in the street seemed to +think of the boy’s danger. He said later that he +did not realize it himself.</p> + +<p>The lad was struggling to free himself but +could not, and he did not seem to be able to raise +himself to an upright position on the seat, in which +case he would have been safe.</p> + +<p>“Steady now!” called Joe, and he braced himself +for the shock he knew would come.</p> + +<p>The next instant, as the car kept on, Joe found +himself opposite the lad and reaching forward his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +right hand he grasped him by the collar, shoving +him away so the car would not strike him. Then, +holding on in grim despair Joe pulled the youth +toward him, aided by the momentum of the +vehicle. His idea was to get him aboard the car +to prevent his being struck by it, and in this he +succeeded.</p> + +<p>There was a ripping sound, for some part of +the lad’s clothing was caught on the seat and tore +loose. A shower of boxes and baskets followed +the body as it slid forward, and a moment later +Joe had the lad on the foot board beside him, safe +and sound, but very much astonished by his sudden +descent from the wagon seat.</p> + +<p>Joe felt an excruciating pain shoot through his +arm—his pitching arm. It was numb from the +shock but even yet he did not dare let go, for the +lad was on uncertain footing. The pain increased. +It was like being kicked by the back-fire of an +auto or motor boat. For a moment there was a +dull sensation and then the outraged nerves and +muscles seemed to cry out in agony.</p> + +<p>“There—there!” murmured Joe between his +clenched teeth to the lad he had saved. “You’re +all right I guess. Will—will somebody——”</p> + +<p>He did not finish, but turned to the conductor, +who had rushed toward him on the running board,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +ready to relieve him of the lad’s weight. But the +boy was able to look after himself now, for the +vehicle was almost at a standstill, and the motorman +had it under control.</p> + +<p>“Much—much obliged to you,” the boy stammered +his thanks to Joe who was slowly making +his way back to where Tom awaited him. Joe did +not know whether he could get there or not, passing +himself along by clinging with his left hand to +the successive car uprights.</p> + +<p>“He saved your life all right,” said the conductor, +who had hold of the delivery wagon lad.</p> + +<p>“That’s what!” chimed in several other men +from the street, as they crowded up around the +car.</p> + +<p>By this time the motorman had succeeded in +bringing the vehicle to a full stop and Joe, fearing +he might fall, for the pain was very severe, got +off. Tom hurried up to him.</p> + +<p>“Did it strain you much?” he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>“A little—yes; considerable I guess,” admitted +Joe, making a wry face. “But it will be all right—I +guess.” His right arm—the arm he hoped +to use in the game on the morrow—the first game +with him in the box—hung limp at his side.</p> + +<p>Tom Davis saw and knew at once that something +serious was the matter. He realized what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +it meant to Joe, and he lost no time in useless talk.</p> + +<p>“You come with me!” he commanded, taking +hold of Joe’s left arm.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going?” demanded our hero.</p> + +<p>“To our old family doctor. That arm of yours +will need attention if you’re going to pitch to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know that I can pitch, Tom.”</p> + +<p>“Yes you can—you’ve <i>got</i> to. Dr. Pickett will +give you something to fix it up. You can’t let this +chance slip. I was afraid this would happen when +I saw what you were going to do.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Joe simply, “but I couldn’t let him +be hit by the car.”</p> + +<p>“No, I suppose not, and yet—well, we’ll see +what Dr. Pickett says. Come on,” and Tom +quickly improvised a sling from his own and Joe’s +handkerchiefs, and was about to lead his chum +away.</p> + +<p>“Oh, are you hurt? I’m sorry!” exclaimed +the lad whom Joe had saved.</p> + +<p>“It’s only a strain,” said the pitcher, but he did +not add what it might mean to him.</p> + +<p>The lad thanked Joe again, earnestly, for his +brave act and then hastened to look after his +horse, that had been gotten to its feet. The +motorman, too, thanked Joe for, though had an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> +accident resulted it would not have been his fault, +yet he was grateful.</p> + +<p>“Oh, come on!” exclaimed Tom impatiently +as several others crowded up around Joe. +“Every minute’s delay makes it worse. Let’s +get a move on,” and he almost dragged his chum +to the doctor’s office.</p> + +<p>Dr. Pickett looked grave when told of the cause +of the injury.</p> + +<p>“Well, let’s have a look at the arm,” he suggested, +and when he saw a slight swelling he shook +his head. “I’m afraid you can’t pitch to-morrow,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“I’ve <i>got</i> to,” replied Joe simply.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you give him some liniment to rub on +to take the stiffness out, doctor?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Hum! Nature is something that doesn’t like +to be hurried, young man,” responded the physician. +“However, it might be worse, and perhaps +if that arm is massaged half the night and up +to the time of the game to-morrow, he might pitch +a few innings.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good!” exclaimed Joe.</p> + +<p>“And it’s me for the massage!” cried Tom. +“Now give us some stuff to rub on, doctor.”</p> + +<p>Dr. Pickett showed Tom how to rub the arm, +and how to knead the muscles to take out the soreness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> +and gave the boys a prescription to get filled +at the drug store.</p> + +<p>“Come on!” cried Tom again. He seemed to +have taken charge of Joe as a trainer might have +done. “I must get you home and begin work on +you.”</p> + +<p>And Tom did. He installed himself as rubber-in-chief +in Joe’s room, and for several hours +thereafter there was the smell of arnica and pungent +liniment throughout the house. Tom was a +faithful massage artist, and soon some of the soreness +began to get out of the wrenched arm.</p> + +<p>“Let me try to throw a ball across the room,” +the pitcher begged of Tom about nine o’clock. +“I want to see if I can move it.”</p> + +<p>“Not a move!” sternly forbade the nurse. +“You just keep quiet. If you can pitch in the +morning you’ll be lucky.”</p> + +<p>At intervals until nearly midnight Tom rubbed +the arm and then, knowing that Joe must have +rest, he installed himself on a couch in his chum’s +room, and let Joe go to sleep, with his arm +wrapped in hot towels saturated with witch hazel, +a warm flat iron keeping the heat up.</p> + +<p>“Well, how goes it?” Joe heard some one say, +as he opened his eyes to find the sun streaming in +his room. The young pitcher tried to raise his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +arm but could not. It seemed as heavy as lead +and a look of alarm came over his face.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” explained Tom. “Wait +until I get off some of the towels. It looks like +an Egyptian mummy now.”</p> + +<p>Tom loosed the wrappings and then, to Joe’s +delight, he found that he could move his arm +with only a little pain resulting. He was about +to swing it, as he did when pitching, but Tom +called out:</p> + +<p>“Hold on now! Wait until I rub it a bit and +get up the circulation.” The rubbing did good, +and Joe found that he had nearly full control of +the hand and arm. They were a bit stiff to be +sure, but much better.</p> + +<p>“Now for a good breakfast, some more rubbing, +then some more, and a little light practice,” +decided Tom, and Joe smiled, but he gave in and +ate a hearty meal.</p> + +<p>Once more faithful Tom massaged the arm, +and rubbed in a salve designed to make the sore +muscles and tendons limber. Not until then would +he allow Joe to go down in the yard and throw a +few balls.</p> + +<p>The delivery of the first one brought a look of +agony on the pitcher’s face, but he kept at it until +he was nearly himself again. Then came more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +rubbing and another application of salve and liniment, +until Joe declared that there wouldn’t be +any skin left on his arm, and that he’d smell like +a walking drug store for a week.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you care, as long as you can pitch,” said +Clara. “I’m going to the game and I’m going to +take Mabel Davis and Helen Rutherford. They +both want to see you pitch, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good,” said her brother with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Now we’ll take another trip to the doctor’s +and see what he says,” was Tom’s next order. +The physician looked gratified when he saw the +arm.</p> + +<p>“Either it wasn’t as badly strained as I thought +it,” he said, “or that medicine worked wonders.”</p> + +<p>“It was my rubbing,” explained Tom, puffing +out his chest in pretended pride.</p> + +<p>“Well, that certainly completed the cure,” admitted +the physician.</p> + +<p>“And I can pitch?” asked Joe anxiously.</p> + +<p>“Yes, a few innings. Have your arm rubbed +at intervals in the game, and wear a wrist strap. +Good luck and I hope you’ll win,” and with a +smile he dismissed them.</p> + +<p>Wearing a wrist strap helped greatly, and when +it was nearly time to leave for Fayetteville Joe +found that his arm was much better.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> +<p>“I don’t know how long I can last,” he said to +Darrell, “and maybe I’ll be batted out of the +box.”</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad, of course,” replied the manager, +when the accident had been explained to him, “but +we won’t work you very hard. I want you to get +your chance, though.”</p> + +<p>And Joe felt his heart beat faster as he thought +how nearly he had lost his chance. Yet he could +not have done otherwise, he reflected.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what’s keeping Sam Morton,” +mused Captain Rankin, as the team prepared to +take the special trolley car. “He met me a little +while ago and said he’d be on hand.”</p> + +<p>“It’s early yet,” commented the manager. “I +guess he’ll be on hand. I told him Joe was going +to pitch a few innings.”</p> + +<p>“What did he say?”</p> + +<p>“Well, he didn’t cut up nearly as much as I +thought he would. He said it was only fair to +give him a show, but I know Sam is jealous and +he won’t take any chances on not being there.”</p> + +<p>All of the players, save the regular pitcher, +were on hand now and they were anxiously waiting +for Sam. One of the inspectors of the trolley line +came up to where the boys stood about the special +car that was on a siding.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> +<p>“Say,” began the inspector, “I’ll have to send +you boys on your way now.”</p> + +<p>“But our special isn’t due to leave for half an +hour,” complained Darrell. “We’re waiting for +Sam Morton.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t help that. I’ve got to start you off +sooner than I expected. There’s been a change +in the schedule that I didn’t expect, and if I don’t +get you off now I can’t for another hour, as the +line to Fayetteville will be blocked.”</p> + +<p>“That means we’ll be half an hour later than +we expected,” said Darrell. “Well, I suppose +we’d better go on. Sam can come by the regular +trolley, I guess.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, he’ll be in Fayetteville in plenty of +time,” suggested the inspector. “I’ll be here and +tell him about it.”</p> + +<p>There was no other way out of it, and soon the +team and the substitutes, with the exception of +Sam, were on their way. There was quite a crowd +already gathered on the Academy grounds when +they arrived and they were noisily greeted by their +opponents as well as by some of their own “rooters.” +The Academy lads were at practice.</p> + +<p>“They’re a snappy lot of youngsters,” commented +Darrell, as he watched them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> +<p>“Yes, we won’t have any walk-over,” said the +captain.</p> + +<p>The Silver Star lads lost no time in getting into +their uniforms. Tom gave Joe’s arm a good +rubbing and then he caught for him for a while +until Joe announced that, aside from a little soreness, +he was all right.</p> + +<p>“Try it with Ferguson now,” ordered Darrell, +motioning to the regular catcher, and Joe did so, +receiving compliments from the backstop for his +accuracy.</p> + +<p>“A little more speed and you’ll have ’em guessing,” +said the catcher genially. “But don’t strain +yourself.”</p> + +<p>The minutes ticked on. Several of the regular +cars had come in from Riverside but there was no +sign of Sam Morton. Darrell and Captain Rankin +held an earnest conversation.</p> + +<p>“What do you suppose is keeping him?” asked +the manager.</p> + +<p>“I can’t imagine. Unless he is deliberately +staying away to throw the game.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Sam wouldn’t do that. He’s too anxious +to pitch. We’ll wait a few more cars.”</p> + +<p>“And if he doesn’t come?”</p> + +<p>Darrell shrugged his shoulders and looked over +to where Joe was practicing with Bart Ferguson.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> + +<h3>JOE IN THE BOX</h3> + + +<p>“Well, when are you fellows going to start?” +asked Tony Johnson, captain of the Academy +nine, as he ceased his catching practice with Ed. +Wilson, the pitcher. “The game ought to have +been called ten minutes ago.”</p> + +<p>“Our pitcher isn’t here,” said Darrell anxiously. +“We’re expecting him every minute. If you +could wait a little longer——”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you any one else you can put in?” +asked Ferd Backus, the manager. “I saw some +one practicing a while ago.”</p> + +<p>“He isn’t our regular pitcher,” said George +Rankin, “but if Sam doesn’t come we’ll have to +lead off with him.”</p> + +<p>Joe had been aware that Sam was not on hand. +He looked up as car after car passed the grounds, +thinking to see Sam enter, for the electric vehicles +from Riverside ran close to the Academy diamond.</p> + +<p>“I suppose they’ll put Parnell in at the start,”<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +Joe mused, naming the second baseman who sometimes +acted as pitcher for the Stars. Joe did not +dare hope that he himself would be chosen.</p> + +<p>“Well, how much longer?” demanded Johnson, +when two more cars had passed and Sam was +on neither of them. “We want to finish this +game before dark.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” assented Darrell briskly. “Get +your men ready, Rankin.”</p> + +<p>“But who will pitch?”</p> + +<p>“Joe Matson, of course. It’s the only thing +we can do. Take the field, fellows. Joe, take +your place in the box!”</p> + +<p>“Who—me?” gasped our hero, unable to believe +the words.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you,” and Darrell smiled. “Do your +prettiest now. You’re going in at the beginning +instead of at the end. It’s different from what I +planned, but I guess I can depend on you. Hold +’em down!”</p> + +<p>“I will!” cried Joe fiercely and he forgot his +injured arm.</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” ordered the umpire and Joe took +his place as pitcher for the Silver Stars for the +first time. No wonder his heart beat faster than +usual. The Stars were to bat last, Rankin having +won the toss. It must be remembered that these<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +boys were amateur players and did not always +follow league rules of having the home team up +last.</p> + +<p>The usual number of practice balls were allowed +between Joe and the catcher at the plate and +Bart noted with satisfaction that Joe was cool and +steady and that he did not try for speed.</p> + +<p>Then the first man for the Academy—their +best hitter—faced our hero. Bart gave the signal +for a slow straight ball over the plate at an angle. +It was the beginning of a cross-fire which he and +Joe had quickly agreed upon, and, as is well +known, the ability of a pitcher to deliver a good +cross-fire wins many games. Cross-firing is merely +sending the ball first over one side of the plate +then the other and then right over centre. Joe +had done it in practice. Could he do it in the +game?</p> + +<p>“Strike one!” called the umpire, when the first +ball found lodgment in Bart’s big glove. There +was a little gasp of protest from the Academy +crowd, but they said nothing. Their man had not +struck at the ball, but it had been in the right +place and Joe knew he had a fair umpire with +whom to deal.</p> + +<p>His next delivery was a ball, but the third was a +strike though the man had not moved his bat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> +<p>“Hit it—hit it!” pleaded his friends.</p> + +<p>The batter swung fiercely at the next ball and +knocked a little pop fly which Bart gathered in and +one man was down.</p> + +<p>“Do it again!” called Darrell to his pitcher, +and Joe smiled. His arm pained him a little, but +he gritted his teeth and delivered the next man a +strike, for the batter missed it cleanly. He was +not so lucky in his following trial, for the batter +got to first mainly because of an error in the play +of Fred Newton, at short, who fumbled the pick-up +and delayed in getting the ball to Darrell.</p> + +<p>Joe succeeded in striking out the third man up, +though the one who had gone to first managed to +steal second. There were now two out and a man +on the middle bag when Joe faced his fourth opponent. +He tried for a slow out but something +went wrong and the man hit for two sacks, bringing +in the run. But that was all, for the next batter +fell for some slow, easy balls and fanned the air.</p> + +<p>The Academys had one run and it looked a +trifle disheartening to the Silver Stars until they +came up and found that the pitcher opposed to +them was very weak. They hammered him +pretty badly in the last half of the first, and three +runs were credited to them ere they had to take +the field again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span></p> +<p>“Not so bad; eh?” asked Rankin of Darrell.</p> + +<p>“Fine, if Joe can only keep it up. How’s your +arm?” he asked him.</p> + +<p>“Fine!” exclaimed our hero, but in truth it +pained him considerably in spite of the treatment +Tom Davis gave it.</p> + +<p>The Academy team didn’t get a run in the second +inning though Joe was found for some short, +scattering hits. A man got to second and one to +third, mainly through errors in the outfield force, +one bad one being furnished by Tom, who was +at centre in Joe’s place.</p> + +<p>“But we’ll forgive you for getting Joe’s arm +in shape,” said the manager with a smile.</p> + +<p>In their half of the second the Stars got two +runs, and succeeded in forcing another goose egg +on their opponents in the home team’s half of the +third. Joe did not do so well this time, for +he was beginning to tire and only a brace on +the part of his supporting players saved him from +having a number of runs come in on his errors.</p> + +<p>One run for the Stars marked their efforts in +the third and when the fourth inning began it +looked as if it was a foregone conclusion that the +visiting team would go home with the scalp of +their enemy. But Joe could not keep up the pace<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +he had set for himself. No young and inexperienced +pitcher could, much less one with a sore +arm.</p> + +<p>The muscles ached very much in spite of all +Tom could do with rubbing in the liniment, but +Joe gritted his teeth and keep his place in the +pitcher’s box. He knew he dared not give in. +Only two runs were earned, however, though he +was pretty badly pounded, and this only made the +score three to six in favor of the Stars, when their +half of the fourth came. But they were unable to +better it for the Academy lads took a brace after +an earnest appeal by their captain and manager.</p> + +<p>“Make ’em take a goose egg!” yelled the student +lads to their friends, and the Stars were +forced to be content with this.</p> + +<p>In the fifth inning neither side scored, Joe holding +his own well, and only allowing one hit, which +amounted to nothing. And in the sixth when, with +only three scattered hits, not a run was chalked +up for the home team, Darrell ran over to Joe and +cried:</p> + +<p>“Fine, old man! Can you keep it up?”</p> + +<p>“I—I’m going to!” burst out Joe, though he +had to grit his teeth to keep back an expression of +pain when he moved his pitching arm.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> + +<h3>SAM ARRIVES</h3> + + +<p>Whether the Stars were determined to show +their opponents what they could do when they +tried or whether it was because they wanted to +show their confidence in Joe, or even whether it +was due to a slump in the playing of the Academy +team, was not made manifest, but at any rate in +their half of the sixth inning our friends gathered +in four runs, making the score ten to three in their +favor.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s a walk-over,” boasted Tom Davis as +he did an impromptu war dance.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we’ve got ’em beat a mile,” added Seth +Potter.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be too sure,” commented the Academy +captain. “No game is won until it’s over and +we’ve got three more innings yet. The seventh +is always our lucky number.”</p> + +<p>“You’re welcome to all you can get,” rejoined +Captain Rankin with a laugh. “Seven is where +we always eat pie, too.”</p> + +<p>The Stars were about to take the field for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +beginning of the seventh when there was a commotion +over at one entrance gate. A lad came +running through the crowd.</p> + +<p>“Hold on!” he cried. “Wait! I’m going to +play. Let me pitch!”</p> + +<p>“Sam Morton!” burst out Tom Davis. “Why +couldn’t he stay away until we had the game won? +I’ll bet we slump as soon as he goes in the box.”</p> + +<p>Sam came on running. He was panting and out +of breath.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter? Where were you?” demanded +Darrell.</p> + +<p>“I got on—the wrong car. I thought it—came +here. They—took me off—in the woods—somewhere. +I’ve had an awful time—getting +here. Is the game—over?”</p> + +<p>“No, we’re just starting the seventh.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t I pitch?”</p> + +<p>Darrell hesitated. It was a perfectly natural +request for Sam and yet Joe had been doing so +well that both the manager and the captain disliked +to take him off the mound.</p> + +<p>“Can’t I pitch?” again demanded Sam. “You +don’t mean to tell me that Joe Matson has——”</p> + +<p>“Joe hasn’t done anything but what we wanted +him to,” put in Rankin quickly, “and he’s made a +good record.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> +<p>“Oh, I suppose so,” sneered Sam. “Well, if +you don’t want me to——”</p> + +<p>“Of course you can pitch,” said Darrell quietly. +It was unquestioningly Sam’s right and though +he was in rather an exhausted condition still the +manager and captain knew that he was at his best +early in his game.</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do; change pitchers?” +demanded the manager of the Academy team, +striding up to Darrell and Captain Rankin.</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t do it now.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?”</p> + +<p>“It’s against the rules. You’ve got to have +some one bat for him first. You can’t change until +next inning.”</p> + +<p>There was quite a mix-up, and rules were +quoted and mis-quoted back and forth, for, as I +have said, the lads were far from being professional +or even college players. The upshot of it +was that Sam was allowed to go in, whether or +not in accordance with the rules the boys did not +decide, and the little feeling that had been raised +soon subsided, for they were all true sportsmen.</p> + +<p>As for Joe, at first he felt humiliated that he +was displaced but he realized that he had had +more honor that he had at first expected, and his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +arm was beginning to pain him very much. So, +on the whole, he was glad Sam had arrived when +he did.</p> + +<p>Not so the captain, manager and other Star +players, however, for Sam allowed two runs while +he occupied the box, and the Academy team and +their friends were jubilant.</p> + +<p>The Stars managed to get two runs in their +half of the seventh. Joe did not play, his place +at centre field continuing to be filled by Tom. +Joe was glad of the rest and he watched the efforts +of his rival closely.</p> + +<p>In the eighth Sam did not seem able to pull himself +together and three runs were due to his poor +pitching.</p> + +<p>“Say, if we play innings enough we’ll beat ’em +even with their new pitcher!” called some one in +the crowd, anxious to get Sam’s “goat,” or nerve.</p> + +<p>And this seemed likely. In their half of the +eighth the Stars only got one run, and when the +ninth inning opened there were some anxious +hearts among the members of the visiting team.</p> + +<p>And then came a terrible slump. Sam grew +wild, allowed bases on balls, struck one man and +muffed an easy fly. When the route and riot were +over there were five runs to the credit of the +schoolboy players and they had tied the score,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +pulling up from a long way in the rear. The +crowd went wild for them.</p> + +<p>“Fellows, we’ve got to make our half of this +inning count,” said Darrell earnestly. “They’re +making fools of us and they’re not in our class at +all. We’ve got to beat them! Sam, wake up!” +he said sharply.</p> + +<p>“I’m not asleep!” retorted the pitcher. “If +you think I am why don’t you send that Matson in +again?”</p> + +<p>“Easy now, easy,” spoke Rankin. “You can +pitch if you pull yourself together, and if we can’t +make a run this inning and it goes to the tenth +you’ll have to unwind some curves.”</p> + +<p>“I will, but it won’t go to the tenth.”</p> + +<p>It didn’t, for the Stars took a brace and pulled +off one run, winning the game by a score of fourteen +to thirteen. But it had been a close call.</p> + +<p>“Well, you beat us,” acknowledged the Academy +manager as the winning run came in. “But +it took two pitchers to do it, and you’d have done +better if you’d stuck to the first one.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” admitted Darrell. “You played +better than I gave you credit for.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you use that first pitcher regularly?” +the home captain wanted to know.</p> + +<p>“Oh, maybe——” began Darrell, and then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +saw Sam standing close beside him, and he did +not finish.</p> + +<p>“What were you going to say?” demanded +Sam roughly.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” answered the manager in some confusion. +He was saved a further reply by the approach +of a boy who held a note in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Is Joe Matson here?” the lad asked.</p> + +<p>“Right over there,” said Darrell, pointing to +where the young pitcher was talking to Tom +Davis.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got a letter for him,” the messenger went +on.</p> + +<p>Joe rapidly tore open the envelope and read +the few words the note contained.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got to leave here,” he said to Tom.</p> + +<p>“Why? What’s the matter? Nothing wrong +I hope.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” answered Joe. “The note +says I’m to come home at once. They’ve sent a +carriage for me. I hope nothing has happened to—to +anybody,” and gulping down a suspicious +lump in his throat Joe followed the lad off the +diamond.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV</h2> + +<h3>JOE FOILS THE PLOTTERS</h3> + + +<p>There was a carriage waiting just outside the +ball grounds, a carriage drawn by one horse. A +man whom Joe had never seen before, so far as he +knew, held the reins.</p> + +<p>“There’s the man who wants you,” explained +the lad who had acted as messenger.</p> + +<p>“Who is he?” asked the young pitcher quickly. +“I don’t know him. Where did he come from? +Where did you meet him?”</p> + +<p>“I guess he’ll tell you all you want to know,” +said the lad. “All I know is that I was standing +outside the ball grounds after the game, and he +give me that note to bring in to you. I didn’t come +with him.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I see,” replied Joe, but he was wondering +who the man was, and how the fellow came to +know that he was in Fayetteville.</p> + +<p>“Hope I didn’t take you away from the game,” +began the man with what he evidently meant for +a pleasant smile. Yet, somehow Joe did not like<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +that smile. The man seemed to have a shifty +glance and Joe mistrusted him.</p> + +<p>“Oh, the game is over,” answered the young +pitcher. “I didn’t play in the last part. But +what is the matter? Is my mother or father ill?”</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing serious,” spoke the man. “No +one is ill. I came to get you about your father’s +patents.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” exclaimed Joe. He felt a sensation of +relief until he realized the danger that threatened +his father’s inventions. Then he asked: “What’s +wrong? Is Mr.——” Then he stopped for he +did not know whether or not to mention names to +this stranger.</p> + +<p>“I can’t give you any particulars,” said the man +with another smile. “All I can say is that they +engaged me to come and get you to save time.”</p> + +<p>“Who engaged you?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Your father,” replied the man. “He sent me +off in a hurry and said I’d find you at this game. +I sent you in the note by the lad. Your father +had no time to write one, but you are to go to him +at once. He wants you to help him about the +patent models I think. We’d better hurry.”</p> + +<p>Joe’s suspicions vanished at once. He knew his +father was preparing to send on some models to +Washington and now probably some need of haste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +had arisen necessitating his aid. He climbed up +into the carriage, and though he noted at the time +that the rig did not seem to be from the local livery +stable, which had only a few, he thought nothing +of it then.</p> + +<p>The man flicked the horse with the whip and the +animal started off on the jump. Just outside the +ball grounds there was a private road leading into +the main one. On reaching the chief thoroughfare +the man turned north whereas, to reach +Riverside, he should have gone south.</p> + +<p>“Hold on!” cried Joe, “you’re going the +wrong way.”</p> + +<p>“Be easy. It’s all right,” answered the man +with a smile. “Your father has taken all his +things to a little shop in Denville. He had to have +some changes made in the models I believe, and he +wanted to be in a machine shop where he could +work quietly. He told me to bring you there.”</p> + +<p>Joe remembered that on one or two occasions +Mr. Matson had had some work done in Denville, +and once more the suspicions that had arisen were +lulled. Joe sank back on the cushions and began +thinking of the game just played. His arm was +getting quite stiff.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to attend to it as soon as I get +home,” he mused. “It won’t do to have it go<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> +back on me just when things are in such good +shape. If they keep on I may become the regular +pitcher. Sam certainly did poorly in his part of +the game, and I’m not getting a swelled head, +either, when I say that.” Joe knew he had done +good work, considering his sore arm, and he made +up his mind to do still better.</p> + +<p>The man drove along rapidly, and in about an +hour had reached the outskirts of Denville. He +turned down a road that was evidently little used, +to judge by the grass growing in it, and halted the +horse in front of a small building. It did not look +like a place where inventors’ models would be +made. In fact the shack had a forlorn and forsaken +air about it, and Joe looked curiously at it. +His suspicions were coming back.</p> + +<p>“Where is my father?” he demanded. “I +don’t see him.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right now—it’s all right,” said the +man quickly. “Hello in there!” he called.</p> + +<p>The next instant Joe saw a face at the window. +Then it disappeared, but that momentary glance +had showed him it was the face of Mr. Isaac Benjamin. +In a second it was all clear to him. He +had been trapped. He attempted to spring from +the carriage seat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> +<p>“I’m on to your game!” he exclaimed to the +man.</p> + +<p>“Oh, are you? Well, you’re not going to get +away!” and with that the man grabbed Joe +around the waist, pinning his arms to his sides. +Then from the little building came running Mr. +Benjamin and Mr. Holdney.</p> + +<p>“Did you get him all right?” asked the manager +of the harvester works eagerly.</p> + +<p>“I certainly did,” panted the other man, for +Joe was struggling to get loose. “Didn’t give me +any trouble either, until just now.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll make lots of trouble for you, if +you don’t let me go!” cried Joe.</p> + +<p>“Now, young man, take it easy,” advised Mr. +Benjamin. “We don’t intend to do you a bit of +harm, and we only brought you to this place to +have a quiet talk with you. It’s in your father’s +interest and I hope you’ll overlook the unconventional +way we took to get you here. Bring him +in,” he added to the man in the carriage and, +despite Joe’s struggles he was lifted out and carried +into the little building. The door was shut +and locked, and he was alone with his three captors.</p> + +<p>“What do you want of me?” hotly demanded +the lad.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span></p> +<p>“Now don’t get excited and we’ll tell you,” +said Mr. Benjamin. “It’s about your father’s +patents.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” broke in Mr. Holdney, “we want to +know where they are. He had no right to take the +papers and models away from the harvester +works. Those inventions are the property of the +company and aren’t your father’s at all. We +want——”</p> + +<p>“Better let me talk to him,” advised Mr. Benjamin. +“Now Joe, you can’t understand all the +ins and outs of this business, for it’s very complicated. +You know that your father is working +on certain patents about a corn reaper and binder; +don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” admitted Joe cautiously, “but I’m not +going to tell you anything about it.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you will after you hear all I have to +say,” went on Mr. Benjamin. “Now, it’s like +this: Your father is unduly alarmed about the +safety of his rights in the patents, and I will admit +that he has some rights. For some reason he saw +fit to take his models and papers away from the +shop at the harvester works where he was engaged +on them.”</p> + +<p>Joe smiled—well he knew why his father had +removed the valuable models and papers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> +<p>“What we want,” said Mr. Benjamin, “is to +get access to those models. We want to see them +for a short time, and also look over the papers. +Now you can fix that for us if you will.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t <i>you</i> ask my father?” inquired Joe.</p> + +<p>“We have, but——” began Mr. Holdney.</p> + +<p>“He won’t listen to reason,” put in Mr. Benjamin. +“He thinks we would deprive him of his +rights.” Joe thought so too, but he said nothing. +“Now if you can quietly get those models and +papers and let us have a look at them they will +be returned to you without fail,” said the manager. +“Your father’s rights will be fully protected. It +may seem strange to you for us to make this +proposition in this way, and bring you here as we +have done, but it was necessary.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose I refuse?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Then we’ll——” began Mr. Holdney, in blustering +tones.</p> + +<p>“Now, now, easy,” cautioned Mr. Benjamin. +“The consequences may be disastrous for your +father,” he said quietly. “I am doing this for his +own good. He will not hear of showing the +models, but if you can get them for us it will save +much trouble and annoyance for—well, for all of +us. If you don’t, your father may lose all he possesses +and be without a position. I know what inventors<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +are. They can only see one thing at a +time. It is a simple thing that we ask of you. +Will you do it? Now, you needn’t answer at once. +Take a little time to think it over. Go in that +room there and wait. We’ll give you half an +hour. If by that time you don’t decide to help us +we’ll——”</p> + +<p>“We’ll <i>make</i> you!” exclaimed Mr. Holdney. +“I’ve got too much money tied up in this to see it +lost by the obstinacy of a boy.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if you refuse, we will have to take other +measures,” said Mr. Benjamin, with a shrug of +his shoulders.</p> + +<p>Joe’s heart was beating fast. He did not +know what to do. Being practically kidnapped +after he had worked so hard in the game, his fears +for his father aroused, it is no wonder that he +could not think clearly. He welcomed the chance +to go off quietly by himself, but never for a moment +did he think of betraying his father. Only +for an instant did he place any confidence in what +the wily manager had said. Then he knew there +must be a trick in it all.</p> + +<p>“But if I let them trap me it’s my own fault,” +thought Joe. “I’ve got to think up some way of +escape.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” asked the manager as Joe hesitated.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span></p> +<p>“I—I’ll think it over,” answered the young +pitcher.</p> + +<p>“All right. You can go in that room,” and Mr. +Benjamin opened the door of an apartment leading +out of the main one.</p> + +<p>Joe cast a quick glance about it as the door +closed behind him. He noted that it was not +locked, but that with three men in the outer room +the boy knew he could not escape that way.</p> + +<p>“And I’m going to escape if I can,” he told himself. +“I don’t need any more time to think over +what I’m going to do. They shan’t have a glance +at dad’s models and papers.”</p> + +<p>A rapid survey of the room showed him that it +had but one window and that was heavily barred. +He raised the sash softly and tried the bars. They +were rusty but held firmly in the wood.</p> + +<p>“No use trying that way,” murmured Joe. He +heard the hum of voices in the outer room and +listened at the keyhole.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you think he can get away?” he heard +the man who had brought him to the place ask +the others.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe he’ll try,” was the answer from +Mr. Benjamin. “After all, we couldn’t hope to +keep him a prisoner long. There would be too +much hue and cry over it. All I expect is that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> +he’ll be so worried and frightened that he’ll tell +us what we want to know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ve got another think coming,” whispered +Joe.</p> + +<p>He walked back to the window once more and, +as he crossed the room he saw what looked like a +trap door in the floor. Kneeling down he applied +his nose to the crack. There came up the +damp, musty smell of a cellar.</p> + +<p>“That’s it!” cried Joe. “If I can get that +door up I can drop into the cellar even if there +aren’t any stairs, and I guess I can get out of the +cellar. But can I get that door up?”</p> + +<p>There was no ring to lift it by, and no handle, +but Joe was a resourceful lad and in an instant his +knife was out. With the big blade inserted in the +crack he managed to raised the door a trifle. He +endeavored to hold the advantage he had gained +until he could take out the knife blade and insert +it again farther down, but the door slipped +through his fingers.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got to get some way of holding it up +after each time I pry,” he thought. A hurried +search through his pockets brought to light part +of a broken toe plate. He had had a new one +put on for the Academy game, and had thrust the +broken piece in the pocket of his trousers.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span></p> +<p>“This ought to do it,” he reasoned, and it did, +for with the aid of that Joe was able to hold up +and raise the trap door. The damp, musty smell +was stronger now, and Joe was glad to see, in the +dim darkness of the cellar, a flight of steps. +“They’re pretty rotten, but I guess they’ll hold +me,” he murmured.</p> + +<p>The next instant he was going down them, and +he let the trap door fall softly into place over his +head. It was so dark in the cellar now that he +could see nothing, but when his eyes became accustomed +to the blackness he saw the dim light of +an outer window.</p> + +<p>It was the work of but a moment to scramble +through it, and a few seconds later Joe was running +away from the place of his brief captivity.</p> + +<p>“I guess I won’t give you an answer to-day,” +he murmured as he looked back.</p> + +<p>He heard a shout and saw Mr. Benjamin rush +out. Then our hero caught sight of the horse and +carriage and like a flash he made for it. Jumping +in he called to the animal and was soon galloping +down the road while the shouts behind him became +fainter and fainter.</p> + +<p>“This is the time I fooled you!” cried Joe exultantly, +as he urged on the horse.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> + +<h3>SAM RESIGNS</h3> + + +<p>“Those desperate men! You must have them +arrested at once!” exclaimed Mrs. Matson when +Joe, a little later, had reached home, having left +the horse and carriage at the local livery stable +to be claimed. “You ought to go to the police +at once, John! Why think of what might have +happened to Joe,” for the boy had told the whole +story.</p> + +<p>“Oh, it wasn’t so bad,” said Joe who, now that +the excitement was over, and he had so completely +turned the tables on the plotters, was rather inclined +to laugh at the experience.</p> + +<p>“There are worse things than that done to get +possession of valuable patents,” said Mr. Matson. +“Those men are evidently desperate, though why +Mr. Holdney should turn against me I cannot understand. +But I would rather wait, and take no +action right away. My work is almost finished +and if all goes well I shall soon be independent of +the harvester people. If, however, there is a slip-up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> +I will be dependent on my position for a living. +I think I will wait and see what develops.”</p> + +<p>But in the morning there was a new turn to +affairs. It was announced at the harvester factory +that Mr. Benjamin had gone away for an indefinite +stay, and a new manager had his place. This +made it unnecessary for Mr. Matson to say anything. +He wrote a strong letter of protest to Mr. +Holdney, and then worked harder than ever to get +his patents in shape so he would be fully protected +in them.</p> + +<p>As for Joe he said nothing to any of his chums +about his experience. The rig was claimed later +by a man who would not give his name, and who +drove off hurriedly, as if he feared arrest.</p> + +<p>“And now I’m going to get back to baseball,” +announced the young pitcher.</p> + +<p>His arm got better rapidly after the Academy +game, and he was soon pitching in practice with +his former vim and vigor. He was now regarded +as the regular substitute twirler for the Silver +Stars.</p> + +<p>Sam Morton, too, was regular in his practice, +and there seemed to be something different about +him. He was more careful in his conduct, and not +as surly as he had been. He accepted criticism +in a better spirit, and in one game against the scrub<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> +he did such unusually excellent work that the manager +complimented him.</p> + +<p>“Just keep that up on Saturday,” said Darrell, +“and we won’t let the Fairdale Blues have a +run.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll be there with the goods all right,” +boasted Sam. He glanced at Joe as he said this +as much as to intimate that his rival would not get +a chance in the box.</p> + +<p>The Fairdale Blues were a strong team, and, +as they had beaten the Stars several times, and had +also won from the Resolutes, who were considered +the strongest team in the county, more than the +usual interest attached to the coming contest.</p> + +<p>It was to be played on the Stars’ grounds, and +early on the day of the game the grandstand and +bleachers began to fill. The Blues arrived in several +big carryalls with a noisy crowd of “rooters” +carrying horns, bells and clappers—anything +with which to make a racket.</p> + +<p>“They’ll get Sam’s goat if he isn’t careful,” observed +Rodney Burke, when the Stars went out to +practice.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you fool yourself,” retorted Sam. +“I’m going to pitch a no-hit no-run game to-day.”</p> + +<p>“That’s like Sam—boasting as usual,” commented +Rodney.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> +<p>“Well, I think he’ll make good,” said an admirer +of the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Wait until you see what kind of hitters the +Blues have,” cautioned Rodney. “They may +knock Sam out of the box. Then if Joe goes +in——”</p> + +<p>“Aw, Joe won’t get a chance to-day,” was the +retort. “He hasn’t had enough practice.”</p> + +<p>“Look what he did to the Academy team,” reminded +Rodney.</p> + +<p>And then further talk was stopped, for the gong +rang to clear the diamond. The game was about +to begin.</p> + +<p>The Stars took the field, for they were to bat +last, and Sam faced his first opponent with a smile +of confidence on his face. It faded away a moment +later, however, as the lad knocked as pretty +a three bagger as had been seen on the grounds in +many a day.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!”</p> + +<p>“Line ’em out!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’re on to his curves all right!” yelled +the crowd. Joe, who was on the bench as a reserve +pitcher, jumped to his feet and watched the +ball roll past Tom who was playing centre. It +looked almost as if the batter would come on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> +home, but he held third and the fears of the Stars +subsided.</p> + +<p>“Fool him now, Sam,” called Darrell to the +pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Make him give you a nice one,” was the advice +the next batter got from his friends. And he +did, though it was only good for one bag. However, +the run came in, and there were gloomy +hearts in the camp of the Silver Stars.</p> + +<p>Sam managed to strike out the next man, and +his confidence came back. But it was only for a +short time. The crowd of Blue “rooters” was +making a terrific racket and this may have gotten +on Sam’s nerves, at any rate he gave the next man +his base on balls and was later hit for two two +baggers.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we’ve got his goat! We’ve got ’em going! +Everybody take a run!” yelled the visiting +captain, jumping up and down at the third base +coaching line.</p> + +<p>Darrell ran over to Sam.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got to pull yourself together,” he said +quickly. “We can’t afford to lose this game.”</p> + +<p>“I’m doing the best I can,” retorted Sam. +“The ball slips.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t let it slip—slips are dangerous,” said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +the manager sharply. “You’ve got to do better +or——”</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” yelled the umpire and Darrell ran +back to his place at first base. Sam scowled at him, +and then wound up for his next delivery.</p> + +<p>Somehow they managed to get three out, but +there were five runs in the Blue frame when that +inning ended, and only two for the Stars.</p> + +<p>“We can’t stand this,” said Rankin to the manager.</p> + +<p>“No, if Sam doesn’t improve this inning I’m +going to put in Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Sam will raise a row.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care if he does. Why doesn’t he pitch +decent ball if he wants to hold his place? They’re +laughing at the Stars now, and they didn’t used +to.”</p> + +<p>“I know it. Well, maybe he’ll improve.”</p> + +<p>But Sam didn’t. He could not seem to control +the ball, his curves broke just about where the batters +wanted them and they knocked out three runs +that inning.</p> + +<p>“Matson bats for Morton!” announced the +umpire when it came the turn of the Stars and the +change had been mentioned to the score keepers +by Darrell.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> +<p>“What does that mean?” cried Sam, striding +to where the captain and manager sat.</p> + +<p>“It means that Joe is going to pitch the rest of +this game,” was the quiet answer.</p> + +<p>“He is?” Sam’s voice rose high in anger.</p> + +<p>“He certainly is. You can’t seem to do it, Sam. +I’m sorry, but we can’t afford to lose. We’re near +the tail end of the league now.”</p> + +<p>Sam shot a look at the captain. Rankin nodded +his head to confirm what the manager had said. +Then the deposed pitcher strode over to where +the score keepers sat. Taking up a piece of paper +and a pencil he rapidly wrote something and +handed it to Darrell.</p> + +<p>“What’s this?” asked the manager.</p> + +<p>“My resignation from the Silver Star Baseball +Club,” snapped Sam. “I’m done pitching for you. +It was all a put-up job to get me out, and that Matson +lad in. I’m through,” and he turned aside.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” assented Darrell quietly. “If +you feel that way about it perhaps it is better that +you quit. But I’m sorry.”</p> + +<p>“Play ball!” yelled the umpire.</p> + +<p>“Joe, bat for Sam and then take the box,” said +the manager, and there was a little subdued applause +from the other Star players on the bench. +It was their way of congratulating Joe.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> + +<h3>BAD NEWS</h3> + + +<p>Joe was plainly nervous. Being called on so +suddenly had its effect as did the unexpected action +of Sam in resigning because Joe had supplanted +him. But the young pitcher knew that he +must pull himself together.</p> + +<p>The game was slipping away from the Stars and +the crowd of shouters that accompanied the Blues +would redouble their efforts to get Joe’s “goat” +as soon as he got in the box.</p> + +<p>He had a foretaste of what they would do +when he got up to bat in Sam’s place and struck +out. It was no discredit to Joe, for the Blues +had a fine pitcher, still it added to his nervousness.</p> + +<p>“If that’s a sample of what your new pitcher +can do we’ll take a few more runs!” yelled a Blue +sympathizer.</p> + +<p>“Oh, he only did that for fun!” yelled Rodney.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” added Tom Davis. “He’s saving his +arm to strike you fellows out. Go to it, Joe! +Don’t let ’em rattle you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span></p> +<p>The Stars took a brace, whether it was the +knowledge that Joe was to pitch or not, but they +certainly braced, and in that inning got enough +runs to make the score six to eight in favor of the +visiting team.</p> + +<p>“Now, Joe, hold ’em down!” pleaded Darrell, +“and we can do the rest, I think.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll try,” answered our hero.</p> + +<p>It would be too much to expect Joe to do wonders, +but he did very well. He only allowed two +hits in the inning when he first pitched and only +one run came in, chiefly through an error on the +part of the third baseman.</p> + +<p>“I guess we’ve got their number now,” exulted +Darrell, when it came the turn of the Stars to bat. +“Keep up the good work, boys. We’ve got ’em +going.”</p> + +<p>The Stars managed to knock out two runs in +their half of the third inning and that made the +score eight to nine—one extra tally only against +them.</p> + +<p>And then began what was really a remarkable +game for one played between amateur nines. For +the next four innings neither side got a run. Talk +of a “pitchers’ battle” began to be whispered, and +for the credit of the visitors be it said that they +no longer tried to get Joe’s “goat.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> +<p>Both pitchers were on their mettle. Of course +they were not perfect and probably some deliveries +that the umpire called strikes were balls, just as +some that he designated as balls were good strikes. +But it was all in the game. <a href="#frontispiece">Joe was doing good +work.</a> There were only a few scattered hits off +him and these were easily taken care of by the in +or out fielders. In this the Blues rather excelled, +however, there being more errors charged up +against the home team than to them.</p> + +<p>But the Stars had this in their favor; that, while +there were a number of good stick men among the +visitors, they were not speedy base-runners and +thus a number of men were nabbed on the sacks, +through playing off too far, or not connecting +in time, who otherwise might have brought in +runs.</p> + +<p>“Oh, fellows, we’ve got to do something!” +cried the captain at the close of the usual lucky +seventh, when no runs had been registered for +either side. “Can’t some of you pull off a +run?”</p> + +<p>But it was the Blue team who scored first, getting +one run on a ball hit by the first man up. It +was manifestly a foul, but the umpire called it fair +and the man held his base. Then Joe’s arm gave +him a twinge and he was hit for a three bagger by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +the next man up, scoring the player preceding him. +But that was all.</p> + +<p>With grimly tightened lips Joe faced his next +opponent and after that not a man got to first, +and the player on third dared not steal home, so +keenly was he watched.</p> + +<p>With the score eight to ten against them the +Stars came in more confidently than might have +been expected. And when they had hammered out +two runs, tieing the score, there was wild enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“Here’s where we walk away from them!” +yelled Rodney, as the second run came in, and with +only one man out. But there came a slump and the +opposing pitcher braced up, striking out two men +in succession.</p> + +<p>The ninth inning saw a single run tallied up for +the visitors, and in this connection Joe did some +great work, pulling down a fly that was well over +his head and receiving a round of applause for his +pluck, for it was a “hot” one.</p> + +<p>The unexpected happened in the ending of the +ninth, when the visitors were one ahead. Seth +Potter, never reckoned as a heavy hitter brought +in a home run, and the score was once more a tie +for no one else crossed home plate.</p> + +<p>“Ten innings!” was the cry and the spectators<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +began “sitting up and taking notice” as Rodney +Burke said.</p> + +<p>“Now, Joe, it’s up to you to shut them out,” +advised the captain. The young pitcher nodded +and then he cut loose.</p> + +<p>His arm was paining him very much for by a +sudden twist he had wrenched the muscles injured +in saving the lad from the trolley car. But Joe +would not give up, and he struck out three men +neatly, only one, the second up, getting any kind of +a hit, and that only good for the initial bag.</p> + +<p>“A goose egg!” yelled Rodney Burke. “Now +one run will do the trick!”</p> + +<p>“Snow ’em under!” cried Darrell.</p> + +<p>And the Stars did, for they rapped out the +necessary run amid a jubilant riot of cheers, making +the final score twelve to eleven.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I knew you could do it! I knew you +could!” cried the captain, trying to embrace all his +lads at once. They had won handily though at +one time it looked like defeat.</p> + +<p>“Good work, Joe,” complimented Darrell. +“You’re the regular pitcher from now on.”</p> + +<p>“But if Sam reconsiders his resignation?”</p> + +<p>“He can’t,” rejoined the manager. “He’s out +for good.”</p> + +<p>Joe could hardly wait to get home and tell the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +good news. He fairly raced into the house, but +he stopped short at the sight of his father and +mother in the dining room. They were seated at +the table and a look of anxiety was on their faces.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” gasped Joe, all his joy +in the victory and his new position leaving him as +he looked at his parents. On the table between +them lay a number of papers.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been served with a summons from the +court,” said Mr. Matson slowly. “It’s a move on +the part of Benjamin and Holdney. The court +has taken my patent models and documents away +from me, and I may lose everything. It’s hard, +just as I was about to succeed—very hard.”</p> + +<p>“And you may lose everything, dad?” asked +Joe huskily.</p> + +<p>“Yes—everything son—I may have to start all +over again. I’m out of the harvester works now.”</p> + +<p>For a moment one disappointing thought came +to Joe. He would not be able to go to a boarding +school as he had hoped. Then the look of trouble +on his father’s face drove all other thoughts from +his mind.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you care, dad!” he exclaimed stepping +close to him. “You can beat those fellows yet. +We whipped the Blues to-day, and I’m the regular +pitcher for the Stars!”</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> + +<h3>THE FIGHT</h3> + + +<p>There was a moment of silence following Joe’s +remark about being made regular pitcher. Then +Clara laughed and it was almost a laugh of relief, +for she had been under quite a strain since she +came in and heard the bad news.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you silly boy!” cried Clara. “Just as if +your being made pitcher was going to help. I +suppose you’ll turn all your salary in to help out +now; won’t you?” but there was no sting intended +in her words and, fearing there might have been +just the touch of it, she crossed the room and tried +to slip her arm up around Joe’s neck.</p> + +<p>“No, you don’t!” he cried as gaily as possible +under the circumstances, “fen on kissing. But say, +dad, is it as bad as all that? Have Benjamin and +his crowd beaten you?”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid so, son. At least they’ve won the +first skirmish in the battle. Now it’s up to the +courts, and it may take a year or more to settle the +question of whether or not I have any rights in +the inventions I originated. But don’t let that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> +worry you,” he went on more cheerfully. “We’ll +make out somehow. I’m glad you got the place +you wanted. How was the game?”</p> + +<p>“Pretty good. It was so tight we had to play +ten innings. But can’t I do something to help you, +dad?”</p> + +<p>“We can’t do anything right away,” rejoined +Mr. Matson. “We can only wait. I shall have +to see a lawyer, and have him look after my interests. +I never thought that Mr. Benjamin and +Mr. Holdney would treat me this way.</p> + +<p>“But don’t worry. Perhaps we shall come +out all right, and in the end this may be a good +thing. It will teach me a lesson never again to +trust any one where patents are concerned. I +should have had a written contract and not taken +their mere word that they would treat me right.”</p> + +<p>“And you are out of the harvester works?” +asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Out completely,” and Mr. Matson smiled. “I +have a holiday, Joe, and I’m coming to see you +pitch some day.”</p> + +<p>“But—but,” ventured Clara, “if you haven’t +any work, dad, you won’t get any money and——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, so that’s what is worrying you!” cried +her father with a laugh as he placed his arm +around her. “Well, have no fears. There are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +still a few shots in the locker, and we’re not going +to the poorhouse right away. Now, Joe, tell us +all about the ball game.”</p> + +<p>Which the young pitcher did with great enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>“But won’t this Sam Morton be angry with +you?” asked Mrs. Matson, who was a gentle +woman, always in fear of violence.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t suppose he’ll be very <i>friendly</i> +toward me,” replied Joe.</p> + +<p>“Then he may do you some injury.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I can take care of myself. I’m +not afraid of him, mother, and if it comes to a +fight——”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you horrid boys—always thinking about +fighting!” interrupted Clara. “Don’t you fight, +Joe!”</p> + +<p>“I won’t if I can help it, sis.”</p> + +<p>Next morning, Joe was in two states of mind. +He was delighted at being the regular pitcher for +the Stars, but he was downcast when he thought +that to go to the boarding school was now out of +the question. And that it would be impossible for +him to think of it under the present financial state +of the family was made plain to him when he spoke +of the matter to his mother.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span></p> +<p>“I’m sorry, Joe,” she said, “but you’ll have to +give up the idea.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” he answered, as cheerfully as he +could, but he went out of the house quickly for +there was a suspicious moisture in his eyes, and +a lump in his throat that would not seem to go +down, no matter how hard he swallowed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m a chump!” he finally exclaimed. “I +shouldn’t want to go to an expensive boarding +school when dad is in such trouble. And yet—and +yet—Oh! I <i>do</i> want to get on a big team and +pitch!”</p> + +<p>In the days that followed Joe saw little of his +father, for Mr. Matson was out of town trying to +get matters in shape for the court proceedings. +But Joe was kept busy at practice with the Stars, +and in playing games.</p> + +<p>The season was in full swing and the Silver +Stars seemed to have struck a streak of winning +luck. Some said it was Joe’s pitching, for really he +was doing very well. Others laid it just to luck +and talked darkly of a “slump.”</p> + +<p>“There won’t be any slump if you fellows keep +your eyes open, and hit and run,” said the manager.</p> + +<p>The county league season was drawing to a +close, and as it stood now the championship practically<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +lay between the Stars and their old enemies +the Resolutes. There was some talk of playing +off a tie, if it should come to that, but when Darrell +mentioned this to the Resolute manager he was +told that the latter team had all dates filled to the +end of the season.</p> + +<p>“We can’t give you a game,” he announced.</p> + +<p>“It’s too bad,” said Darrell, “for we ought to +decide which is the best team.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ours is, of course. Didn’t we wallop you +once?”</p> + +<p>“Well, you can’t do it again,” was the quick +retort.</p> + +<p>It was several days after this when Joe was +coming home from afternoon practice in preparation +for a game Saturday with the Red Stockings. +As he took a short cut over the fields to get home +more quickly, he was aware of a figure coming +toward him. When too late to turn back he saw +it was Sam Morton. Sam saw Joe and came to a +halt.</p> + +<p>“Well,” asked Sam with a sneer, “how is the +high-and-mighty pitcher? I suppose you’ve been +doing nothing else but handing out no-hit and no-run +games?”</p> + +<p>“Not quite as good as that,” admitted Joe with +what he meant for a friendly smile.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> +<p>“Who you laughing at?” demanded Sam +fiercely.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t laughing,” replied Joe.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you were! You were laughing at me +and I won’t stand it. You worked and schemed to +get me out of the nine so you could go in, and now +you’re making fun of me, I won’t stand it, I tell +you. You think you’re a pitcher! Well you’re +not, and you’ll never be. I won’t be made fun +of!” All the pent-up anger—unreasoning as it +was,—all the hate that had been accumulating for +weeks in Sam, burst out at once.</p> + +<p>He made a spring for Joe, but the pitcher +stepped back. Not in time, however, for he received +a blow on the chest.</p> + +<p>Now I am not defending Joe for what he did. I +am only telling of what happened. Joe was a +manly lad yet he had all the instincts and passions +that normal lads have. When he was hit his first +instinct was to hit back, and he did it in this +case.</p> + +<p>His left fist shot forward and clipped Sam on +the chin. The blow was a staggering one and for +a moment the former pitcher reeled. Then with a +roar of rage he came back at Joe, and the pair +were at it hammer and tongs.</p> + +<p>“I’ll show you that you can’t come sneaking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +around here and steal my place!” blubbered Sam, +as he aimed a blow at Joe’s face.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t sneak!” retorted Joe, as he dodged +the blow and got a right-hander near Sam’s solar +plexus.</p> + +<p>Both lads were evenly matched and the fight +might have gone on for some time but for Sam’s +rage which made him reckless. He left unguarded +openings of which Joe took quick advantage, and +finally, with a straight left, he sent Sam to the +grass.</p> + +<p>“I—I’ll fix you for that!” yelled the former +pitcher as he rushed at Joe. It was easy to step +aside and avoid the clumsy blow, and once more +Sam went down. This time he did not get up so +quickly, and there was a dazed look on his face.</p> + +<p>“See here!” cried Joe, stepping over to him. +“This has gone far enough. I didn’t want to +fight, but you made me. I can beat you and you +know it. If you don’t stop now I’ll knock you +down every time you get up until you’ve had +enough.”</p> + +<p>It was brutal talk, perhaps, but it was well +meant. For a moment Sam looked up at his +antagonist. Then he murmured:</p> + +<p>“I’ve had enough—for the present.”</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> + +<h3>THE CHALLENGE</h3> + + +<p>The fight was over. Sam arose and started +away. Joe called after him:</p> + +<p>“Won’t you shake hands? I’m sorry this happened, +but can’t we be friends after this?”</p> + +<p>“No!” snarled Sam. “I don’t want anything +to do with you.”</p> + +<p>There was nothing more to be said, and Joe +walked away. He was somewhat stiff and sore, +for a number of Sam’s blows had landed with telling +effect. One in particular, on the muscles of his +right forearm, made that member a bit stiff and +numb.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got to take care of that,” thought Joe, +“or I can’t pitch Saturday.” He had only a few +marks of the fight on his face and he was glad of +it, for he did not want his mother or sister to +know.</p> + +<p>Joe’s mother did not ask embarrassing questions. +In fact she was thinking of other things,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +for she had received a letter from her husband +that day, sent from a distant city. Matters it appeared +were not going as well as they might, but +Mr. Matson had hopes that all would come out +right in the end.</p> + +<p>Joe rubbed his sore arm well that night, and +when Saturday came he pitched a great game +against the Red Stockings, allowing only a few +scattered hits. The Stars took the contest by a +big margin.</p> + +<p>“Now, if we could wind up with a game against +the Resolutes and wallop them we’d finish out the +season in great shape,” commented Captain Rankin, +as he followed his lads off the diamond.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to make another try to get them to +play us,” said Darrell. “I’m going to send a +challenge, and intimate that they’re afraid to +tackle us since we’ve got our new pitcher.”</p> + +<p>It was several days later when the nine was at +practice and Darrell had not come out. Tom +Davis was in his place at first and Rodney Burke +was in centre field.</p> + +<p>“I wonder what’s keeping Darrell?” said the +captain. “He hardly ever misses practice.”</p> + +<p>“Here he comes now,” announced Joe, “and +he’s got a letter,” for Darrell was waving a paper +as he ran across the field.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> +<p>“Good news, boys!” he cried. “The Resolutes +will play us. I just got word in a special delivery +letter. That’s what kept me. Hurray! +Now we’ll show ’em what’s what. It will be a +grand wind-up for the season and will practically +decide the county championship.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!” cried the lads.</p> + +<p>“When do we play?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“This coming Saturday.”</p> + +<p>“I thought they said all their dates were filled,” +commented Tom Davis.</p> + +<p>“They were, but some team they counted on +busted up and that left an opening. Then, too, I +fancy that little dig I gave them about being afraid +had its effect. Joe, it’s up to you now.”</p> + +<p>“All right!” and our hero accepted the responsibility +with a smile.</p> + +<p>There was considerable excitement among the +Silver Stars over the prospective game. They +were almost too excited to keep on with the practice +against the scrub, but Darrell talked like +a “Dutch uncle” to them, to quote Rodney +Burke, and they went at their work with renewed +vigor.</p> + +<p>When Joe got home that evening after some +hard practice there was another letter from his +father. It was brief, merely saying:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> +<p>“In a few days I will know all. My next will +contain good news—or bad.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, this suspense is terrible,” complained +Mrs. Matson.</p> + +<p>The day of the game between the Silver Stars +and their old enemies drew nearer. Joe had practiced +hard and he knew he was in good shape to +pitch. In fact the Stars were much improved by +their season’s work, and they were as good an +amateur nine in their class as could be found in the +country.</p> + +<p>Word came to them, however, that the Resolutes +were trained to the minute, and were going +to put up a stiff fight for the county championship.</p> + +<p>“Let ’em,” said Darrell briefly. “We don’t +want a walk-over.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” remarked Clara to her brother, on the +Saturday of the game, “isn’t it almost time for +you to start if you’re going to Rocky Ford?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I guess I had better be going,” answered +Joe. “I want to put a few stitches in my glove. +It’s ripped.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it,” offered Clara and she had just finished +when the door bell rang.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go,” volunteered Joe, and when he saw a +messenger boy standing there, with a yellow envelope<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +in his hands somehow the heart of the +young pitcher sank.</p> + +<p>Quickly he took the telegram to his mother, to +whom it was addressed.</p> + +<p>“You open it, Joe,” she said. “I can’t. I’m +afraid it’s bad news. My hand trembles so.”</p> + +<p>Joe tore open the telegram. It was from his +father.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid it’s all up,” the message read. “I +have practically lost my case, and it looks as if I’d +have to start all over again. But don’t worry. I’m +coming home.”</p> + +<p>A silence followed Joe’s reading of the few +words aloud. Then indeed it was all over. He +could not go to boarding school after all. He +looked at his mother. There were tears in her +eyes but she bore the shock bravely. Clara was +very pale.</p> + +<p>“Well, it might be worse!” said Joe philosophically. +“There is just a bare chance—but it’s +mighty slim.”</p> + +<p>And then from outside came the hail of Tom +Davis:</p> + +<p>“Come on, Joe! Come on! It’s time you +started for Rocky Ford. We’re going to wallop +the Resolutes!” and with the freedom of an old +friend, Joe’s chum burst into the room.</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX</h2> + +<h3>THE WINNING THROW—CONCLUSION</h3> + + +<p>For a moment Tom stood there a bit embarrassed, +for he saw that something unusual had +happened.</p> + +<p>“I—I hope I’m not intruding,” he stammered. +“I didn’t think—I came right in as I always do. +Has anything——”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right!” exclaimed Joe quickly. “We +just got word that dad has lost his patent case.”</p> + +<p>“Gee! That’s too bad!” exclaimed Tom, who +knew something of the affair. “What are you +going to do?”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to pitch against the Resolutes, the +first thing I do!” cried Joe. “After that I’ll decide +what’s next. But is my glove mended, Clara? +Come on, Tom, we mustn’t be late. We’re going +to wallop them—just as you said.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you do!” burst out Clara.</p> + +<p>“Play a good game and—and—don’t worry,” +whispered Mrs. Matson to her son as he kissed +her good-bye.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span></p> +<p>The team and substitutes were to go to Rocky +Ford in two big stages, in time to get in some practice +on the grounds that were none too familiar to +them. A crowd of Silver Star “rooters” were to +follow on the trolley. The captain and managers +of the rival teams watched their opponents practice +with sharp eyes.</p> + +<p>“They’re snappier than when they beat us before,” +was Darrell’s conclusion.</p> + +<p>“They’ve got a heap sight better pitcher in +Joe than Sam Morton ever was,” concluded Captain +Hen Littell of the Resolutes, who twirled for +his team. “I shouldn’t wonder but what we’d +have a mighty close game.”</p> + +<p>The last practice was over. The scattered balls +had been collected, the batting list made out and +final details arranged. Once more came the thrilling +cry of the umpire:</p> + +<p>“Play ball!”</p> + +<p>The Resolutes were to bat last, and Seth Potter +went up to bat first for the Stars.</p> + +<p>“Swat it,” pleaded the crowd, and Seth smiled. +But he fanned the air successively as well as successfully +and soon went back to the bench. Then +came Fred Newton’s turn and he knocked a little +pop fly that was easily caught before he reached +first. Captain Rankin himself was up next and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> +managed to get to first on a swift grounder that +got past the shortstop. But he died on second, for +the next man up fanned. No runs for the Stars.</p> + +<p>The Resolutes were jubilant, thinking this +augured well for them, but they looked a little +blank when Joe retired their first two men hitless. +For Joe had started off in good form. With the +first ball he delivered he knew that he was master +of the horsehide—at least for a time.</p> + +<p>“But oh! I hope I don’t slump!” and he almost +found himself praying that such a thing +would not happen.</p> + +<p>He was in an agony of fear when he heard the +crack of the bat on the ball when the third man +came up. The spheroid went shooting off in +centre field, but by a magnificent stop Percy Parnell +gathered it in and the side was retired runless. +Things were not so bad for the Stars.</p> + +<p>For the next two innings neither side got a run, +though there were some scattered hits. Again +was there talk of a pitchers’ battle, though in the +strict sense of the word this was not so, as both +Joe and Hen Littell were hit occasionally, and for +what would have been runs only for the efficient +fielding on both sides.</p> + +<p>“See if we can’t do something this inning!” +pleaded Rankin when his side came up in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +half of the fourth. The lads all tried hard and +Joe knocked a pretty one that was muffed by the +second baseman. However, he quickly picked it +up and hurled it to first. Joe got there about the +same time as the ball did, and to many he seemed +safe, but he was called out.</p> + +<p>“Aw, that’s rotten!” cried Tom Davis.</p> + +<p>“Let it go!” said Darrell sharply, and Tom +subsided.</p> + +<p>The Stars got another goose egg—four straight—and +in their half of the fourth the Resolutes got +their first run. The crowd went wild and Joe +found himself clenching his hands, for the run +came in because he had given a man his base on +balls. The runner had successively stolen second +and third, and went home on a nice fly.</p> + +<p>“I hope I’m not going to slump!” thought Joe +and there was a lump in his throat. For an instant +he found himself thinking of his father’s +troubles, and then he firmly dismissed them from +his mind. “I’ve got to pitch!” he told himself +fiercely.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got him going!” chanted the Resolute +“rooters.” Joe shut his teeth grimly and struck +out the next man. Then he nipped the runner +stealing second and threw him out with lightning +speed. That somewhat silenced the jubilant cries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +and when Joe managed to retire one of the Resolute’s +heaviest hitters without even a bunt a big +crowd rose up and cheered him.</p> + +<p>“They’re only one ahead,” said Rankin as his +lads came in to bat. “Let’s double it now.”</p> + +<p>And double it they did, the Star boys playing +like mad and getting enough hits off Littell to +make two runs.</p> + +<p>“That’s the way to wallop ’em!” sang some +one in the visiting crowd and the song composed +for the occasion was rendered with vim.</p> + +<p>Desperately as the Resolutes tried in their half +of the fifth to catch up to their rivals, they could +not do it. Joe was at his best and in that half +inning did not allow a hit. He had almost perfect +control, and his speed was good. Only once +or twice did he pitch at all wild and then it did no +harm as there was no one on base.</p> + +<p>The sixth inning saw a run chalked up for each +team, making the score three to two in favor of +the Stars.</p> + +<p>“Oh, if we can only keep this up!” exclaimed +Darrell, “we’ll have them. Can you do it, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“I guess so—yes, I can!” he said with conviction.</p> + +<p>Then came the lucky seventh, in which the Stars +pounded out three runs, setting the big crowd wild<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +with joy, and casting corresponding gloom over the +cohorts of the Resolutes. The Stars now had six +runs and their rivals were desperate. They even +adopted unfair tactics, and several decisions of the +umpire were manifestly in their favor. The crowd +hooted and yelled, but the young fellow who was +calling strikes and balls held to his opinion, and the +Resolutes closed their half of the seventh with two +runs.</p> + +<p>“Six to four in our favor,” murmured the Stars’ +manager. “If we can only keep this lead the +game is ours.”</p> + +<p>“That word ‘if’ is a big one for only two +letters,” spoke Captain Rankin grimly. “But +maybe we can.”</p> + +<p>Neither side scored in the eighth and then came +the final trial of the Stars unless there should be a +tie, which would necessitate ten innings.</p> + +<p>Joe was to the bat in this inning, and oh! how +hard he tried for a run! He knocked a two +bagger and stole third. There was one out when +Bart Ferguson came up, and Bart was a heavy +hitter. But somehow he did not make good this +time. He managed to connect with the ball, however, +and as soon as Joe heard the crack he started +for home.</p> + +<p>But there was brilliant playing on the part of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> +the Resolutes. With a quick throw to home the +shortstop nipped Joe at the plate, and then the +catcher, hurling the ball to first, got the horsehide +into the baseman’s hands before Bart arrived. It +was a pretty double play and retired the Stars with +a goose egg.</p> + +<p>Still they had a lead of two runs and they might +be able to hold their rivals down. It was a critical +point in the game. As Joe took his place and faced +the batter he felt his heart wildly throbbing. He +knew he must hold himself well in hand or he +would go to pieces. The crowd of Resolute sympathizers +was hooting and yelling at him. Darrell +saw how things might go and ran out to the pitcher.</p> + +<p>“Hold hard!” he whispered. “Just take it +easy. Pitch a few balls to Bart and your nerve +will come back. We’ve <i>got</i> to win.”</p> + +<p>“And we will!” exclaimed Joe. The delivery +of a few balls, while the batter stepped away from +the plate, showed Joe that he still had his speed +and control. He was going to be wary what kind +of curves he delivered.</p> + +<p>He struck out the first man up with an ease +that at first caused him wild elation, and then he +calmed himself.</p> + +<p>“There are two more,” he reasoned. “I’ve +got to get two more—two more.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> +<p>He was almost in despair when he was hit for a +two bagger by the next player, and he was in a +nervous perspiration about the man stealing to +third. Then Darrell signalled him to play for +the batter, and Joe did, getting him out with an +easy fly.</p> + +<p>Then there was a mix-up when the next man hit, +and by an error of the left fielder the man on +second, who had stolen to third, went home with a +run, while the man who had brought him in got to +the last bag.</p> + +<p>“That’s the stuff!” yelled the crowd. “Now +one more to make it a tie and another to win!”</p> + +<p>“Steady, boys! Steady!” called Darrell, as he +saw his team on the verge of a breakdown. “We +can beat ’em!”</p> + +<p>There were now two out, one run was in, a man +was on third and a heavy batter was up—one of +the best of the Resolutes.</p> + +<p>“Swat it, Armstrong! Swat it!” cried the +crowd, and the big left fielder smiled confidently.</p> + +<p>“Ball one!” cried the umpire, after Joe’s first +delivery.</p> + +<p>There was a gasp of protest from Bart behind +the plate, for the sphere had come over cleanly. +Darrell signalled to the catcher to make no protest. +Joe felt a wave of anger, but he endeavored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +to keep cool. But when the second ball was called +on him he wanted to run up and thrash the umpire. +The latter was grinning derisively.</p> + +<p>“Here’s a strike!” cried Joe, in desperation +and he was gratified when Armstrong struck at it +and missed.</p> + +<p>“Why didn’t you call that a ball?” asked Bart +of the umpire. The latter did not answer.</p> + +<p>Another ball was called and then a strike. Now +came the supreme moment. Two men out, a man +on third waiting to rush in with the tieing run, a +heavy hitter at bat and three balls and two strikes +called on him. No wonder Joe’s hand trembled a +little.</p> + +<p>“Easy, old man!” called Darrell to him. +“You can make him fan.”</p> + +<p>Joe thought rapidly. He had studied the batter +and he thought that by delivering a swift in-shoot +he could fool Armstrong. It was his last chance, +for another ball meant that the batter would walk, +and there was even a better stick-man to follow.</p> + +<p>Joe wound up, and sent in a swift one. His +heart was fluttering, he could hardly see, there was +a roaring in his ears. And then he dimly saw Armstrong +strike at the ball desperately. Almost at +the same moment Joe knew he would miss it.</p> + +<p>The ball landed in the centre of Bart’s big glove<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> +with a resounding whack. He held it exactly +where he had caught it. Joe had delivered the +winning throw.</p> + +<p>“Strike three—batter’s out!” howled the umpire, +and then his voice was drowned in a yell of +joy from the sympathizers of the Stars.</p> + +<p>For their team had won! The Resolutes were +retired with but one run in the ninth and the final +score was five to six in favor of our friends. They +had beaten their old rivals on their own grounds +and they had won the county championship!</p> + +<p>“Great work, old man! Great!” yelled Darrell +in Joe’s ear. “You saved the day for us.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense!” exclaimed Joe modestly.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for Baseball Joe!” yelled Tom +Davis, and how those cheers did ring out.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for the Stars—they beat us fair +and square!” called Captain Littell, and this was +quite a different ending than that which had +marked the previous game.</p> + +<p>Some wanted to carry Joe around on their +shoulders but he slipped away, and got off his uniform. +Soon the team was on its way back to +Riverside.</p> + +<p>“You ought to be in a bigger team,” Darrell +told Joe. “You’ve got the making of a great +pitcher in you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> +<p>“Well, I guess I’ll have to stick around here for +a while yet,” replied our hero, as he thought of +the fallen finances of his father. Never in all his +life had he so longed for the chance to go to boarding +school, and thence to college. But he knew it +could not be, chiefly through the treachery of Benjamin +and Holdney. Joe felt a wave of resentment +against them sweep over him, and his +thoughts were black and bitter.</p> + +<p>Tom walked as far as Joe’s street with him. +He had a silent sympathy that spoke more than +mere words could have done.</p> + +<p>“So long,” he said softly as they parted. “It +was a great game, Joe, and I’m almost glad you’ve +got to stay with the Stars.”</p> + +<p>“Well, did you win?” asked his mother, as Joe +entered the house—entered it more listlessly than +winning a big game would seem to warrant. “Did +you beat the Resolutes, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we did—why, mother, what’s the matter?” +cried the young pitcher, for there was a look +of joy and happiness on her face, a look entirely +different than when he had left her after the bad +news. “Has anything—anything good happened?” +he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” she exclaimed, “there has. I just had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +another telegram from your father. Everything is +all right. He gets back his patents.”</p> + +<p>“No!” cried Joe, as if unable to believe the +news.</p> + +<p>“But I tell you yes!” repeated Mrs. Matson, +and there was joy in her voice. “At first your +father believed that all was lost, just as he wired +us. Then, most unexpectedly he tells me, they +were able to obtain some evidence from outside +parties which they had long tried for in vain.</p> + +<p>“It seems that a witness for Mr. Benjamin and +his side, on whom they very much depended, deserted +them, and went over to your father and his +lawyer, and——”</p> + +<p>“Hurray for that witness, whoever he was!” +cried Joe.</p> + +<p>“Be quiet,” begged Clara, “and let mother +tell.”</p> + +<p>“There isn’t much to tell,” went on Mrs. Matson. +“With the unexpected evidence of this witness +your father’s lawyer won the case, almost +at the last moment. In fact your father had given +up, and was about ready to leave the court when +the man sent in word that he would testify for +them. That was after your father sent the telegram +that came just before you went off to the +game, Joe.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span></p> +<p>“Oh, I’m so glad!” cried Clara.</p> + +<p>“Now it’s your turn to be quiet and listen,” +admonished Joe, with a smile at his sister.</p> + +<p>“I have about finished,” went on their mother. +“The judge decided in your father’s favor, and +he doesn’t even have to share the profits of the invention +with the harvester company or with Mr. +Rufus Holdney, as he at one time thought he +would, for they have violated their contract. So +we won’t be poor, after all, children. Aren’t you +glad?”</p> + +<p>“You bet!” exploded Joe, throwing his arms +around his mother’s neck.</p> + +<p>“And we won’t have to leave this nice house,” +added Clara, looking around the comfortable +abode.</p> + +<p>“Then I can go to boarding school—and pitch +on the school nine; can’t I mother?” cried Joe, +throwing his arms around her.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes; I suppose so,” she answered, with +half a sigh. “But I do wish you’d do something +else besides play baseball.”</p> + +<p>“Something else besides baseball, mother! +Why, there’s nothing to be compared to it. Hurray! +I’m going to boarding school! I’m going to +boarding school!” and Joe, catching Clara around +the waist, waltzed her around the room. Then he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +caught his mother on his other arm—the arm that +won the victory for the Stars that day—and her, +too, he whirled about until she cried for mercy.</p> + +<p>“Oh, but this is great!” Joe cried when he +stopped for breath. “Simply great! I must go +and tell Tom. Maybe he can go to boarding +school with me.”</p> + +<p>And whether Tom did or not, and what were +our hero’s further fortunes on the diamond, will be +related in the next volume, to be called: “Baseball +Joe on the School Nine; or, Pitching for the Blue +Banner.”</p> + +<p>There was an impromptu feast that night for +the victorious Silver Stars and Joe was the hero +of the occasion. He was toasted again and again, +and called upon to make some remarks, which he +did in great confusion. But his chums thought it +the best speech they had ever heard.</p> + +<p>“Three cheers for Baseball Joe!” called Tom +Davis, and the room rang with them, while Joe +tried to hide his blushes by drinking glass after +glass of lemonade.</p> + +<p>And now, for a time, we will take leave of him, +crying as his chums did after the great victory on +the diamond: “Hurrah for Baseball Joe!”</p> + + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + + +<div class="ep1"><div class="ep2"><div class="blockquot"><p class="noi"><i>Dear Reader</i>:</p> + +<p>If you enjoyed Baseball Joe and wish to follow his +further adventures see the books listed on the following +page.</p></div></div></div> + + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By LESTER CHADWICK</p> + +<p class="center"><i>12mo. Illustrated. Price 50 cents per volume.<br /> +Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/image02.jpg" width="100%" alt="BASEBALL JOE SERIES" title="BASEBALL JOE SERIES" /> +</div> + +<ol> +<li>BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER +STARS<br /> +<i>or The Rivals of Riverside</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL +NINE<br /> +<i>or Pitching for the Blue Banner</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE AT YALE<br /> +<i>or Pitching for the College Championship</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL +LEAGUE<br /> +<i>or Making Good as a Professional Pitcher</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE<br /> +<i>or A Young Pitcher’s Hardest Struggles</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS<br /> +<i>or Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES<br /> +<i>or Pitching for the Championship</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD<br /> +<i>or Pitching on a Grand Tour</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE: HOME RUN KING<br /> +<i>or The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE<br /> +<i>or Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM<br /> +<i>or Bitter Struggles on the Diamond</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE CHAMPION OF THE LEAGUE<br /> +<i>or The Record that was Worth While</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE CLUB OWNER<br /> +<i>or Putting the Home Town on the Map</i></li> + +<li>BASEBALL JOE PITCHING WIZARD<br /> +<i>or Triumphs Off and On the Diamond</i></li> +</ol> + +<p class="center"><i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue.</i></p> + +<p class="center">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">THE BOMBA BOOKS</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By ROY ROCKWOOD</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/image03.jpg" width="100%" alt="THE BOMBA BOOKS" title="THE BOMBA BOOKS" /> +</div> + +<p class="noi center"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. With Colored +jacket.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 +cents additional.</i></p> + +<p><i>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.</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE MOVING +MOUNTAIN</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AT THE GIANT +CATARACT</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON JAGUAR ISLAND</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE ABANDONED +CITY</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON TERROR TRAIL</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN THE SWAMP OF +DEATH</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE SLAVES</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY ON THE UNDERGROUND +RIVER</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE LOST +EXPLORERS</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY IN A STRANGE LAND</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AMONG THE +PYGMIES</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE +CANNIBALS</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE PAINTED +HUNTERS</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE RIVER +DEMONS</li> + +<li>BOMBA THE JUNGLE BOY AND THE HOSTILE +CHIEFTAIN</li> +</ol> + +<p class="noi center">These books may be purchased wherever books are sold</p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Send for Our Free Illustrated Catalogue</i></p> + +<p class="noi center">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">CHAMPION +SPORTS STORIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By NOEL SAINSBURY, JR.</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/image04.jpg" width="100%" alt="CHAMPION SPORTS SERIES" title="CHAMPION SPORTS SERIES" /> +</div> + +<p><i>Every boy enjoys sport stories. Here +we present three crackerjack stories of +baseball, football, and basketball, written +in the vernacular of the boy of to-day, +full of action, suspense and thrills, +in language every boy will understand, +and which we know will be enthusiastically +endorsed by all boys.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket +in color. Price 50 cents per volume.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>CRACKER STANTON<br /> +<i>Or The Making of a Batsman</i> + +<p>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.</p></li> + +<li>GRIDIRON GRIT<br /> +<i>Or The Making of a Fullback</i> + +<p>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.</p></li> + +<li>THE FIGHTING FIVE<br /> +<i>Or the Kidnapping of Clarkville’s Basketball Team</i> + +<p>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....</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="center">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">SORAK JUNGLE SERIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By HARVEY D. RICHARDS</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/image05.jpg" width="100%" alt="SORAK JUNGLE SERIES" title="SORAK JUNGLE SERIES" /> +</div> + +<p><i>The name Sorak means War Cry in +the Malay country. He grows up among +the most primitive of the Malay aborigines, +and learns to combat all the terrors +of the jungle with safety. The constant +battle with nature’s forces develop +Sorak’s abilities to such an extent that +he is acknowledged the chief warrior in +all his section of the jungle.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in +color. Price 50 cents per volume.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>SORAK OF THE MALAY JUNGLE<br /> +<i>or How Two Young Americans Face Death and Win a Friend</i> + +<p>Two boys, Dick and Jack Preston are shipwrecked off the Malay Peninsula +and are rescued by Sorak. Their adventures in trying to get back +to civilization make an absorbing story.</p></li> + +<li>SORAK AND THE CLOUDED TIGER<br /> +<i>or How the Terrible Ruler of the North Is Hunted and Destroyed</i> + +<p>A huge clouded tiger, almost human, leads a pack of red dholes into +Sorak’s country, and it takes all of Sorak’s ingenuity, and the aid of his +friends to exterminate the pack.</p></li> + +<li>SORAK AND THE SULTAN’S ANKUS<br /> +<i>or How a Perilous Journey Leads to a Kingdom of Giants</i> + +<p>Sorak and his friends are trapped by a herd of elephants, and finally +run away with by the leader to an unknown valley where a remnant of Cro-Magnon +race still exists. Their exciting adventures will hold the reader +enthralled until the last word.</p></li> + +<li>SORAK AND THE TREE-MEN<br /> +<i>or the Rescue of the Prisoner Queen</i> + +<p>Captured by a band of Malay slavers, Sorak and his friends are wrecked +on an island off the coast of Burma in the Mergui Archipelago. Their +escape from the island with the Prisoner Queen after a successful revolution +brings the fourth book of this series to an exciting and unusual conclusion.</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="noi center">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">TOP NOTCH DETECTIVE +STORIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By WILLIAM HALL</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/image06.jpg" width="100%" alt="TOP NOTCH DETECTIVE STORIES" title="TOP NOTCH DETECTIVE STORIES" /> +</div> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Each story complete in itself</i></p> + +<p><i>A new group of detective stories carefully +written, with corking plots; modern, +exciting, full of adventure, good +police and detective work.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket +in color. Price 50 cents per volume.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>SLOW VENGEANCE<br /> +<i>or the Mystery of Pete Shine</i> + +<p>A young newspaper man, whose brother is on the police force, becomes +strangely involved in the mysterious killing of an Italian bootblack. Suspicion +points to a well-known politician but he proves that it was impossible +for him to have done the deed. Then the reporter, who for a time +turns detective, gets a clue revolving about a startling, ancient method of +combat. He follows this up, watches a masked duelist and, with the help +of a girl, catches the murderer who justifies his deed on the plea of Slow +Vengeance. You will be interested in reading how the reporter got out +of a tight corner.</p></li> + +<li>GREEN FIRE<br /> +<i>or Mystery of the Indian Diamond</i> + +<p>A golf caddy who has a leaning toward amateur detective work, +together with his younger cousin, are accidentally mixed up in the strange +loss, or theft, of a valuable diamond, known as Green Fire. It was once the +eye of an East Indian idol. To clear his young cousin of suspicion, the +older boy undertakes to solve the mystery which deepens when one man +disappears and another is found murdered on the golf course. But, by a +series of clever moves on the part of the young sleuth, the crime is solved +and the diamond found in a most unusual hiding place. A rapidly moving, +exciting tale. You will like it.</p></li> + +<li>HIDDEN DANGER<br /> +<i>or The Secret of the Bank Vault</i> + +<p>A young detective, who, in his private capacity, has solved several mysteries, +decides to open an office in another city. He meets a young bank +clerk and they become partners just when the clerk’s bank is mysteriously +bombed and the cashier is reported missing. It is not until next day that +it is discovered that the bank vault has been entered in some secret manner +and a large sum stolen. The regular detectives declared “spirits” must +have robbed the bank but the two young detectives prove that a clever gang +did it and also kidnapped the aged cashier. Not a dull page from first to +last. A clever story.</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="noi center">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<p class="noi adtitle">NORTHWEST STORIES</p> + +<p class="noi adauthor">By LeROY W. SNELL</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 175px;"> +<img src="images/image07.jpg" width="100%" alt="NORTHWEST STORIES" title="NORTHWEST STORIES" /> +</div> + +<p><i>A new group of stories laid in the +Canadian Northwest by Mr. Snell, a +master writer of the glories and the +thrilling adventures of the Canadian +Northwest Mounted Police. Each book +is an individual story, well written, +beautifully bound, and contains a story +that all boys will enjoy.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket +in color. Price 50 cents per volume.</i></p> + +<p class="noi center"><i>Postage 10 cents additional.</i></p> + +<ol> +<li>THE LEAD DISK + +<p>Tom Baley, leaving college goes north into Canada, hoping to join the +Northwest Mounted Police. His application is turned down by his own +uncle, an officer on the force, but after many thrilling adventures and +encounters with the Disk Gang he is able to win the coveted uniform.</p></li> + +<li>SHADOW PATROL + +<p>Luke Myers is sent into the Caribou Mountains to solve the mystery +of The Shadow, about whom many conflicting stories are told. There are +struggles with the outlaws, and finally a great running battle down the +fog-obscured mountain trails ... at the end of which the outlaws are +captured and the mystery of The Shadow is solved.</p></li> + +<li>THE WOLF CRY + +<p>Donald Pierce is sent to solve the mystery of his father’s disappearance, +into the unmapped barrens where King Stively weaves his web of wickedness, +and rules a territory the size of a small empire with a ruthlessness +and cunning that baffles the best of the Mounted Police. Behind all is the +dread Wolf Cry which causes brave men to shudder....</p></li> + +<li>THE SPELL OF THE NORTH + +<p>Sergeant David Stanlaw, stationed at Spirit River, is puzzled by a local +killing, the disappearance of the body, the finding of a code message, and +by the mystery of the “Listening Forest,” which casts a shadow of dread +over the little town of Wiggin’s Creek. With the help of Jerry Bartlett +they capture the leaders of the gang and solve the mystery of the “Listening +Forest.”</p></li> + +<li>THE CHALLENGE OF THE YUKON + +<p>Robert Wade whose patrol runs from Skagway on Chattam Strait north +into the Yukon country follows in the wake of a stampede to a new +gold strike. With the aid of his friend, Jim MacPhail, Wade frustrates +the outlaws, who try to trap the whole town behind the “Pass of the +Closing Door,” and then races them to and across the breaking ice floes +of the Yukon. A strong adventure story all boys will enjoy.</p></li> +</ol> + +<p class="noi center">CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York</p> + + + +<hr class="cb" /> +<div class="tnote"> +<p class="noi tntitle">Transcriber's Notes:</p> + +<p>Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.</p> + +<p>Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.</p> + +<p>Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.</p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars, by +Lester Chadwick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS *** + +***** This file should be named 37056-h.htm or 37056-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/0/5/37056/ + +Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars + or The Rivals of Riverside + +Author: Lester Chadwick + +Release Date: August 12, 2011 [EBook #37056] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS *** + + + + +Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +[Illustration: JOE WAS DOING GOOD WORK.] + + + + + Baseball Joe of + the Silver Stars + + OR + + _The_ Rivals _of_ Riverside + + _By_ LESTER CHADWICK + + AUTHOR OF + "THE RIVAL PITCHERS," "A QUARTERBACK'S + PLUCK," "BATTING TO WIN," ETC. + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY + + + + + BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS + + Copyright, 1912, by + Cupples & Leon Company + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I A Hot Game 1 + II Tieing the Score 11 + III Mrs. Matson is Worried 23 + IV A Row with Sam 31 + V Joe Helps the Manager 41 + VI Joe Has Hopes 50 + VII Laughed at 58 + VIII A Mean Protest 66 + IX Joe in the Game 73 + X A Tight Contest 80 + XI Joe's Run 89 + XII Discontent 96 + XIII Scientific Practice 103 + XIV A Kettle of Apple Sauce 110 + XV Joe Overhears Something 119 + XVI Mr. Matson is Alarmed 129 + XVII A Throwing Contest 136 + XVIII Another Defeat 143 + XIX Joe is Watched 151 + XX "Would You Like to Pitch?" 161 + XXI To the Rescue 167 + XXII A Delayed Pitcher 174 + XXIII Joe in the Box 185 + XXIV Sam Arrives 191 + XXV Joe Foils the Plotters 197 + XXVI Sam Resigns 208 + XXVII Bad News 215 + XXVIII The Fight 221 + XXIX The Challenge 228 + XXX The Winning Throw--Conclusion 233 + + + + +BASEBALL JOE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A HOT GAME + + +"Come on, Sam, get a move on. I thought you'd be out on the diamond long +ago. What's the matter?" + +"Oh, I had to help dad put in some fence posts. I'm through now, +Darrell, and I'll be right with you." + +"Setting fence posts; eh?" and Darrell Blackney, the young manager of +the Silver Star baseball nine of Riverside looked critically at Sam +Morton, the team's pitcher. "Well, Sam, I hope it didn't make you stiff +so that you can't put some good balls over the plate. It's going to be a +hot game all right." + +"Oh, forget it!" cried Sam, as he finished buttoning his jacket while he +joined his chum. "We'll beat 'em to a frazzle all right. I'm going to +pitch my head off to-day." + +"You may--if you don't go to pieces the way you once did." + +"Say, what you talking about?" demanded Sam, with some warmth. "I can +pitch all right, and don't you forget it." He seemed unnecessarily +aroused. + +"Oh, I know you can pitch," spoke Darrell easily, "only I don't want you +to be too sure about it. You know the Resolutes of Rocky Ford have a +strong team this season, and their pitcher is----" + +"Oh, I know what Hen Littell is as well as you," broke in Sam. "He +thinks he's a whole lot, but you wait. I've got a new drop ball, +and----" + +"Well, then, you'd ought to have been out on the diamond this morning, +practicing with Bart Ferguson. He's got a new catching glove, and if you +and he can connect on the curves we may do some good work. But I wish +you'd had some practice this morning." + +"So do I, but dad made me help him, and I couldn't very well get off. I +tried to sneak away, but he got on to my game and put a stop to it." + +"Oh, well, of course if you had to help your father that's different," +spoke Darrell, who was a manly young chap, somewhat in contrast to Sam, +who was not as upright as he might have been. Sam had a boastful and +confident air that caused many to dislike him, but as he was the best +pitcher the Silver Stars had had in some seasons his short-comings were +overlooked. + +And certainly Sam had been pitching pretty good ball thus far. True, at +times, he "went up in the air," but all pitchers are likely to do this +on occasions. Sam had great belief in his own ability. + +There was considerable baseball feeling in the little town of Riverside, +located on the Appelby River, in one of our New England States. Though +the nine was an amateur one, and composed of lads ranging from fourteen +to nineteen years of age, yet many fast games had been seen on the +village diamond, which was kept in good shape by volunteers. A small +admission sum was charged to view the contests and from this the boys +were able to buy their uniforms, balls, bats, and other things. With +some of the money the grounds were renovated from time to time, and the +fences, bleachers and grandstand kept in order. + +There was a sort of informal county league existing among several nines +in the towns surrounding Riverside, and perhaps the bitterest rivals of +the Silver Stars were the Resolutes of Rocky Ford, a place about five +miles farther up the stream than Riverside. To-day one of the games in +the series was to take place, and the occasion, being Saturday, was a +gala one in the home town of the Silver Stars, on whose grounds the +contest was to take place. + +"Well, you'll have a little time for practice before the game begins," +remarked Darrell as he and Sam walked toward the diamond. "We've got +about an hour yet." + +"Are the Resolutes here?" + +"They hadn't come when I passed the grounds a little while ago on my way +to see you. I couldn't imagine what kept you." + +"Well, it was all dad's fault. Hang it all----" + +"Never mind," broke in Darrell quickly. "Dads are all right as a rule." +He had lost his own father not long since, and his heart was still sore. +He could not bear to have any one speak disrespectfully of parents. "I +guess we'll make out all right," he added. + +"Oh, sure we will!" exclaimed Sam, full of confidence. "They won't have +a look in." + +"Well, hurry up and get in some practice with Bart," advised the +manager. + +"Who's going to cover first to-day?" inquired Sam, as they hurried along +the streets, which were already beginning to fill with the crowds making +their way to the game. + +"I think I am for most of the time," answered Darrell. "George Rankin +and I talked it over and decided that would be a good way to lead off. +Later, if I find I'm needed on the coaching line, I'll let Tom Davis +take my place." + +"Tom isn't much good." + +"Oh, I think he is." + +"Didn't he miss two hot throws to first base in the game last Saturday?" + +"That was because you put them over his head. You want to be careful, +Sam, when there are two on the bags, how you throw to first. Lots of +times I have to jump for your throws, and if I wasn't pretty quick at it +they'd get by me." + +"Oh, well, you won't have any complaint to-day. I'll get 'em there all +right. But you'd better stay in the whole game yourself." + +"I'll see. Hark, what's that?" + +The inspiring notes of a coaching horn echoed down the village street. + +"Sounds like a tally-ho," remarked Sam. + +Just then there swung into view a large stage, drawn by four horses, the +vehicle filled with a cheering, shouting and laughing crowd of boys. + +"That's the Resolute team," said Darrell. "They're coming in style all +right." + +Again there came the thrilling notes of the bugle, blown by some one in +the stage. Then followed another large vehicle, filled with a throng of +cheering lads. + +"They've brought a crowd along," commented Sam. + +"Yes, maybe they're depending on rooters to help them win the game." + +"Well, our fellows can root some too," spoke the pitcher. "I'm glad +there's going to be a big crowd. I can pitch better then." + +"Well, do your best," urged the manager. "There's Percy Parnell and Fred +Newton over there. I thought they were out on the field long ago." + +"Maybe they had to set fence posts too." + +"Maybe," assented Darrell with a laugh. "And here comes Tom Davis. Who's +that with him?" and the pitcher and manager glanced at a tall, +well-formed lad who was walking beside the substitute first baseman. +"Evidently a stranger in town," went on Darrell. + +"Yes, I've seen him before," remarked Sam. "He lives down on our street. +The family just moved in. His name is Batson, or Hatson, or something +like that. His father works in the harvester factory." + +"Hum," mused Darrell. "He looks like a decent sort of chap," and he +gazed critically at the stranger. "Maybe he'd like to join our club," +for the ball team was a sort of adjunct to a boys' athletic +organization. + +"Oh, we've got enough fellows in now," said Sam quickly. + +"Always room for one more," commented the manager, who was ever on the +lookout for good material for the nine. Perhaps Sam suspected something +like this, for he glanced quickly at his companion. + +"Say, if you think I'm not good enough----" began the pitcher, who was +noted for his quick temper. + +"Now, now, drop that kind of talk," said Darrell soothingly. "You know +we're all satisfied with your pitching. Don't get on your ear." + +"Well, I won't then," and Sam smiled frankly. + +By this time Percy Parnell, the second baseman, and Fred Newton, the +plucky little shortstop, had joined the pitcher and the manager, and +greetings were exchanged. + +"Are we going to wallop 'em?" asked Fred. + +"Sure thing," assented Sam. + +"It's going to be a hot game all right," was Percy's opinion. + +"All the better," commented Darrell. "Say the people are turning out in +great shape, though. I'm glad to see it. We need a little money in our +treasury." + +They turned in at the players' gate. The Resolute team had preceded +them, and already several of the members of that nine were in their +uniforms and out on the diamond. They were lads of the same age as their +rivals, and had about the same sort of an organization--strictly +amateur, but with desires to do as nearly as possible as the college and +professional teams did. + +But there was a great difference, of course, and mainly in the rather +free-and-easy manner in which the rules were interpreted. While it is +true that in the fundamentals they played baseball according to the +general regulations, there were many points on which they were at +variance, and a professional probably would have found much at which to +laugh and be in despair. But what did it matter as long as the boys, and +those who watched them, enjoyed it? Not a bit, in my opinion. + +As the Silver Star lads proceeded to the improvised dressing rooms under +the grandstand, several more of the Resolute players hurried out, +buttoning jackets as they ran. + +"Oh, we'll get you fellows to-day all right!" shouted Henry (otherwise +known as Hen) Littell, pitcher and captain of the Resolutes. + +"All right, the game's yours--if you can take it," called back Darrell, +with a laugh. + +The diamond soon presented an animated scene, with many players and a +few substitutes pitching, catching or batting balls about. The crowds +were beginning to arrive and occupy seats in the small grandstand or on +the bleachers. Many preferred to stand along the first and third base +lines, or seat themselves on the grass. + +Approaching the grounds about this time were the two lads of whom Sam +and Darrell had spoken briefly. One was Tom Davis, the substitute first +baseman and the other boy whom Sam had referred to as "Batson" or +"Hatson." Sam had it nearly right. The lad was Joe Matson, and as he is +to figure largely in this story I will take just a moment to introduce +him to you. + +Joe was the son of Mr. and Mrs. John Matson, and had lately moved to +Riverside with his parents and his sister Clara, who was a year his +junior. The family had come from the town of Bentville, about a hundred +miles away. Mr. Matson had been employed in a machine works there, and +had invented several useful appliances. + +Located in Riverside was the Royal Harvester Works, a large concern. In +some manner Mr. Isaac Benjamin, the manager, had heard of the appliances +Mr. Matson had perfected, and, being in need of a capable machinist, he +had made Mr. Matson an offer to come to Riverside. It had been accepted, +and the family had moved in shortly before this story opens. + +Joe was a tall, well-built lad, with dark hair and brown eyes, and a way +of walking and swinging his arms that showed he had some athletic +training. He had made the acquaintance of Tom Davis, who lived in the +house back of him, and Tom had asked Joe to go to the game that day. + +"For it's going to be a good one," said Tom proudly, since he was a +member of the nine, even though only a substitute. + +"Who's going to win?" asked Joe, as they approached the grounds. + +"We will, if----" and then Tom stopped suddenly, for there was a yell +from inside the fence and a moment later a ball came sailing over it, +straight toward the two lads. + +"Look out!" yelled Tom. "That's a hot one! Duck, Joe, duck!" + +But Joe did not dodge. Instead, he spread his legs well apart and stood +ready to catch the swiftly-moving horsehide in his bare hands. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +TIEING THE SCORE + + +Ping! The ball came in between Joe's palms with a vicious thud, but +there it stuck, and a moment later the newcomer had tossed it back over +the fence with certain and strong aim. + +"I guess some one will pick it up," he said. + +"Sure," assented Tom. "Say, that was a good stop all right. Have you +played ball before?" + +"Oh, just a little," was the modest and rather quiet answer. In fact Joe +Matson was rather a quiet youth, too quiet, his mother sometimes said, +but his father used to smile and remark: + +"Oh, let Joe alone. He'll make out all right, and some of these days he +may surprise us." + +"Well, that was a pippy stop all right," was Tom's admiring, if slangy, +compliment. "Let's go in, I may get a chance to play." + +Joe turned toward the main entrance gate, and thrust one hand into his +pocket. + +"Where you going?" demanded Tom. + +"Into the grounds of course. I want to get a ticket." + +"Not much!" exclaimed his companion. "You don't have to pay. Come with +me. I invited you to this game, and I'm a member of the team, though I +don't often get a chance to play. Members are allowed to bring in one +guest free. I'll take you in. We'll use the players' gate." + +"Thanks," said Joe briefly, as he followed his new friend. + +"Here's a good place to see it from--almost as good as the grandstand," +said Tom, as they moved to a spot along the first base line. "Though you +can go up and sit down if you like. I'm going to put on my things. I may +get a chance at first." + +"No, I'll stay here," said Joe. "Then I can see you make some good +stops." + +"I can if Sam doesn't put 'em away over my head," was the reply. + +"Oh, yes, that's so. You started to say that you thought our side--you +see I'm already a Silver Star rooter--that our side would win, if +something didn't happen." + +"Oh, yes, and then that ball came over the fence. Well, we'll win, I +think, if Sam doesn't go to pieces." + +"Who's Sam?" + +"Sam Morton, our pitcher. He's pretty good too, when he doesn't get +rattled." + +"Then we'll hope that he doesn't to-day," said Joe with a smile. "But go +ahead and dress." + +"All right," assented Tom, and he started off on a run to the dressing +rooms. It was only just in time, too, for at that moment Darrell came +hastening up to him. + +"Why haven't you got your suit on?" the manager asked. "You'll probably +play some innings anyhow, and I don't want any delay." + +"All right--right away," Tom assured him. "I'm on the job." + +"Who do you think will win?" asked a youth sitting next to Joe on the +grass. + +"Oh, I don't know," began Joe slowly. "I haven't seen either team play." + +"Oh, then you're a stranger here?" + +"Yes, just moved in." + +"I saw you with Tom Davis. You must be that Matson lad he told me lived +back of him." + +"I am, and I hope Tom's side wins." + +"That's the stuff! So do I. But those Resolutes have a good nine." + +"Aw, go on!" broke in a lad back of Joe. "They haven't any good batters +at all." + +"What's the matter with Hank Armstrong?" demanded some one. + +"Well, he's pretty good, but Ford Lantry or Seth Potter on our team can +bat all around him." + +"How about their pitcher?" asked Joe. + +"Well, he's pretty good," admitted the lad who had first addressed Joe. + +"But he can't come up to Sam Morton when Sam is at his best," said some +one else, joining in the conversation. + +"Yes--_when_ he's at his best," repeated another lad. "Those Resolutes +have it in for us, but we're going to wipe up the ground with them +to-day all right." + +"Like fun!" exploded a Resolute sympathizer. "I'll bet you----" + +"Play ball!" broke in the voice of the umpire, and the clanging of the +gong warned the players and others to clear the field. + +"We're last at the bat," said Tom, "and that means a whole lot." + +"Yes," assented Joe, and then the Silver Star pitcher took his place in +the box and exchanged a few preliminary balls with the catcher, Bart +Ferguson. + +"Play ball!" yelled the young umpire again, selecting some pebbles with +which to keep score. + +Hank Armstrong, the sturdy left fielder of the Resolutes, was the first +at the bat for his side, and with a vicious swing he hit the first ball +which Sam pitched to him. Squarely on the bat he caught it with a +resounding ping! + +Away it sailed straight over Sam's head and over the head of the second +baseman. Farther and farther it went, until the centre fielder began +running back to get it. + +"Oh, wow! Pretty one! Pretty one!" + +"Go on! Go on!" + +"Make a three bagger of it!" + +"Run, you beggar!" + +These and many other cries speeded Armstrong on. He was running fast and +reached second well in advance of the ball. But he dared not go on to +third. + +"Hum, if they hit Sam like that too often he won't last very long," +commented Tom. + +"Oh, that was a fluke," declared Rodney Burke, who sat behind Joe. + +There was a surprised and disconcerted look on Sam's face as he gazed at +the next batter. No sooner had the ball left Sam's hand, that Armstrong +was away for third like a shot, for he was a notorious base stealer. +Bart threw to third, but the ball went too high and the baseman jumped +for it in vain. Armstrong came in with the first run. + +"Begins to look bad!" yelled Tom in Joe's ear, for the cheers and +exultant yells of the Resolute crowd made ordinary talking impossible. + +But that was all the visiting team got that inning, for Sam struck out +two men, and the third fouled to Bart. + +"Now we'll see what our fellows can do," commented Tom. + +Seth Potter, the left fielder, was first up, and he had two strikes and +three balls called on him in short order. Then he got under a pretty one +and made first. + +"Watch out now, and run down when he throws!" cried Darrell, who was +coaching. + +Seth did run, but was caught at second. Jed McGraw, the centre fielder, +was next up and knocked a safety, getting to first. + +Then came Ford Lantry, who played right field, and he knocked a pretty +three-bagger which brought in McGraw and the run. At that the Silver +Star crowd went wild with joy, but it was all they had to crow over as +the next two men struck out and Lantry died on third. + +The next two innings were marked by goose eggs for both sides, and in +the fourth inning the Silver Stars brought in two runs, while their +opponents could not seem to connect with the ball. + +"Old Sam is doing fine!" cried Tom. + +"Yes, he seems to have good control," commented Joe. + +"But he lacks speed," said Rodney Burke. + +"Oh, cheese it! Do you want to give all our secrets away to these +fellows?" asked Tom in a low voice, indicating the many Resolute +sympathizers who were all about. + +"Well, it's true," murmured Rodney, and Joe felt a sudden wild hope come +into his heart. + +The game went on enthusiastically, if not correctly from a professional +or college baseball standpoint. Many errors were made and several rules +were unconsciously violated. The young umpire's decisions might have +been questioned several times, and on numerous occasions the game was +stopped while the respective captains, and some of the players, argued +among themselves, or with the umpire. But the disputes were finally +settled, though there was a growing spirit of dissatisfaction on both +sides. + +"Play ball!" yelled the umpire, at the conclusion of an argument in the +fifth inning. + +It was then that the Resolutes did some heavy stick work, and tallied +three runs to the enthusiastic delight of the team and its supporters. + +"We've got to do better than this," murmured Darrell to Captain Rankin +and Sam when they took the field at the end of that inning, and a big +circle stared at them from the score board as the result of their +efforts. + +"I'm doing all I can!" snapped Sam. "I'm not getting decent support." + +"Aw, cut it out! Of course you are!" asserted Rankin. + +A single tally by each side in the sixth, and two for the Silver Stars +and one for the Resolutes in the seventh, brought the game to that usual +breathing spot. The score was now a tie, and the excitement was growing. + +"For cats' sake beat 'em out, fellows!" pleaded Darrell. "Use your bats. +They're to hit the ball with, not to fan the air!" + +Perhaps his frantic appeal had some effect, for in the next inning the +Resolutes only got one run, while, when the Silver Stars came to bat to +close the inning, they hammered out three, putting them well ahead. + +But there was trouble brewing. Sam's arm was giving out. He realized it +himself but he dared not speak of it. Grimly he fought against it, but +he saw that the other side was aware of it. + +"Come on now, we'll get his goat!" yelled the captain of the Resolutes. +Then began what may be regarded as the cruel practice of yelling +discouraging remarks at the man in the box. Sam was plainly told that he +was "rotten" while other and less mild epithets were hurled at him. + +These had their effect. He gave two men their base on balls, and he made +a number of wild throws to first where Tom Davis had replaced Darrell +Blackney. However, by a strong brace Sam managed to hold his opponents +runless, though in this saving work he was nobly assisted by his +fellows, and by the quickness of Tom in not letting the wild balls get +by him. Tom was a magnificent high jumper, which served him in good +stead. + +The ending of the eighth saw the score nine to seven in favor of the +Silver Stars, they having brought in three runs. + +It began to look, in spite of Sam's trouble, as if the home team would +win. There was a riot of cheers when the Resolutes went to bat in the +ninth inning, and despite the fact that they were two runs behind, their +supporters did not fail them. + +"Win! Win! Win!" they yelled. + +"Oh, we'll win all right," said Captain Littell grimly. + +And he and his men gave good evidence of doing so a few minutes later. +Sam literally "went to pieces." He lost all control of the ball, and was +fairly "knocked out of the box." There was a look of despair on the +faces of his mates. + +"What's the matter with him?" demanded Joe, who was surprised at the +sudden slump. + +"Oh, that's what he does every once in a while," said a disgusted Silver +Star supporter. "You can't depend on him. Wow, that's rotten!" for Sam +had delivered a ball that was batted over the right-field fence. + +Instantly there was a wild scene. Two men were on second and third base +respectively when this "homer" was knocked and they came racing in. The +home-run batter followed. + +"Ring around the rosey!" yelled the Resolute captain. "If we had more on +base they'd all come in. Hit at anything, fellows! Hit everything." + +It looked as if they were doing it, for they made six runs that inning, +which brought the score to thirteen to nine in favor of the visitors. + +"Five runs to win, and four to tie," murmured Darrell as his men came +in from the field for their inning. "Can we do it?" + +How it was done even he scarcely knew, for so fierce was the rivalry +between the teams, and so high the excitement, that several times open +clashes were narrowly averted. But the four runs were secured, and +though the Silver Stars played their best they could not get another +one. But even to tie the score after Sam's slump was something worth +while. + +"Ten innings! It gives us another chance for our white alley," murmured +Tom to Joe, as the first baseman made ready to go on the sack again. "If +we can get one run, and hold them down to a goose egg it will do." + +But the Resolutes seemed to have struck a winning streak. Sam could not +pull himself together, and got worse. Darrell was in despair, and there +was gloom in the hearts of the Riverside residents. + +"Haven't they another pitcher they can put in?" asked Joe of one of his +neighbors. + +"No, and if they had Sam would raise such a row that it might bust up +the team. He'll play it out." + +In the tenth inning the Resolutes pounded out three more runs, batting +Sam all over the field, and when the Silver Stars came up the score was +sixteen to thirteen against them. + +"Oh, for a bunch of runs!" pleaded Darrell, as his men went to bat. + +But they couldn't get them. The Resolute pitcher with a grin on his +freckled face sent in curve after curve and struck out two men in short +order. Then Tom Davis knocked a little pop fly which was easily caught, +and the game ended in a riot of yells, as a goose egg went up in the +tenth frame for the Silver Stars. They had lost by a score of sixteen to +thirteen, and there were bitter feelings in their hearts against their +rivals. + +"Why don't you get a pitcher who can pitch?" demanded one of the +Resolutes. + +"Don't you insult me!" cried Sam striding forward. "I can pitch as good +as your man." + +"Aw, listen to him! He's dreaming!" some one yelled, laughingly. + +"I am; eh? Well, I'll show you!" cried Sam angrily, and the next +instant, in spite of the effort of Darrell to hold him back, he had +leaped for the lad who had mocked him, and had struck him a heavy blow. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +MRS. MATSON IS WORRIED + + +"What do you mean by that?" demanded the lad whom Sam had struck. + +"That's what I mean by it. I mean you can't insult me!" + +"I can't, eh? Well, I can whip you all right," and with those words Sam +was nearly knocked off his feet by a return blow. + +"Here, cut that out!" yelled Darrell. + +"Aw, what's eating you?" demanded another of the Resolute crowd. "If you +fellows are looking for a fight you can have it; eh boys?" + +"Sure thing!" came in a chorus, as the players crowded up, with bats in +their hands. + +"This may be serious," murmured Darrell to Tom. "See if you can't stop +Sam from fighting." + +But it was too late, as Sam and his opponent were at each other hammer +and tongs. + +"Do you want to fight?" sneered the lad who had accosted the manager. + +"No, I don't." + +"Afraid?" + +"No, of course not." + +"Then come on," and the lad, half in fun perhaps, gave Darrell a shove. + +Now Darrell, though disliking fistic encounters, was no coward and he +promptly retaliated with a blow that knocked his enemy down. + +"Wow! It's a fight all right!" yelled another lad, and then Darrell and +his antagonist were at it. + +The crowd from the stands and bleachers now began thronging about the +enraged players. There had always been more or less bad blood between +the two rival nines and now, when the Resolutes had taken a game that +was almost won away from the Silver Stars, the feeling broke out anew. + +On all sides there were impromptu battles going on. Some of the lads +were good-natured about it, and only indulged in wrestling contests, but +others were striking viciously at each other and soon there were some +bloody noses and blackened eyes in evidence. + +"I'll show you whether I can pitch or not!" yelled Sam, as he aimed a +hard blow at the lad with whom he had first had an encounter. He missed +his aim, and went whirling to one side, to be met by a blow as he turned +about, and almost sent down. + +"Do you want anything?" suddenly demanded a lad stopping in front of +Joe, who was standing near Tom. Joe recognized his questioner as the +Resolute shortstop. + +"No, he's a stranger here--he isn't on the nine," said Tom quickly. + +"Well, can't he fight?" was the sneering demand. + +"Yes, if I want to, but I don't want to," and Joe answered for himself. + +"I'll make you want to," was the retort, and Joe was struck in the +chest. He was not a lad to stand for that and he retaliated with such +good effect that his opponent went down in a heap on the grass, and did +not arise for some seconds. When he did stagger up, and saw Joe calmly +waiting for him, the lad moved off. + +"You can fight all right," he mumbled. "I've had enough." + +Meanwhile Darrell had disposed of his lad, and Tom, who was engaged with +a small lad who made a sneering remark, grabbed hold of the chap and +shook him until the lad begged for mercy. + +Sam and his opponent were still at it hot and heavy when there arose a +cry: + +"Cheese it--here come the cops!" + +Riverside boasted of a small police force, and while it was not very +formidable, most of the lads came from homes where a report of their +arrest for fighting would meet with severe punishment. Their ardor +suddenly cooled and, almost as soon as it had started, the impromptu +battle was over. The victorious nine gathered up their belongings and +moved off the diamond, jeering at their defeated rivals. + +"It was their fault--they started the fights," declared Tom Davis. + +"Yes, I guess it was," admitted Darrell. "Well come on, fellows. They +beat us, and though I think it wasn't exactly square on some of the +decisions, we can take our medicine. We'll do better next time." + +"Do you mean me?" demanded Sam half fiercely. + +"I mean--all of us," spoke Darrell slowly, "including myself." + +"Some excitement; eh?" asked Tom, as he linked his arm in that of Joe +Matson and walked along with him. + +"Yes, but it was a good game just the same." + +"You play, don't you?" + +"I used to, at Bentville, where we moved from," answered Joe. + +"Have a good team?" + +"Pretty good." + +"Where'd you play?" + +"Well, mostly at pitching. I like that better than anything else." + +"Hum!" mused Tom. "It takes a pretty good one to pitch these days. It +isn't like it used to be. Pitching is a gift, like poetry I guess. You +can't go in and pitch right off the reel." + +"I know it," answered Joe quietly. "But it's my one ambition. I want to +go to a good boarding school and get on the team as pitcher." + +"Well, I hope you do," and Tom laughed frankly. "I wouldn't mind that +myself, though I don't know as I care so much for pitching." + +"It's the best part of the game!" cried Joe, and his eyes shone and he +seemed to lose some of his usual quiet manner. "I'd like it above +everything else!" + +"Got any curves?" asked the practical Tom. + +"Well, I don't know as I have--yet. I'm practicing though." + +"Got any speed?" + +"They used to say I had, back there in Bentville." + +"Hum! Well, I don't believe there's much chance for you here. Sam has +the Silver Stars cinched. But he was rotten the last half of to-day's +game. That's what made us lose it. Yes, it takes some pumpkins to pitch +now-a-days." + +The boys walked on down the street after Tom had discarded his suit. +Before them and behind them were other players and spectators, talking +of nothing but the game and the fight that had followed. The Resolutes, +cheering and singing triumphantly, had departed in their big stages, and +in the hearts of the Silver Stars was gloom and despair. + +"Well, come over and see me sometime," invited Tom, as he parted from +Joe. + +"I will. You come over and see me." + +The boys went their respective ways--Joe walking rather slowly and +thinking of what had just taken place. + +"How I would like to pitch--and go to boarding school!" he mused as he +walked toward his house. As he entered the side door he saw his mother +sitting at the dining room table. Something about her attracted his +attention--aroused his fears. The cloth had been spread, and though it +was supper time, for the game had lasted until late, there were no +dishes on the table. + +"Why mother!" exclaimed Joe, struck by a queer look on her face. "What +is the matter? Has anything happened?" + +"Oh Joe!" she exclaimed starting up, as though she had not heard him +come in. "Oh, no, nothing is the matter," she went on, and she tried to +smile, but it was only an attempt. "I forgot it was so late. Your father +was home, but he went out again." + +"Where?" + +"I don't know. He said he had some business to attend to. But I must +hurry with the supper. Where were you?" + +"At the ball game. There was a fight. Our side lost. Oh, how I wish I +had been pitching! If ever I go to that boarding school I'm going to try +for the nine, first thing!" + +"Oh yes, you're always talking about a boarding school, Joe. Well, I--I +hope you can go." + +"Mother, I'm sure something has happened!" exclaimed Joe, putting his +arms around her and patting her on the shoulder, for she was a little +woman. + +"No, really," she assured him. "I'm just a little worried, that's all. +Now you can help me set the table if you will. Clara has gone to take +her music lesson and isn't back yet." + +"Of course I will!" exclaimed Joe. "But what are you worried about, +mother? I wish you'd tell me." + +"I can't now, Joe. Perhaps I will some time. It isn't anything +serious--yet," and with that Mrs. Matson hurried out of the room. + +She smiled as she left her son, but when she reached the kitchen the +same serious look came over her face again. + +"I hope what he fears doesn't come to pass," she remarked to herself. +"Poor Joe! it would be too bad if he couldn't go to a boarding school +when his heart is so set on it. And to become a pitcher! I wish he had +some higher ambition in life, though I suppose all boys are alike at his +age," and she sighed. + +"Hum," mused Joe as he went about setting the table, for the Matsons +kept no girl and Joe and his sister often helped their mother with the +housework when their school duties permitted. "Something is worrying +mother," the lad went on. "I hope it isn't anything about father's +business in the harvester works. He took a risk when he gave up his +position in Bentville and took a new one here. But that was an exciting +game all right," and Joe smiled at the recollection as he went on +putting the plates around at their places. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +A ROW WITH SAM + + +"What are you thinking about, Joe?" + +It was his sister Clara who asked the question, and she had noticed that +her brother was rather dreaming over his books than studying. It was the +Monday night after the Saturday when the memorable game with the +Resolutes had taken place. + +"Oh, nothing much," and Joe roused himself from a reverie and began to +pour over his books. + +"Well, for 'nothing much' I should say that it was a pretty deep +subject," went on Clara with a laugh, as she finished doing her +examples. "It isn't one of the girls here, is it Joe? There are a lot of +pretty ones in our class." + +"Oh--bother!" exclaimed Joe. "Let a fellow alone, can't you, when he's +studying? We have some pretty stiff work I tell you!" and he ruffled up +his hair, as if that would make his lessons come easier. "It's a heap +worse than it was back in Bentville." + +"I think so too, but I like it, Joe. We have a real nice teacher, and +I've met a lot of pleasant girls. Do you know any of the boys?" + +"Hu! I guess you want me to give you an introduction to them!" exclaimed +Joe. + +"No more than you do to the girls I know," retorted his sister, "so +there!" + +"Now, now," gently remonstrated Mrs. Matson, looking up from her sewing, +"you young folks keep on with your lessons. Your father can't go on +reading his paper if you dispute so." + +Involuntarily Joe and his sister glanced to where Mr. Matson sat in his +easy chair. But he did not seem to be reading, though he held the paper +up in front of him. Joe fancied he saw a look of worriment on his +father's face, and he wondered if he was vexed over some problem in +inventive work, or whether he was troubled over business matters +concerning his new position. + +Then there came to the lad's mind a memory of his mother's anxiety the +night he had come in from the game, and he wondered if the two had any +connection. But he knew it would not do to ask, for his father seldom +talked over business matters at home. + +Finally, seeming to feel Joe's look, Mr. Matson, after a quick glance at +his son, began to scan the paper. + +"Go on with your studying, Joe and Clara," commanded Mrs. Matson with a +smile. "Don't dispute any more." + +"I was only asking Joe if he knew any nice boys," spoke Clara in +vindication. "I know how fond he was of playing baseball back in +Bentville, and I was wondering if he was going to play here." + +"Guess I haven't much chance," murmured Joe half gloomily, as he drew +idle circles on the back blank leaf of his book. + +"Why not?" asked Clara quickly. "The girls say the boys have a good nine +here, even if they were beaten last Saturday. There's going to be +another game this Saturday, and Helen Rutherford is going to take me." + +"Oh, yes, there's a good enough team here," admitted Joe. "In fact the +Silver Stars are all right, but every position is filled. I _would_ like +to play--I'd like to pitch. I want to get all the practice I can on +these small teams, so when I go to boarding school I'll have something +to talk about." + +"And you're still set on going to boarding school?" asked Mrs. Matson, +sighing gently as she looked at her son. + +"I certainly am--if it can be managed," replied Joe quickly. + +Mr. Matson started so suddenly that the paper rattled loudly, and his +wife asked: + +"What's the matter, John, did something in the news startle you?" + +"Oh--no," he said slowly. "I--I guess I'm a bit nervous. I've been +working rather hard lately on an improvement in a corn reaper and +binder. It doesn't seem to come just right. I believe I'll go to bed. +I'm tired," and with "good-nights" that were not as cheerful as usual he +left the room. Mrs. Matson sighed but said nothing, and Joe wondered +more than ever if any trouble was brewing. He hoped not. As for Clara +she was again bent over her lessons. + +The Silver Star nine was variously made up. A number of lads worked in +different town industries, one even being employed in the harvester +works where Mr. Matson was employed. Others attended school. + +Joe Matson had attended the academy in the town of Bentville whence they +moved to Riverside, and on arriving in the latter place had at once +sought admission to the high school. He was given a brief examination, +and placed in the junior class, though in some of the studies the pupils +there were a little ahead of him, consequently he had to do some hard +studying. + +The ambition to attend a boarding school had been in Joe's mind for a +long while, and as his father was in moderate circumstances, and soon +hoped to make considerable from his patents, Joe reasoned that his +parents could then afford to send him. + +Among others on the nine who attended the high school were Darrell +Blackney and Sam Morton, who were in the senior class, and Tom Davis, +whose acquaintance Joe had made soon after coming to Riverside. There +was a school nine, but it was made up of the smaller boys and Joe had no +desire to join this. In fact none of the lads who were on the Silver +Stars belonged to the school team. + +"Well, I'm through, thank goodness!" finally exclaimed Clara, as she +closed her books. + +"And I am too," added Joe, a moment later. "Hope I don't flunk +to-morrow." + +"Are you going to the game Saturday?" asked Clara. + +"Oh, I guess so. Wish I was going _in_ it, but that's too much to hope +for." + +"Don't you know any one on the nine?" + +"Yes, Tom Davis." + +"He's the boy back of us, isn't he? His sister Mabel is in my class." + +"Yes," assented Joe, "but Tom is only a substitute." + +"Maybe you could be that at first, and then get a regular place," +suggested Clara. + +"Um!" murmured Joe. He didn't have a very high opinion of girls' +knowledge of baseball, even his sister's. + +When Joe reached home from school the following afternoon he saw his +mother standing on the front steps with a letter in her hand. + +"Oh, Joe!" she exclaimed, "I was just waiting for you. Your father----" + +"Is there anything the matter with father?" the lad gasped, his thoughts +going with a rush to one or two little scenes that had alarmed him +lately. + +"No, nothing at all," answered his mother with a smile. "But he just +hurried home from the factory with this note and he wanted you, as soon +as you came home, to take it to Moorville. It's for a Mr. Rufus Holdney +there. The address is on it, and I guess you can find him all right. +You're to wait for an answer. Go on your wheel. It's only a few miles to +Moorville, and a straight road, so your father says." + +"I know where it is," answered Joe. "Tom Davis has relatives there. He +pointed out the road to me one day. I'll go right away. Here, catch +hold of my books, mother, and I'll get my wheel out of the barn," for a +barn went with the house Mr. Matson had rented. + +A little later the lad was speeding down the country road that pleasant +spring afternoon. Joe was a good rider and was using considerable +strength on the pedals when suddenly, as he turned a sharp curve, he saw +coming toward him another cyclist. He had barely time to note that it +was Sam Morton, the pitcher of the Silver Stars, and to utter a warning +shout when he crashed full into the other lad. + +In a moment there was a mix-up of wheels, legs and arms, while a cloud +of dust momentarily hid everything from sight. At first Joe did not know +whether or not he was hurt, or whether Sam was injured. Fortunately Joe +had instinctively put on the brake with all his strength, and he +supposed the other lad had done likewise. + +Then, as the dust cleared away, and Joe began to pull his arms and legs +out of the tangle, and arise, he saw that Sam was doing the same thing. + +"Hope you're not hurt much!" was Joe's first greeting. + +"Humph! It isn't your fault if I'm not," was the ungracious answer, as +Sam felt of his pitching arm. "What do you mean by crashing into a +fellow that way for, anyhow?" + +"I didn't mean to. I didn't know that curve was so sharp. I'd never +ridden on this road before." + +"Well, why didn't you blow your horn or ring your bell or--or +something?" + +"Why didn't you?" demanded Joe with equal right. + +"Never mind. Don't give me any of your talk. You're one of the fresh +juniors at school, aren't you?" + +"I don't know that I'm 'fresh,'" replied Joe quietly, "but I am a +junior. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I couldn't help it." + +"Yes you could, if you knew anything about riding a wheel." + +"I tell you I couldn't," and Joe spoke a bit sharply. "I was into you +before I knew it. And besides, you ran into me as much as I did into +you." + +"I did not. If you don't know enough to ride a wheel, keep off the +roads!" snarled the pitcher. "If I'm stiff for Saturday's game it will +be your fault." + +"I hope you won't be stiff," spoke Joe, and he said it sincerely. + +"And if my wheel is broken you'll have to pay for it," went on Sam. + +"I don't think that's right," said Joe firmly. "It was as much your +fault as mine, and my wheel may be broken too. I'm going to look," he +added as he lifted his bicycle from where it was entangled with Sam's. + +A bent pedal, which would not interfere with its use, was all the damage +Joe's wheel had sustained and beyond a few bent spokes and a punctured +tire Sam's seemed to have suffered no great harm. + +"I'll help you straighten those spokes," said Joe cheerfully. "It won't +take but a minute. I can have my father straighten my pedal at the +factory. And I'll help you mend and pump up your tire. I'm sorry----" + +"Look here!" burst out Sam in a rage, "I don't want any of your help. +You're too fresh. You come banging into a fellow, knocking him all over +and then you think you can square things by offering to help him. I +don't want any of your help!" + +"Oh, very well," replied Joe quietly. "Then I'll be going on. I've got +an errand to do. But I'd like to help you." + +"Mind your own business!" snapped Sam, still rubbing his pitching arm. +He made no motion to pick up his wheel. + +Joe was half minded to make an angry retort but he thought better of it. +He wheeled his bicycle to the hard side-path of the road, and, +ascertaining that his letter was safe, prepared to mount and ride away. + +"And mind you, if my arm is stiff, and I can't pitch Saturday it will be +your fault, and I'll tell the fellows so," called Sam as he leaned over +to pick up his wheel. + +"All right, only you know it isn't so," replied Joe quietly. + +As he pedaled on he looked back and saw Sam straightening some of the +bent spokes. The pitcher scowled at him. + +"Hum," mused Joe as he speeded up. "Not a very good beginning for +getting on the nine--a run-in with the pitcher. Well, I guess I wouldn't +be in it anyhow. I guess they think I'm not in their class. But I will +be--some day!" and with a grim tightening of his lips Joe Matson rode +on. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +JOE HELPS THE MANAGER + + +"Well now, I'm real sorry," said Mrs. Holdney when, a little later, Joe +dismounted at her door, and held out the letter for her husband. "Rufus +isn't home. You can leave the letter for him, though." + +"No, I have to have an answer," replied Joe. "I think perhaps I'd better +wait." + +"Well, maybe you had, though I don't know when Rufus will be back. Is it +anything of importance?" + +"I guess it must be," spoke the lad, for, though he did not know the +contents of his father's letter, he reasoned that it would be on no +unimportant errand that he would be sent to Moorville. + +"Hum," mused Mrs. Holdney. "Well, if you want to wait all right, though +as I said I don't know when my husband will be back." + +"Do you know where he's gone? Could I go after him?" asked Joe eagerly. +He was anxious to deliver the letter, get an answer, and return home +before dark. + +"Well, now, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Mrs. Holdney. "Of course +you might do that. Rufus has gone down town, and most likely you'll find +him in the hardware store of Mr. Jackson. He said he had some business +to transact with him, and he'll likely be there for some time." + +"Then I'll ride down there on my wheel. I guess I can find the place. Is +it on the main street?" + +"Yes, turn off this road when you get to the big granite horse-drinking +trough and swing in to your right. Then turn to your left when you get +to the post-office and that's Main Street. Mr. Jackson's store is about +a block in." + +The lad repeated the woman's directions over in his mind as he rode +along, and he had no difficulty in picking out the hardware store. He +was wondering how he would know Mr. Holdney, but concluded that one of +the clerks could point him out. + +"Yes, Mr. Holdney is here," said a man behind the counter to whom Joe +applied. "He's in the office with Mr. Jackson." + +"I wonder if I could send a letter in to him," ventured the lad, for he +did not want to wait any longer than he had to. + +"I'm afraid not," answered the clerk. "Mr. Jackson is very strict about +being disturbed when he's talking business." + +"Then I guess I'll have to wait," said Joe with a sigh. "I wonder if +he'll be in there long?" + +"I wouldn't want to say for sure," spoke the clerk, leaning over the +counter in a confidential manner and speaking in a whisper. "I wouldn't +even dare to guess," he went on with a look toward the private office +whence came the murmur of voices, "but I'll venture to state that it +will be some time. Mr. Jackson never does anything in a hurry." + +"Does Mr. Holdney?" + +"Yes, he's just the opposite. He's as quick as a steel trap. Too quick, +that's the trouble. He and Mr. Jackson are good friends, but when Mr. +Holdney springs something sudden on my boss, why Mr. Jackson is slower +than ever, thinking it over. I guess you'll have to wait some time. Is +there anything you'd like to buy?" + +"No, I think not," said Joe with a smile, and then he sat down on one of +the stools near the counter while the clerk went off to wait on a +customer. The lad was getting impatient after nearly an hour had passed +and there was no sign of Mr. Holdney coming out. The murmur of voices +continued to come from the private office--one voice quick and snappy, +and the other slow and drawling--an indication of the character of the +two men. + +"I wish they'd hurry!" thought Joe. He began to pace back and forth the +length of the store, and he was just thinking he would have to ride home +in the darkness, and was wondering whether there was oil in his bicycle +lamp, when the door of the private office opened and two men came out. + +"Thank goodness!" exclaimed Joe to himself. The men were still talking, +but Joe concluded that their business was about over so he chanced going +up to them. + +"Excuse me," he said, "but I have a letter for Mr. Holdney. It's from my +father, Mr. Matson." + +"Eh, what's--that--son?" asked the older of the two men, in drawling +tones. + +"It's for me. I'm Mr. Holdney!" exclaimed the other quickly. "From Mr. +Matson, eh? Well tell him I can't help him any more. I haven't any +spare--but wait a minute, I'll write my answer." + +"Hadn't--you--better--read--the--letter--first," mildly and slowly +suggested Mr. Jackson. + +"Humph! I know what it is all right!" exclaimed the other quickly. "But +I'll read it. Let's have it!" He almost snapped it from the lad's hand +and Joe wondered what could be the business relations between his father +and this man. + +With a flourish and a quick motion Mr. Holdney tore open the envelope +and read the letter almost at a glance. + +"Hum!" he exclaimed. "Just as I expected. No, I'm done with that +business. I can't do any more. You may tell your father--hold on, +though, I'll write it," and, whipping out a lead pencil Mr. Holdney +scribbled something on the back of Mr. Matson's note. + +"So you're John Matson's son; eh?" he asked of Joe. + +"Yes, sir." + +"Hum! Go to school?" + +"Yes, the Riverside High." + +"Hum! Ever invent anything?" + +"No, not yet," answered Joe with a smile. + +"That's right--never do it. It's a poor business. Play ball?" + +"I did in Bentville where we lived, but I haven't had a chance here +yet." + +"Hum! Yes, Bentville. That's where I met your father. Here's the +answer. There you are. Now don't lose it," and quickly handing the +communication to Joe, Mr. Holdney turned and resumed his talk with the +hardware merchant. + +Joe was a little dazed by the quickness of it all, and there were many +questions running through his mind. Somehow the manner of Mr. +Holdney--the message he had started to ask Joe to deliver by word of +mouth, his apparent refusal of something Mr. Matson had evidently asked +him to do--all made Joe vaguely uneasy. He connected it with his +father's nervousness the night before and with his mother's anxiety. + +"But there's no use worrying until I have to," concluded Joe with a +boy's philosophy as he left the hardware store, and truth to tell, he +was thinking more of his chances of going to boarding school in the fall +perhaps, and whether or not he would get an opportunity to play ball, +than he was of any possible trouble. + +On leaving the hardware store Joe was surprised to find it growing dusk. +Gathering clouds added to the gloom and he made up his mind that the +last part of his homeward journey would be made in darkness. + +"Guess I'll see if I have any oil in the lamp," he remarked as he was +about to mount his wheel. "If I haven't I can get some here." But he +found, on shaking the lantern, that it was filled enough to carry him to +Riverside, and he was soon pedaling along that country road. + +The clouds continued to gather, and as the journey back was partly up +hill, and as the bent pedal did not permit of fast riding, Joe soon +found it necessary to alight and set the lamp aglow. + +He was riding on, looking carefully ahead of him, to avoid stones and +ruts that the gleam of light revealed, when, as he came to rather a +lonely spot on the road, he heard, just ahead of him, a commotion. + +There was a sound of carriage wheels scraping on the iron body guards, +the tramping of a horse's feet, and then a voice called out: + +"Whoa now! Stand still, can't you, until I see what's the matter? Whoa! +Something's broken, that's evident, worse luck! And I'm two miles from +nowhere. Whoa, now!" + +"Where have I heard that voice before?" mused Joe as he rode more slowly +so as not to have another collision in the darkness. + +He could hear some one jump to the ground and then the restless horse +quieted down under the soothing words of the driver. + +"Yes, it's broken all right," the voice went on. "And how in the +mischief am I going to mend it? Whoa, now!" + +Then Joe rode up, and in the glow of his light he saw Darrell Blackney, +the manager of the Silver Stars, who was standing beside a carriage one +side of the shafts of which hung down from the axle. The bolt had +evidently broken. + +"What's the matter?" asked Joe, dismounting. + +"Who's that?" quickly asked Darrell. + +"I'm Joe Matson," was the answer. "I know you. I'm in the junior high +class." + +"Oh, yes. Matson, I think I heard Tom Davis speak of you. Well, I've had +an accident. I was out driving when all at once one side of the shafts +fell down. It's a bad break I'm afraid; bolt sheared off." + +"It's a wonder your horse didn't run away." + +"Oh, Prince is pretty steady; aren't you Prince old fellow?" and Darrell +patted the animal's nose. "But what the mischief am I to do? It's too +far to go to the next town and leave Prince here, and I can't ride him, +for he isn't used to it and might throw me off." + +"Can I help you?" asked Joe. "I might ride to the nearest place and get +a bolt, if you told me what kind." + +"All the places would be closed by this time I guess," was the rueful +answer. "Much obliged to you just the same. I certainly am in a pickle! +Next time I go out driving I'll bring part of a hardware store along." + +"What sort of a bolt is it?" asked Joe. + +"Oh, just an ordinary carriage one, flat headed. Bring your light here, +if you don't mind, and I'll take a look at it. I could only tell it was +broken by feeling in the dark." + +In the glow of the bicycle lamp it could be seen that the bolt had +broken squarely in two in the middle, and could not be used again. But +at the sight of it, as Darrell held the two parts in his hand, Joe +uttered an exclamation. + +"What's the matter?" asked the manager of the Silver Stars. + +"I think I have the very thing!" said Joe quickly. "I've got some spare +bolts in my tool bag. They may not be the same size, but they'll hold +the shaft in until you get home I think. I'll take a look." + +"Good for you!" cried Darrell. "Most anything will do in a pinch. Even a +piece of wire, but I can't find any along the road in the dark. I hope +you have something," and while Joe opened his tool bag Darrell patted +the somewhat restive horse. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +JOE HAS HOPES + + +"Yes, here's the very thing, I guess!" said Joe, after rummaging about +in his leather tool case. He produced a short but heavy bolt with a nut. + +"It isn't exactly the same thing," remarked Darrell, after looking at it +carefully, "but it will do, if it's long enough. Would you mind holding +Prince's head while I try it? He might start up, just as I got the shaft +in place, and hurt my fingers, if he didn't make me drop the bolt. Then +we'd have a sweet time hunting for it in the dark." + +Joe went to the animal's head and patted the cold, velvety nose while +the other lad lifted up the dropped shaft and fitted it in place. He was +fumbling about in the flickering light of the bicycle lantern which he +had temporarily fastened to the dashboard. + +"Will it do?" asked Joe. + +"Yes, it's just the cheese. Lucky I met you, or, rather that you met me, +or I don't know what I would have done. The bolt is just long enough. +Now if I can get the nut on----" + +"There's a wrench in my tool bag," interrupted Joe. "Shall I get it for +you?" + +"No, thanks, you stay by Prince. I can find it. You haven't been in town +long, have you?" asked Darrell, as he was working away over the nut, +which was a little tight. + +"No, about a week. I was at the Resolute ball game though." + +"You were? It was a shame it broke up the way it did, but I don't think +it was our fault, though Sam Morton is pretty quick tempered." + +Joe had good reason to know that. + +"No," he answered from the darkness near the horse's head, "it was the +fault of the Resolutes all right. They ought to have been satisfied +after pulling the game out of the fire the way they did." + +"I should say so! They never ought to have won it, and they wouldn't +have, only Sam sort of--well they got his 'goat' I guess." + +"Yes," assented Joe, while Darrell went on fumbling with the wrench and +nut. + +"Do you play at all?" came the manager's voice from the vicinity of the +flickering light. + +"Oh, yes," and Joe's tone was eager while his heart was strangely +beating. It was a chance he had never dared hope for, to have the +manager of the Silver Stars ask him that. + +"Where?" came the next inquiry. + +"In Bentville, where I used to live." + +"Oh. Have a good team?" + +"Pretty fair." + +"Where'd you play?" + +"I used to pitch." There was a pause and then, emboldened by what had +happened, Joe went on. "I don't suppose there's a vacancy in your nine, +is there?" and he laughed half whimsically. + +"No, hardly, that is, not in the box," said Darrell slowly. "Sam has his +faults, but he's the best pitcher we've had in a long time and I guess +we'll keep him. There, that's fixed," he went on, tapping the bolt to +see that it was firmly in place. "Now I can go on, I guess. I'm a +thousand times obliged to you. I don't know what I'd have done only for +you. After this I'm going to carry a light, and some spare bolts." + +He handed Joe back the wrench and took the lamp off the dashboard. + +"I'll give you a bolt in place of this the next time I see you," the +manager went on, as he held the lamp out to our hero. + +"Oh, it isn't necessary. I don't need it for my wheel. It was just one +of some odds and ends that I carry with me." + +Darrell stood looking at Joe, whose face was illuminated brightly by the +full focus of the lamp. The manager seemed struck by something. + +"I say!" he exclaimed, "you look as if you were built to play ball. Were +you at it long?" + +"Oh, a couple of years." + +"Pitch all that time?" + +"Oh, no, only just the last few months of the season. Our regular +pitcher left and I filled in." + +"I see. Hum, well, as I said we haven't any vacancy in the box, but by +Jove! come to think of it I might give you a chance!" + +Joe's heart leaped wildly and he could hardly answer. + +"Can you, really?" he asked. + +"Yes, but not as a regular, of course--at least that is not right off +the bat. But if you'd like to try for place at centre field I believe I +can manage it." + +Joe's heart was a little despondent. Centre field was not a very +brilliant place in which to shine with the Stars, but it was a start and +he realized that. + +"I'd be glad of the chance," he managed to say. + +"All right, I'll keep you in mind. You see our regular centre fielder, +Jed McGraw, is going to leave. His folks are moving out west and we'll +have to have some one in his place. I don't know when he's going, but +it's this week or next. I'd like to do something for you, to sort of pay +you for what you did for me to-night, and----" + +"Oh, I don't want anything for this!" exclaimed Joe. + +"I know you don't, but it just happened so. I might not have known you +except for this accident, and as I said we will need some one to fill in +at centre field. Len Oswald is the regular substitute, but he doesn't +practice much, and he's got a job over at Fordham so he can't always be +sure of getting off Saturday afternoons, which is when we mostly play. +So I'll put you down as sub now and perhaps as regular--it depends on +Len." + +"Thanks!" Joe managed to say and he found himself hoping that Len would +have to work every Saturday during the season. + +"We need some one with experience," went on Darrell, "and I'm glad I +could give you the chance. Tom Davis was saying you got mixed up in the +row the other day." + +"Yes. I seem to be getting the habit," replied Joe with a laugh. "I had +one with Sam Morton on this road a little while ago." + +"You don't say so! How did it happen?" + +Joe gave all the details. + +"Hum! Well, Sam sure has a quick temper," went on the young manager. +"But he's all right soon after it," he added in extenuation. "He'll be +friendly with you in a few days and forget all about it. I wouldn't hold +a grudge against him, if I were you." + +"Oh, I shan't. It was both our faults." + +"Well, I'll be getting on," remarked Darrell, after a pause. "Come and +see me sometime. I'll see you at school to-morrow, and if there's +anything doing I'll let you know." + +The two boys' hands met in a friendly clasp and then the manager, +getting into his carriage, drove off. A little later, his heart filled +with hope, Joe, having put back his lantern and tool bag pedaled toward +home. + +"This was a lucky day for me, even if it did look bad after that crash +with Sam Morton," he said to himself. "I'm going to play ball, after +all!" + +There was rather a grave look on Mr. Matson's face when Joe handed him +the reply from Mr. Holdney, and told of his interview. + +"So he can't help me--Oh, well, never mind," and Mr. Matson turned aside +and went into the room where he kept a desk. Mrs. Matson followed, +closing the door after her, and for some time the voices of the two +could be heard in low but earnest conversation. + +"What's the matter; nothing wrong I hope?" asked Clara. + +"Oh, I guess not," answered Joe, though he was vaguely uneasy himself. +Then came the thought of his talk with the baseball manager and his +heart was light again. + +Supper was rather a quiet affair that night, and Mr. Matson spoke but +little, quite in contrast to his usual cheerful flow of conversation. +Mrs. Matson, too, seemed preoccupied. + +"I think I'm going to get on the Stars!" exclaimed Joe, when he got a +chance to tell of his experiences that day. + +"That's good," said Mr. Matson heartily. "There's no game like +baseball." + +"But it doesn't fit a boy for anything," complained Mrs. Matson. "It +doesn't help in any of the professions." + +"It's a profession in itself!" declared Joe stoutly. + +"I hope you don't intend to adopt it," spoke his sister. + +"Oh, I don't know. I might do worse. Look at some of those big New York +players getting thousands of dollars a year." + +"But look how long it takes them to get to that place," objected Clara, +who liked to argue. + +"Oh, well, I'm young yet," laughed Joe. + +In his room that night, while preparing for bed Joe got to thinking of +the possibility mentioned by Darrell Blackney. + +"I'm going to play my head off in centre field," said Joe, "and I'm +going to practice batting, too. Stick work counts. I'm going to practice +pitching, also. Who knows, maybe I'll get a chance in the box if Sam +ever slumps. + +"Wow! If I ever do!" and standing before an imaginary batter Joe flung +out his arm as if delivering a swift curve. With a crash his fist hit a +picture on the wall and brought it clattering down to the floor. + +"What's that?" called Clara sharply from the next room. + +"Oh, I was just practicing pitching," answered Joe sheepishly, as he +picked up the picture, the glass of which had fortunately not broken. + +"Well, you'd better practice going to sleep," responded his sister with +a laugh. + +Joe smiled. He had great hopes for the future. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +LAUGHED AT + + +"What's that in your pocket, Joe?" + +"Which pocket?" + +"Your coat. I declare, you've got something in both pockets," and Clara +approached her brother as if with the intention of making a personal +inspection of two big bulges on either side of his coat. "What are +they?" she persisted, as Joe backed away. Brother and sister had just +gotten up from the breakfast table, and were about to start to school. + +"Oh, never mind!" exclaimed Joe hastily, as he looked for his cap. "Got +your lessons, Clara?" + +"Of course I have. But I'm curious to know what makes your pockets bulge +out so. Don't you know it will spoil your coat?" + +"I don't care," and Joe made another hasty move to get out of reach of +Clara's outstretched hand. But he was not successful, and, with a laugh, +his sister caught hold of the bulging pocket on his left side. + +"A ball!" she declared. "A baseball upon my word! Two of them! Oh, Joe, +are you really going to play on the nine Saturday?" + +"I don't know. Maybe I'll get a chance if Jed McGraw leaves in time. But +I'm taking a couple of old balls to practice throwing this afternoon +when I come from school." + +"You're starting in early," commented Clara. "I hope you don't sleep +with a baseball under your pillow the way we girls do with pieces of +wedding cake," and she laughed merrily. + +"I'd be willing to sleep with a ball and a bat under my pillow if I +thought I'd get in the game by it," admitted Joe frankly. "But I'm not +hoping too much. Well, I'm going. Good-bye momsey," and he stopped to +kiss his mother before he hastened away to school. He looked at her +closely to discover whether there was any trace of worry, but she smiled +at him. + +"I may not be home early," he told her. "I'm going down to the +fairgrounds." + +"What for?" she asked quickly. "There isn't a show there, is there?" + +"No, but I want to do a little baseball practicing, and that place is +well out of the way." + +"Baseball practice on the fairgrounds. How----" + +But she did not wait to finish her question for she exclaimed: + +"My cake is burning in the oven. Good-bye, Joe!" and she ran to the +kitchen. + +"I wonder what Sam Morton will say?" Joe reflected as he walked along. +"I certainly hope his arm isn't lame, even if it was as much his fault +as mine. I don't want him to tell the fellows I'm to blame for him +losing a game--if he should." + +Fearing that the same thing might happen to him as when Clara laughed at +him for having the two baseballs in his pockets, Joe slipped to his desk +as soon as he reached the school, and hid the balls away back among his +books. The balls were two old ones he had used when on the Bentville +nine, and they were still in fair condition. + +"I'm not going to let the fellows get on to the fact that I'm +practicing, until there's more of a chance for me than there is now," +thought our hero, as he went out on the school grounds to watch the lads +at play. + +An impromptu game was going on, but Joe did not join. Darrell Blackney +passed him, and in answer to Joe's nod of greeting asked: + +"Did you get home all right?" + +"Oh, yes. How about you?" + +"Fine. The bolt was all right. I haven't forgotten. I'll see McGraw +to-day and find out when he's going to leave. Then if Oswald can't say +for sure whether he'll be with us, you'll go in at centre field." + +"Good!" exclaimed Joe, his eyes bright with anticipation. + +As Darrell passed on, Joe saw Sam Morton approaching. At first he had a +notion of turning away and avoiding what he felt would be an unpleasant +scene. But Joe was nothing of a coward and he realized that, sooner or +later, he would have to meet the pitcher with whom he had had the +collision. So he stood his ground. + +"How's your arm?" he asked pleasantly, as Sam approached. + +"Hu! None the better for what you did to it." + +"What _I_ did?" and Joe's voice took on a surprised tone. "Do you still +insist it was my fault?" + +"Pretty near," went on Sam, but Joe noticed that he was not quite so +vindictive as before. "It isn't as stiff as I thought it would be, +though." + +"I hope you can pitch all right Saturday," went on Joe. He wanted very +much to hint at the fact that he, too, might be in the game, but Sam was +not a lad to invite confidences, especially after what had taken place. +Joe liked comradeship. He liked the company of boys of his own age and +he was just "hungry" to talk baseball. But, aside from Tom Davis, as +yet he had no chums with whom he could gossip about the great pastime. + +In Bentville he was looked up to as one of the nine, and, though the +team was not as good a one as was the Silver Stars, still it was a team, +and Joe was one of the principal players. Coming to a strange town, and +being distinctly out of the game, made him feel like a "cat in a strange +garret," as he said afterward. + +But with a grim tightening of his lips he made up his mind not to give +way to gloomy thoughts, and he determined that he would be on the town +team and one of the best players. + +As the warning bell rang, Tom Davis came hurrying across the school +campus. + +"I called for you!" he shouted to Joe who, with a crowd of other lads, +was going in the building, "but you'd gone." + +"Thanks," replied Joe, grateful for the friendly spirit shown. "I'll +wait next time." He liked Tom, and was glad to have him for a chum. + +Joe thought lessons would never be finished that day, but the classes +were finally dismissed and then, without waiting for Tom, though he +thought this might be construed as rather unfriendly, our hero hastened +off in the direction of the fairgrounds. There was a high wooden fence +around this plot, and it gave Joe just the chance he wanted, for he was +going to practice pitching, and he didn't want any witnesses. + +"I wish I had half a dozen balls," he murmured as he went in through one +of the gates which was unlocked. "I wouldn't have to chase back and +forth so often. But two will do for a while." + +He laid his books down on the grass, took out the horsehide spheres and, +measuring a distance from the fence about equal to the space from the +pitcher's box to home plate, he began to pitch the balls. + +With dull thuds the balls struck the fence, one after the other, and +fell to the ground. Joe picked them up, took his place again in the +imaginary box, and repeated the performance. + +His arm, that was a bit stiff at first, from lack of practice since +coming to Riverside, gradually became limber. He knew that his speed, +too, was increasing. He could not judge of his curves, and, truth to +tell he did not have very good ones as yet, for he had only recently +learned the knack. But he had the right ideas and a veteran professional +pitcher, who was a friend of one of the Bentville nine's members, had +showed Joe the proper manner to hold and deliver the ball. + +"I wish I had some one back there to give me a line on myself," thought +Joe, as he pitched away, a solitary figure on the grounds. "I don't know +whether I'm getting them over the plate, or a mile beyond," for he had +laid down a flat stone to serve as "home." + +"Anyhow this will improve my speed," he reasoned, "and speed is needed +now-a-days as much as curves." + +Time and again he pitched his two horsehides, ran to pick them up as +they dropped at the foot of the fence, and then he raced back to his +"box" to repeat the performance. He was rather tiring of it, and his arm +was beginning to feel numb in spite of his enthusiasm, when he heard +some one laughing. The sound came from behind him, and, turning quickly, +Joe saw Sam Morton standing leaning up against his wheel, and +contemplating him with mirth showing on his face. + +"Well, well!" exclaimed Sam. "This is pretty good. What are you trying +to do, Matson, knock the fence down? If you are, why don't you take a +hammer or some stones instead of baseballs? This is rich! Ha! Ha!" + +For a moment Joe was tempted to make an angry answer, for the hot blood +of shame mounted to his cheeks. Then he said quietly, and with as much +good-nature as he could summon on the spur of the moment: + +"I'm practicing, that's all. I came here as I didn't want to lose the +balls, and the fence makes a good backstop." + +"Practicing, eh? What for?" and once more Sam laughed in an insulting +manner. + +"To improve my pitching. There may be a chance to get on the team, I +understand." + +"What team; the Silver Stars?" + +Sam's voice had a harsh note in it. + +"Yes." And Joe nodded. + +"So you're practicing pitching, eh? And you hope to get on our nine. +Well let me tell you one thing, Matson; you won't pitch on the Silver +Stars as long as I'm on deck, and I intend to remain for quite a while +yet. Pitching practice, eh? Ho! That's pretty good! What you'd better +practice is running bases. We may let you run for some of the fellows, +if you're real good. Or how would you like to carry the bats or be the +water boy? I understand there's a vacancy there. Pitcher! Ha! Ha!" and +Sam doubled up in mirth. Joe's face flushed, but he said nothing. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A MEAN PROTEST + + +Finally Sam ceased his laughter, straightened up and prepared to ride +out of the fairgrounds on his wheel. + +"I was just going past," he said, in needless explanation, "when I heard +something banging against the fence. First I thought it might be one of +the cattle left over from the last show, but when I saw it was you, +Matson--Oh, my! It's too rich! I'll have to tell the boys." + +"Look here!" exclaimed Joe, who disliked as much as any one being +laughed at, "what have you got against me, anyhow? Are you afraid I'll +displace you as pitcher?" + +"What's that? Not much. You couldn't do that you know," and Sam laughed +again. + +"Then what do you want to be so mean for?" asked Joe. + +"None of your business, if you want to know," snapped Sam. "But if you +think you're going to get on our team you've got another think coming. +Look out, now, don't break the fence with those balls, or the fair +committee might make you pay for it," and with this parting insult Sam +rode out of the grounds. + +Joe's heart was beating fast, and he clenched his hands. He would liked +to have gone after Sam and given him a well deserved thrashing, but he +knew that would never do. + +"I've just got to grin and bear it!" murmured Joe through his clenched +teeth. "If the fellows laugh at me I'll have to let 'em laugh. After all +I can stand it, and I _do_ want to get on the team. + +"Queer why Sam Morton should be so down on me. I don't see his reason +unless it's jealousy, or because he's mad at me for running into him. +Maybe it's both. + +"Well, there's no use practicing any longer. My arm is tired, and +besides he might be hiding behind the fence to laugh some more. I'll +have to find a different place if I want to practice getting up my speed +and curves." + +Picking up the balls and his books Joe slowly made his way out of the +grounds. Sam Morton was nowhere in sight, for which the young ball +player was glad. + +"Maybe this will end it," thought Joe. "He just wanted to amuse himself +at my expense." But our hero was soon to find that the vindictive +spirit of the pitcher was not quelled. + +"Coming out to see us practice this afternoon?" asked Tom Davis of Joe +several days later. "We're getting ready to play the Red Stockings of +Rutherford, Saturday." + +"Sure I'll come," answered Joe. "Will it be a good game?" + +"It ought to. The Red Stockings used to have a good nine but they struck +a slump and lately we've been beating them. But I hear they have a new +pitcher and they may make it hard for us. Say, what's this yarn Sam is +telling about you practicing down on the fairgrounds." + +"Oh, it's true enough," answered Joe with a flush. "I thought I'd get up +some speed. I've got a chance to get on the nine." + +"Is that so; I hadn't heard it. Gee! I hope you do. How you going to +manage it?" + +"Well, I don't know as Darrell wants it known," was the answer, "but +I'll tell you," and Joe proceeded to relate his talk with the manager, +about the prospective leaving of McGraw. + +"That's so, Jed is going away," admitted Tom. "I had forgotten about +that. Say, I hope he leaves before Saturday and then you can get a +chance to play." + +"What about Len Oswald, the substitute centre fielder?" + +"Oh, Len is practically out of it. He can't get off Saturday afternoons +any more. Too much business in that Fordham grocery where he works. +That's a good thing for you. I'm real glad of it, Joe. But say, if you +want to practice pitching, why didn't you ask me to catch for you?" + +"I didn't want to bother you?" + +"Aw, get out. I'd be glad to do it. Next time you want to try it tip me +off and we'll go some place where Sam can't bother us. He's a mean chap +sometimes. I don't like him, but some of the fellows think he's all +there. He sure can pitch, and I guess that's why we keep him. But come +on, let's go to practice. There may be a scrub game and you can get in +on it." + +Joe and Tom found quite a crowd assembled on the Riverside diamond when +they arrived. The nine and the substitutes were in uniforms, and Darrell +Blackney and George Rankin were talking to the team, giving them some +points about the coming game with the Red Stockings. + +"I guess we've got enough for a scrub game," announced the captain, as +Joe and Tom strolled up. "Tom, you play first on the scrub. And let's +see--what's your name?" and he turned to Joe, who introduced himself. + +"He's a friend of mine," added Tom, "so treat him right." + +"Good!" exclaimed the captain. "Well, he can play on the scrub if he +wants to. Out in the field," he added. + +"Oh, yes, that's Matson, whom I was telling you about," put in the +manager, and then he added something in a low voice which Joe could not +catch. + +"Play ball!" called the umpire, and the impromptu contest was underway. +Joe narrowly watched Sam's pitching and even though he regarded the lad +as unfriendly to him, our hero could not but admit that his rival in the +box was doing good work. + +"But I think I can equal him if I have a chance," thought Joe, and he +was not given to idle boasting, either. "Oh, if I only get the chance!" +he exclaimed in a whisper. + +Then a high fly came his way and he had to get down to business and stop +his day-dreaming. He ran back to get under the ball, and made a pretty +one-handed catch. There was some applause from the little group of +spectators. + +"Good eye!" yelled Tom Davis. + +"That's the stuff!" cried some one else, and Joe felt a warm thrill of +pleasure as he threw the ball in. + +Of course the first team won, for the scrub was composed of odds and +ends, with some substitutes from the Silver Stars, but Joe had done his +best to hold down the score. + +"Good work, Matson," complimented Darrell, when the contest was over. +"By the way, I've about decided in your case. You can get ready to play +centre field Saturday. McGraw can't be with us, and we can't count on +Oswald. Have you a uniform?" + +"Yes," said Joe eagerly. + +"A uniform; what for?" asked Sam Morton quickly. He had come up behind +Joe and Darrell, and had heard the last part of the conversation. + +"Oh, I forgot to tell you fellows that Matson is our new member of the +team," went on the manager. "Shake hands with him, boys. I've been +watching him play to-day and I think with a little practice he'll make +good." + +"Where's he going to play?" demanded Sam roughly, while the lads crowded +around Joe, congratulating him, asking him questions as to where he had +played ball before, and shaking hands with him. "Where's he going to +play?" and Sam pointed what seemed like an accusing finger at Joe. + +"Centre field--McGraw's place," answered the manager briefly. + +"Regular or substitute?" demanded Sam. + +"Practically a regular," replied Darrell. "We can't count on Oswald any +more, now that his busy season has begun." + +Every member of the Silver Stars save Sam had shaken hands with Joe. The +pitcher now stood facing our hero. + +"I want to protest!" suddenly exclaimed Sam, looking Joe full in the +face. + +"Why?" asked Darrell. + +"What business is it of yours, anyhow, Sam?" asked the captain. "Darrell +and I have settled this. Matson plays." + +"Then I want my protest noted!" went on Sam angrily. "We're supposed to +be a local team--every one on it belongs in town." + +"So does Joe Matson!" broke in Tom Davis. + +"Well, he's only just moved in, and how do we know but what he'll move +out again?" demanded Sam. "I protest against him being a regular, or +even a substitute, member of the Silver Stars!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +JOE IN THE GAME + + +There was a period of silence following Sam's unfair protest. Then could +be heard a low murmur from some of his mates. + +"Oh, what's eating him, anyhow?" + +"What's he got against Matson?" + +"Something has Sam by the ear all right." + +"Yes, guess he didn't like the way the scrub batted him around." + +These were some of the comments made, not loud enough for Sam to hear, +for he was a power in the nine, and none of the lads wanted to get on +bad terms with him. + +For a moment all eyes were turned on Sam and then toward Joe who, it can +easily be imagined, was much embarrassed. + +"I don't think your protest is a fair one," said Darrell at length. + +"I don't think so either," added Captain George Rankin. "Just because +Matson is a newcomer in town is no reason why he can't play with us." + +"Sure, that's right!" put in Seth Potter. "You weren't born here +yourself, Sam, and neither were lots of us. We moved here." + +"I've lived in Riverside nearly all my life," snapped the pitcher, "and +I like to see a representative team. If we need a new member why not +pick one who has been living here longer than a couple of weeks?" + +"Look here!" exclaimed Darrell. "I don't think this is fair to me." + +"How do you mean?" asked Sam, for the manager had spoken with some +warmth. + +"Just this much. You elected me manager and the captain and I were to +select the players. Now, when we make our choice, there comes a kick. It +isn't right. Rankin and I decided to give Matson a chance, and he gets +it. That goes, too!" and the manager looked straight at Sam. + +"Oh, well, if you put it that way I suppose I might as well keep still +about it," and Sam, shrugging his shoulders, turned away. He had not yet +shaken hands with Joe. + +"As for there being other players just as good and who have lived here +longer, that may be true," went on Darrell. "I'm not saying Matson is +the only fellow I could pick for centre field, and I'm not saying +anything against any of the fellows on the scrub when I don't take them. +We want the best team we can get to represent the Silver Stars and +Matson is my choice for the place. If you want to go over my head----" + +"No! No!" came a chorus of objections. "It's all right!" + +"Then Matson plays Saturday," concluded the manager. "All of you be out +for practice to-morrow afternoon again. Matson, report in uniform." + +"All right," and Joe's heart was fairly thumping under his coat. The +chance he had longed for had come at last. + +As Sam was walking away Joe resolved on a bold stroke, rather a +grandstand play as he confessed to himself afterward, but he could not +forego it. Striding up to the disgruntled pitcher Joe held out his hand +and asked: + +"Won't you shake?" + +Sam turned and faced him. For several seconds he stood staring Joe +straight in the eyes while the crowd of boys looked on. Then with a +sneer, and ignoring the proffered hand, Sam said: + +"I prefer to pick my own friends. I don't want them made for me." + +He turned on his heel and walked off. + +There was another period of silence like that following his protest. +Then some one said: + +"Well, I'm glad I haven't got _his_ disposition." + +"What's that?" cried Sam angrily, and turning back he seemed about to +rush at the throng he faced. + +"There now, that'll do!" exclaimed Darrell, who was anxious to avoid a +scene. "Forget it, fellows. Sam, you get your arm good and limber for +Saturday. We want to beat the Red Stockings by a big score to make up +for what the Resolutes did to us last Saturday. I'm going to arrange for +another game with them soon, and maybe we can turn the tables." + +"Sure we can!" cried several. + +"So limber up, Sam," the manager went on, "and have your arm in good +shape." + +"It will be in bad shape if I get run down by any more amateur +cyclists," sneered Sam as he looked meaningly at Joe, but no one made +any further reference to the recent collision. + +At practice the next day Joe took his place with the regular Silver Star +team, and he showed up well in the impromptu contest against the scrubs. +He made several good catches, and though his stick work might have been +improved, still it was pretty good, for the scrub pitcher was not to be +despised. + +"I guess you'll do," complimented Darrell, at the close of the contest. +"Keep it up, don't get rattled, and you'll be all right. I can see +you've played before." + +"I guess I've got lots to learn yet," admitted Joe cheerfully. + +"Oh, we all have," assented the manager with a laugh. + +On the Saturday of the game with the Red Stockings, Joe was up early. He +had overhauled his old uniform and gotten Clara to put a few needed +stitches in it. He had it out on the clothes line in the back yard, +beating some of the dust and dirt from it to freshen it up, when Tom +hailed him from over the fence. + +"I say, Joe, what sort of a shirt have you got?" + +"Same one I used on the Bentville Boosters; that was the name of our +nine." + +"I see. A good name all right, but it will look funny to see that in +among the uniforms of the Silver Stars. Your stockings and pants will +do, but the shirt----" and Tom paused suggestively. + +"That's so," admitted Joe. "I didn't think about that. It's a different +color from yours, and I haven't time to get another." + +"Never mind!" called Tom. "I tell you what you can do. Use my shirt. +It's the regular Star one, with the name on." + +"Won't you want it?" + +"No, I don't think I'm going to get a chance to play. Darrell will +probably hold down first all through the game. If I have to go in I can +borrow some other fellow's. But I want you to look right from the +start." + +"Thanks," called Joe as Tom disappeared in the house to get his shirt. +It fitted Joe well, and he arranged to get his own in time for the next +game. + +"Say, there's a big crowd here all right!" exclaimed Joe, as he and Tom +neared the enclosed diamond that afternoon, and saw the stands well +filled. + +"Yes, so much the better. The Red Stockings always draw well. I hope we +beat. Do your prettiest." + +"Sure I will. There's Sam warming up." + +"Yes, I hope he doesn't go up in the air. Better hurry up and get in +practice." + +Joe ran out on the diamond, which was thronged with the home team and +visiting players. Balls were being caught and batted about, and the new +player was soon doing his share. + +"Now keep cool," Darrell advised him, "and above all don't have a row +with Sam. I can't understand why he has such a grudge against you, but +he has and there's no use letting it be known any more than it is." + +"I won't do or say anything if he doesn't," promised Joe. "But I'm not +going to let him knock me down and then wipe his feet on me." + +"Of course not. I'll see that he's decent, anyhow. Well, I guess it's +time we started. I see they have some new players. Maybe we won't beat +them as easily as I hoped." + +The practice balls were called in, players were selecting their sticks, +the batting order had been decided on, and the final arrangements made. + +"Play ball!" called the umpire, and the Silver Stars took the field. Joe +walked out to centre. His heart was beating high. It was his first +chance to show what he could do in a match game with his new team and he +wanted to make good. But oh! how he longed to be in the pitching box +occupied by Sam Morton! + +"Play ball!" called the umpire again, and Sam, "winding up," let fly a +swift white ball toward the expectant batter. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +A TIGHT CONTEST + + +"Strike one!" yelled the young umpire, as the ball landed with a +resounding thud in Bart Ferguson's big mitt. + +"That's the stuff!" called several in the crowd. + +"Send back the Reds with a whitewash brush," added another enthusiast. + +"I guess Sam's in form to-day," remarked Tom Davis to Rodney Burke near +whom he sat. Tom was not playing, for Darrell was holding down the +initial bag. + +"Wait a bit and see what happens along about the seventh inning," said +Rodney. "Sam generally falls down then if he's going to." + +"Well, I hope he doesn't, that's all," said Tom, and then he gave all +his attention to watching the game. + +"Ball one," was the next decision of the umpire. + +"Aw what's the matter with you?" cried Sam, starting toward home where +Bart stood holding the ball. "That clipped the plate as good as any one +would want. You'd better get a pair of glasses, Kern. You can't see +straight." + +"I can see as well as you!" retorted Frank Kern, the umpire. + +"It wasn't anywhere near over the plate," retorted Jack King, the +batter. + +"Aw, you don't know a good ball when you get one," snapped Sam. "I +guess----" + +"That'll do now!" called Darrell sharply from first. "This isn't a kid +game. Play ball. Don't be always kicking, Sam." + +"Who is always kicking?" demanded the pitcher, and it was evident to all +that he was in unusually bad temper. + +"I hope it isn't on my account," thought Joe who, from his position in +deep centre, was waiting for anything that might come his way. He had +been told to play far out, for King was known as a heavy hitter. + +Sam received the ball from Bart with a scowl and wound up for the next +delivery. Sam was a natural pitcher. That is, he had good control, as a +rule, and he made his shoulder and back do most of the work of the +pitching arm, as all professionals do. Still his unpleasant temper often +made his efforts go to waste. + +"Strike two!" called the umpire this time, and there was no doubt about +it for King had swung viciously at the ball. But Sam had sent in a +puzzling little drop, and the knowledge that he had fooled a good batter +brought a smile to his otherwise scowling face. + +"Here's where I get you!" he predicted. + +But alas for his hopes! The bat met the ball squarely and Sam had made +the mistake of sending a fast ball to a heavy hitter enabling King to +knock out a pretty three bagger. Far back as Joe had stationed himself +he was not far enough and he had to turn and run after the horsehide. +And how he did run! He was thinking desperately what would happen if he +missed it! He made up his mind that he would not, yet it was not within +the power of any one to get to the spot before the ball fell. + +Joe felt it graze the tips of his fingers as it rushed downward but that +was all. He heard himself groan involuntarily in anguish as the ball hit +the ground with a thud. He lost no time in idle regrets however, but +picked it up and made a throw to third in time to hold King there, for +the doughty player had a notion of continuing on home. + +"Good try old man!" yelled some spectators on the benches nearest Joe. +He felt that his effort was somewhat appreciated but he wondered what +Darrell would think of it. Sam was scowling again, whether at Joe's +perfectly natural miss, or the fact that he was hit for three bases was +impossible to guess. + +"Try for the next one," called Darrell cheerfully, and Sam did with such +success that Bigney, who was second up for the Red Stockings, only +pounded out a little drizzler that Sam quickly gathered in and threw to +first. King was still held on third. Smart fanned out, and then came +Steel, who, after knocking a couple of fouls, was fooled on a little +in-shoot which made three out, King dying on third and the side being +retired with no runs. + +"Oh, not so bad," said Sam as he walked in to the bench. + +"I guess we've got their number all right," assented Darrell. He saw Joe +coming in from centre and the manager stopped to speak to him. + +"Nobody could have gotten that ball," he said, for he realized that the +new player might blame himself unjustly. "I didn't think King had it in +him, or I'd have told you to play out to the limit. He won't get you +that way again." + +"I guess not!" exclaimed Joe heartily. + +The make up and batting order of the Silver Stars was the same as in +the game with the Resolutes save that Joe was in Jed McGraw's place, and +this brought him second to the bat. Potter was up first and managed to +get a single. + +"Now, bring him in," commanded Darrell with a smile at Joe, as the +latter picked out a bat. He was very nervous, as any lad would have +been, playing his first game with a new team. He did want to make good! + +"I'll try," he said simply. + +Painter, the Red Stocking pitcher, had no phenomenal speed and his +curves could not be depended on to break at the right places. Still he +was a good "bluffer" and he made many a batter think that he was getting +a very swift ball. Often it would look as though it was going to hit the +man at the plate and he would instinctively step back, disconcerting his +own aim. + +Joe let the first ball pass, and was somewhat surprised to have a strike +called on him. But he did not kick, for, as a matter of fact, the +horsehide had clipped the plate. + +"I'll get the next one," thought Joe grimly. Then Painter worked his +usual trick, of throwing a ball close in, and Joe bent his body like a +bow. + +"Strike two!" yelled the umpire and Joe felt a flash of anger. But he +said nothing, and when the next ball came he swung viciously at it. He +heard the heart-stirring ping! and, dropping his bat, he legged it for +first as Potter darted to second. + +But Joe had not hit the ball nearly as hard as he thought he had, and +the result was that the shortstop gathered it in, and, by a quick throw +to first, caught our hero there. + +"Quick, to second!" yelled the coacher, but Potter dropped and slid, +being counted safe. + +"One down, only two more!" yelled Murphy, captain and catcher of the +"Reds," as they were called for short. + +Joe felt his face burning with shame as he walked back to the bench. + +"Humph! I thought we were going to see some wonders!" murmured Sam +Morton sarcastically. + +"It's all right, Matson--it was an even chance, and you found the ball," +said Darrell quickly. He knew the danger of a new player becoming +discouraged. + +"Thanks," said Joe quietly. + +Lantry got a single which sent Potter to third, but the next two men +struck out and with two men left on bases the Silver Stars had to take +the field again with only a goose egg to their credit. + +The game ran along to the ending of the third inning with neither side +getting a run. Each team made some scattering hits but the fielding was +evenly good, and no one crossed the home plate. Joe made one fine catch +in the beginning of the third and received a round of applause that did +his heart good. + +Sam was pitching pretty good ball, occasionally being found for a two +bagger, but any short-comings in this line were more than made up in the +support he received from his mates. + +"It's going to be a tighter game than I thought it was," murmured +Darrell, at the close of the fourth inning, when his side had managed to +get in one run to tie the tally which the Reds had secured. "They've got +a better team than I gave them credit for." + +"You don't think they're going to beat us, do you?" asked Sam anxiously. + +"I--well--I hope not," was the hesitating answer. + +"Does that mean you don't think I'm doing all I ought to?" demanded the +pitcher defiantly. + +"Of course not. I know you wouldn't throw the game. Only I wish we could +strike more of them out," and the manager looked anxiously over the +field as his players were stationing themselves. + +"Wait and see what I do this inning," invited Sam. "Perhaps you want +that new fellow to go in the box in my place." His voice was sneering +now. + +"Who, Joe Matson?" asked Darrell quickly. + +"That's who I mean," replied Sam surlily. + +"Don't be foolish," was the manager's quiet answer. "You know he hasn't +had any experience in the box--or at least enough to play on our team, +though I think he'll make a good fielder. Now do your prettiest Sam. You +can, you know." + +"All right," assented the pitcher, and once more the game was underway. + +The fifth inning was productive of one run for the Silver Stars and this +after they had retired their rivals hitless, for Sam did some excellent +pitching. There was a howl of delight as the first tally came in, making +the score two to one in favor of our friends. And there was none out. + +"Now we ought to walk away from them," called Darrell to his players. +Joe came up to bat and to his delight he got a single. He was advanced +to second when the next player connected with the ball, and then +followed some see-sawing on the part of the pitcher and the second +baseman, in an endeavor to catch Joe napping. + +Once our hero thought he saw a good chance to steal third and he was +about to take it when something warned him to come back. He did, and +only just in time, for the pitcher threw to second. It was a close +shave. + +Joe slid head foremost and as his fingers touched the bag the second +baseman leaped up in the air to catch the ball which the pitcher had +wildly thrown high. + +When the baseman came down, making a wild effort to touch Joe, the iron +cleat of one shoe caught the little finger of Joe's left hand and cut it +cruelly. + +The plucky centre fielder tried to stifle the groan of anguish that rose +to his lips, but it was impossible. The baseman was aware of the +accident. + +Dropping the ball he knelt over Joe. + +"I'm mighty sorry, old man!" he exclaimed. "Are you hurt much?" + +"No--no. I--I guess not," murmured Joe, and then all got black before +his eyes, and there was a curious roaring in his ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +JOE'S RUN + + +"Water here! Bring some water!" yelled Smart, who was holding down +second base for the Reds. "He's fainted I guess." + +There was a rush of players toward Joe, and Darrell was the first to +reach him. + +"What's the matter, old man?" he asked sympathetically. + +"I'm afraid I spiked him," answered Smart, ruefully. "I jumped for the +ball, and came down on his hand I guess." + +"Too bad," murmured Darrell. + +They turned Joe over, for he was lying on his face, and saw his left +hand covered with blood. + +"Where's that first-aid kit?" called Tom Davis, who had rushed on the +field on seeing his friend hurt. + +"Here it is," answered Rodney Burke, who acted as the amateur surgeon on +the few times his services had been required. "I'll bandage it up. Had +we better get a doctor?" + +Meanwhile some water had been sprinkled in Joe's face and some forced +between his lips. He opened his eyes as the others were washing the +blood from his hand. + +"I--I'm all right," he murmured, as he strove to rise. + +"Now that's all right--you just lie still," commanded Darrell. "Look at +it Rod, and see how bad it is." + +Fortunately the wound was not as serious as had at first seemed and when +cleansed of dirt and blood it was seen to be a long cut, lengthwise of +the finger. + +"I'll have that done up in a jiffy," remarked Rodney, who was not a +little proud of his skill. His father was a physician, and had shown the +son how to make simple bandages. The wound was cleansed with an +antiseptic solution and wrapped in the long narrow strips of bandage +cloth. Joe got to his feet while this was being done, and, after a +little water containing aromatic spirits of ammonia had been given to +him, he declared that he was all right. + +"Are you sure?" asked Darrell anxiously. + +"Sure, I'll bring in a run yet if some one knocks the ball far enough," +said Joe with a smile, though it was rather a feeble one. + +"Nonsense, you can't run after that," exclaimed Murphy, the Red captain. +"Give him a man," he added generously to his rival. "We don't care." + +"I think I had better send Newton down to run for you," said Captain +Rankin. + +"But I'm going to play," insisted Joe. + +"Yes, next inning," he was assured, and the game went on. + +However, even the substitution of a runner in Joe's place availed +nothing, as the side was soon afterward retired with the men expiring on +bases, and the one run was all the Silver Stars could gather in. Still +that made the score two to one in their favor. + +There was a big surprise in the next inning. The Reds came to bat full +of confidence, and the first man up rapped out as pretty a three bagger +as had been pulled off that day. It went to deep right field, for which +Joe was thankful, as even with his finger protected by a bandage and a +heavy glove on his hand, he felt that he would wince at catching a swift +ball, and might possibly muff it. That was what the right fielder did, +though he managed to pick it up quickly enough to prevent the player +from going on in to home. + +Whether the fact of being hit for a long poke made Sam lose his temper, +or the knowledge that part of his support consisted of a wounded player +made him nervous, was not manifest, but the fact remains that the +pitcher "went up in the air" after that. He gave one man his base on +balls, and when the next player came up, and rapped out a two bagger the +man at third went on in, and there was a man holding down third while +one on second nearly made the bases full. + +"Easy now," cautioned Darrell to Sam. "Hold 'em down." + +"Um!" grunted Sam, and what he meant by it might be imagined, but he +_did_ strike out the next two men. Then came a single which resulted in +a tally being made, being the second run of the inning. Sam shut his +teeth grimly. There were now two out and two men on bases and Sam felt +his nerve leaving him. But by a strong effort he braced himself, and did +the trick to the next man, stopping the winning streak of the Reds just +in time. + +"Three to two against us," murmured Darrell as he looked at the score +board when he and his mates came in for their turn at the bat. "That +isn't going as I'd like to see it. Say, fellows, we've got to knuckle +down if we want to pull this game out of the fire." + +"That's what," murmured George Rankin, and, perhaps involuntarily, he +glanced at Sam. + +"Oh, I know what you fellows mean without you saying so!" snapped the +pitcher. "I wish you'd keep your remarks to yourselves. I can pitch all +right." + +"No one said you couldn't," declared Darrell gently. + +But it was very little that the Silver Stars could accomplish. Two men +went down to inglorious defeat. The third knocked a nice single but died +on first when the Red pitcher with seeming ease struck out the fourth +batter. And it was not due so much that the visiting boxman had speed or +curves, as to the fact that he could fool the batters with easy balls. + +"We seem to have struck a hoodoo," said Darrell in despairing tones as +they took the field again. "Sam, our only hope is in you. Not a run for +us this inning and they got two." + +"They won't get any more!" declared Sam savagely. + +He made good his boast, for not a man got beyond second, and of those +who performed this feat there was but one. A big circle went up in the +Red's frame for the ending of the first half of the seventh inning. + +But the Silver Stars fared no better, and for the next inning the result +was the same, neither side being able to score. The tally was three runs +to two in favor of the visitors when the ninth inning opened. + +The Silver Stars didn't like to think of that inning afterward. There +were numerous errors, wild throws and muffs. Joe let a ball slip through +his fingers when by holding it he might have prevented a run, but it +happened to hit on the cut place, and the agony was such that he let out +an exclamation of pain. + +But he was not the only one who sinned. Sam was "rotten," to quote Tom +Davis, and "issued a number of passes." One man got to first by virtue +of being hit and when the inning was over there were three runs in the +Red's box. + +"Six to two against us," murmured Darrell. "It looks bad, fellows--it +looks bad." + +Joe was first up to the bat. + +"Do you think you can hit?" asked the captain anxiously. + +"Oh, yes. I can hold my little finger away from the bat and I'll be all +right." + +"Then hit for all you're worth," begged Darrell. "We need all we can +get." + +Joe clenched his teeth grimly and made up his mind he would not be +fooled as he had been several times before. + +The Red pitcher was smiling in a tantalizing way and Joe felt himself +almost hating him for it. + +"I'm going to hit you! I'm going to hit you!" he found himself murmuring +over and over again in his mind. + +And hit Joe did. The first delivery was a ball, but the second Joe knew +was just where he wanted it. With all his force he swung at it and as he +sped away toward first, with all the power of his legs he saw the +horsehide sailing on a clean hit in a long, low drive over the centre +fielder's head. + +Joe heard the ball strike the farther fence and a wild hope came into +his heart that he might make a home run. + +"I'm going to do it! I'm going to do!" he whispered to himself as he +turned first and sped like the wind for second base. Could he beat the +ball in? That was what he was asking himself. That was what hundreds of +frantic fans were asking themselves. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +DISCONTENT + + +"Leg it, Joe! Leg it!" + +"Keep on! Keep on!" + +"He can't get you in time!" + +"A home run! A homer, old man!" + +"Keep a-going! Keep a-going!" + +These and other frantic appeals and bits of advice were hurled at Joe as +he dashed madly on. He had a glimpse of the centre fielder racing madly +after the ball, and then he felt for the first time that he really had a +chance to make a home run. Still he knew that the ball travels fast when +once thrown, and it might be relayed in, for he saw the second baseman +running back to assist the centre fielder. + +"But I'm going to beat it!" panted Joe to himself. + +The grandstand and bleachers were now a mass of yelling excited +spectators. There was a good attendance at the game, many women and +girls being present, and Joe could hear their shrill voices mingling +with the hoarser shouts of the men and boys. + +"Keep on! Keep on!" he heard yelled encouragingly at him. + +"That's the stuff, old man!" shouted Darrell, who was coaching at the +third base line. + +"Shall I go in?" cried Joe as he turned the last bag. + +Darrell took a swift glance toward the field. He saw what Joe could not. +The centre fielder instead of relaying in the ball by the second baseman +(for the throw was too far for him), had attempted to get it to third +alone. Darrell knew it would fall short. + +"Yes! Yes!" he howled. "Go on in, Joe! Go on in!" + +And Joe went. + +Just as the manager had anticipated, the ball fell short, and the +pitcher who had run down to cover second had to run out of the diamond +to get it. It was an error in judgment, and helped Joe to make his +sensational run. + +He was well on his way home now, but the pitcher had the ball and was +throwing it to the catcher. + +"Slide, Joe! Slide!" yelled Darrell above the wild tumult of the other +players and the spectators. + +Joe kept on until he knew a slide would be effective and then, dropping +like a shot, he fairly tore through the dust, feet first, toward home +plate. His shoes covered it as the ball came with a thud into the +outstretched hands of the catcher. + +"Safe!" yelled the umpire, and there was no questioning his decision. + +"Good play!" yelled the crowd. + +"That's the stuff, old man!" exclaimed Darrell, rushing up and clapping +Joe on the back. + +"A few more like that and the game will either go ten innings or we'll +have it in the ice-box for ourselves," commented Captain Rankin +gleefully. + +But the hopes of the Silver Stars were doomed to disappointment. Try as +the succeeding men did to connect with the ball, the best that could be +knocked out was a single, and that was not effective, for the man who +did it was caught attempting to steal second and two others were struck +out. + +That ended the game, Joe's solitary run being the only one tallied up, +and the final score was three to six in favor of the Red Stockings. + +"Three cheers for the Silver Stars!" called the captain of the +successful nine and they were given with right good feeling. + +"Three cheers for the Red Stockings," responded Darrell. "They were too +much for us," and the cheers of the losers were none less hearty than +those of their rivals. + +"And three cheers for the fellow who made the home run!" added a Red +Stocking player, and our hero could not help blushing as he was thus +honored. + +"It was all to the pepper-castor, old man," complimented Darrell. "We +didn't put up a very good game, but you sort of stand out among the +other Stars." + +"And I suppose the rest of us did rotten!" snarled Sam Morton as he +walked past. + +"Well, to be frank, I think we _all_ did," spoke Darrell. "I'm not +saying that Joe didn't make any errors, for he did. But he made the only +home run of the game, and that's a lot." + +"Oh, yes, I suppose so," sneered the disgruntled pitcher. "You'll be +blaming me next for the loss of the game." + +"Nothing of the sort!" exclaimed Darrell quickly. "I think we've all got +to bear our share of the defeat. We ought to have played better, and +we've got to, if we don't want to be at the tail end of the county +league." + +"And that means that I've got to do better pitching, I suppose?" sneered +Sam. + +"It means we've _all_ got to do better work," put in Captain Rankin. +"You along with the rest of us, Sam. You know you were pretty well +batted to-day." + +"Any fellow is likely to be swatted once in a while. Look at some of the +professionals." + +"I'm not saying they're not," admitted the captain. "What I do say is +that we've all got to perk up. We've got to take a brace, and I'm not +sparing myself. We're not doing well." + +"No, that's right," admitted several other players. In fact there was a +general feeling of discontent manifested, and it was very noticeable. +Darrell Blackney was aware of it, and he hoped it would not spread, for +nothing is so sure to make a team slump as discontent or +dissatisfaction. + +"Oh, Joe!" exclaimed a girl's voice, and he turned to see his sister +walking toward him over the field. "That was a fine run you made." She +had two other girls with her and Joe, who was a bit bashful, turned to +execute a retreat. + +"I believe you never met my brother," went on Clara, and there was a +trace of pride in her tone. "Miss Mabel Davis," said Clara, presenting +her to Joe, "and Miss Helen Rutherford." + +"I've heard my sister speak of you," murmured the young centre fielder. + +"And I've heard my brother speak of _you_," said Mabel, and Joe was +conscious that he was blushing. + +"I've got to wash up now," he said, not knowing what to talk about when +two pretty girls, to say nothing of his own sister, were staring at him. + +"Does your hand hurt you much?" asked Mabel. + +"No--it's only a scratch," said Joe, not with a strict regard for the +truth. + +"Oh, I thought I'd faint when I saw you lying there so still," spoke +Clara with a little shudder. + +"So did I," added Helen, and then Joe made his escape before they could +"fuss" over him any more. + +There was considerable talk going on in the dressing room when Joe +entered. He could hear the voice of Sam Morton raised in high and +seemingly angry tones. + +"Well, I'm not going to stand for it!" the pitcher said. + +"Stand for what?" asked Darrell in surprise. + +"Being accused of the cause for the loss of this game!" + +"No one accuses you," put in the captain. + +"You might as well say it as look it," retorted Sam. "I tell you I won't +stand for it. Just because that new fellow made a home run you're all up +in the air about him, and for all the hard work I do, what do I get for +it? Eh? Nothing, that's what!" + +"Now, look here," said Darrell soothingly, "you know you're talking +foolishly, Sam." + +"I am not!" cried the pitcher petulantly. "Either Joe Matson leaves the +team or I do, and you can have my resignation any time you want it!" + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SCIENTIFIC PRACTICE + + +There was a period of silence following Sam's offer of his resignation, +and no one seemed to know just what to say. Several of the lads glanced +at Joe, as if expecting him to say something in his own defense. In fact +the young centre fielder was about to speak but he did not get the +chance, for Sam exclaimed again: + +"Well, do you want my resignation, Darrell?" + +"You know I don't!" declared the manager. + +"Then things have got to be changed!" + +"Look here!" burst out Darrell. "I've stood about all I'm going to from +you, Sam Morton. There has got to be a change in this team." + +"That's just what I'm giving you a chance to make," the pitcher fairly +sneered. "You can fill my place any time you like." + +"But I'm not going to," and though Darrell spoke pleasantly there was a +sternness in his words. "Fellows, it's like this," he went on. "The +Silver Stars are a good team and you know it. So does every one in this +town, but the last two games we've played in hard luck, and----" + +"Do you mean to say it was my pitching?" demanded Sam. + +"No more than it was the way we all played. As I said, we've got to take +a brace. I don't know what's gotten into you, Sam, to say you'll resign +if Joe Matson plays. What have you against him?" + +"Well, I hate to see a newcomer made so much of. Here we fellows have +worked hard all season, and----" + +"And you're going to work hard the _rest_ of the season!" exclaimed +Darrell. "Let me tell you that! I'm not going to hear any more talk of +resignations, and this bickering has got to stop. Otherwise we'll be the +laughing stock of the county. You all played pretty well to-day, but you +all need to do better." + +"All but Matson; I suppose he's the star," sneered Sam. + +"Look here," burst out Joe, unable to stand the taunts of the pitcher +any longer, "if you think----" + +"Now, go easy," advised Darrell with a smile. "I'm giving this little +lecture. I give Matson due credit for one of the three runs we got," he +went on, "but that's not saying that he didn't make errors. We all did. + +"Oh, fellows!" he pleaded and they could see that he was very much in +earnest, "let's get together and wallop every nine we play against from +now on! Take a brace. Forget all this feeling and get together. Matson +and Morton, I want you to shake hands, will you?" + +"I'm willing," assented Joe eagerly, advancing toward Sam. + +The latter hesitated a moment and then, feeling the eyes of all in the +dressing room on him, he mumbled: + +"Well, as long as you don't think he's the star of the Stars, I'll +shake. Maybe I was a bit hasty," he went on, and this was a great deal +for Sam Morton to admit. He and Joe shook hands, though it cannot be +said that there was any warmth on the part of the pitcher. Still it was +better than open enmity, though Joe wondered if Sam would be really +friendly. + +"That's better," commented the manager with something like a sigh of +relief. + +"And don't let this go any further," suggested the captain. "We don't +want it known that there came near being a break in the Stars. Now get +together, fellows. Show up at practice strong next time, and we'll win +our next game!" + +"That's the way to talk!" cried Tom Davis, and the crisis was +passed--for a time. + +And, to the delight of Joe, he found that he had made many new friends, +chiefly because of his sensational run. The members of the team, of +course, crowded around him congratulating him, and asking him how he did +it. But, in addition, there now flocked into the dressing room a crowd +of lads who had witnessed the game. Some of them were high school pupils +who knew Joe, at least by sight, but they now came up and spoke to him. +Other town lads did the same thing. + +"Gee! It's great to be popular!" exclaimed Tom, with a mock sigh. "Why +wasn't I born a home-run hitter instead of good looking, I wonder?" + +"Get out!" laughed Joe. "Don't make me get a swelled head." + +"No danger, I guess," retorted Tom. + +Darrell and the captain strolled up to Joe, who had finished dressing. + +"Well, that's over, for a while," said Darrell in a low voice, evidently +referring to the unpleasant little incident. "I want to ask you to do +some practicing, Matson. You need to try throwing a bit, for it's a long +heave in from centre field and, to be frank, you aren't any too good at +it." + +"I'll practice every day," exclaimed our hero eagerly. + +"And I'll coach him," added Tom. + +"Get out, you lobster, you need coaching yourself," said the captain +with a laugh. "You'll get rusty if Darrell doesn't get off first and +give you a chance." + +"I'll do it more often now," said the manager. "I want to be more on the +coaching line. Two wallops in two weeks is more than the Stars can +stand." + +"Who do we play next week?" asked Tom. + +"The Denville Whizzers, but I don't imagine we'll have much trouble with +them," said the manager. "However, it won't do to take any chances. +Practice hard, fellows," and with that he left the dressing room. + +Sam Morton had gone out some time before and Joe and Tom soon followed. +As they strolled down the street toward their homes Tom said: + +"Say Joe, I was in earnest in saying I'd coach you. I believe you do +need practice in throwing, and if you haven't given up the idea of +pitching some day----" + +"I'll never give up the idea until I'm knocked out of the box," declared +Joe. + +"Good! Then I'll help coach you. I was going to say it wasn't much fun +practicing alone, and as a matter of fact it doesn't do much good." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Well, I've been reading up about baseball lately. I got a book on +pitching, and----" + +"Say, will you lend it to me?" asked Joe eagerly. "Or tell me where I +can buy one?" + +"Sure I will. I was going to say that it has articles in it by star +professional pitchers and a lot of them agree that it isn't much use +just to go out and throw a ball at a spot on the backstop or the fence." + +"What's the best way then?" asked Joe, who had supposed from his limited +knowledge that to practice at hitting a certain spot with the ball was +about the best he could do. + +"Why, they say the best is to get something like a home plate--a flat +stone say--and pitch over it with some one to catch for you." + +"I suppose that would be a good way," began Joe doubtfully, "but who's +going to catch for me?" + +"I am!" exclaimed Tom quickly. "I said just now that I'd coach you. I'll +do more than that, I'll catch for you. And the book I spoke of has other +tricks of practice, so a fellow can get good control of a ball. That's +the thing pitchers need it says--control. Say, we'll have some fun, you +and I, down in a vacant lot practicing. When can you come?" + +"How about Monday afternoon?" + +"Suits me first rate." + +"All right, we'll make it then, and we'll get in some scientific +practice for you. Maybe after all, you'll pitch in Sam's place before +the season is over." + +"I wouldn't want to do it, if it's going to make a row in the team." + +"Oh, don't let that worry you. Lots of the fellows don't like Sam any +too well. They'd as soon have some one else in the box if he could +deliver the goods. Well, so long; see you Monday, if not before." + +"I guess I'm glad dad moved to Riverside after all," mused Joe as he +walked toward home. "I was afraid I wouldn't like it at first, but now +I'm on the team it's all right. I hope dad doesn't have any business +troubles though. I wonder what is wrong for I'm sure something is. I +hope it doesn't prevent me from going to boarding school next year," and +with this reflection Joe went in the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +A KETTLE OF APPLE SAUCE + + +"Well, Joe, are you all ready?" It was Tom Davis, and he had called at +Joe's house on his way from school, as Tom had to remain in physics +class to finish an experiment, and Joe had gone on ahead. + +"I sure am, Tom. Where are we going to practice? Over on the +fairgrounds?" + +"No, that's too far. We'll go down in the vacant lots back of Mrs. +Peterkin's house. There's a high fence back of her house and that will +be a good backstop, in case I can't hold your hot ones." + +"Oh, I guess you can all right," replied Joe with a laugh, "though I +wish I did have lots of speed." + +"Say now, don't make that mistake," said Tom earnestly, as Joe came out +to join him, having picked up some old balls and a pitcher's glove. + +"What mistake?" + +"Trying for speed before you have control. I saw an article about that +in the pitching book last night. I brought it along. Here it is," and +both boys looked eagerly over the book as they walked along. + +As Tom had said, some of the best authorities on pitching did advocate +the trying for control before a prospective boxman endeavored to get +either speed or curves. + +"The thing seems to be," remarked Joe, "to get a ball just where you +want it, ten times out of ten if you can, and then when you can do that, +try for the in and out shoots and the drop." + +"That's it," agreed Tom. "Are you any good at throwing stones?" + +"I don't know. Why?" + +"Well, one fellow says that the lad who can throw a stone straight can +generally throw a ball straight. We'll have a contest when we get down +to the lots. Nobody will see us there." + +"I hope not," remarked Joe. "I don't want to be laughed at the way I was +when Sam caught me down at the fairgrounds. I guess he thought I was +trying for his place then, and that's what made him mad." + +The two friends were soon down behind the high board fence that marked +the boundaries of the Peterkin property. It was rather a large +place--the Peterkin one--and was occupied by an aged couple. Mrs. +Alvirah Peterkin was quite a housewife, always engaged in some kitchen +or other household duties, while Ebenezer, her husband "puttered" around +the garden, as the folks of Riverside expressed it. + +"Well, I guess we're all ready," remarked Tom, when he had picked out a +large flat stone to represent home plate. He took his position behind +it, with his back to the fence, so that if any balls got by him they +would hit the barrier and bound back. + +Joe began to pitch, endeavoring to bear in mind what the book had said +about getting the balls where he wanted them. + +"That was pretty far out from the plate," called Tom dubiously, after +one effort on the part of his chum. + +"I know it was. Here's a better one." + +"Good! That's the stuff. It was a strike all right--right over the +middle. Keep it up." + +For a time Joe kept this up, pitching at moderate speed, and then the +temptation to "cut loose" could not be resisted. He "wound up" as he had +seen professional pitchers do and let the ball go. With considerable +force it went right through Tom's hands and crashed up against the fence +with a resounding bang. It was the first ball Tom had let get past him. + +"That was a hot one all right!" the catcher called, "but it was away +out." + +"All right, I'll slow down again," said Joe. He was a little +disappointed that he could not combine speed and accuracy. + +The boys were about to resume their practice when a face, fringed with a +shock of white hair on top, and a little ring of whiskers encircling it +below, was raised over the edge of the fence, and a mild voice demanded: + +"What you boys up to now--tryin' to knock down my fence?" + +"Oh, hello, Mr. Peterkin," called Tom. "We're just playing +baseball--that's all." + +"Where's the rest of ye?" the old man wanted to know. + +"This is all there are of us," replied Tom, waving his hand toward Joe. + +"Humph! Fust time I ever heard of two boys playin' a ball game all by +themselves," commented the aged man with a chuckle. "But I s'pose it's +one of them new-fangled kind. Land sakes, what th' world a-comin' t' +anyhow, I'd like t' know? Wa'al, keep on, only don't knock any boards +offen my fence," he stipulated as he resumed the making of his garden. + +The boys laughingly promised and resumed their practice. Tom was a good +catcher and he had an accurate eye. He did not hesitate to tell Joe when +the balls were bad and he was a severe critic, for he had taken an +honest liking to the newcomer, and wanted to see him succeed. + +"Just try for control," was the gist of his advice. "The rest if it will +take care of itself." + +"Don't you want to pitch and let me catch for you?" asked Joe after a +bit, fearing that he was somewhat selfish. + +"No, I don't specially need any practice at throwing," said Tom. "First +is my position. I like it better than any other, and catching is the +best practice I can have for that. Keep it up." + +So Joe kept on, using moderate speed after the warning of Mr. Peterkin, +so that no more balls struck the fence. But then again came the almost +irresistible desire to put on "steam," and indulging in this Joe sent in +another "hot one." + +Almost the instant it left his hand Joe realized that he had lost +control of the ball and that it was going wild. He instinctively reached +out to pull it back, but it was too late. + +"Grab it!" he yelled to Tom. + +The plucky little first baseman made a magnificent jump up in the air, +but the ball merely grazed the tip of his up-stretched glove. Then it +went on over the fence at undiminished speed. An instant later there +was the cry of alarm. + +"Who did that?" demanded the voice--a voice full of anger. "Who threw +that ball? Oh! Oh! Of all things! I demand to know who did it?" + +Joe and Tom were silent--looking blankly one at the other. Up over the +fence rose the mild and bewhiskered face of Mr. Peterkin. + +"Boys," asked the aged man gently. "Did anything happen? It sounds like +it to me." + +"I--I threw the ball over the fence," admitted Joe. + +"Hum! Then I'm afraid something _did_ happen," went on Mr. Peterkin +still more gently. "Yes, I'm _sure_ of it," he added as the sound of +some one coming down the garden path could be heard. "Here comes +Alvirah. Something has happened. Do--do you want to run?" he asked, for +rumor had it that Mrs. Peterkin was possessed of no gentle temper and +Mr. Peterkin--well, he was a very mild-mannered man, every one knew +that. "Do you want to run?" he asked again. + +"No," said Tom. + +"Of course not," added Joe. "If we broke a window we'll pay for it--I'll +pay for it," he corrected himself, for he had thrown the ball. + +Mrs. Peterkin advanced to where her husband was working in the garden. +The boys could not see the lady but they could hear her. + +"You didn't throw that ball, did you, Ebenezer?" she asked. "If you +did--at your age--cutting up such foolish tricks as playing +baseball--I--I'll----" + +"No, Alvirah, I didn't do it, of course not," Mr. Peterkin hastened to +say. "It was a couple of boys. Tom Davis and a friend of his. They were +playing ball back of the fence and----" + +"And they've run off now, I'll venture!" exclaimed the rasping voice of +Mrs. Peterkin. + +"No--no, I don't think so, Alvirah," said Mr. Peterkin mildly. "I--I +rather think they're there yet. I asked 'em if they didn't want to run +and----" + +"You--asked them--if--they--didn't--want--to--run?" gasped Mrs. +Peterkin, as if unable to believe his words. "Why, the very--idea!" + +"Oh, I knew they'd pay for any damage they did," said her husband +quickly, "and I--er--I sort of thought--well, anyhow they're over +there," and he pointed to the fence. + +"Let me see them! Let me talk to them!" demanded Mrs. Peterkin. + +"Stand on that soap box an' ye kin see over the fence," said Mr. +Peterkin. "But look out. The bottom is sort of soft an' ye may----" + +He did not finish his sentence. The very accident he feared had +happened. Mrs. Peterkin, being a large and heavy woman, had stepped in +the middle of the box. The bottom boards, being old, had given way and +there she was--stuck with both feet in the soap box. + +"Ebenezer!" she cried. "Help me! Don't you know any better than to stand +there staring at me? Haven't you got any senses?" + +"Of course I'll help you, Alvirah," he said. "I rather thought you'd go +through that box." + +"Then you'd no business to let me use it!" she snapped. + +"It allers held _me_ up when I wanted to look over the fence," he said +mildly. "But then of course I never stepped in the middle of it," he +added as he helped his wife pull aside the broken boards so she could +step out. "I kept on the edges." + +"Have those boys gone?" she demanded when free. + +"I don't think so. I'll look," he volunteered as he turned the soap box +up on edge and peered over the fence. "No, they're here yet," he +answered as he saw Joe and Tom standing there, trying their best not to +laugh. "Was you wantin' to speak with 'em, Alvirah?" + +"Speak with them! Of course I do!" she cried. "Tell them to come around +to the side gate. I'll _speak_ to them," and she drew herself up like an +angry hen. + +"Did--did they smash a window?" asked Mr. Peterkin. + +"Smash a window? I only wish it was no worse than that!" cried his wife. +"They threw their nasty baseball into a kettle of apple sauce that was +stewing on the stove, and the sauce splashed all over my clean kitchen. +Tell them to come around. I'll _speak_ to them!" + +"I--I guess you'd better come in, boys," said Mr. Peterkin softly, as +he delivered the message over the fence. Then he added--but to +himself--"Maybe you might better have run while you had the chance." + +"We're in for it I guess," murmured Tom, as he and Joe went around to +the side gate. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +JOE OVERHEARS SOMETHING + + +"Are you the boys who threw the baseball through my kitchen window into +my kettle of apple sauce?" demanded Mrs. Peterkin, as she confronted the +two culprits. + +"I threw it," admitted Joe. + +"But we didn't know it went into the apple sauce," added Tom. + +"Nor through the window," spoke Joe for want of something better to say. +"It was a wild throw." + +"Humph!" exclaimed the irate lady. "I don't know what kind of a throw it +was but I know _I_ was wild when I saw my kitchen. I never saw such a +sight in all my born days--never! You come and look at it." + +"If--if you please I'd rather not," said Joe quickly. "I'll pay you +whatever damages you say, but I--I----" + +"I just want you to see that kitchen!" insisted Mrs. Peterkin. "It's +surprising how mischievous boys can be when they try." + +"But we didn't try," put in Tom. "This was an accident." + +"Come and see my kitchen!" repeated Mrs. Peterkin firmly and she seemed +capable of taking them each by an ear and leading them in. + +"You--you'd better go," advised Mr. Peterkin gently. + +So they went, and truly the sight that met their eyes showed them that +Mrs. Peterkin had some excuse for being angry. On the stove there had +been cooking a large kettle of sauce made from early apples. The window +near the stove had been left open and through the casement the ball, +thrown with all Joe's strength, had flown, landing fairly into the +middle of the soft sauce. + +The result may easily be imagined. It splattered all over the floor, +half way up on the side walls, and there were even spots of the sauce on +the ceiling. The top of the stove was covered with it, and as the lids +were hot they had burned the sugar to charcoal, while the kitchen was +filled with smoke and fumes. + +"There!" cried Mrs. Peterkin, as she waved her hand at the scene of +ruin. "Did you ever see such a kitchen as that? And it was clean +scrubbed only this morning! Did you ever see anything like that? Tell +me!" + +Joe and Tom were both forced to murmur that they had never beheld such a +sight before. And they added with equal but unexpressed truth that they +hoped they never would again. + +"I'm willing to pay for the damage," said Joe once more, and his hand +went toward his pocket. "It was an accident." + +"Maybe it was," sniffed Mrs. Peterkin. "I won't say that it wasn't, but +that won't clean my kitchen." + +Joe caught at these words. + +"I'm willing to help you clean up!" he exclaimed eagerly. "I often help +at home when my mother is sick. Let me do it, and I'll pay for the apple +sauce I spoiled." + +"I'll help," put in Tom eagerly. + +"Who is your mother?" asked Mrs. Peterkin, looking at Joe. + +"Mrs. Matson," he replied. + +"Oh, you're the new family that moved into town?" and there was +something of a change in the irate lady's manner. + +"Yes, we live in the big yellow house near----" + +"It's right back of our place, Mrs. Peterkin," put in Tom eagerly. + +"Hum! I've been intending to call on your mother," went on Mrs. +Peterkin, ignoring Tom. "I always call on all the new arrivals in town, +but I've been so busy with my housework and Spring cleaning----" + +She paused and gazed about the kitchen. _That_, at least, would need +cleaning over again. + +"Yes," she resumed, "I always call and invite them to join our Sewing +and Dorcas Societies." + +"My mother belonged to both!" exclaimed Joe eagerly. "That is in +Bentville where we lived. I heard her saying she wondered if there was a +society here." + +"There is," answered Mrs. Peterkin majestically, "and I think I shall +call soon, and ask her to join. You may tell her I said so," she added +as if it was a great honor. + +"I will," answered Joe. "And now if you'll tell me where I can get some +old cloths I'll help clean up this muss." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Mrs. Peterkin slowly. Clearly her manner had +undergone a great change. "I suppose boys must have their fun," she said +with something like a sigh. "I know you didn't mean to do it, but my +apple sauce is spoiled." + +"I'll pay for it," offered Joe eagerly. He was beginning to see a rift +in the trouble clouds. + +"No," said Mrs. Peterkin, "it's all right. I have plenty more apples." + +"Then let us help clean the place?" asked Tom. + +"No, indeed!" she exclaimed, with as near a laugh as she ever indulged. +"I don't want any men folks traipsing around my kitchen. I'll clean it +myself." + +"Well, let us black the stove for you," offered Tom. + +"That's it, Alvirah," put in Mr. Peterkin quickly. He rather sided with +the boys, and he was glad that the mention of Joe's mother, and the +possibility of Mrs. Peterkin getting a new member for the societies, of +both of which she was president, had taken her mind off her desire for +revenge. "Let the boys black the stove. You know you always hate that +work." + +"Well, I suppose they could do _that_," she admitted somewhat +reluctantly. "But don't splatter it all over, though the land knows +this kitchen can't be worse." + +Behold then, a little later, two of the members of the Silver Star nine +industriously cleaning hardened apple sauce off the Peterkin kitchen +stove, and blackening it until it shone brightly. + +"I'm glad Sam Morton can't see us," spoke Tom in a whisper. + +"Yes; we'd never hear the last of it," agreed Joe. + +They finished the work and even Mrs. Peterkin, careful housekeeper that +she was, admitted that the stove "looked fairly good." + +"And be sure and tell your mother that I'm coming to call on her," she +added, as Joe and Tom were about to leave. + +"Yes, ma'am," answered the centre fielder, and then he paused on the +threshold of the kitchen. + +"Have you forgotten something?" asked Mrs. Peterkin, who was preparing +to give the place a thorough scrubbing. + +"We--er--that is----" stammered Joe. + +"It's their baseball, I guess," put in Mr. Peterkin. "It is in the +kettle of apple sass, Alvirah." + +"Oh, yes; so it is," she agreed, and this time she really laughed. +"Well, you may have it," she added. "I don't want it." With a dipper she +fished it up from the bottom of the kettle, put it under the water +faucet to clean it, and held it out to Joe. + +"Thanks," he said as he took it and hurried off with Tom, before +anything more could be said. + +"Whew!" exclaimed Tom, when they were out in the lots again. "That was a +hot time while it lasted. And we got out of it mighty lucky, thanks to +your mother. Mrs. Peterkin is great on the society business, and I guess +she thought if she gave it to us too hot your mother wouldn't call on +her. Yes, we were lucky all right. Want to practice some more?" + +"Not to-day," replied Joe with a smile. "I've had enough. Besides, this +ball is all wet and slippery. Anyhow there's lots more time, and I guess +the next day we do it we'll go down to the fairgrounds." + +"Yes, there's more room there, and no kettles of apple sauce," agreed +Tom, with a laugh. + +As Tom had an errand to do down town for his father he did not accompany +Joe back to their respective homes. + +"I'll see you to-night," he called to his chum, as they parted, "and +we'll arrange for some more practice. I think it's doing you good." + +"I know my arm is a bit sore," complained Joe. + +"Then you want to take good care of it," said Tom quickly. "All the +authorities in the book say that a pitching arm is too valuable to let +anything get the matter with it. Bathe it with witch hazel to-night." + +"I will. So long." + +As Joe had not many lessons to prepare that night, and as it was still +rather early and he did not want to go home, he decided to take a +little walk out in the country for a short distance. As he trudged along +he was thinking of many things, but chief of all was his chances for +becoming at least a substitute pitcher on the Silver Stars. + +"If I could get in the box, and was sure of going to boarding school, I +wouldn't ask anything else in this world," said Joe to himself. Like all +boys he had his ambitions, and he little realized how such ambitions +would change as he became older. But they were sufficient for him now. + +Before he knew it he had covered several miles, for the day was a fine +Spring one, just right for walking, and his thoughts, being subject to +quick changes, his feet kept pace with them. + +As he made a turn in the road he saw, just ahead of him, an old building +that had once, so some of the boys had told him, been used as a +spring-house for cooling the butter and milk of the farm to which it +belonged. But it had now fallen into disuse, though the spring was there +yet. + +The main part of it was covered by the shed, but the water ran out into +a hollowed-out tree trunk where a cocoanut shell hung as a dipper. + +"Guess I'll have a drink," mused Joe. "I'm as dry as a fish and that's +fine water." He had once taken some when he and Tom Davis took a +country stroll. + +As he was sipping the cool beverage he heard inside the old shed the +murmur of voices. + +"Hum! Tramps I guess," reasoned Joe to himself. But a moment later he +knew it could not be tramps for the words he heard were these: + +"And do you think you can get control of the patents?" + +"I'm sure of it," was the answer. "He doesn't know about the reverting +clause in his contract, and he's working on a big improvement in a +corn----" + +Then the voice died away, though Joe strained his ears in vain to catch +the other words. Somehow he felt vaguely uneasy. + +"Where have I heard that first voice before?" he murmured, racking his +brains. Then like a flash it came to him. The quick, incisive tones were +those of Mr. Rufus Holdney, of Moorville, to whom he had once gone with +a letter from Mr. Matson. + +"And if you can get the patents," went on Mr. Holdney, "then it means a +large sum of money." + +"For both of us," came the eager answer, and Joe wondered whom the other +man could be. + +"You are sure there won't be any slip-up?" asked Mr. Holdney. + +"Positively. But come on. We've been here long enough and people might +talk if they saw us here together. Yet I wanted to have a talk with you +in a quiet place, and this was the best one I could think of. I own this +old farm." + +"Very well, then I'll be getting back to Moorville. Be sure to keep me +informed how the thing goes." + +"I will." + +There was a movement inside the shed as if the men were coming out. + +"I'd better make myself scarce," thought Joe. + +He had just time to drop down behind a screen of bushes when the two men +did emerge. Joe had no need to look to tell who one was, but he was +curious in regard to the other. Cautiously he peered up, and his heart +almost stopped beating as he recognized Mr. Isaac Benjamin, the manager +of the Royal Harvester Works where the boy's father was employed. + +"There's some crooked work on hand, I'll bet a cookie!" murmured Joe, as +he crouched down again while the two men walked off up the country +road. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +MR. MATSON IS ALARMED + + +Joe Matson did not know what to do. He wanted to rush away from where he +was concealed, get home as quickly as possible, and tell his father what +he had overheard. While Mr. Matson's name had not been mentioned, +knowing, as Joe did, that his parent was engaged on some patents, seeing +Mr. Benjamin, manager of the Harvester works, and having heard the +conversation between him and Mr. Holdney, the lad was almost certain +that some danger threatened his father. + +"And yet I can't get away from here until they're well out of sight," +reasoned Joe. "If I go now they'll see or hear me, and they'll be bound +to suspect something. Yet I'd like to warn dad as soon as I can. There's +no telling when they may put up some job against him." + +But Joe could only crouch down there and wait. + +At length he could stand it no longer. He reasoned that the men must be +far enough away by this time to make it safe for him to emerge. + +"They're on the road to Riverside," thought Joe, "and I may run into +them, but if I see them I can slip into the fields and go around. Mr. +Benjamin doesn't know me, for he's hardly ever noticed me when I've been +to the Harvester works to see dad. But Mr. Holdney might remember me. I +can't take any chances." + +Cautiously he emerged from the bushes, and looked as far down the road +as he could. There was no one in sight, and he started off. A little +distance farther on, the road made a sharp turn and, just at the angle +stood an old barn which hid the rest of the highway from sight until one +was right at the turn. It was a dangerous place for vehicles, but the +owner of the barn had refused to set it back. + +No sooner had Joe turned this corner than he came full upon Mr. Benjamin +and Mr. Holdney standing just around the barn, apparently in deep +conversation. At the sight of Joe they looked up quickly, and Mr. +Benjamin exclaimed: + +"Ha! Perhaps this lad can tell us. We want to hire a carriage. Do you +know any one around here who would let us take one for a short time?" + +Joe, who had started back at the unexpected sight of the two men, took +courage on hearing this, and realizing that he had not yet been +recognized. + +"I don't know any one around here," he said. "I'm pretty much of a +stranger myself, but have you tried at this farmhouse?" and he pointed +toward the one where the owner of the barn lived. + +"Oh, we don't want a farm horse!" exclaimed Mr. Holdney. "We want +something that has some speed." Then, as he looked more fully at Joe he +exclaimed: "Haven't I seen you somewhere before, my lad? I'm sure I +have!" + +He took a step toward our hero, and Joe's heart gave a flutter. He was +almost certain that Mr. Holdney would recognize him and then the next +step would be to ask where he had been. The men might at once suspect +that he had at least come past the place where they had been talking in +secret, and they might even suspect that he had listened to them. Joe +was in a predicament. + +"I'm sure I've met you somewhere before," went on Mr. Holdney, in his +quick, nervous tones. "Do you live around here?" + +"Yes," answered Joe vaguely. "But I don't know where you could get a +fast horse unless it's in town--in Riverside." + +He was about to pass on, hoping the men would not further bother him, +when Mr. Holdney, coming a step nearer, said with great firmness: + +"I'm sure I've seen you before. What's your name?" + +Like a flash a way out of it came to Joe, and that without telling an +untruth. + +"I play on the Silver Stars," he said quickly. "You may have seen me at +some of the games," which was perfectly possible. + +"That's it!" exclaimed Mr. Holdney. "I knew it was somewhere. Now----" + +"I'm going into Riverside," went on Joe quickly. "If you like I'll stop +at the livery stable and tell them to send out a rig for you if you want +to wait here for it." + +"The very thing!" exclaimed Mr. Benjamin. "Let him do that, Rufus. +Here's a quarter to pay for your trouble, my lad." + +"No, thank you!" exclaimed Joe with a laugh. "I'm glad to do you a +favor." + +"All right," assented Mr. Benjamin. "If you'll send out a two-seated +carriage and a man to drive it we'll be obliged to you. Then we can +drive over and see Duncan," he added to Mr. Holdney. "We'll fix this +thing all up now." + +"Yes, and if it's my father you're trying to 'fix,'" mused Joe, "I'll do +my best to put a stop to it. Now, it's up to me to hurry home," and +telling the men that he would do the errand for them, the lad hastened +off down the road, leaving the two conspirators in earnest conversation. + +The livery stable keeper readily agreed to send out the carriage, and +then Joe lost no time in hurrying to his house. + +"Has father come home yet?" he asked of his mother, for sometimes Mr. +Matson came from the harvester works earlier than the regular stopping +time. + +"No," answered Mrs. Matson, "why, what is the matter, Joe? Has anything +happened?" for she noticed by his face that something out of the usual +had occurred. + +"Oh, I don't know," he answered slowly. He was revolving in his mind +whether or not he ought to tell his mother. Then, as he recollected that +his father always consulted her on business matters, he decided that he +would relate his experience. + +"Mother," he said, "isn't father interested in some sort of a patent +about corn?" + +"About corn? Oh, I know what you mean. Yes, he is working on an +improvement to a corn reaper and binder. It is a machine partly owned by +the harvester people, but he expects to make considerable money by +perfecting the machine. It is very crude now, and doesn't do good work." + +"And if he does perfect it, and some one gets the patents away from +him, he _won't_ make the money!" exclaimed Joe. + +"Joe, what do you mean?" cried his mother in alarm. "I am sure something +has happened. What is it?" + +"It hasn't happened yet, but it may any time," answered the lad, and +then he told of what he had overheard, and his ideas of what was +pending. + +"That's why I wanted to see father in a hurry, to warn him," he +concluded. + +"Joe, I believe you're right!" exclaimed Mrs. Matson. "Your father ought +to be told at once. I don't know what he can do--if anything--to prevent +these men getting ahead of him. Oh, it's too bad! I know he always +suspected Mr. Benjamin of not being strictly honest, but Mr. Holdney +used to be his friend and on several occasions has loaned your father +money. Oh, this is too bad, but perhaps it isn't too late. If I were you +I'd go down toward the harvester works and you may meet father coming +home. Then you can tell him all about it, and he may want to go back and +get some of his papers, or parts of the machine, from his office so +those men can't take them." + +"That's the very thing, mother!" cried Joe. "You ought to have been a +man--or a boy and a baseball player! You can think so quickly. That +reminds me; I had quite an experience to-day. Just say 'apple sauce' to +me when I get back, and I'll tell you all about it." + +"It can't be possible!" exclaimed Mr. Matson, when Joe, having met him +just outside the harvester works, told him of what he had heard. "It +hardly seems possible that they would do such a thing. But I'm glad you +told me, Joe." + +"Do you think they meant you, dad? I didn't hear them mention your +name." + +"Of course they meant me!" declared Mr. Matson. "The warning came just +in time, too, for only to-day I finished an important part of the +machinery and the pattern of it is in my office now. I must go back and +get it. Wait here for me." + +As Joe stood at the outer gate of the big harvester plant he heard the +sound of a carriage approaching, and turning around he saw Mr. Benjamin +and Mr. Holdney coming along in the rig Joe had had sent out to them +only a little while before. + +"I thought better to drive back here first, and go see Duncan later," +Mr. Benjamin was saying, and then both men caught sight of our hero. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A THROWING CONTEST + + +"Ha!" exclaimed Mr. Benjamin. "There's that same lad again!" + +"What lad?" quickly demanded Mr. Holdney. "Oh, the one who sent us out +this rig. I wonder----" + +"Did you want to see any one around the works?" interrupted Mr. +Benjamin. "I don't want to seem impolite, after the service you +rendered, but we don't allow loiterers here." + +A number of thoughts passed rapidly through Joe's mind. He realized that +his father might come out at any moment and be seen by the manager +carrying off the valuable patterns. Mr. Matson ought to be warned, for +Joe realized that if they were to frustrate the conspiracy it would be +best that the men did not know that they were on the verge of discovery. + +"I want to take a message to Mr. Matson," said Joe boldly, for this was +the truth. He had quickly formed a plan in his mind, and he hoped that +it would not be discovered that he was Mr. Matson's son. It was this +very trick of quick thinking that afterward became of so much service to +Joe in his notable career on the diamond. + +"Oh, then it's all right," said Mr. Benjamin. "You may go in. You'll +find Mr. Matson in his office, I dare say." He smiled at Joe in what he +doubtless meant to be a friendly fashion, but the young baseball player +could not help but see the hypocrisy in it. + +Not pausing to exchange any other talk, Joe slipped in through the big +iron gate and made his way to his father's office. He had been there +before. + +Just as he reached it the heavy whistle blew, announcing closing time, +and hundreds of hands began pouring from the various machine and casting +shops. + +"Hello, Joe!" called Seth Potter, who played left field for the Silver +Stars. "What you doing here, looking for a job?" Seth was employed in +one of the offices, and was considered a valuable young man. + +"Yes, I want to learn how to make a machine so I don't miss any flies +that come my way," laughed Joe. + +"That's right! Going to play with us Saturday?" + +"I hope so," and then, with a few other pleasant words, Seth hurried on, +and Joe sought his father. He found Mr. Matson wrapping up some models. + +"Quick dad!" he exclaimed. "Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Holdney are out at the +gate. They just drove up. I slipped in to warn you!" + +"Good, Joe! I'm glad you did. I wouldn't want them to see me taking +these things away, for it would tell them that their game was +discovered, and I want to find out more of what their plans are before +they are aware of it." + +"But how you going to get out?" asked his son. "They're there yet," he +added, for he could look from a window and see the carriage still at the +gate. + +"Oh, you and I can slip out the back way. It's lucky you told me. There, +I'm ready," and having locked his desk, Mr. Matson took his package and +with Joe went out of a rear exit, going home by a roundabout way so that +the conspirators did not see them. + +"My! I wish this thing hadn't happened, or that it was postponed for a +while," said Mr. Matson thoughtfully as he walked along. + +"Why, is it likely to be serious, dad?" + +"I'm afraid so. You see I have a peculiar arrangement with the harvester +concern in regard to things that I might invent. It is too complicated +to go into all the details, but I have to trust to their honor to give +me my rights in certain matters. If they wanted to they could deprive me +of the benefits of my patents and the law could not help me. So I have +to be very careful. Up to now I have trusted Mr. Benjamin implicitly, +but now--now I will be on my guard. It is a lucky thing you overheard +that talk." + +There was an earnest consultation between Mr. and Mrs. Matson that +night, to which Joe and his sister were not admitted, for it was +business they would not have understood. But at the close they were told +to say nothing of what had happened that day. + +"I will keep right on at the harvester works as if nothing had +occurred," said Mr. Matson, "and then they will not get suspicious. But +I will do the most important and secret work on my invention here at +home." + +"Now that it is all settled," said Clara, "I'm going to say 'apple +sauce' to you, Joe. What does it mean?" + +"Oh, yes," and the young baseball player laughed. "Well I guess you've +got to join the Dorcas and Sewing societies, mother, to keep me out of a +scrape," and with many funny touches Joe told about his wild throw that +day, making an amusing story of it. + +"Oh, I would have given anything if some of the girls and I could have +been there when you and Tom were blacking the stove!" exclaimed Clara +with a laugh. + +"I'm glad you weren't," declared Joe, "though it's lucky we didn't have +to mop up the floor. After this I'm going to go a mile away from her +house when I want to practice throwing." + +"I should think you would," agreed Mr. Matson. + +"But you'll join those societies; won't you mother?" asked Joe. + +"Oh, I suppose I'll have to, in order to keep you out of prison," she +agreed with a laugh. "But please don't make any more engagements for me, +as my time is pretty well occupied." + +It was two days after this when Tom Davis, coming out of school, caught +up with Joe who was a little in advance of him. + +"Got anything special to do?" asked the substitute first baseman. + +"No, why?" + +"I thought maybe you'd like to go out in the lot again, and have some +more practice." + +"Back of Mrs. Peterkin's house?" asked Joe with a smile. + +"I should say not! But I've got a new scheme. I read about it in that +baseball book. We'll have a contest for long distance throwing and +accuracy." + +"How do you mean?" + +"Why you and I'll go down in the same lots but we'll throw in the other +direction. Then we can't hit anything. We'll see who can throw the +farthest. You'll need to practice that if you are to play centre field." + +"What's the other contest?" + +"For straight aim. I'll get an old basket, and we'll see who can land +the most balls in it. Want to try?" + +"Sure. Anything to improve myself," said Joe earnestly. + +A little later he and his chum were on their way to the vacant lots. As +they walked along they met several other lads, some of whom played on +the regular team, a few from the High School nine, and some from the +Silver Star scrub. + +"What's doing?" demanded Rodney Burke. + +"We're going to see who is the best thrower," answered Tom. + +"Give us a show at it?" requested Ford Wilson. + +"Sure," assented Joe. "The more, the merrier." + +Soon a jolly crowd of youngsters were taking turns at the long distance +throwing. After several tries the record lay between Joe and Rodney +Burke, and they played off a tie, Joe winning by about seven feet. + +"That's a good throw all right," complimented the loser. + +"A fellow who's playing centre field needs to have a pretty good heave," +said Joe. "Especially if he's up against a heavy-hitting team." + +"And that's been our luck for some time past," spoke Tom. "Well, now for +the basket test." + +This was more difficult than straight throwing for distance and several +of the lads dropped out, being disqualified by failures. But Tom, Joe +and Rodney remained in, and for a time it was pretty even between them. +Finally it narrowed down to Tom and Joe, and they were just ready to +throw the deciding round when a new voice called out: + +"Any objections to me joining?" + +Joe and the others turned, to see the half-mocking face of Sam Morton. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +ANOTHER DEFEAT + + +For a moment there was some embarrassment, as Sam was not in the habit +of mingling with this crowd of boys. He had his own friends, not very +many, to tell the truth, but he was usually with them. The lads did not +know exactly how to take his request, but Joe came to the rescue. + +"Sure you can come in," he said heartily. "We're just seeing who can put +the most balls in the basket." + +"What good do you think that does?" asked Sam. + +"Well, doesn't it help a fellow to get a straight aim?" asked Tom, half +defiantly. + +"Oh, I don't know," was the rather sneering answer. "It might, if you +kept at it long enough." + +"Let's see you try it," suggested Rodney Burke, who did not hold Sam in +much awe. + +Carelessly the Silver Star pitcher accepted a ball that Joe obligingly +held out. He threw quickly and the ball landed squarely in the basket. +Then he did the trick again, and there was a little murmur of applause, +for only a few of the boys had "two straight" to their credit. + +"Joe did three straight a while ago," said Tom proudly. "He and I are +playing off a tie." + +Sam did not answer but threw again, and the ball went wide of the basket +by two feet at least. Rodney laughed. + +"You're not such a much, even if you are the pitcher," he declared. + +"Who asked you anything about it?" demanded Sam savagely. + +He darted a look of anger at the lad, but as Rodney was well built and +had a reputation for "scrappiness" Sam concluded not to tackle him just +then. + +"I'll show you how to throw!" he exclaimed the next moment, and two +balls went squarely in the basket. "Now, let's see you and Matson play +it off," commanded Sam to Tom as though he was in the habit of having +his wishes complied with. + +Whether it was nervousness or not, or whether he wanted to see his chum +do well when Sam was present, was not made manifest, but Tom did not +come up to his previous record, and Joe easily won. In fact Joe made a +much better score than Sam, and there were several curious glances +directed at the pitcher. + +"Don't you want to try it some more?" asked Rodney Burke, and there was +mockery in his voice. + +"No!" half-growled Sam. "I've got to save my arm for the next game. +We're going to win that sure. So long," and with that he turned and +strode away. + +"As cheerful as a bear with a sore nose," remarked Rodney. + +Ordinarily but little importance would have been attached to the coming +game with the Denville Whizzers, but on account of two previous defeats, +Darrell Blackney and George Rankin had several conferences concerning +it. The captain and manager were plainly worried. + +"Do you wish you had some one else to put in the box?" asked Rankin. + +"Well, not exactly," was the answer. "I haven't lost faith in Sam, but I +do wish we could depend more on him. He'll pitch fine for several +innings and then go to pieces. He tries to use too much speed and too +many varieties of curves, I think." + +"By the way, what do you think of young Matson?" asked the captain. + +"I think a good deal of him. He doesn't amount to much as yet, but he's +in earnest and he's got grit. In time I think he'll make a player." + +"He wants to pitch." + +"I know he does, but it's out of the question yet. Have you any line on +him?" + +"Not yet," answered Rankin, "but I'll keep my eyes open. He's a good +fielder all right, now that he isn't so nervous. He wants to play his +head off. But Sam--well, we can't do any better right away, and--well, I +guess we'll win this game." + +"We've got to!" insisted the manager earnestly, "if we want the people +of Riverside to support us. They won't come to see a losing home team +all the while." + +The game with the Whizzers was to take place on their grounds, and early +on that morning the Silver Stars, some substitutes, and a crowd of +"rooters" got ready for the trip. Denville was about seven miles from +Riverside, back from the stream, and could be reached by trolley. A +special car had been engaged for the team. + +The game started off well, and the Silver Stars got three runs in their +half of the first inning. The home team was blanked and for a time it +looked as if there would be an easy victory for the visitors. + +Sam was pitching in good form, and had struck several men out. For three +innings the home team did not get a run, and there was only one to their +credit in the fourth. There was gloom and despair among their supporters +while the "rooters" of the visiting team were happy singing songs and +yelling. + +Joe played well and had two outs to his credit on long flies, with no +errors to mar his record. But he noticed that as the home team came to +the bat in their half of the fifth, in which the Silver Stars had made +two runs, that Darrell and the captain were in earnest consultation with +Sam. They seemed to be remonstrating with him, and Joe heard the manager +say: + +"Take it easy now; we have the game on ice." + +"Oh, I know how to play ball," retorted the pitcher. + +Then began a series of happenings. With a lead of four runs when the +last half of the fifth started it would have seemed that the Stars might +have won out. But Sam fell a prey to the applause of the crowd and began +to do "grandstand" work. He contorted his body unnecessarily in winding +up for a delivery. He hopped about before pitching the ball and he +failed to study the batters, though he had had plenty of chance to do +so. + +The result was that he went to pieces through sheer weariness and began +giving balls. Then the home team, realizing what was happening, began to +pound him, and to steal bases. In their half of the fifth the home team +made six runs, putting them two ahead. + +"We've got to stop that!" said Darrell, with a shake of his head. + +"We sure have," agreed the captain. + +There was somewhat of a brace on the part of the Stars and they made one +run in their part of the sixth. But the Whizzers kept pace with them. +The seventh inning resulted in one run for the visitors and none for the +home team and that made only a lead of one for the home nine. + +Joe brought in a run in the eighth, but as if it had been prearranged +the home team duplicated so the score at the beginning of the ninth +stood eight to nine in favor of the home team. + +"We need two runs to win, if we can serve them goose eggs for lunch," +said the Silver Star captain grimly. "Go to it, boys; beat 'em out." + +"Sure we will," said Sam airily, and he brought in one of the needed +two runs. Darrell contributed the other, and when the visiting team took +the field they were one ahead. + +"Don't let a man get to first!" cried Captain Rankin. + +But it was not to be. Sam gave the first man his base on balls and there +was a groan of anguish from his fellows and the Riverside crowd. Then +the second man whacked out what appeared to be a pretty three bagger, +scoring the runner from first. The batter slipped on his way from second +to third, however, and was put out when Joe made a magnificent throw in +from deep centre. + +With one out Sam gathered himself together and struck out the next man. +Then came to the bat the mightiest walloper of the rival team. + +"Wait for a good one. Make him give you what you want," advised the +coacher to the batter. + +And the latter did wait, for when he got what he wanted he "slammed it" +away out in centre field. + +"A home run! A home run!" yelled the frantic crowd. + +"And win the game!" shouted a score of the players' friends. "Come on, +baby-mine!" + +Joe was madly racing after the ball, which had gone away beyond him. He +got it and hurled it to second for a relay home, as a quick glance had +shown him the man rounding third. + +Straight and true the ball went and the baseman had it. Then he sent it +to Catcher Ferguson as the runner was racing in. Sam had run from his +box and stood watching and expectant near home plate. + +The runner dropped and slid and Bart Ferguson, as the ball landed in his +mitt, reached over to touch him. + +"Safe!" howled the umpire, and it meant the defeat of the Silver Stars. + +For a moment there was silence and then Sam, stepping up to the umpire, +a lad smaller than himself, said: + +"Safe, eh? Not in a thousand years! You don't know how to umpire a game. +Safe! I guess not!" and drawing back his fist Sam sent it crashing into +the face of the other lad. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +JOE IS WATCHED + + +There was an uproar in an instant. Players started for Sam and the +unoffending lad whom he had struck. There were savage yells, calling for +vengeance. Even Sam's mates, used as they were to his fits of temper, +were not prepared for this. The Whizzer players were wild to get at him, +but, instinctively Darrell, Joe, Rankin, and some of the others of the +Silver Stars formed a protecting cordon about their pitcher. + +"Are you crazy, Sam? What in the world did you do that for?" demanded +the manager. + +"He made a rank decision, an unfair one!" cried Sam, "and when I called +him down he was going to hit me. I got in ahead of him--that's all." + +"That's not so!" cried the Whizzer captain. "I saw it all." + +"That's right!" chimed in some of his mates. + +"Farson never raised his hand to him!" declared another lad, who had +been standing near the umpire. "You're a big coward to hit a chap +smaller than you are!" he called tauntingly to Sam. + +"Well, I'm not afraid to hit you!" cried the pitcher, who seemed to have +lost control of himself. "And if you want anything you know how to get +it." + +"Yes, and I'm willing to take it right now," yelled the other, stepping +up to Sam. + +There might have been another fight then and there, for both lads were +unreasonable with anger, but Darrell quickly stepped in between them. + +"Look here!" burst out the Stars' manager, in what he tried to make a +good-natured and reasoning voice, "this has got to stop. We didn't come +here to fight, we came to play baseball and you trimmed us properly." + +"Then why don't you fellows take your medicine?" demanded the home +captain. "What right has he got to tackle our umpire?" + +"No right at all," admitted Darrell. "Sam was in the wrong and he'll +apologize. He probably thought the man was out." + +"And he _was_ out!" exploded the unreasonable pitcher. "I'll not +apologize, either." + +"Wipe up the field with 'em!" came in murmurs from the home players. +Several of the lads had grasped their bats. + +It was a critical moment and Darrell felt it. He pulled Sam to one side +and whispered rapidly and tensely in his ear: + +"Sam, you've got to apologize, and you've got to admit that the runner +was safe. There's no other way out of it." + +"Suppose I won't?" + +There was defiance in Sam's air. Darrell took a quick decision. + +"Then I'll put you out of the team!" was his instant rejoinder, and it +came so promptly that Sam winced. + +Now it is one thing to resign, but quite another to be read out of an +organization, whether it be a baseball team or a political society. Sam +realized this. He might have, in his anger, refused to belong to the +Silver Stars and, later on he could boast of having gotten out of his +own accord. But to be "fired" carried no glory with it, and Sam was ever +on the lookout for glory. + +"Do you mean that?" he asked of Darrell. "Won't you fellows stick up for +me?" + +He looked a vain appeal to his mates. + +"I mean every word of it," replied the manager firmly. "We fellows would +stick up for you if you were in the right, but you're dead wrong this +time. It's apologize or get out of the team!" + +Once more Sam paused. He could hear the angry murmurs of the home +players as they watched him, waiting for his decision. Even some of his +own mates were regarding him with unfriendly eyes. He must make a virtue +of necessity. + +"All right--I--I apologize," said Sam in a low voice. "The runner was +safe I guess." + +"You'd better be sure about it," said the captain of the Whizzers, in a +peculiar tone as he looked at Sam. + +"Oh, I'm sure all right." + +"And you're sorry you hit our umpire?" persisted the captain, for Sam's +apology had not been very satisfactory. + +"Yes. You needn't rub it in," growled the pitcher. + +"Then why don't you shake hands with him, and tell him so like a man?" +went on the home captain. + +"I won't shake hands with him!" exclaimed the small umpire. "I don't +shake hands with cowards!" + +There was another murmur, and the trouble that had been so nearly +adjusted threatened to break out again. But Darrell was wise in his +day. + +"That's all right!" he called, more cheerily than he felt. "You fellows +beat us fairly and on the level. We haven't a kick coming, but we may +treat you to a dose of the same medicine when we have a return game; eh, +old man?" and he made his way to the opposing captain and the manager +and cordially shook hands with them. There was a half cheer from the +Whizzers. They liked a good loser. + +"Yes, maybe you can turn the tables on us," admitted the other manager, +"but I hope when we do come to Riverside you'll have a different +pitcher," and he glanced significantly at Sam. + +"No telling," replied Darrell with a laugh. "Come on, fellows. We'll +give three cheers for the team that beat us and then we'll beat it for +home." + +It was rather a silent crowd of the Silver Stars that rode in the +special trolley. Following them was another car containing some of the +"rooters." They made up in liveliness what the team members lacked in +spirits, for there were a number of girls with the lads, Joe's sister +and Tom's being among them, and they started some school songs. + +And the gloom that seemed to hang over the Stars was not altogether +because of their defeat. It was the remembrance of Sam's unsportsmanlike +act, and it rankled deep. + +On his part it is doubtful if Sam felt any remorse. He was a +hot-tempered lad, used to having his own way, and probably he thought he +had done just right in chastising the umpire for what he regarded as a +rank decision. + +Darrell, Rankin and some of the others tried to be jolly and start a +line of talk that would make the lads forget the unpleasant incident, +but it is doubtful if they succeeded to any great extent. + +The manager was seriously considering the future of the team. Was it +wise to go on with such a pitcher as Sam who, though talented, could not +be relied upon and who was likely to make "breaks" at unexpected times? + +"Yet what can we do?" asked Darrell of the captain. "Is there another +man we could put in or get from some other team?" + +"I don't believe any other team would part with a good pitcher at this +time of the season," replied Rankin. "Surely not if he was a real good +one, and we want one that _is_ good. As for using some of the other +fellows in Sam's place, I don't know of any one that's anywhere near as +good as he is." + +"How about Percy Parnell? He's pitched some, hasn't he?" + +"Yes, but you know what happened. He was knocked out of the box and we +were whitewashed that game." + +"Say!" exclaimed Darrell. "I just happened to think of it. That +new fellow--Joe Matson. He told me he used to pitch in his home +town--Bentville I think it was. I wonder if he'd be any good?" + +"Hard telling," replied the captain, somewhat indifferently. "We ought +to do something, anyhow." + +"I tell you what I'm going to do," went on Darrell. "I'm going to write +to some one in Bentville. I think I know an old baseball friend there, +and I'll ask him what Matson's record was. If he made good at all we +might give him a tryout." + +"And have Sam get on his ear?" + +"I don't care whether he does or not. Things can't be much worse; can +they?" + +"No, I guess not. Go ahead. I'm with you in anything you do. Three +straight wallops in three weeks have taken the heart out of me." + +"Same here. Well, we'll see what we can do." + +Joe reached home that night rather tired and discouraged. He felt the +defeat of his team keenly, and the more so as the nine he had played +with in Bentville had had a much better record than that of the Silver +Stars--at least so far, though the Silver Stars were an older and +stronger team. + +"I wonder if I'm the hoodoo?" mused Joe. "They lost the first game I saw +them play, and the next one I played in they lost, and here's this one. +I hope I'm not a jinx." + +Then he reviewed his own playing in the two games where he had had a +chance to show what he could do, and he had no fault to find with his +efforts. True, he had made errors; but who had not? + +"I'm going to keep on practicing," mused Joe. "If I can work up in speed +and accuracy, and keep what curving power I have already, I may get a +chance to pitch. Things are coming to a head with Sam, and, though I +don't wish him any bad luck, if he _does_ get out I hope I get a chance +to go in." + +Following this plan, Joe went off by himself one afternoon several days +later to practice throwing in the empty lot. He used a basket to hold +the balls he pitched and he was glad to find that he had not gone back +any from the time when he and Tom, with the other lads, had had their +contest. + +"If I can only keep this up," mused the lad, "I'll get there some day. +Jove! If ever I should become one of the big league players! Think of +taking part in the World's series! Cracky! I'd rather be in the box, +facing the champions, than to be almost anything else I can think of. +Forty thousand people watching you as you wind up and send in a swift +one like this!" + +And with that Joe let fly a ball with all his speed toward the basket. +He was not so much intent on accuracy then as he was in letting off some +surplus "steam," and he was not a little surprised when the ball not +only went _into_ the basket but _through_ it, ripping out the bottom. + +"Wow!" exclaimed Joe. "I'm throwing faster than I thought I was. That +basket is on the fritz. But if I'd been sending a ball over the plate it +would have had some speed back of it, and it would have gone to the +right spot." + +As Joe went to pick up the ball and examine the broken basket more +closely a figure peered out from a little clump of trees on the edge of +the field where the lad was practicing. The figure watched the would-be +pitcher closely and then murmured: + +"He certainly has _speed_ all right. I'd like to be back of the plate +and watch him throw them in. I wonder if he has anything in him after +all? It's worth taking a chance on. I'll wait a bit longer." + +The figure dodged behind the trees again as Joe once more took his +position. He had stuffed some grass in the hole in the peach basket he +was using, and again he threw in it. + +He was just as accurate as before, and, now and then, when he cut +loose, he sent the ball with unerring aim and with great force into the +receptacle, several times knocking it down off the stake on which it +was fastened. + +"I don't know as there's much use in writing to Bentville to find out +about him," mused the figure hidden by the trees. "If he's got that +speed, and continues to show the control he has to-day, even without any +curves he'd be a help to us. I'm going to speak to Rankin about it," and +with that the figure turned away. + +Had Joe looked he would have seen Darrell Blackney, manager of the +Silver Stars, who had been playing the innocent spy on him. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +"WOULD YOU LIKE TO PITCH?" + + +"Come now, fellows, let's get into practice. Are all the scrub here?" + +Darrell Blackney looked around over the diamond, where about twenty lads +were assembled one fine afternoon. + +"I don't know about the scrub, but all our fellows are on hand," replied +Rankin. "Is it all arranged about the game Saturday?" + +"Yes, we're to play the Fayetteville Academy lads on their grounds." + +"A trip out of town, eh? That's two in two weeks." + +"Well it gives our fellows experience in playing on some other diamond +than their own." + +"Oh, it doesn't much matter. The Fayettevilles will be easy fruit for +us." + +"Don't be too sure. They're a younger team, that's true, and they +haven't been doing well this season, but neither have we of late." + +"Oh, we'll beat 'em," declared the captain confidently. + +"I think so myself, but I don't want you to take too many chances. Here +comes Sam. You and he get in for some warm-up work, Bart, and I'll get +the scrub together." + +Darrell went about the diamond, calling to the various members of the +"scrub," or second team. + +"We haven't any pitcher," remarked Blake Carrington, who acted as +captain of the scrub organization. + +"What's the matter with Slater?" + +"He hasn't showed up, and none of the other fellows feel like getting in +the box against you boys. You'll have to find us a pitcher before we can +play." + +A sudden idea came to Darrell. + +"All right," he answered. "I guess I can. Wait a minute." + +He ran over to where Rankin was talking to some of his players. + +"Can you play Tom Davis in centre field for to-day?" asked the manager. + +"Yes, I guess so. Why?" + +"I'm going to have Joe Matson pitch on the scrub. It will be a good time +to get a line on him, and I'll see if he shapes up as well as the day +he did when I watched him practice." + +"All right; maybe it will be a good idea." + +Joe hardly knew what to say when Darrell, as calmly as if he had done it +several times before, asked him to go in the box for the scrub and pitch +against the Silver Stars. + +"And do your best," added Darrell. "I don't care how many of our fellows +you strike out. Every one, if you can." + +Joe's heart gave a bound of delight. It might be the beginning of the +very chance he had been waiting for so long. He calmed himself with an +effort for he did not want to get "rattled." + +"All right," he answered as though he had been used to such sudden +emergency calls all season. "I'll see what I can do. I'd like a chance +to warm up, though." + +"Sure. You and Jake Bender go over there and practice for five minutes. +Then we'll play a five-inning game." + +The Stars were to bat first, and there was a mocking smile on the face +of Sam Morton as he watched his rival go to the box. + +"Don't strike us all out," called Sam. "We've had hard luck enough +lately." + +The game began, and it was for "blood" from the very start. Joe was a +trifle nervous, especially when he had two balls called on his first two +efforts. Then he braced himself, and, not trying for speed, sent in a +slow, easy ball that completely fooled the batter, who eventually struck +out. + +"Pretty good for a starter," complimented Darrell. Sam Morton scowled. + +The next batter hit an easy fly which was so promptly gathered in by the +shortstop that there was little use in the player starting for first. +Then Joe struck out the next lad after he had hit a couple of fouls. + +"That's the stuff!" cried Tom Davis, as he patted his chum on the back. +"You'll be in the box for the Stars yet." + +"Don't get me all excited," begged Joe with a smile. Yet he could not +help feeling elated. + +There was a viciousness in the pitching of Sam when he toed the plate +that showed how his feelings had been stirred. He was evidently going to +show how much superior he was. + +He did strike out two men, and then came Joe's turn at the bat. Our hero +thought he detected a gleam of anger in Sam's eyes. + +"He'd just as soon hit me with a ball as not," thought Joe, "and if he +does it will hurt some. And he may be trying to bluff me so that I +won't stand up to the plate. I'll see what I can do to him." + +Consequently, instead of waiting for the ball to get to him Joe stepped +up and out to meet it before the curve "broke." He "walked right into +it," as the baseball term has it, and the result was that he whacked out +a pretty two-bagger that brought his mates to their feet with yells. Sam +bit his lips in anger, but he kept his temper by an effort and struck +out the next man so that Joe's effort resulted in nothing. + +The game went on, and when Sam at bat faced Joe, our hero could not help +feeling a trifle nervous. He had sized up Sam's style of batting, +however, and was prepared. + +"I'm going to give him a slow ball with an in-shoot to it," decided Joe. +"He keeps back from the plate and this will make him get still farther +back. I'm going to strike him out." + +And strike him out Joe did, though not until after Sam had hit one foul +that was within a shade of being fair. But when on his next two strikes +he fanned the wind, there was a look of wonder and gratification on the +face of Darrell. + +"I believe Joe is going to make good," he said to Rankin. + +"It sure looks so. What about it?" + +"You'll see in a minute. I'm going to give him a chance to pitch part of +the game against the Fayetteville Academy nine--that is if you agree to +it." + +"Sure, go as far as you like." + +At the close of the game, which was won by the Stars, though by a small +margin, Darrell approached Joe. + +"Well?" asked the new pitcher diffidently. + +"You did first rate. How would you like to pitch part of the game +Saturday?" + +"Do you mean it?" was the eager question. + +"Certainly. I'll put you in for a few innings toward the end, after +we've cinched it, for I think it will be easy for us." + +It was not the highest honor that could have come to Joe, but he +realized what it meant. + +"I'd like it immensely," he said, "but won't Sam--what about him?" + +"I don't care anything about him," said Darrell quickly. "I'm running +this team. Will you pitch?" + +"I sure will!" and Joe's heart beat high with hope. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TO THE RESCUE + + +Joe Matson felt as though he was walking in the air when he went home +that afternoon following the scrub game. That his ambition was about to +be realized, and so soon after joining the team, was almost +unbelievable. + +"Why, what's the matter, Joe?" asked Clara, as her brother fairly +pranced into the house, caught her around the waist and swung her in the +start of a waltz. + +"Matter? Plenty's the matter! I'm going to pitch on the Stars Saturday. +Hurray!" + +"My! Any one would think you were going to pitch up _to_ the stars the +way you're going on. Let go of me; you'll have my hair all mussed up!" + +"That's easily fixed. Yes, I'm going to pitch." + +"Against whom?" + +"The Fayetteville Academy, on their grounds. It won't be much of a game, +and I'm not to go in until it's in the ice box----" + +"In the ice box?" + +"Yes, the refrigerator you know--safe. Then I'm to try my hand at +putting 'em over. Of course I'd like to go the whole nine innings but I +can't have everything at the start. It's mighty decent of Darrell to +give me this chance. Aren't you glad, sis?" + +"Yes, of course I am. I'd like to see the game, but I've used up all of +my allowance for this week, and----" + +"Here!" and Joe held out a dollar. "Blow yourself, sis." + +"Oh, what horrid slang!" + +"I mean go to the game on me. I'll stand treat. Take a girl if you want +to and see yours truly do himself proud." + +Joe hunted up his mother to tell her the good news. He found her in the +room which his father had fitted up as a workshop since the suspicious +actions of Mr. Benjamin at the harvester factory. Mrs. Matson was +looking over some papers, and there was on her face the same worried +look Joe had seen there before. + +"Has anything happened, mother?" he asked quickly, his own good news +fading away as he thought of the trouble that might menace his father. + +"No, only the same trouble about the patent," she said. "There is +nothing new, but your father thinks from the recent actions of Mr. +Benjamin that the manager suspects something. Your father is getting +some papers ready to go to Washington, and I was looking them over for +him. I used to work in a lawyer's office when I was a girl," she went on +with a smile, "and I know a little about the patent business so I +thought I would help your father if I could." + +"Then there's nothing wrong?" + +"Not exactly, and if all goes right he will soon have his patent +granted, and then those men can not harm him. But you look as though you +had good news." + +"I have," and the lad fairly bubbled over in telling his mother of the +chance that had so unexpectedly come to him. + +Mr. Matson was quite enthusiastic about Joe's chance when he came home +from work, and together they talked about it after supper. + +"I wish I could go see the game," said Mr. Matson, "but I am too busy." + +"How is the patent coming on?" asked Joe. + +"Oh, pretty good. Thanks to you I was warned in time. If I had left my +drawings, patterns and other things in the shop I'm afraid it wouldn't +be going so well. Mr. Benjamin evidently suspects something. Only to-day +he asked me how I was coming on with it, and he wanted to know why I +wasn't working on it any more. I had to put him off with some excuse and +he acted very queer. Right after that I heard him calling up Mr. Holdney +on the telephone." + +"But your worry will be over when your application is allowed," +suggested Mrs. Matson. + +Joe went to his baseball practice with a vim in the days that intervened +before the game that was to be so important to him. Tom Davis helped +him, and several times cautioned his chum about overdoing himself. + +"If your arm gets stiff--it's good-night for you," he declared, in his +usual blunt way. "You've got to take care of yourself, Joe." + +"I know it, but I want to get up more speed." + +"That's all right. Speed isn't everything. Practice for control, and +that won't be so hard on you." + +And, as the days went on, Joe realized that he was perfecting himself, +though he still had much to learn about the great game. + +It was the day before the contest when our hero was to occupy the box +for the first time for the Stars. He and Tom had practiced hard and Joe +knew that he was "fit." + +Joe wondered how Sam Morton had taken the news of his rival's advance, +but if Sam knew he said nothing about it, and in the practice with the +scrub he was unusually friendly to Joe. For Darrell decided not to have +the new pitcher go into the box for the Stars until the last moment. He +did not want word of it to get out, and Joe and the catcher did some +practice in private with signals. + +The last practice had been held on the afternoon prior to the game, and +arrangements completed for the team going to Fayetteville. Joe was on +his way home on a car with Tom Davis, for Riverside boasted of a trolley +system. + +"How do you feel?" asked Tom of his chum. + +"Fine as a fiddle." + +"Your arm isn't lame or sore?" + +"Not a bit, I can----" + +Joe was interrupted by a cry from two ladies who sat in front of them, +the only other occupants of the vehicle save themselves. The car was +going down hill and had acquired considerable speed--dangerous speed Joe +thought--and the motorman did not seem to have it well under control. + +But what had caused the cry of alarm was this. Driving along the street, +parallel with the tracks, and about three hundred feet ahead of the car, +was a boy in an open delivery wagon. He was going in the same direction +as was the electric vehicle. + +Suddenly his horse stumbled and fell almost on the tracks, the wagon +sliding half over the animal while the boy on the seat was hemmed in and +pinned down by a number of boxes and baskets that slid forward from the +rear of the wagon. + +"Put on your brakes! Put on your brakes!" yelled the conductor to the +motorman. "You'll run him down!" + +The motorman ground at the handle, and the brake shoes whined as they +gripped the wheels, but the car came nearer and nearer the wagon. The +conductor on the rear platform was also putting on the brakes there. + +Suddenly the horse kicked himself around so that he was free of the +tracks, lying alongside them, and far enough to one side so that the car +would safely pass him. There was a sigh of relief from the two women +passengers, but a moment later it changed to a cry of alarm, for the boy +on the seat suddenly fell to one side, and hung there with his head so +far over that the car would hit him as it rushed past. The lad was +evidently pinned down by the boxes and baskets on his legs. + +"Stop! Stop the car!" begged one of the ladies. The other had covered +her eyes with her hands. + +"I--I can't!" cried the motorman. "It's got too much speed! I can't stop +it." + +Joe sprang to his feet and made his way along the seat past Tom, to the +running board of the car, for the vehicle was an open one. + +"Where are you going?" cried Tom. + +"To save that lad! He'll be killed if the car strikes him!" + +"Let the motorman do it!" + +"He can't! He's grinding on the brakes as hard as he can and so is the +conductor. I've got to save him--these ladies can't! I can lean over and +pull him aboard the car." + +"But your arm! You'll strain your arm and you can't pitch to-morrow." + +For an instant Joe hesitated, but only for an instant. He realized that +what Tom said was true. He saw a vision of himself sitting idly on the +bench, unable to twirl the ball because of a sprained arm. Then Joe made +up his mind. + +"I'm going to save him!" he cried as he hurried to the front end of the +running board. Then, clinging to the upright of the car with his left +arm, he stretched out his other to save the lad from almost certain +death, the conductor and motorman unable to lend aid and the women +incapable. There was not room on the running board for Tom to help Joe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +A DELAYED PITCHER + + +The motorman was grinding away at the brakes but the heavy car continued +to slide on, for the hill was steep. The horse lay quiet now, for a man +had managed to get to him and sit on his head, so the animal could not +kick and thresh about with the consequent danger of getting his legs +under the trolley. The car would pass the horse and the wagon by a good +margin, but the boy, leaning far over, was sure to be hit unless Joe +saved him, and no one in the street seemed to think of the boy's danger. +He said later that he did not realize it himself. + +The lad was struggling to free himself but could not, and he did not +seem to be able to raise himself to an upright position on the seat, in +which case he would have been safe. + +"Steady now!" called Joe, and he braced himself for the shock he knew +would come. + +The next instant, as the car kept on, Joe found himself opposite the lad +and reaching forward his right hand he grasped him by the collar, +shoving him away so the car would not strike him. Then, holding on in +grim despair Joe pulled the youth toward him, aided by the momentum of +the vehicle. His idea was to get him aboard the car to prevent his being +struck by it, and in this he succeeded. + +There was a ripping sound, for some part of the lad's clothing was +caught on the seat and tore loose. A shower of boxes and baskets +followed the body as it slid forward, and a moment later Joe had the lad +on the foot board beside him, safe and sound, but very much astonished +by his sudden descent from the wagon seat. + +Joe felt an excruciating pain shoot through his arm--his pitching arm. +It was numb from the shock but even yet he did not dare let go, for the +lad was on uncertain footing. The pain increased. It was like being +kicked by the back-fire of an auto or motor boat. For a moment there was +a dull sensation and then the outraged nerves and muscles seemed to cry +out in agony. + +"There--there!" murmured Joe between his clenched teeth to the lad he +had saved. "You're all right I guess. Will--will somebody----" + +He did not finish, but turned to the conductor, who had rushed toward +him on the running board, ready to relieve him of the lad's weight. But +the boy was able to look after himself now, for the vehicle was almost +at a standstill, and the motorman had it under control. + +"Much--much obliged to you," the boy stammered his thanks to Joe who was +slowly making his way back to where Tom awaited him. Joe did not know +whether he could get there or not, passing himself along by clinging +with his left hand to the successive car uprights. + +"He saved your life all right," said the conductor, who had hold of the +delivery wagon lad. + +"That's what!" chimed in several other men from the street, as they +crowded up around the car. + +By this time the motorman had succeeded in bringing the vehicle to a +full stop and Joe, fearing he might fall, for the pain was very severe, +got off. Tom hurried up to him. + +"Did it strain you much?" he asked eagerly. + +"A little--yes; considerable I guess," admitted Joe, making a wry face. +"But it will be all right--I guess." His right arm--the arm he hoped to +use in the game on the morrow--the first game with him in the box--hung +limp at his side. + +Tom Davis saw and knew at once that something serious was the matter. He +realized what it meant to Joe, and he lost no time in useless talk. + +"You come with me!" he commanded, taking hold of Joe's left arm. + +"Where are you going?" demanded our hero. + +"To our old family doctor. That arm of yours will need attention if +you're going to pitch to-morrow." + +"I don't know that I can pitch, Tom." + +"Yes you can--you've _got_ to. Dr. Pickett will give you something to +fix it up. You can't let this chance slip. I was afraid this would +happen when I saw what you were going to do." + +"Yes," said Joe simply, "but I couldn't let him be hit by the car." + +"No, I suppose not, and yet--well, we'll see what Dr. Pickett says. Come +on," and Tom quickly improvised a sling from his own and Joe's +handkerchiefs, and was about to lead his chum away. + +"Oh, are you hurt? I'm sorry!" exclaimed the lad whom Joe had saved. + +"It's only a strain," said the pitcher, but he did not add what it might +mean to him. + +The lad thanked Joe again, earnestly, for his brave act and then +hastened to look after his horse, that had been gotten to its feet. The +motorman, too, thanked Joe for, though had an accident resulted it +would not have been his fault, yet he was grateful. + +"Oh, come on!" exclaimed Tom impatiently as several others crowded up +around Joe. "Every minute's delay makes it worse. Let's get a move on," +and he almost dragged his chum to the doctor's office. + +Dr. Pickett looked grave when told of the cause of the injury. + +"Well, let's have a look at the arm," he suggested, and when he saw a +slight swelling he shook his head. "I'm afraid you can't pitch +to-morrow," he said. + +"I've _got_ to," replied Joe simply. + +"Can't you give him some liniment to rub on to take the stiffness out, +doctor?" asked Joe. + +"Hum! Nature is something that doesn't like to be hurried, young man," +responded the physician. "However, it might be worse, and perhaps if +that arm is massaged half the night and up to the time of the game +to-morrow, he might pitch a few innings." + +"That's good!" exclaimed Joe. + +"And it's me for the massage!" cried Tom. "Now give us some stuff to rub +on, doctor." + +Dr. Pickett showed Tom how to rub the arm, and how to knead the muscles +to take out the soreness, and gave the boys a prescription to get +filled at the drug store. + +"Come on!" cried Tom again. He seemed to have taken charge of Joe as a +trainer might have done. "I must get you home and begin work on you." + +And Tom did. He installed himself as rubber-in-chief in Joe's room, and +for several hours thereafter there was the smell of arnica and pungent +liniment throughout the house. Tom was a faithful massage artist, and +soon some of the soreness began to get out of the wrenched arm. + +"Let me try to throw a ball across the room," the pitcher begged of Tom +about nine o'clock. "I want to see if I can move it." + +"Not a move!" sternly forbade the nurse. "You just keep quiet. If you +can pitch in the morning you'll be lucky." + +At intervals until nearly midnight Tom rubbed the arm and then, knowing +that Joe must have rest, he installed himself on a couch in his chum's +room, and let Joe go to sleep, with his arm wrapped in hot towels +saturated with witch hazel, a warm flat iron keeping the heat up. + +"Well, how goes it?" Joe heard some one say, as he opened his eyes to +find the sun streaming in his room. The young pitcher tried to raise +his arm but could not. It seemed as heavy as lead and a look of alarm +came over his face. + +"That's all right," explained Tom. "Wait until I get off some of the +towels. It looks like an Egyptian mummy now." + +Tom loosed the wrappings and then, to Joe's delight, he found that he +could move his arm with only a little pain resulting. He was about to +swing it, as he did when pitching, but Tom called out: + +"Hold on now! Wait until I rub it a bit and get up the circulation." The +rubbing did good, and Joe found that he had nearly full control of the +hand and arm. They were a bit stiff to be sure, but much better. + +"Now for a good breakfast, some more rubbing, then some more, and a +little light practice," decided Tom, and Joe smiled, but he gave in and +ate a hearty meal. + +Once more faithful Tom massaged the arm, and rubbed in a salve designed +to make the sore muscles and tendons limber. Not until then would he +allow Joe to go down in the yard and throw a few balls. + +The delivery of the first one brought a look of agony on the pitcher's +face, but he kept at it until he was nearly himself again. Then came +more rubbing and another application of salve and liniment, until Joe +declared that there wouldn't be any skin left on his arm, and that he'd +smell like a walking drug store for a week. + +"Don't you care, as long as you can pitch," said Clara. "I'm going to +the game and I'm going to take Mabel Davis and Helen Rutherford. They +both want to see you pitch, Joe." + +"That's good," said her brother with a smile. + +"Now we'll take another trip to the doctor's and see what he says," was +Tom's next order. The physician looked gratified when he saw the arm. + +"Either it wasn't as badly strained as I thought it," he said, "or that +medicine worked wonders." + +"It was my rubbing," explained Tom, puffing out his chest in pretended +pride. + +"Well, that certainly completed the cure," admitted the physician. + +"And I can pitch?" asked Joe anxiously. + +"Yes, a few innings. Have your arm rubbed at intervals in the game, and +wear a wrist strap. Good luck and I hope you'll win," and with a smile +he dismissed them. + +Wearing a wrist strap helped greatly, and when it was nearly time to +leave for Fayetteville Joe found that his arm was much better. + +"I don't know how long I can last," he said to Darrell, "and maybe I'll +be batted out of the box." + +"It's too bad, of course," replied the manager, when the accident had +been explained to him, "but we won't work you very hard. I want you to +get your chance, though." + +And Joe felt his heart beat faster as he thought how nearly he had lost +his chance. Yet he could not have done otherwise, he reflected. + +"I don't see what's keeping Sam Morton," mused Captain Rankin, as the +team prepared to take the special trolley car. "He met me a little while +ago and said he'd be on hand." + +"It's early yet," commented the manager. "I guess he'll be on hand. I +told him Joe was going to pitch a few innings." + +"What did he say?" + +"Well, he didn't cut up nearly as much as I thought he would. He said it +was only fair to give him a show, but I know Sam is jealous and he won't +take any chances on not being there." + +All of the players, save the regular pitcher, were on hand now and they +were anxiously waiting for Sam. One of the inspectors of the trolley +line came up to where the boys stood about the special car that was on a +siding. + +"Say," began the inspector, "I'll have to send you boys on your way +now." + +"But our special isn't due to leave for half an hour," complained +Darrell. "We're waiting for Sam Morton." + +"Can't help that. I've got to start you off sooner than I expected. +There's been a change in the schedule that I didn't expect, and if I +don't get you off now I can't for another hour, as the line to +Fayetteville will be blocked." + +"That means we'll be half an hour later than we expected," said Darrell. +"Well, I suppose we'd better go on. Sam can come by the regular trolley, +I guess." + +"Sure, he'll be in Fayetteville in plenty of time," suggested the +inspector. "I'll be here and tell him about it." + +There was no other way out of it, and soon the team and the substitutes, +with the exception of Sam, were on their way. There was quite a crowd +already gathered on the Academy grounds when they arrived and they were +noisily greeted by their opponents as well as by some of their own +"rooters." The Academy lads were at practice. + +"They're a snappy lot of youngsters," commented Darrell, as he watched +them. + +"Yes, we won't have any walk-over," said the captain. + +The Silver Star lads lost no time in getting into their uniforms. Tom +gave Joe's arm a good rubbing and then he caught for him for a while +until Joe announced that, aside from a little soreness, he was all +right. + +"Try it with Ferguson now," ordered Darrell, motioning to the regular +catcher, and Joe did so, receiving compliments from the backstop for his +accuracy. + +"A little more speed and you'll have 'em guessing," said the catcher +genially. "But don't strain yourself." + +The minutes ticked on. Several of the regular cars had come in from +Riverside but there was no sign of Sam Morton. Darrell and Captain +Rankin held an earnest conversation. + +"What do you suppose is keeping him?" asked the manager. + +"I can't imagine. Unless he is deliberately staying away to throw the +game." + +"Oh, Sam wouldn't do that. He's too anxious to pitch. We'll wait a few +more cars." + +"And if he doesn't come?" + +Darrell shrugged his shoulders and looked over to where Joe was +practicing with Bart Ferguson. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +JOE IN THE BOX + + +"Well, when are you fellows going to start?" asked Tony Johnson, captain +of the Academy nine, as he ceased his catching practice with Ed. Wilson, +the pitcher. "The game ought to have been called ten minutes ago." + +"Our pitcher isn't here," said Darrell anxiously. "We're expecting him +every minute. If you could wait a little longer----" + +"Haven't you any one else you can put in?" asked Ferd Backus, the +manager. "I saw some one practicing a while ago." + +"He isn't our regular pitcher," said George Rankin, "but if Sam doesn't +come we'll have to lead off with him." + +Joe had been aware that Sam was not on hand. He looked up as car after +car passed the grounds, thinking to see Sam enter, for the electric +vehicles from Riverside ran close to the Academy diamond. + +"I suppose they'll put Parnell in at the start," Joe mused, naming the +second baseman who sometimes acted as pitcher for the Stars. Joe did not +dare hope that he himself would be chosen. + +"Well, how much longer?" demanded Johnson, when two more cars had passed +and Sam was on neither of them. "We want to finish this game before +dark." + +"All right," assented Darrell briskly. "Get your men ready, Rankin." + +"But who will pitch?" + +"Joe Matson, of course. It's the only thing we can do. Take the field, +fellows. Joe, take your place in the box!" + +"Who--me?" gasped our hero, unable to believe the words. + +"Yes, you," and Darrell smiled. "Do your prettiest now. You're going in +at the beginning instead of at the end. It's different from what I +planned, but I guess I can depend on you. Hold 'em down!" + +"I will!" cried Joe fiercely and he forgot his injured arm. + +"Play ball!" ordered the umpire and Joe took his place as pitcher for +the Silver Stars for the first time. No wonder his heart beat faster +than usual. The Stars were to bat last, Rankin having won the toss. It +must be remembered that these boys were amateur players and did not +always follow league rules of having the home team up last. + +The usual number of practice balls were allowed between Joe and the +catcher at the plate and Bart noted with satisfaction that Joe was cool +and steady and that he did not try for speed. + +Then the first man for the Academy--their best hitter--faced our hero. +Bart gave the signal for a slow straight ball over the plate at an +angle. It was the beginning of a cross-fire which he and Joe had quickly +agreed upon, and, as is well known, the ability of a pitcher to deliver +a good cross-fire wins many games. Cross-firing is merely sending the +ball first over one side of the plate then the other and then right over +centre. Joe had done it in practice. Could he do it in the game? + +"Strike one!" called the umpire, when the first ball found lodgment in +Bart's big glove. There was a little gasp of protest from the Academy +crowd, but they said nothing. Their man had not struck at the ball, but +it had been in the right place and Joe knew he had a fair umpire with +whom to deal. + +His next delivery was a ball, but the third was a strike though the man +had not moved his bat. + +"Hit it--hit it!" pleaded his friends. + +The batter swung fiercely at the next ball and knocked a little pop fly +which Bart gathered in and one man was down. + +"Do it again!" called Darrell to his pitcher, and Joe smiled. His arm +pained him a little, but he gritted his teeth and delivered the next man +a strike, for the batter missed it cleanly. He was not so lucky in his +following trial, for the batter got to first mainly because of an error +in the play of Fred Newton, at short, who fumbled the pick-up and +delayed in getting the ball to Darrell. + +Joe succeeded in striking out the third man up, though the one who had +gone to first managed to steal second. There were now two out and a man +on the middle bag when Joe faced his fourth opponent. He tried for a +slow out but something went wrong and the man hit for two sacks, +bringing in the run. But that was all, for the next batter fell for some +slow, easy balls and fanned the air. + +The Academys had one run and it looked a trifle disheartening to the +Silver Stars until they came up and found that the pitcher opposed to +them was very weak. They hammered him pretty badly in the last half of +the first, and three runs were credited to them ere they had to take the +field again. + +"Not so bad; eh?" asked Rankin of Darrell. + +"Fine, if Joe can only keep it up. How's your arm?" he asked him. + +"Fine!" exclaimed our hero, but in truth it pained him considerably in +spite of the treatment Tom Davis gave it. + +The Academy team didn't get a run in the second inning though Joe was +found for some short, scattering hits. A man got to second and one to +third, mainly through errors in the outfield force, one bad one being +furnished by Tom, who was at centre in Joe's place. + +"But we'll forgive you for getting Joe's arm in shape," said the manager +with a smile. + +In their half of the second the Stars got two runs, and succeeded in +forcing another goose egg on their opponents in the home team's half of +the third. Joe did not do so well this time, for he was beginning to +tire and only a brace on the part of his supporting players saved him +from having a number of runs come in on his errors. + +One run for the Stars marked their efforts in the third and when the +fourth inning began it looked as if it was a foregone conclusion that +the visiting team would go home with the scalp of their enemy. But Joe +could not keep up the pace he had set for himself. No young and +inexperienced pitcher could, much less one with a sore arm. + +The muscles ached very much in spite of all Tom could do with rubbing in +the liniment, but Joe gritted his teeth and keep his place in the +pitcher's box. He knew he dared not give in. Only two runs were earned, +however, though he was pretty badly pounded, and this only made the +score three to six in favor of the Stars, when their half of the fourth +came. But they were unable to better it for the Academy lads took a +brace after an earnest appeal by their captain and manager. + +"Make 'em take a goose egg!" yelled the student lads to their friends, +and the Stars were forced to be content with this. + +In the fifth inning neither side scored, Joe holding his own well, and +only allowing one hit, which amounted to nothing. And in the sixth when, +with only three scattered hits, not a run was chalked up for the home +team, Darrell ran over to Joe and cried: + +"Fine, old man! Can you keep it up?" + +"I--I'm going to!" burst out Joe, though he had to grit his teeth to +keep back an expression of pain when he moved his pitching arm. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +SAM ARRIVES + + +Whether the Stars were determined to show their opponents what they +could do when they tried or whether it was because they wanted to show +their confidence in Joe, or even whether it was due to a slump in the +playing of the Academy team, was not made manifest, but at any rate in +their half of the sixth inning our friends gathered in four runs, making +the score ten to three in their favor. + +"Oh, it's a walk-over," boasted Tom Davis as he did an impromptu war +dance. + +"Yes, we've got 'em beat a mile," added Seth Potter. + +"Don't be too sure," commented the Academy captain. "No game is won +until it's over and we've got three more innings yet. The seventh is +always our lucky number." + +"You're welcome to all you can get," rejoined Captain Rankin with a +laugh. "Seven is where we always eat pie, too." + +The Stars were about to take the field for the beginning of the seventh +when there was a commotion over at one entrance gate. A lad came running +through the crowd. + +"Hold on!" he cried. "Wait! I'm going to play. Let me pitch!" + +"Sam Morton!" burst out Tom Davis. "Why couldn't he stay away until we +had the game won? I'll bet we slump as soon as he goes in the box." + +Sam came on running. He was panting and out of breath. + +"What's the matter? Where were you?" demanded Darrell. + +"I got on--the wrong car. I thought it--came here. They--took me off--in +the woods--somewhere. I've had an awful time--getting here. Is the +game--over?" + +"No, we're just starting the seventh." + +"Can't I pitch?" + +Darrell hesitated. It was a perfectly natural request for Sam and yet +Joe had been doing so well that both the manager and the captain +disliked to take him off the mound. + +"Can't I pitch?" again demanded Sam. "You don't mean to tell me that Joe +Matson has----" + +"Joe hasn't done anything but what we wanted him to," put in Rankin +quickly, "and he's made a good record." + +"Oh, I suppose so," sneered Sam. "Well, if you don't want me to----" + +"Of course you can pitch," said Darrell quietly. It was unquestioningly +Sam's right and though he was in rather an exhausted condition still the +manager and captain knew that he was at his best early in his game. + +"What are you going to do; change pitchers?" demanded the manager of the +Academy team, striding up to Darrell and Captain Rankin. + +"Yes." + +"You can't do it now." + +"Why not?" + +"It's against the rules. You've got to have some one bat for him first. +You can't change until next inning." + +There was quite a mix-up, and rules were quoted and mis-quoted back and +forth, for, as I have said, the lads were far from being professional or +even college players. The upshot of it was that Sam was allowed to go +in, whether or not in accordance with the rules the boys did not decide, +and the little feeling that had been raised soon subsided, for they were +all true sportsmen. + +As for Joe, at first he felt humiliated that he was displaced but he +realized that he had had more honor that he had at first expected, and +his arm was beginning to pain him very much. So, on the whole, he was +glad Sam had arrived when he did. + +Not so the captain, manager and other Star players, however, for Sam +allowed two runs while he occupied the box, and the Academy team and +their friends were jubilant. + +The Stars managed to get two runs in their half of the seventh. Joe did +not play, his place at centre field continuing to be filled by Tom. Joe +was glad of the rest and he watched the efforts of his rival closely. + +In the eighth Sam did not seem able to pull himself together and three +runs were due to his poor pitching. + +"Say, if we play innings enough we'll beat 'em even with their new +pitcher!" called some one in the crowd, anxious to get Sam's "goat," or +nerve. + +And this seemed likely. In their half of the eighth the Stars only got +one run, and when the ninth inning opened there were some anxious hearts +among the members of the visiting team. + +And then came a terrible slump. Sam grew wild, allowed bases on balls, +struck one man and muffed an easy fly. When the route and riot were over +there were five runs to the credit of the schoolboy players and they had +tied the score, pulling up from a long way in the rear. The crowd went +wild for them. + +"Fellows, we've got to make our half of this inning count," said Darrell +earnestly. "They're making fools of us and they're not in our class at +all. We've got to beat them! Sam, wake up!" he said sharply. + +"I'm not asleep!" retorted the pitcher. "If you think I am why don't you +send that Matson in again?" + +"Easy now, easy," spoke Rankin. "You can pitch if you pull yourself +together, and if we can't make a run this inning and it goes to the +tenth you'll have to unwind some curves." + +"I will, but it won't go to the tenth." + +It didn't, for the Stars took a brace and pulled off one run, winning +the game by a score of fourteen to thirteen. But it had been a close +call. + +"Well, you beat us," acknowledged the Academy manager as the winning run +came in. "But it took two pitchers to do it, and you'd have done better +if you'd stuck to the first one." + +"Perhaps," admitted Darrell. "You played better than I gave you credit +for." + +"Why don't you use that first pitcher regularly?" the home captain +wanted to know. + +"Oh, maybe----" began Darrell, and then he saw Sam standing close +beside him, and he did not finish. + +"What were you going to say?" demanded Sam roughly. + +"Nothing," answered the manager in some confusion. He was saved a +further reply by the approach of a boy who held a note in his hand. + +"Is Joe Matson here?" the lad asked. + +"Right over there," said Darrell, pointing to where the young pitcher +was talking to Tom Davis. + +"I've got a letter for him," the messenger went on. + +Joe rapidly tore open the envelope and read the few words the note +contained. + +"I've got to leave here," he said to Tom. + +"Why? What's the matter? Nothing wrong I hope." + +"I don't know," answered Joe. "The note says I'm to come home at once. +They've sent a carriage for me. I hope nothing has happened to--to +anybody," and gulping down a suspicious lump in his throat Joe followed +the lad off the diamond. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +JOE FOILS THE PLOTTERS + + +There was a carriage waiting just outside the ball grounds, a carriage +drawn by one horse. A man whom Joe had never seen before, so far as he +knew, held the reins. + +"There's the man who wants you," explained the lad who had acted as +messenger. + +"Who is he?" asked the young pitcher quickly. "I don't know him. Where +did he come from? Where did you meet him?" + +"I guess he'll tell you all you want to know," said the lad. "All I know +is that I was standing outside the ball grounds after the game, and he +give me that note to bring in to you. I didn't come with him." + +"Oh, I see," replied Joe, but he was wondering who the man was, and how +the fellow came to know that he was in Fayetteville. + +"Hope I didn't take you away from the game," began the man with what he +evidently meant for a pleasant smile. Yet, somehow Joe did not like +that smile. The man seemed to have a shifty glance and Joe mistrusted +him. + +"Oh, the game is over," answered the young pitcher. "I didn't play in +the last part. But what is the matter? Is my mother or father ill?" + +"It's nothing serious," spoke the man. "No one is ill. I came to get you +about your father's patents." + +"Oh!" exclaimed Joe. He felt a sensation of relief until he realized the +danger that threatened his father's inventions. Then he asked: "What's +wrong? Is Mr.----" Then he stopped for he did not know whether or not to +mention names to this stranger. + +"I can't give you any particulars," said the man with another smile. +"All I can say is that they engaged me to come and get you to save +time." + +"Who engaged you?" asked Joe. + +"Your father," replied the man. "He sent me off in a hurry and said I'd +find you at this game. I sent you in the note by the lad. Your father +had no time to write one, but you are to go to him at once. He wants you +to help him about the patent models I think. We'd better hurry." + +Joe's suspicions vanished at once. He knew his father was preparing to +send on some models to Washington and now probably some need of haste +had arisen necessitating his aid. He climbed up into the carriage, and +though he noted at the time that the rig did not seem to be from the +local livery stable, which had only a few, he thought nothing of it +then. + +The man flicked the horse with the whip and the animal started off on +the jump. Just outside the ball grounds there was a private road leading +into the main one. On reaching the chief thoroughfare the man turned +north whereas, to reach Riverside, he should have gone south. + +"Hold on!" cried Joe, "you're going the wrong way." + +"Be easy. It's all right," answered the man with a smile. "Your father +has taken all his things to a little shop in Denville. He had to have +some changes made in the models I believe, and he wanted to be in a +machine shop where he could work quietly. He told me to bring you +there." + +Joe remembered that on one or two occasions Mr. Matson had had some work +done in Denville, and once more the suspicions that had arisen were +lulled. Joe sank back on the cushions and began thinking of the game +just played. His arm was getting quite stiff. + +"I'll have to attend to it as soon as I get home," he mused. "It won't +do to have it go back on me just when things are in such good shape. If +they keep on I may become the regular pitcher. Sam certainly did poorly +in his part of the game, and I'm not getting a swelled head, either, +when I say that." Joe knew he had done good work, considering his sore +arm, and he made up his mind to do still better. + +The man drove along rapidly, and in about an hour had reached the +outskirts of Denville. He turned down a road that was evidently little +used, to judge by the grass growing in it, and halted the horse in front +of a small building. It did not look like a place where inventors' +models would be made. In fact the shack had a forlorn and forsaken air +about it, and Joe looked curiously at it. His suspicions were coming +back. + +"Where is my father?" he demanded. "I don't see him." + +"It's all right now--it's all right," said the man quickly. "Hello in +there!" he called. + +The next instant Joe saw a face at the window. Then it disappeared, but +that momentary glance had showed him it was the face of Mr. Isaac +Benjamin. In a second it was all clear to him. He had been trapped. He +attempted to spring from the carriage seat. + +"I'm on to your game!" he exclaimed to the man. + +"Oh, are you? Well, you're not going to get away!" and with that the man +grabbed Joe around the waist, pinning his arms to his sides. Then from +the little building came running Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Holdney. + +"Did you get him all right?" asked the manager of the harvester works +eagerly. + +"I certainly did," panted the other man, for Joe was struggling to get +loose. "Didn't give me any trouble either, until just now." + +"Well, I'll make lots of trouble for you, if you don't let me go!" cried +Joe. + +"Now, young man, take it easy," advised Mr. Benjamin. "We don't intend +to do you a bit of harm, and we only brought you to this place to have a +quiet talk with you. It's in your father's interest and I hope you'll +overlook the unconventional way we took to get you here. Bring him in," +he added to the man in the carriage and, despite Joe's struggles he was +lifted out and carried into the little building. The door was shut and +locked, and he was alone with his three captors. + +"What do you want of me?" hotly demanded the lad. + +"Now don't get excited and we'll tell you," said Mr. Benjamin. "It's +about your father's patents." + +"Yes," broke in Mr. Holdney, "we want to know where they are. He had no +right to take the papers and models away from the harvester works. Those +inventions are the property of the company and aren't your father's at +all. We want----" + +"Better let me talk to him," advised Mr. Benjamin. "Now Joe, you can't +understand all the ins and outs of this business, for it's very +complicated. You know that your father is working on certain patents +about a corn reaper and binder; don't you?" + +"Yes," admitted Joe cautiously, "but I'm not going to tell you anything +about it." + +"Perhaps you will after you hear all I have to say," went on Mr. +Benjamin. "Now, it's like this: Your father is unduly alarmed about the +safety of his rights in the patents, and I will admit that he has some +rights. For some reason he saw fit to take his models and papers away +from the shop at the harvester works where he was engaged on them." + +Joe smiled--well he knew why his father had removed the valuable models +and papers. + +"What we want," said Mr. Benjamin, "is to get access to those models. We +want to see them for a short time, and also look over the papers. Now +you can fix that for us if you will." + +"Why don't _you_ ask my father?" inquired Joe. + +"We have, but----" began Mr. Holdney. + +"He won't listen to reason," put in Mr. Benjamin. "He thinks we would +deprive him of his rights." Joe thought so too, but he said nothing. +"Now if you can quietly get those models and papers and let us have a +look at them they will be returned to you without fail," said the +manager. "Your father's rights will be fully protected. It may seem +strange to you for us to make this proposition in this way, and bring +you here as we have done, but it was necessary." + +"Suppose I refuse?" asked Joe. + +"Then we'll----" began Mr. Holdney, in blustering tones. + +"Now, now, easy," cautioned Mr. Benjamin. "The consequences may be +disastrous for your father," he said quietly. "I am doing this for his +own good. He will not hear of showing the models, but if you can get +them for us it will save much trouble and annoyance for--well, for all +of us. If you don't, your father may lose all he possesses and be +without a position. I know what inventors are. They can only see one +thing at a time. It is a simple thing that we ask of you. Will you do +it? Now, you needn't answer at once. Take a little time to think it +over. Go in that room there and wait. We'll give you half an hour. If by +that time you don't decide to help us we'll----" + +"We'll _make_ you!" exclaimed Mr. Holdney. "I've got too much money tied +up in this to see it lost by the obstinacy of a boy." + +"Well, if you refuse, we will have to take other measures," said Mr. +Benjamin, with a shrug of his shoulders. + +Joe's heart was beating fast. He did not know what to do. Being +practically kidnapped after he had worked so hard in the game, his fears +for his father aroused, it is no wonder that he could not think clearly. +He welcomed the chance to go off quietly by himself, but never for a +moment did he think of betraying his father. Only for an instant did he +place any confidence in what the wily manager had said. Then he knew +there must be a trick in it all. + +"But if I let them trap me it's my own fault," thought Joe. "I've got to +think up some way of escape." + +"Well?" asked the manager as Joe hesitated. + +"I--I'll think it over," answered the young pitcher. + +"All right. You can go in that room," and Mr. Benjamin opened the door +of an apartment leading out of the main one. + +Joe cast a quick glance about it as the door closed behind him. He noted +that it was not locked, but that with three men in the outer room the +boy knew he could not escape that way. + +"And I'm going to escape if I can," he told himself. "I don't need any +more time to think over what I'm going to do. They shan't have a glance +at dad's models and papers." + +A rapid survey of the room showed him that it had but one window and +that was heavily barred. He raised the sash softly and tried the bars. +They were rusty but held firmly in the wood. + +"No use trying that way," murmured Joe. He heard the hum of voices in +the outer room and listened at the keyhole. + +"Don't you think he can get away?" he heard the man who had brought him +to the place ask the others. + +"I don't believe he'll try," was the answer from Mr. Benjamin. "After +all, we couldn't hope to keep him a prisoner long. There would be too +much hue and cry over it. All I expect is that he'll be so worried and +frightened that he'll tell us what we want to know." + +"Oh, you've got another think coming," whispered Joe. + +He walked back to the window once more and, as he crossed the room he +saw what looked like a trap door in the floor. Kneeling down he applied +his nose to the crack. There came up the damp, musty smell of a cellar. + +"That's it!" cried Joe. "If I can get that door up I can drop into the +cellar even if there aren't any stairs, and I guess I can get out of the +cellar. But can I get that door up?" + +There was no ring to lift it by, and no handle, but Joe was a +resourceful lad and in an instant his knife was out. With the big blade +inserted in the crack he managed to raised the door a trifle. He +endeavored to hold the advantage he had gained until he could take out +the knife blade and insert it again farther down, but the door slipped +through his fingers. + +"I've got to get some way of holding it up after each time I pry," he +thought. A hurried search through his pockets brought to light part of a +broken toe plate. He had had a new one put on for the Academy game, and +had thrust the broken piece in the pocket of his trousers. + +"This ought to do it," he reasoned, and it did, for with the aid of that +Joe was able to hold up and raise the trap door. The damp, musty smell +was stronger now, and Joe was glad to see, in the dim darkness of the +cellar, a flight of steps. "They're pretty rotten, but I guess they'll +hold me," he murmured. + +The next instant he was going down them, and he let the trap door fall +softly into place over his head. It was so dark in the cellar now that +he could see nothing, but when his eyes became accustomed to the +blackness he saw the dim light of an outer window. + +It was the work of but a moment to scramble through it, and a few +seconds later Joe was running away from the place of his brief +captivity. + +"I guess I won't give you an answer to-day," he murmured as he looked +back. + +He heard a shout and saw Mr. Benjamin rush out. Then our hero caught +sight of the horse and carriage and like a flash he made for it. Jumping +in he called to the animal and was soon galloping down the road while +the shouts behind him became fainter and fainter. + +"This is the time I fooled you!" cried Joe exultantly, as he urged on +the horse. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +SAM RESIGNS + + +"Those desperate men! You must have them arrested at once!" exclaimed +Mrs. Matson when Joe, a little later, had reached home, having left the +horse and carriage at the local livery stable to be claimed. "You ought +to go to the police at once, John! Why think of what might have happened +to Joe," for the boy had told the whole story. + +"Oh, it wasn't so bad," said Joe who, now that the excitement was over, +and he had so completely turned the tables on the plotters, was rather +inclined to laugh at the experience. + +"There are worse things than that done to get possession of valuable +patents," said Mr. Matson. "Those men are evidently desperate, though +why Mr. Holdney should turn against me I cannot understand. But I would +rather wait, and take no action right away. My work is almost finished +and if all goes well I shall soon be independent of the harvester +people. If, however, there is a slip-up I will be dependent on my +position for a living. I think I will wait and see what develops." + +But in the morning there was a new turn to affairs. It was announced at +the harvester factory that Mr. Benjamin had gone away for an indefinite +stay, and a new manager had his place. This made it unnecessary for Mr. +Matson to say anything. He wrote a strong letter of protest to Mr. +Holdney, and then worked harder than ever to get his patents in shape so +he would be fully protected in them. + +As for Joe he said nothing to any of his chums about his experience. The +rig was claimed later by a man who would not give his name, and who +drove off hurriedly, as if he feared arrest. + +"And now I'm going to get back to baseball," announced the young +pitcher. + +His arm got better rapidly after the Academy game, and he was soon +pitching in practice with his former vim and vigor. He was now regarded +as the regular substitute twirler for the Silver Stars. + +Sam Morton, too, was regular in his practice, and there seemed to be +something different about him. He was more careful in his conduct, and +not as surly as he had been. He accepted criticism in a better spirit, +and in one game against the scrub he did such unusually excellent work +that the manager complimented him. + +"Just keep that up on Saturday," said Darrell, "and we won't let the +Fairdale Blues have a run." + +"Oh, I'll be there with the goods all right," boasted Sam. He glanced at +Joe as he said this as much as to intimate that his rival would not get +a chance in the box. + +The Fairdale Blues were a strong team, and, as they had beaten the Stars +several times, and had also won from the Resolutes, who were considered +the strongest team in the county, more than the usual interest attached +to the coming contest. + +It was to be played on the Stars' grounds, and early on the day of the +game the grandstand and bleachers began to fill. The Blues arrived in +several big carryalls with a noisy crowd of "rooters" carrying horns, +bells and clappers--anything with which to make a racket. + +"They'll get Sam's goat if he isn't careful," observed Rodney Burke, +when the Stars went out to practice. + +"Don't you fool yourself," retorted Sam. "I'm going to pitch a no-hit +no-run game to-day." + +"That's like Sam--boasting as usual," commented Rodney. + +"Well, I think he'll make good," said an admirer of the pitcher. + +"Wait until you see what kind of hitters the Blues have," cautioned +Rodney. "They may knock Sam out of the box. Then if Joe goes in----" + +"Aw, Joe won't get a chance to-day," was the retort. "He hasn't had +enough practice." + +"Look what he did to the Academy team," reminded Rodney. + +And then further talk was stopped, for the gong rang to clear the +diamond. The game was about to begin. + +The Stars took the field, for they were to bat last, and Sam faced his +first opponent with a smile of confidence on his face. It faded away a +moment later, however, as the lad knocked as pretty a three bagger as +had been seen on the grounds in many a day. + +"That's the stuff!" + +"Line 'em out!" + +"Oh, we're on to his curves all right!" yelled the crowd. Joe, who was +on the bench as a reserve pitcher, jumped to his feet and watched the +ball roll past Tom who was playing centre. It looked almost as if the +batter would come on home, but he held third and the fears of the Stars +subsided. + +"Fool him now, Sam," called Darrell to the pitcher. + +"Make him give you a nice one," was the advice the next batter got from +his friends. And he did, though it was only good for one bag. However, +the run came in, and there were gloomy hearts in the camp of the Silver +Stars. + +Sam managed to strike out the next man, and his confidence came back. +But it was only for a short time. The crowd of Blue "rooters" was making +a terrific racket and this may have gotten on Sam's nerves, at any rate +he gave the next man his base on balls and was later hit for two two +baggers. + +"Oh, we've got his goat! We've got 'em going! Everybody take a run!" +yelled the visiting captain, jumping up and down at the third base +coaching line. + +Darrell ran over to Sam. + +"You've got to pull yourself together," he said quickly. "We can't +afford to lose this game." + +"I'm doing the best I can," retorted Sam. "The ball slips." + +"Don't let it slip--slips are dangerous," said the manager sharply. +"You've got to do better or----" + +"Play ball!" yelled the umpire and Darrell ran back to his place at +first base. Sam scowled at him, and then wound up for his next delivery. + +Somehow they managed to get three out, but there were five runs in the +Blue frame when that inning ended, and only two for the Stars. + +"We can't stand this," said Rankin to the manager. + +"No, if Sam doesn't improve this inning I'm going to put in Joe." + +"Sam will raise a row." + +"I don't care if he does. Why doesn't he pitch decent ball if he wants +to hold his place? They're laughing at the Stars now, and they didn't +used to." + +"I know it. Well, maybe he'll improve." + +But Sam didn't. He could not seem to control the ball, his curves broke +just about where the batters wanted them and they knocked out three runs +that inning. + +"Matson bats for Morton!" announced the umpire when it came the turn of +the Stars and the change had been mentioned to the score keepers by +Darrell. + +"What does that mean?" cried Sam, striding to where the captain and +manager sat. + +"It means that Joe is going to pitch the rest of this game," was the +quiet answer. + +"He is?" Sam's voice rose high in anger. + +"He certainly is. You can't seem to do it, Sam. I'm sorry, but we can't +afford to lose. We're near the tail end of the league now." + +Sam shot a look at the captain. Rankin nodded his head to confirm what +the manager had said. Then the deposed pitcher strode over to where the +score keepers sat. Taking up a piece of paper and a pencil he rapidly +wrote something and handed it to Darrell. + +"What's this?" asked the manager. + +"My resignation from the Silver Star Baseball Club," snapped Sam. "I'm +done pitching for you. It was all a put-up job to get me out, and that +Matson lad in. I'm through," and he turned aside. + +"Very well," assented Darrell quietly. "If you feel that way about it +perhaps it is better that you quit. But I'm sorry." + +"Play ball!" yelled the umpire. + +"Joe, bat for Sam and then take the box," said the manager, and there +was a little subdued applause from the other Star players on the bench. +It was their way of congratulating Joe. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +BAD NEWS + + +Joe was plainly nervous. Being called on so suddenly had its effect as +did the unexpected action of Sam in resigning because Joe had supplanted +him. But the young pitcher knew that he must pull himself together. + +The game was slipping away from the Stars and the crowd of shouters that +accompanied the Blues would redouble their efforts to get Joe's "goat" +as soon as he got in the box. + +He had a foretaste of what they would do when he got up to bat in Sam's +place and struck out. It was no discredit to Joe, for the Blues had a +fine pitcher, still it added to his nervousness. + +"If that's a sample of what your new pitcher can do we'll take a few +more runs!" yelled a Blue sympathizer. + +"Oh, he only did that for fun!" yelled Rodney. + +"Yes," added Tom Davis. "He's saving his arm to strike you fellows out. +Go to it, Joe! Don't let 'em rattle you." + +The Stars took a brace, whether it was the knowledge that Joe was to +pitch or not, but they certainly braced, and in that inning got enough +runs to make the score six to eight in favor of the visiting team. + +"Now, Joe, hold 'em down!" pleaded Darrell, "and we can do the rest, I +think." + +"I'll try," answered our hero. + +It would be too much to expect Joe to do wonders, but he did very well. +He only allowed two hits in the inning when he first pitched and only +one run came in, chiefly through an error on the part of the third +baseman. + +"I guess we've got their number now," exulted Darrell, when it came the +turn of the Stars to bat. "Keep up the good work, boys. We've got 'em +going." + +The Stars managed to knock out two runs in their half of the third +inning and that made the score eight to nine--one extra tally only +against them. + +And then began what was really a remarkable game for one played between +amateur nines. For the next four innings neither side got a run. Talk of +a "pitchers' battle" began to be whispered, and for the credit of the +visitors be it said that they no longer tried to get Joe's "goat." + +Both pitchers were on their mettle. Of course they were not perfect and +probably some deliveries that the umpire called strikes were balls, just +as some that he designated as balls were good strikes. But it was all in +the game. Joe was doing good work. There were only a few scattered hits +off him and these were easily taken care of by the in or out fielders. +In this the Blues rather excelled, however, there being more errors +charged up against the home team than to them. + +But the Stars had this in their favor; that, while there were a number +of good stick men among the visitors, they were not speedy base-runners +and thus a number of men were nabbed on the sacks, through playing off +too far, or not connecting in time, who otherwise might have brought in +runs. + +"Oh, fellows, we've got to do something!" cried the captain at the close +of the usual lucky seventh, when no runs had been registered for either +side. "Can't some of you pull off a run?" + +But it was the Blue team who scored first, getting one run on a ball hit +by the first man up. It was manifestly a foul, but the umpire called it +fair and the man held his base. Then Joe's arm gave him a twinge and he +was hit for a three bagger by the next man up, scoring the player +preceding him. But that was all. + +With grimly tightened lips Joe faced his next opponent and after that +not a man got to first, and the player on third dared not steal home, so +keenly was he watched. + +With the score eight to ten against them the Stars came in more +confidently than might have been expected. And when they had hammered +out two runs, tieing the score, there was wild enthusiasm. + +"Here's where we walk away from them!" yelled Rodney, as the second run +came in, and with only one man out. But there came a slump and the +opposing pitcher braced up, striking out two men in succession. + +The ninth inning saw a single run tallied up for the visitors, and in +this connection Joe did some great work, pulling down a fly that was +well over his head and receiving a round of applause for his pluck, for +it was a "hot" one. + +The unexpected happened in the ending of the ninth, when the visitors +were one ahead. Seth Potter, never reckoned as a heavy hitter brought in +a home run, and the score was once more a tie for no one else crossed +home plate. + +"Ten innings!" was the cry and the spectators began "sitting up and +taking notice" as Rodney Burke said. + +"Now, Joe, it's up to you to shut them out," advised the captain. The +young pitcher nodded and then he cut loose. + +His arm was paining him very much for by a sudden twist he had wrenched +the muscles injured in saving the lad from the trolley car. But Joe +would not give up, and he struck out three men neatly, only one, the +second up, getting any kind of a hit, and that only good for the initial +bag. + +"A goose egg!" yelled Rodney Burke. "Now one run will do the trick!" + +"Snow 'em under!" cried Darrell. + +And the Stars did, for they rapped out the necessary run amid a jubilant +riot of cheers, making the final score twelve to eleven. + +"Oh, I knew you could do it! I knew you could!" cried the captain, +trying to embrace all his lads at once. They had won handily though at +one time it looked like defeat. + +"Good work, Joe," complimented Darrell. "You're the regular pitcher from +now on." + +"But if Sam reconsiders his resignation?" + +"He can't," rejoined the manager. "He's out for good." + +Joe could hardly wait to get home and tell the good news. He fairly +raced into the house, but he stopped short at the sight of his father +and mother in the dining room. They were seated at the table and a look +of anxiety was on their faces. + +"What's the matter?" gasped Joe, all his joy in the victory and his new +position leaving him as he looked at his parents. On the table between +them lay a number of papers. + +"I've been served with a summons from the court," said Mr. Matson +slowly. "It's a move on the part of Benjamin and Holdney. The court has +taken my patent models and documents away from me, and I may lose +everything. It's hard, just as I was about to succeed--very hard." + +"And you may lose everything, dad?" asked Joe huskily. + +"Yes--everything son--I may have to start all over again. I'm out of the +harvester works now." + +For a moment one disappointing thought came to Joe. He would not be able +to go to a boarding school as he had hoped. Then the look of trouble on +his father's face drove all other thoughts from his mind. + +"Don't you care, dad!" he exclaimed stepping close to him. "You can beat +those fellows yet. We whipped the Blues to-day, and I'm the regular +pitcher for the Stars!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE FIGHT + + +There was a moment of silence following Joe's remark about being made +regular pitcher. Then Clara laughed and it was almost a laugh of relief, +for she had been under quite a strain since she came in and heard the +bad news. + +"Oh, you silly boy!" cried Clara. "Just as if your being made pitcher +was going to help. I suppose you'll turn all your salary in to help out +now; won't you?" but there was no sting intended in her words and, +fearing there might have been just the touch of it, she crossed the room +and tried to slip her arm up around Joe's neck. + +"No, you don't!" he cried as gaily as possible under the circumstances, +"fen on kissing. But say, dad, is it as bad as all that? Have Benjamin +and his crowd beaten you?" + +"I'm afraid so, son. At least they've won the first skirmish in the +battle. Now it's up to the courts, and it may take a year or more to +settle the question of whether or not I have any rights in the +inventions I originated. But don't let that worry you," he went on more +cheerfully. "We'll make out somehow. I'm glad you got the place you +wanted. How was the game?" + +"Pretty good. It was so tight we had to play ten innings. But can't I do +something to help you, dad?" + +"We can't do anything right away," rejoined Mr. Matson. "We can only +wait. I shall have to see a lawyer, and have him look after my +interests. I never thought that Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Holdney would treat +me this way. + +"But don't worry. Perhaps we shall come out all right, and in the end +this may be a good thing. It will teach me a lesson never again to trust +any one where patents are concerned. I should have had a written +contract and not taken their mere word that they would treat me right." + +"And you are out of the harvester works?" asked Joe. + +"Out completely," and Mr. Matson smiled. "I have a holiday, Joe, and I'm +coming to see you pitch some day." + +"But--but," ventured Clara, "if you haven't any work, dad, you won't get +any money and----" + +"Oh, so that's what is worrying you!" cried her father with a laugh as +he placed his arm around her. "Well, have no fears. There are still a +few shots in the locker, and we're not going to the poorhouse right +away. Now, Joe, tell us all about the ball game." + +Which the young pitcher did with great enthusiasm. + +"But won't this Sam Morton be angry with you?" asked Mrs. Matson, who +was a gentle woman, always in fear of violence. + +"Oh, I don't suppose he'll be very _friendly_ toward me," replied Joe. + +"Then he may do you some injury." + +"Well, I guess I can take care of myself. I'm not afraid of him, mother, +and if it comes to a fight----" + +"Oh, you horrid boys--always thinking about fighting!" interrupted +Clara. "Don't you fight, Joe!" + +"I won't if I can help it, sis." + +Next morning, Joe was in two states of mind. He was delighted at being +the regular pitcher for the Stars, but he was downcast when he thought +that to go to the boarding school was now out of the question. And that +it would be impossible for him to think of it under the present +financial state of the family was made plain to him when he spoke of the +matter to his mother. + +"I'm sorry, Joe," she said, "but you'll have to give up the idea." + +"All right," he answered, as cheerfully as he could, but he went out of +the house quickly for there was a suspicious moisture in his eyes, and a +lump in his throat that would not seem to go down, no matter how hard he +swallowed. + +"Oh, I'm a chump!" he finally exclaimed. "I shouldn't want to go to an +expensive boarding school when dad is in such trouble. And yet--and +yet--Oh! I _do_ want to get on a big team and pitch!" + +In the days that followed Joe saw little of his father, for Mr. Matson +was out of town trying to get matters in shape for the court +proceedings. But Joe was kept busy at practice with the Stars, and in +playing games. + +The season was in full swing and the Silver Stars seemed to have struck +a streak of winning luck. Some said it was Joe's pitching, for really he +was doing very well. Others laid it just to luck and talked darkly of a +"slump." + +"There won't be any slump if you fellows keep your eyes open, and hit +and run," said the manager. + +The county league season was drawing to a close, and as it stood now the +championship practically lay between the Stars and their old enemies +the Resolutes. There was some talk of playing off a tie, if it should +come to that, but when Darrell mentioned this to the Resolute manager he +was told that the latter team had all dates filled to the end of the +season. + +"We can't give you a game," he announced. + +"It's too bad," said Darrell, "for we ought to decide which is the best +team." + +"Oh, ours is, of course. Didn't we wallop you once?" + +"Well, you can't do it again," was the quick retort. + +It was several days after this when Joe was coming home from afternoon +practice in preparation for a game Saturday with the Red Stockings. As +he took a short cut over the fields to get home more quickly, he was +aware of a figure coming toward him. When too late to turn back he saw +it was Sam Morton. Sam saw Joe and came to a halt. + +"Well," asked Sam with a sneer, "how is the high-and-mighty pitcher? I +suppose you've been doing nothing else but handing out no-hit and no-run +games?" + +"Not quite as good as that," admitted Joe with what he meant for a +friendly smile. + +"Who you laughing at?" demanded Sam fiercely. + +"I wasn't laughing," replied Joe. + +"Yes, you were! You were laughing at me and I won't stand it. You worked +and schemed to get me out of the nine so you could go in, and now you're +making fun of me, I won't stand it, I tell you. You think you're a +pitcher! Well you're not, and you'll never be. I won't be made fun of!" +All the pent-up anger--unreasoning as it was,--all the hate that had +been accumulating for weeks in Sam, burst out at once. + +He made a spring for Joe, but the pitcher stepped back. Not in time, +however, for he received a blow on the chest. + +Now I am not defending Joe for what he did. I am only telling of what +happened. Joe was a manly lad yet he had all the instincts and passions +that normal lads have. When he was hit his first instinct was to hit +back, and he did it in this case. + +His left fist shot forward and clipped Sam on the chin. The blow was a +staggering one and for a moment the former pitcher reeled. Then with a +roar of rage he came back at Joe, and the pair were at it hammer and +tongs. + +"I'll show you that you can't come sneaking around here and steal my +place!" blubbered Sam, as he aimed a blow at Joe's face. + +"I didn't sneak!" retorted Joe, as he dodged the blow and got a +right-hander near Sam's solar plexus. + +Both lads were evenly matched and the fight might have gone on for some +time but for Sam's rage which made him reckless. He left unguarded +openings of which Joe took quick advantage, and finally, with a straight +left, he sent Sam to the grass. + +"I--I'll fix you for that!" yelled the former pitcher as he rushed at +Joe. It was easy to step aside and avoid the clumsy blow, and once more +Sam went down. This time he did not get up so quickly, and there was a +dazed look on his face. + +"See here!" cried Joe, stepping over to him. "This has gone far enough. +I didn't want to fight, but you made me. I can beat you and you know it. +If you don't stop now I'll knock you down every time you get up until +you've had enough." + +It was brutal talk, perhaps, but it was well meant. For a moment Sam +looked up at his antagonist. Then he murmured: + +"I've had enough--for the present." + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE CHALLENGE + + +The fight was over. Sam arose and started away. Joe called after him: + +"Won't you shake hands? I'm sorry this happened, but can't we be friends +after this?" + +"No!" snarled Sam. "I don't want anything to do with you." + +There was nothing more to be said, and Joe walked away. He was somewhat +stiff and sore, for a number of Sam's blows had landed with telling +effect. One in particular, on the muscles of his right forearm, made +that member a bit stiff and numb. + +"I've got to take care of that," thought Joe, "or I can't pitch +Saturday." He had only a few marks of the fight on his face and he was +glad of it, for he did not want his mother or sister to know. + +Joe's mother did not ask embarrassing questions. In fact she was +thinking of other things, for she had received a letter from her +husband that day, sent from a distant city. Matters it appeared were not +going as well as they might, but Mr. Matson had hopes that all would +come out right in the end. + +Joe rubbed his sore arm well that night, and when Saturday came he +pitched a great game against the Red Stockings, allowing only a few +scattered hits. The Stars took the contest by a big margin. + +"Now, if we could wind up with a game against the Resolutes and wallop +them we'd finish out the season in great shape," commented Captain +Rankin, as he followed his lads off the diamond. + +"I'm going to make another try to get them to play us," said Darrell. +"I'm going to send a challenge, and intimate that they're afraid to +tackle us since we've got our new pitcher." + +It was several days later when the nine was at practice and Darrell had +not come out. Tom Davis was in his place at first and Rodney Burke was +in centre field. + +"I wonder what's keeping Darrell?" said the captain. "He hardly ever +misses practice." + +"Here he comes now," announced Joe, "and he's got a letter," for Darrell +was waving a paper as he ran across the field. + +"Good news, boys!" he cried. "The Resolutes will play us. I just got +word in a special delivery letter. That's what kept me. Hurray! Now +we'll show 'em what's what. It will be a grand wind-up for the season +and will practically decide the county championship." + +"That's the stuff!" cried the lads. + +"When do we play?" asked Joe. + +"This coming Saturday." + +"I thought they said all their dates were filled," commented Tom Davis. + +"They were, but some team they counted on busted up and that left an +opening. Then, too, I fancy that little dig I gave them about being +afraid had its effect. Joe, it's up to you now." + +"All right!" and our hero accepted the responsibility with a smile. + +There was considerable excitement among the Silver Stars over the +prospective game. They were almost too excited to keep on with the +practice against the scrub, but Darrell talked like a "Dutch uncle" to +them, to quote Rodney Burke, and they went at their work with renewed +vigor. + +When Joe got home that evening after some hard practice there was +another letter from his father. It was brief, merely saying: + +"In a few days I will know all. My next will contain good news--or bad." + +"Oh, this suspense is terrible," complained Mrs. Matson. + +The day of the game between the Silver Stars and their old enemies drew +nearer. Joe had practiced hard and he knew he was in good shape to +pitch. In fact the Stars were much improved by their season's work, and +they were as good an amateur nine in their class as could be found in +the country. + +Word came to them, however, that the Resolutes were trained to the +minute, and were going to put up a stiff fight for the county +championship. + +"Let 'em," said Darrell briefly. "We don't want a walk-over." + +"Well," remarked Clara to her brother, on the Saturday of the game, +"isn't it almost time for you to start if you're going to Rocky Ford?" + +"Yes, I guess I had better be going," answered Joe. "I want to put a few +stitches in my glove. It's ripped." + +"I'll do it," offered Clara and she had just finished when the door bell +rang. + +"I'll go," volunteered Joe, and when he saw a messenger boy standing +there, with a yellow envelope in his hands somehow the heart of the +young pitcher sank. + +Quickly he took the telegram to his mother, to whom it was addressed. + +"You open it, Joe," she said. "I can't. I'm afraid it's bad news. My +hand trembles so." + +Joe tore open the telegram. It was from his father. + +"I'm afraid it's all up," the message read. "I have practically lost my +case, and it looks as if I'd have to start all over again. But don't +worry. I'm coming home." + +A silence followed Joe's reading of the few words aloud. Then indeed it +was all over. He could not go to boarding school after all. He looked at +his mother. There were tears in her eyes but she bore the shock bravely. +Clara was very pale. + +"Well, it might be worse!" said Joe philosophically. "There is just a +bare chance--but it's mighty slim." + +And then from outside came the hail of Tom Davis: + +"Come on, Joe! Come on! It's time you started for Rocky Ford. We're +going to wallop the Resolutes!" and with the freedom of an old friend, +Joe's chum burst into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE WINNING THROW--CONCLUSION + + +For a moment Tom stood there a bit embarrassed, for he saw that +something unusual had happened. + +"I--I hope I'm not intruding," he stammered. "I didn't think--I came +right in as I always do. Has anything----" + +"It's all right!" exclaimed Joe quickly. "We just got word that dad has +lost his patent case." + +"Gee! That's too bad!" exclaimed Tom, who knew something of the affair. +"What are you going to do?" + +"I'm going to pitch against the Resolutes, the first thing I do!" cried +Joe. "After that I'll decide what's next. But is my glove mended, Clara? +Come on, Tom, we mustn't be late. We're going to wallop them--just as +you said." + +"I hope you do!" burst out Clara. + +"Play a good game and--and--don't worry," whispered Mrs. Matson to her +son as he kissed her good-bye. + +The team and substitutes were to go to Rocky Ford in two big stages, in +time to get in some practice on the grounds that were none too familiar +to them. A crowd of Silver Star "rooters" were to follow on the trolley. +The captain and managers of the rival teams watched their opponents +practice with sharp eyes. + +"They're snappier than when they beat us before," was Darrell's +conclusion. + +"They've got a heap sight better pitcher in Joe than Sam Morton ever +was," concluded Captain Hen Littell of the Resolutes, who twirled for +his team. "I shouldn't wonder but what we'd have a mighty close game." + +The last practice was over. The scattered balls had been collected, the +batting list made out and final details arranged. Once more came the +thrilling cry of the umpire: + +"Play ball!" + +The Resolutes were to bat last, and Seth Potter went up to bat first for +the Stars. + +"Swat it," pleaded the crowd, and Seth smiled. But he fanned the air +successively as well as successfully and soon went back to the bench. +Then came Fred Newton's turn and he knocked a little pop fly that was +easily caught before he reached first. Captain Rankin himself was up +next and managed to get to first on a swift grounder that got past the +shortstop. But he died on second, for the next man up fanned. No runs +for the Stars. + +The Resolutes were jubilant, thinking this augured well for them, but +they looked a little blank when Joe retired their first two men hitless. +For Joe had started off in good form. With the first ball he delivered +he knew that he was master of the horsehide--at least for a time. + +"But oh! I hope I don't slump!" and he almost found himself praying that +such a thing would not happen. + +He was in an agony of fear when he heard the crack of the bat on the +ball when the third man came up. The spheroid went shooting off in +centre field, but by a magnificent stop Percy Parnell gathered it in and +the side was retired runless. Things were not so bad for the Stars. + +For the next two innings neither side got a run, though there were some +scattered hits. Again was there talk of a pitchers' battle, though in +the strict sense of the word this was not so, as both Joe and Hen +Littell were hit occasionally, and for what would have been runs only +for the efficient fielding on both sides. + +"See if we can't do something this inning!" pleaded Rankin when his side +came up in their half of the fourth. The lads all tried hard and Joe +knocked a pretty one that was muffed by the second baseman. However, he +quickly picked it up and hurled it to first. Joe got there about the +same time as the ball did, and to many he seemed safe, but he was called +out. + +"Aw, that's rotten!" cried Tom Davis. + +"Let it go!" said Darrell sharply, and Tom subsided. + +The Stars got another goose egg--four straight--and in their half of the +fourth the Resolutes got their first run. The crowd went wild and Joe +found himself clenching his hands, for the run came in because he had +given a man his base on balls. The runner had successively stolen second +and third, and went home on a nice fly. + +"I hope I'm not going to slump!" thought Joe and there was a lump in his +throat. For an instant he found himself thinking of his father's +troubles, and then he firmly dismissed them from his mind. "I've got to +pitch!" he told himself fiercely. + +"We've got him going!" chanted the Resolute "rooters." Joe shut his +teeth grimly and struck out the next man. Then he nipped the runner +stealing second and threw him out with lightning speed. That somewhat +silenced the jubilant cries and when Joe managed to retire one of the +Resolute's heaviest hitters without even a bunt a big crowd rose up and +cheered him. + +"They're only one ahead," said Rankin as his lads came in to bat. "Let's +double it now." + +And double it they did, the Star boys playing like mad and getting +enough hits off Littell to make two runs. + +"That's the way to wallop 'em!" sang some one in the visiting crowd and +the song composed for the occasion was rendered with vim. + +Desperately as the Resolutes tried in their half of the fifth to catch +up to their rivals, they could not do it. Joe was at his best and in +that half inning did not allow a hit. He had almost perfect control, and +his speed was good. Only once or twice did he pitch at all wild and then +it did no harm as there was no one on base. + +The sixth inning saw a run chalked up for each team, making the score +three to two in favor of the Stars. + +"Oh, if we can only keep this up!" exclaimed Darrell, "we'll have them. +Can you do it, Joe?" + +"I guess so--yes, I can!" he said with conviction. + +Then came the lucky seventh, in which the Stars pounded out three runs, +setting the big crowd wild with joy, and casting corresponding gloom +over the cohorts of the Resolutes. The Stars now had six runs and their +rivals were desperate. They even adopted unfair tactics, and several +decisions of the umpire were manifestly in their favor. The crowd hooted +and yelled, but the young fellow who was calling strikes and balls held +to his opinion, and the Resolutes closed their half of the seventh with +two runs. + +"Six to four in our favor," murmured the Stars' manager. "If we can only +keep this lead the game is ours." + +"That word 'if' is a big one for only two letters," spoke Captain Rankin +grimly. "But maybe we can." + +Neither side scored in the eighth and then came the final trial of the +Stars unless there should be a tie, which would necessitate ten innings. + +Joe was to the bat in this inning, and oh! how hard he tried for a run! +He knocked a two bagger and stole third. There was one out when Bart +Ferguson came up, and Bart was a heavy hitter. But somehow he did not +make good this time. He managed to connect with the ball, however, and +as soon as Joe heard the crack he started for home. + +But there was brilliant playing on the part of the Resolutes. With a +quick throw to home the shortstop nipped Joe at the plate, and then the +catcher, hurling the ball to first, got the horsehide into the baseman's +hands before Bart arrived. It was a pretty double play and retired the +Stars with a goose egg. + +Still they had a lead of two runs and they might be able to hold their +rivals down. It was a critical point in the game. As Joe took his place +and faced the batter he felt his heart wildly throbbing. He knew he must +hold himself well in hand or he would go to pieces. The crowd of +Resolute sympathizers was hooting and yelling at him. Darrell saw how +things might go and ran out to the pitcher. + +"Hold hard!" he whispered. "Just take it easy. Pitch a few balls to Bart +and your nerve will come back. We've _got_ to win." + +"And we will!" exclaimed Joe. The delivery of a few balls, while the +batter stepped away from the plate, showed Joe that he still had his +speed and control. He was going to be wary what kind of curves he +delivered. + +He struck out the first man up with an ease that at first caused him +wild elation, and then he calmed himself. + +"There are two more," he reasoned. "I've got to get two more--two +more." + +He was almost in despair when he was hit for a two bagger by the next +player, and he was in a nervous perspiration about the man stealing to +third. Then Darrell signalled him to play for the batter, and Joe did, +getting him out with an easy fly. + +Then there was a mix-up when the next man hit, and by an error of the +left fielder the man on second, who had stolen to third, went home with +a run, while the man who had brought him in got to the last bag. + +"That's the stuff!" yelled the crowd. "Now one more to make it a tie and +another to win!" + +"Steady, boys! Steady!" called Darrell, as he saw his team on the verge +of a breakdown. "We can beat 'em!" + +There were now two out, one run was in, a man was on third and a heavy +batter was up--one of the best of the Resolutes. + +"Swat it, Armstrong! Swat it!" cried the crowd, and the big left fielder +smiled confidently. + +"Ball one!" cried the umpire, after Joe's first delivery. + +There was a gasp of protest from Bart behind the plate, for the sphere +had come over cleanly. Darrell signalled to the catcher to make no +protest. Joe felt a wave of anger, but he endeavored to keep cool. But +when the second ball was called on him he wanted to run up and thrash +the umpire. The latter was grinning derisively. + +"Here's a strike!" cried Joe, in desperation and he was gratified when +Armstrong struck at it and missed. + +"Why didn't you call that a ball?" asked Bart of the umpire. The latter +did not answer. + +Another ball was called and then a strike. Now came the supreme moment. +Two men out, a man on third waiting to rush in with the tieing run, a +heavy hitter at bat and three balls and two strikes called on him. No +wonder Joe's hand trembled a little. + +"Easy, old man!" called Darrell to him. "You can make him fan." + +Joe thought rapidly. He had studied the batter and he thought that by +delivering a swift in-shoot he could fool Armstrong. It was his last +chance, for another ball meant that the batter would walk, and there was +even a better stick-man to follow. + +Joe wound up, and sent in a swift one. His heart was fluttering, he +could hardly see, there was a roaring in his ears. And then he dimly saw +Armstrong strike at the ball desperately. Almost at the same moment Joe +knew he would miss it. + +The ball landed in the centre of Bart's big glove with a resounding +whack. He held it exactly where he had caught it. Joe had delivered the +winning throw. + +"Strike three--batter's out!" howled the umpire, and then his voice was +drowned in a yell of joy from the sympathizers of the Stars. + +For their team had won! The Resolutes were retired with but one run in +the ninth and the final score was five to six in favor of our friends. +They had beaten their old rivals on their own grounds and they had won +the county championship! + +"Great work, old man! Great!" yelled Darrell in Joe's ear. "You saved +the day for us." + +"Nonsense!" exclaimed Joe modestly. + +"Three cheers for Baseball Joe!" yelled Tom Davis, and how those cheers +did ring out. + +"Three cheers for the Stars--they beat us fair and square!" called +Captain Littell, and this was quite a different ending than that which +had marked the previous game. + +Some wanted to carry Joe around on their shoulders but he slipped away, +and got off his uniform. Soon the team was on its way back to Riverside. + +"You ought to be in a bigger team," Darrell told Joe. "You've got the +making of a great pitcher in you." + +"Well, I guess I'll have to stick around here for a while yet," replied +our hero, as he thought of the fallen finances of his father. Never in +all his life had he so longed for the chance to go to boarding school, +and thence to college. But he knew it could not be, chiefly through the +treachery of Benjamin and Holdney. Joe felt a wave of resentment against +them sweep over him, and his thoughts were black and bitter. + +Tom walked as far as Joe's street with him. He had a silent sympathy +that spoke more than mere words could have done. + +"So long," he said softly as they parted. "It was a great game, Joe, and +I'm almost glad you've got to stay with the Stars." + +"Well, did you win?" asked his mother, as Joe entered the house--entered +it more listlessly than winning a big game would seem to warrant. "Did +you beat the Resolutes, Joe?" + +"Yes, we did--why, mother, what's the matter?" cried the young pitcher, +for there was a look of joy and happiness on her face, a look entirely +different than when he had left her after the bad news. "Has +anything--anything good happened?" he asked. + +"Yes!" she exclaimed, "there has. I just had another telegram from your +father. Everything is all right. He gets back his patents." + +"No!" cried Joe, as if unable to believe the news. + +"But I tell you yes!" repeated Mrs. Matson, and there was joy in her +voice. "At first your father believed that all was lost, just as he +wired us. Then, most unexpectedly he tells me, they were able to obtain +some evidence from outside parties which they had long tried for in +vain. + +"It seems that a witness for Mr. Benjamin and his side, on whom they +very much depended, deserted them, and went over to your father and his +lawyer, and----" + +"Hurray for that witness, whoever he was!" cried Joe. + +"Be quiet," begged Clara, "and let mother tell." + +"There isn't much to tell," went on Mrs. Matson. "With the unexpected +evidence of this witness your father's lawyer won the case, almost at +the last moment. In fact your father had given up, and was about ready +to leave the court when the man sent in word that he would testify for +them. That was after your father sent the telegram that came just before +you went off to the game, Joe." + +"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Clara. + +"Now it's your turn to be quiet and listen," admonished Joe, with a +smile at his sister. + +"I have about finished," went on their mother. "The judge decided in +your father's favor, and he doesn't even have to share the profits of +the invention with the harvester company or with Mr. Rufus Holdney, as +he at one time thought he would, for they have violated their contract. +So we won't be poor, after all, children. Aren't you glad?" + +"You bet!" exploded Joe, throwing his arms around his mother's neck. + +"And we won't have to leave this nice house," added Clara, looking +around the comfortable abode. + +"Then I can go to boarding school--and pitch on the school nine; can't I +mother?" cried Joe, throwing his arms around her. + +"Oh, yes; I suppose so," she answered, with half a sigh. "But I do wish +you'd do something else besides play baseball." + +"Something else besides baseball, mother! Why, there's nothing to be +compared to it. Hurray! I'm going to boarding school! I'm going to +boarding school!" and Joe, catching Clara around the waist, waltzed her +around the room. Then he caught his mother on his other arm--the arm +that won the victory for the Stars that day--and her, too, he whirled +about until she cried for mercy. + +"Oh, but this is great!" Joe cried when he stopped for breath. "Simply +great! I must go and tell Tom. Maybe he can go to boarding school with +me." + +And whether Tom did or not, and what were our hero's further fortunes on +the diamond, will be related in the next volume, to be called: "Baseball +Joe on the School Nine; or, Pitching for the Blue Banner." + +There was an impromptu feast that night for the victorious Silver Stars +and Joe was the hero of the occasion. He was toasted again and again, +and called upon to make some remarks, which he did in great confusion. +But his chums thought it the best speech they had ever heard. + +"Three cheers for Baseball Joe!" called Tom Davis, and the room rang +with them, while Joe tried to hide his blushes by drinking glass after +glass of lemonade. + +And now, for a time, we will take leave of him, crying as his chums did +after the great victory on the diamond: "Hurrah for Baseball Joe!" + + +THE END + + + _Dear Reader_: + + If you enjoyed Baseball Joe and wish to follow his further + adventures see the books listed on the following page. + + + + +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 + + + + +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 + + + + +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 to-day, 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 + + + + +SORAK JUNGLE SERIES + +By HARVEY D. RICHARDS + +_The name Sorak means War Cry in the Malay country. He grows up among +the most primitive of the Malay aborigines, and learns to combat all +the terrors of the jungle with safety. The constant battle with +nature's forces develop Sorak's abilities to such an extent that he is +acknowledged the chief warrior in all his section of the jungle._ + +_12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in color. Price 50 cents per volume._ + +_Postage 10 cents additional._ + +[Illustration] + + + 1. SORAK OF THE MALAY JUNGLE + _or How Two Young Americans Face Death and Win a Friend_ + +Two boys, Dick and Jack Preston are shipwrecked off the Malay Peninsula +and are rescued by Sorak. Their adventures in trying to get back to +civilization make an absorbing story. + + 2. SORAK AND THE CLOUDED TIGER + _or How the Terrible Ruler of the North Is Hunted and Destroyed_ + +A huge clouded tiger, almost human, leads a pack of red dholes into +Sorak's country, and it takes all of Sorak's ingenuity, and the aid of +his friends to exterminate the pack. + + 3. SORAK AND THE SULTAN'S ANKUS + _or How a Perilous Journey Leads to a Kingdom of Giants_ + +Sorak and his friends are trapped by a herd of elephants, and finally +run away with by the leader to an unknown valley where a remnant of +Cro-Magnon race still exists. Their exciting adventures will hold the +reader enthralled until the last word. + + 4. SORAK AND THE TREE-MEN + _or the Rescue of the Prisoner Queen_ + +Captured by a band of Malay slavers, Sorak and his friends are wrecked +on an island off the coast of Burma in the Mergui Archipelago. Their +escape from the island with the Prisoner Queen after a successful +revolution brings the fourth book of this series to an exciting and +unusual conclusion. + +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York + + + + +TOP NOTCH DETECTIVE STORIES + +By WILLIAM HALL + +[Illustration] + +_Each story complete in itself_ + +_A new group of detective stories carefully written, with corking plots; +modern, exciting, full of adventure, good police and detective work._ + +_Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in color. Price 50 cents per +volume._ + +_Postage 10 cents additional._ + + + 1. SLOW VENGEANCE + _or the Mystery of Pete Shine_ + +A young newspaper man, whose brother is on the police force, becomes +strangely involved in the mysterious killing of an Italian bootblack. +Suspicion points to a well-known politician but he proves that it was +impossible for him to have done the deed. Then the reporter, who for a +time turns detective, gets a clue revolving about a startling, ancient +method of combat. He follows this up, watches a masked duelist and, with +the help of a girl, catches the murderer who justifies his deed on the +plea of Slow Vengeance. You will be interested in reading how the +reporter got out of a tight corner. + + 2. GREEN FIRE + _or Mystery of the Indian Diamond_ + +A golf caddy who has a leaning toward amateur detective work, together +with his younger cousin, are accidentally mixed up in the strange loss, +or theft, of a valuable diamond, known as Green Fire. It was once the +eye of an East Indian idol. To clear his young cousin of suspicion, the +older boy undertakes to solve the mystery which deepens when one man +disappears and another is found murdered on the golf course. But, by a +series of clever moves on the part of the young sleuth, the crime is +solved and the diamond found in a most unusual hiding place. A rapidly +moving, exciting tale. You will like it. + + 3. HIDDEN DANGER + _or The Secret of the Bank Vault_ + +A young detective, who, in his private capacity, has solved several +mysteries, decides to open an office in another city. He meets a young +bank clerk and they become partners just when the clerk's bank is +mysteriously bombed and the cashier is reported missing. It is not until +next day that it is discovered that the bank vault has been entered in +some secret manner and a large sum stolen. The regular detectives +declared "spirits" must have robbed the bank but the two young +detectives prove that a clever gang did it and also kidnapped the aged +cashier. Not a dull page from first to last. A clever story. + +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York + + + + +NORTHWEST STORIES + +By LeROY W. SNELL + +[Illustration] + +_A new group of stories laid in the Canadian Northwest by Mr. Snell, a +master writer of the glories and the thrilling adventures of the +Canadian Northwest Mounted Police. Each book is an individual story, +well written, beautifully bound, and contains a story that all boys will +enjoy._ + +_Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in color. Price 50 cents per +volume._ + +_Postage 10 cents additional._ + + +1. THE LEAD DISK + +Tom Baley, leaving college goes north into Canada, hoping to join the +Northwest Mounted Police. His application is turned down by his own +uncle, an officer on the force, but after many thrilling adventures and +encounters with the Disk Gang he is able to win the coveted uniform. + +2. SHADOW PATROL + +Luke Myers is sent into the Caribou Mountains to solve the mystery of +The Shadow, about whom many conflicting stories are told. There are +struggles with the outlaws, and finally a great running battle down the +fog-obscured mountain trails ... at the end of which the outlaws are +captured and the mystery of The Shadow is solved. + +3. THE WOLF CRY + +Donald Pierce is sent to solve the mystery of his father's disappearance, +into the unmapped barrens where King Stively weaves his web of +wickedness, and rules a territory the size of a small empire with a +ruthlessness and cunning that baffles the best of the Mounted Police. +Behind all is the dread Wolf Cry which causes brave men to shudder.... + +4. THE SPELL OF THE NORTH + +Sergeant David Stanlaw, stationed at Spirit River, is puzzled by a local +killing, the disappearance of the body, the finding of a code message, +and by the mystery of the "Listening Forest," which casts a shadow of +dread over the little town of Wiggin's Creek. With the help of Jerry +Bartlett they capture the leaders of the gang and solve the mystery of +the "Listening Forest." + +5. THE CHALLENGE OF THE YUKON + +Robert Wade whose patrol runs from Skagway on Chattam Strait north into +the Yukon country follows in the wake of a stampede to a new gold +strike. With the aid of his friend, Jim MacPhail, Wade frustrates the +outlaws, who try to trap the whole town behind the "Pass of the Closing +Door," and then races them to and across the breaking ice floes of the +Yukon. A strong adventure story all boys will enjoy. + +CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York + + + + + Transcriber's Notes: + + --Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_). + + --Punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected. + + --Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved. + + --Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars, by +Lester Chadwick + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS *** + +***** This file should be named 37056.txt or 37056.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/0/5/37056/ + +Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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