[Illustration: HE BEAT THE BALL BY A NARROW MARGIN, AND WAS DECLAREDSAFE. Page 245. ]

 Baseball Joe in the Big League OR A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles

 _By_ LESTER CHADWICK

 AUTHOR OF "BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS, " "BASEBALL JOE AT YALE, " "BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE, " "THE RIVAL PITCHERS, " "THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS, " ETC. 

 _ILLUSTRATED_

 NEW YORK CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

 Copyright, 1915, by CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

 Baseball Joe in the Big League Printed in U. S. A. 

 CONTENTS

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I TWO LETTERS 1

 II TO THE RESCUE 11

 III AN UPSET 19

 IV AN APPEAL 30

 V THE THREAT 38

 VI A WARNING 46

 VII BASEBALL TALK 54

 VIII THE QUARREL 61

 IX JOE IS DRAFTED 70

 X OFF TO ST. LOUIS 77

 XI GOING DOWN SOUTH 87

 XII THE QUARRELING MAN 97

 XIII UNDER SUNNY SKIES 103

 XIV HARD WORK 112

 XV ANOTHER THREAT 122

 XVI JOE'S TRIUMPH 129

 XVII "PLAY BALL!" 140

 XVIII HOT WORDS 148

 XIX JOE GOES IN 153

 XX STAGE FRIGHT 162

 XXI A QUEER MESSAGE 175

 XXII IN DANGER 182

 XXIII A LAME ARM 191

 XXIV A TIGHT GAME 201

 XXV IN NEW YORK 208

 XXVI ADRIFT 217

 XXVII THE RESCUE 223

 XXVIII MOVING PICTURES 229

 XXIX SHALLEG'S DOWNFALL 234

 XXX THE HARDEST BATTLE 240

BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE

CHAPTER I

TWO LETTERS

"Whew!" whistled Joe Matson, the astonishment on his bronzed face beingindicated by his surprised exclamation of:

"Well, what do you know about that, Sis?"

"What is it, Joe?" asked his sister Clara, as she looked up from aletter she was reading to see her brother staring at a sheet of paper hehad just withdrawn from an envelope, for the morning mail had beendelivered a few minutes before. "What is it?" the girl went on, layingaside her own correspondence. "Is it anything serious--anything aboutfather's business? Don't tell me there is more trouble, Joe!"

"I'm not going to, Clara. It isn't trouble, but, if what he says istrue, it's going to make a big difference to me, " and Joe looked out ofthe window, across a snowy expanse of yard, and gazed at, withoutconsciously seeing, a myriad of white flakes swirling down through thewintry air. 

"No, it isn't exactly trouble, " went on Joe, "and I suppose I ought tobe corkingly glad of it; but I hadn't counted on leaving the CentralBaseball League quite so soon. "

"Oh, Joe! Have you lost your place?" exclaimed Clara. "And just afteryou have done so well, too; and helped them win the pennant! I call thata shame! I thought baseball men were better 'sports' than that. "

"Listen to her--my little sister using slang!" laughed Joe. 

"'Sports' isn't slang, " defended Clara. "I've heard lots of girls useit. I mean it in the right sense. But have you really lost your place onthe team, Joe?"

"Well, not exactly, Sis, but I'm about to, I'm afraid. However, I guessI may as well make the best of it, and be glad. I sure can use the extramoney!"

"I certainly don't know what you're talking about, " went on Clara, witha helpless look at her big, handsome brother, "and I suppose you'll takeyour own time in telling me. But I _would_ like to know what it allmeans, Joe. And about extra money. Who's going to give it to you?"

"Nobody. I'll have to earn it with this pitching arm of mine, " and theyoung baseball player swung it around, as though "winding-up" for aswift delivery. 

"Look out, Joe!" cried Clara, but she gave the warning too late. 

At that moment Mrs. Matson entered the room with a jug of water, whichshe intended pouring on a window-box of flowers. Joe's arm struck thejug a glancing blow, and sent it flying, the water spraying over thefloor, and the jug itself falling, and cracking into many pieces. 

For a moment there was a momentous silence, after two startledscreams--one each from Mrs. Matson and Clara. Then Joe cried gaily:

"Out at first! Say, Momsey, I hope I didn't hit you!"

"No, you didn't, " and she laughed now. "But what does it all mean? Areyou practicing so early in the season? Oh, my carpet! It will beruined!" she went on, as she saw the water. "But I'm glad I didn't bringin a good jug. Did you hurt your hand?"

"Nary a hurt, " said Joe, with a smile. "Ha! I'll save _you_ from awetting!" he exclaimed, as he stooped quickly and picked up an unopenedletter, the address of which was in a girlish hand. 

"Get the mop, while you're at it, " advised Clara. A little later Joe hadsopped up the water, and quiet was restored. 

"And now suppose you tell us all about it, " suggested Mrs. Mason. "Whywere you practicing gymnastics, Joe?" and she smiled at her athleticson. 

"I was just telling Clara that my pitching arm was likely to bring me inmore money this year, Momsey, and I was giving it a twirl, when youhappened to get in my way. Now I'll tell you all about it. It's thisletter, " and Joe held out the one he had been reading. 

"Are you sure it isn't the _other_?" asked Clara, with a sly look at herbrother, for she had glanced at the writing on the unopened envelope Joehad picked up from the floor. "Let me read that other letter, Joe, " sheteased. 

"A little later--maybe!" he parried. "But this one, " and he flutteredthe open sheet in his hand, "this one is from Mr. Gregory, manager ofthe Pittston team, with whom I have the honor to be associated, " and Joebowed low to his mother and sister. "Mr. Gregory gives me a bit of news. It is nothing less than that the manager of the St. Louis Nationals isnegotiating for the services of yours truly--your humble servant, JosephMatson, " and again the young ball player bowed, and laughed. 

"Joe, you don't mean it!" cried his sister. "You're going to belong to amajor league team!" for Clara was almost as ardent a baseball "fan" aswas her brother. 

"Well, it looks like it, Sis, " replied Joe, slowly, as he glanced at theletter again. "Of course it isn't settled, but Mr. Gregory says I'mpretty sure to be drafted to St. Louis. "

"Drafted!" exclaimed his mother. "That sounds like war times, when theyused to draft men to go to the front. Do you mean you haven't any choicein the matter, Joe?"

"Well, that's about it, Momsey, " the young man explained. "You see, baseball is pretty well organized. It has to be, to make it the successit is, " he added frankly, "though lots of people are opposed to thesystem. But I haven't been in it long enough to find fault, even if Iwanted to--which I don't. "

"But it seems queer that you can't stay with the Pittston team if youwant to, " said Mrs. Matson. 

"I don't know as I want to, " spoke Joe, slowly, "especially when I'llsurely get more money with St. Louis, besides having the honor ofpitching for a major league team, even if it isn't one of thetop-notchers, and a pennant winner. So if they want to draft me, letthem do their worst!" and he laughed, showing his even, white teeth. 

"You see, " he resumed, "when I signed a contract with the Pittstons, ofthe Central League, I gave them the right to control my services as longas I played baseball. I had to agree not to go to any other teamwithout permission, and, in fact, no other organized team would take meunless the Pittston management released me. I went into it with my eyesopen. 

"And, you see, the Pittston team, being one of the small ones, has togive way to a major league team. That is, any major league team, likethe St. Louis Nationals, can call for, or draft, any player in a smallerteam. So if they call me I'll have to go. And I'll be glad to. I'll getmore money and fame. 

"That is, I hope I will, " and Joe spoke more soberly. "I know I'm notgoing to have any snap of it. It's going to be hard work from the wordgo, for there will be other pitchers on the St. Louis team, and I'llhave to do my best to make a showing against them. 

"And I will, too!" cried Joe, resolutely. "I'll make good, Momsey!"

"I hope so, my son, " she responded, quietly. "You know I was not much infavor of your taking up baseball for a living, but I must say you havedone well at it, and after all, if one does one's best at anything, thatis what counts. So I hope you make good with the St. Louis team--Isuppose 'make good' is the proper expression, " she added, with a smile. 

"It'll do first-rate, Momsey, " laughed Joe. "Now let's see what elseGregory says. "

He glanced over the letter again, and remarked:

"Well, there's nothing definite. The managers are laying their plans forthe Spring work, and he says I'm being considered. He adds he will besorry to lose me. "

"I should think he would be!" exclaimed Clara, a flush coming into hercheeks. "You were the best pitcher on his team!"

"Oh, I wouldn't go as far as to say that!" cried Joe, "though Iappreciate your feeling, Sis. I had a good bit of luck, winning some ofthe games the way I did. Well, I guess I'll go look up some St. Louisrecords, and see what I'm expected to do in the batting average linecompared with them, " the player went on. "The St. Louis team isn't awonder, but it's done pretty fair at times, I believe, and it's a stepup for me. I'll be more in line for a place on the New York Giants, orthe Philadelphia Athletics if I make a good showing in Missouri, "finished Joe. 

He started from the room, carrying the two letters, one of which he hadnot yet opened. 

"Who's it from?" asked Clara, with a smile, as she pointed to the heavy, square envelope in his hand. 

"Oh, one of my many admirers, " teased Joe. "I can't tell just which oneuntil I open it. And, just to satisfy your curiosity, I'll do so now, "and he proceeded to slit the envelope with his pocket-knife. 

"Oh, it's from Mabel Varley!" he exclaimed. 

"Just as if you didn't know all the while!" scoffed Clara. "You wouldn'tforget her handwriting so soon, Joe Matson. "

"Um!" he murmured, non-committally. "Why, this is news!" he cried, suddenly. "Mabel and her brother Reggie are coming here!"

"Here!" exclaimed Clara. "To visit us?"

"Oh, no, not that exactly, " Joe went on. "They're on a trip, it seems, and they're going to stop off here for a day or so. Mabel says they'lltry to see us. I hope they will. "

"I've never met them, " observed Clara. 

"No, " spoke Joe, musingly. "Well, you may soon. Why!" he went on, "they're coming to-day--on the afternoon express. I must go down to thestation to meet them, though the train is likely to be late, if thissnow keeps up. Whew! see it come down!" and he went over to the windowand looked out. 

"It's like a small blizzard, " remarked Clara, "and it seems to begrowing worse. Doesn't look much like baseball; does it, Joe?"

"I should say not! Say, I believe I'll go down to the station, anyhow, and see what the prospects are. Want to come, Sis?"

"No, thank you. Not in this storm. Where are the Varleys going to stop?"

"At the hotel. Reggie has some business in town, Mabel writes. Well, Isure will be glad to see him again!"

"_Him_? _Her_, you mean!" laughed Clara. "Oh, Joe, you _are_ so simple!"

"Humph!" he exclaimed, as he put the two letters into his pocket--bothof great importance to him. "Well, I'll go down to the station. "

Joe was soon trudging through the storm on the way to the depot. 

"The St. Louis 'Cardinals'!" he mused, as he bent his head to the blast, thinking of the letters in his pocket. "I didn't think I'd be in linefor a major league team so soon. I wonder if I can make good?"

Thinking alternately of the pleasure he would have in seeing Miss MabelVarley, a girl in whom he was more than ordinarily interested, and ofthe new chance that had come to him, Joe soon reached the depot. Hisinquiries about the trains were not, however, very satisfactorilyanswered. 

"We can't tell much about them in this storm, " the station master said. "All our trains are more or less late. Stop in this afternoon, and I mayhave some definite information for you. "

And later that day, when it was nearly arrival time for the train onwhich Mabel and Reggie were to come, Joe received some news thatstartled him. 

"There's no use in your waiting, Joe, " said the station master, as theyoung ball player approached him again. "Your train won't be in to-day, and maybe not for several days. "

"Why? What's the matter--a wreck?" cried Joe, a vision of injuredfriends looming before him. 

"Not exactly a wreck, but almost as bad, " went on the official. "Thetrain is stalled--snowed in at Deep Rock Cut, five miles above here, andthere's no chance of getting her out. "

"Great Scott!" cried Joe. "The express snowed in! Why, I've got friendson that train! I wonder what I can do to help them?"

CHAPTER II

TO THE RESCUE

Joe Matson looked so worried at the information imparted by the stationmaster that the latter asked him:

"Any particular friends of yours on that train?"

"Very particular, " declared the young ball player. "And I hope no harmcomes to them. "

"Well, I don't know as any great harm will come, " went on the stationmaster. "The train's snowed in, and will have to stay there until we canget together a gang of men and shovel her out. It won't be easy, forit's snowing harder every minute, and Deep Rock Cut is one of the worstplaces on the line for drifts. But no other train can run into thestalled one, that's sure. The only thing is the steam may get low, andthe passengers will be cold, and hungry. "

"Isn't there any way to prevent that?" asked Joe, anxiously. 

"I s'pose the passengers could get out and try to reach some house orhotel, " resumed the railroad man, "but Deep Rock Cut is a pretty lonelyplace, and there aren't many houses near it. The only thing I see to dowould be for someone to go there with a horse and sled, and rescue thepassengers, and that would be _some_ job, as there's quite a trainloadof them. "

"Well, I'm going to try and get _my_ friends that way, anyhow!" criedJoe. "I'll go to the rescue, " and he set off for home through the stormagain, intending to hire a rig at a livery stable, and do what he couldto take Mabel and her brother from the train. 

And, while Joe is thus making his preparations, I will tell my newreaders something about the previous books of this series, in which JoeMatson, or "Baseball Joe, " as he is called, has a prominent part. 

The initial volume was called "Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; Or, TheRivals of Riverside, " and began with my hero's career in the town ofRiverside. Joe joined the ball team there, and, after some hard work, became one of the best amateur pitchers in that section of the country. He did not have it all easy, though, and the fight was an uphill one. But Joe made good, and his team came out ahead. 

"Baseball Joe on the School Nine; Or, Pitching for the Blue Banner, " thesecond book in the series, saw our hero as the pitcher on a betterorganized team than were the Silver Stars. Joe had taken a step forward. He did not make the school nine without a struggle, for he had rivals, and a strong effort was made to keep him out of the game. 

But Joe proved his worth, and when a critical time came he pitched tovictory, thus defeating the plans of his enemies. 

It was quite a step forward for Joe to go to Yale from Excelsior Hall, where he had gotten his early education. 

Naturally Joe wanted to play on the Yale team, but he had to wait sometime before his ambition was gratified. In "Baseball Joe at Yale; Or, Pitching for the College Championship, " I related how, after playingduring his freshman year on the class team, Joe was picked as one of thepitchers for the varsity. 

Then, indeed, he was proud and happy, but he knew it would not be aseasy as it had been at Excelsior Hall. Every step upward meant harderwork, but Joe welcomed the chance. 

And when finally the deciding game came--the one with Princeton at thePolo Grounds, New York--Joe had the proud distinction of pitching forYale--and he pitched to victory. 

Joe's ambition, ever since he had taken an interest in baseball, hadbeen to become a professional player. His mother had hoped that hewould become a minister, or enter one of the more learned professions, but, though Joe disappointed her hopes, there was some compensation. 

"Better let the boy have his own way, " Mr. Matson had said. "I wouldrather see him a good ball player than a half-rate lawyer, or doctor;and, after all, there is good money to be made on the diamond. "

So, when Joe received an offer from the manager of one of the minorleague professional teams, he took it. In "Baseball Joe in the CentralLeague; Or, Making Good as a Professional Pitcher, " the fourth volume ofthe series, I related Joe's experiences when he got his start inorganized baseball. How he was instrumental in bringing back on theright path a player who had gone wrong, and how he fought to the last, until his team won the pennant--all that you will find set down in thebook. 

I might add that Joe lived with his father, mother, and sister in thetown of Riverside, where Mr. Matson was employed in the Royal HarvesterWorks, being an able inventor. 

Joe had many friends in town, one in particular being Tom Davis, who hadgone to Excelsior Hall with him. Of late, however, Joe had not seen somuch of Tom, their occupations pursuing divergent paths. 

It was while Joe was on his way to join the Pittston team, of theCentral League, that he made the acquaintance of Reggie Varley, a rich, and somewhat dudish, young man; and the acquaintance was made in an oddmanner. For Reggie practically accused Joe of knowing something of somejewelry that was missing from a valise. 

Of course Joe did not take it, but for some time the theft remainedquite a mystery, until Joe solved the secret. From then on he and Reggiewere good friends, and Reggie's sister Mabel and Joe were----

Oh, well, what's the use of telling on a fellow? You wouldn't like ityourself; would you?

The baseball season came to an end, and the Pittston team covered itselfwith glory, partly due to Joe's good pitching. Cold weather set in, andthe players took themselves to their various Winter occupations, orpleasures. Joe went home, to wait until the training season should open, in preparation for league games on the velvety, green diamonds. 

Several weeks of inaction had passed, the holidays were over, Winter hadset in with all earnestness, and now we find Joe hurrying along, intenton the rescue of Reggie and his sister from the snow-stalled train. 

"I hope they will not freeze before I get to them, " thought Joe, as hestaggered through the blinding snow. "They can't, though, for there'llbe sure to be steam for some hours yet. I guess I'll stop home, and getsomething to eat for them, and a bottle of coffee. I'll put it in one ofthose vacuum flasks, and it will keep hot. "

So intent was Joe on his rescue that, for the time, he gave no morethought to the matter of joining the St. Louis nine, important as thatmatter was to him. 

"I'd better get a team of horses, and a light sled, " he mused, as heturned in the direction of the livery stable. "There will be some heavygoing between here and Deep Rock Cut, and I'll need a good team to pullthrough. "

A little later he was leaving his order with the proprietor. 

"I'll fix you up, Joe, " said the stable boss, who was a baseball "fan, "and a great admirer of our hero. "I'll give you the best team in theplace, and they'll get you through, if any horses can. I expect I'llhave other calls, if, as you say, the train is stalled, for there'lllikely be other folks in town who have friends aboard her. But you'vegot the first call, and I'm glad of it. "

"I'll be back in a little while, " called Joe, as he hurried off. "I'mgoing around to my house to put up some lunch and coffee. "

"Good idea! I'll have everything ready for you when you come back. "

On Joe hurried once more, through the swirl of white flakes that cutinto his face, blown on the wings of a bitter wind. He bent his head tothe blast, and buttoned his overcoat more closely about him, as hefought his way through the drifts. 

It had been snowing since early morning, and there were no signs toindicate that the storm was going to stop. It was growing colder, too, and the wind seemed to increase in violence each hour. Though it wasonly a little after one o'clock in the afternoon, it was unusually dark, and Joe realized that night would soon be at hand, hastened by theclouds overhead. 

"But the snow will make it light enough to see, I guess, " reasoned Joe. "I hope I can keep to the road. It wouldn't be much of a joke to getReggie and Mabel out of the train, into the comfortable sled, and thenlose them on the way home. "

Quickly explaining to his mother and sister his plan of going for thetwo friends in the stalled train, Joe hastily put up some sandwiches, while Clara made coffee and poured it into the vacuum bottle. 

"Perhaps you'd better bring them here, Joe, instead of taking them tothe hotel, " suggested his mother. "Mabel will be wet and cold, perhaps, and I could make her more comfortable here than she would be at thehotel. We have room enough. "

"She can share my room, " proposed Clara. 

"That's good of you, " and Joe flashed a grateful look at his sister. "Ihope you will like Mabel, " he added, softly. 

"I guess I will; if you do, " laughed Clara. 

"Well, I sure do, " and Joe smiled. 

Then, with a big scarf to wrap about his neck, and carrying the basketof food and coffee, Joe set out for the livery stable, to start to therescue. 

CHAPTER III

AN UPSET

"Here you are, Joe. Best team in the stable. I could have hired 'em outtwice over since you went; but I wouldn't do it. Other folks have gotthe scare, too, about friends on the stalled train, " and the livery bosshanded Joe the reins of a pair of prancing horses, hitched to a light, but strong cutter. 

"Thanks, Mr. Blasser, " said Joe. "I'll take good care of 'em. "

"And hold 'em in a bit at the start, " advised the man. "They haven'tbeen out for a couple of days, and they're a bit frisky. But they'llcalm down after a while. "

With a jingle of bells, and a scattering of the snow from their hoofs, the horses leaped forward when Joe gave them their heads, and down thewhitened street they trotted, on the way to Deep Rock Cut. 

This was a place where the railroad went through a rocky defile, about amile long. It had been the scene of more than one wreck, for there wasa dangerous curve in it, and in the Winter it was a source of worry tothe railroad men, for the snow piled high in it when there was a stormof more than usual severity. In the Summer a nearby river sometimes roseabove its banks, and filled the cut with water, washing out the track. 

Altogether Deep Rock Cut was a cause of much anxiety to the railroadmanagement, but it was not practical to run the line on either side ofit, so its use had been continued. 

"And very likely it's living up to its reputation right now, " mused Joe, as he drove down the main street, and then turned to another that wouldtake him out of the town, and to a highway that led near Deep Rock Cut. "It sure must be living up to its reputation right now, though, ofcourse, the storm is to blame. 

"Whew! It certainly does blow!" he commented, as he held the reins inone hand, and drew more closely about his throat the muffler he hadbrought with him. "Stand to it, ponies!" Joe called to the sturdysteeds. They had started off at a lively pace, but the snow soon slowedthem down. They started up again, however, at the sound of Joe's voice, and settled down into a steady pull that took them over the ground at agood pace. 

Now that he was actually on the way to the rescue Joe allowed histhoughts to go back to the baseball letter that was in his pocket, nextto the one from Mabel. 

"I wonder how they came to pick me out?" he mused, as he recalled thepossibility that he would go to St. Louis. "They must have had a scoutat some of the Central League games, though generally the news of thatis tipped off beforehand. 

"That must have been the way of it, though, " he went on, still communingwith himself. "I don't know that I played so extra well, except maybe atthe last, and then--then I just _had_ to--to make good. Well, I'm gladthey picked me out. Wonder if any other members of the Pittston team areslated to go? Can't be, though, or Gregory would have told me of it. 

"And I wonder how much more salary I'll get? Of course I oughtn't tothink too much about money, for, after all, it's the game I like. But, then, I have to live, and, since I'm in organized baseball, I want to beat the top of the heap, the same as I would if I were a lawyer, or adoctor. That's it--the top of the heap--the New York Giants for mine--ifI can reach 'em, " and he smiled quizzically. 

"Yes, I guess lots of the fellows would give their eye teeth to have mychance. Of course, it isn't settled yet, " Joe told himself, "but theremust have been a good foundation for it, or Gregory wouldn't have takenthe trouble to write to me about it. "

Joe found the road to Deep Rock Cut fully as bad, in the matter ofsnowdrifts, as he had expected. It was rather slow going when he got tothe open country, where the wind had full sweep, and progress, even onthe part of the willing horses, was slower. 

Joe picked out the best, and easiest, route possible, but that was notsaying much, and it was not until nearly three o'clock, and growingquite dark, that he came within sight of the cut. Then the storm was sothick that he could not see the stalled train. 

"I'll have to leave the team as near to it as I can get, and walk in totell Reggie and Mabel that I've come for them, " Joe decided. 

The highway crossed the railroad track a short distance from the end ofthe cut nearest Riverside, and Joe, halting a moment to listen, and tomake sure no trains were approaching, drove over the rails. 

"Though there isn't much danger, now, of a train getting through that, "he said to himself, as he saw the big drift of snow that blocked thecut. Behind that drift was the stalled train, he reflected, and then, ashe looked at the white mound, he realized that he had made a mistake. 

"I can never get through that drift myself, " he said. "I'll have todrive up to the other end of the cut, by which the engine and carsentered. Stupid of me not to have thought of that at first. "

He turned his horses, and again sought the highway that led along thecut, parallel to it, and about a quarter of a mile distant. Joelistened, again hoping he could hear the whistle of the approachingrescue-train, for at the station he had been told one was being fittedout, and would carry a gang of snow shovelers. But the howl of the windwas all that came to his ears. 

"This means another mile of travel, " Joe thought, as he urged on thehorses. "It will be pitch dark by the time I get back to town with them. I hope Mabel doesn't take cold. It sure is bitter. "

Joe found the going even harder as he kept on, but he would not give upnow. 

"There's one consolation, " he reasoned, "the wind will be at our backsgoing home. That will make it easier. "

The road that crossed the track at the other end of Deep Rock Cut wasfarther from the beginning of the defile, and Joe, leaving the horses ina sheltering clump of trees, struggled down the track, the rails ofwhich were out of sight under the snow. 

"I wonder if Mabel can walk back?" he said aloud. "If not I guess Reggieand I can carry her. It's pretty deep. I didn't get here any too soon. "

Something dark loomed up before him, amid the wall of white, swirlingflakes. 

"There's the train!" exclaimed Joe, in relief. 

It was indeed the rear coach of the stalled passenger train, and, amoment later, Joe was climbing the snow-encumbered steps. It proved tobe the baggage car, and, as Joe entered, he surprised a number of menwho were smoking, and playing cards on an upturned trunk. 

"Hello!" exclaimed one of them, in surprise at the sight of the ballplayer. "Where'd you come from? Is the rescue-train here?"

"Not yet, " Joe answered. "I came to take a couple of friends into town. "

"Say, I wish I had a friend like you!" cried the man, with a laugh. "Isure would like to get into town; but I don't dare start out and trampit--not with my rheumatism. How much room have you got in your airship?"

"I came in a cutter, " responded Joe, with a smile. 

"Say, you got some grit!" declared the man. "I like your nerve!"

"Oh, Joe's got plenty of nerve--of the right sort!" called a brakeman, and Joe, nodding at him, recognized a railroad acquaintance who hadbeen present at some of the town ball games. 

"A couple of my friends are in one of the coaches, Mr. Wheatson, "explained Joe. "I'm going to drive back with them. "

"Go ahead and look for 'em, " invited the brakeman. "The train is yours, as far as I'm concerned. I guess we're tied up here all night. "

"They're going to start out a rescue-train, " Joe informed the men in thebaggage car, for the telegraph wires had gone down after the firstmessage, telling of the stalled train, had been sent. 

"That's good news, " replied one of the men. "Well, all we can do is tostay here, and play cards. It's nice and warm in here, anyhow. "

"Yes, it will be until the coal for the engine gives out, " spoke aplayer, who seemed to take a rather gloomy view of matters. "And whatare we going to do about supper? I'd like to know that!"

Joe wished he could have brought along enough food for all the strandedpassengers, but this was impossible. He went on through the train, andpresently came to where Mabel and her brother were seated in the parlorcar, looking gloomily out at the storm. 

"Well!" exclaimed Joe, with a smile, as he stood just back of them. Theyboth turned with a flash, and a look of pleased surprise came over thefaces of Reggie and his sister as they saw him. 

"Joe Matson!" cried Reggie, jumping up, and holding out his hand. "Wherein the world did you come from? I didn't know you were on this train. "

"I wasn't, " laughed Joe. "I just boarded it, and I've come for you, " headded, as he gave Mabel his hand. 

"Oh, but I'm glad to see you!" she exclaimed. "Isn't this just perfectlyawful, to be snowed in like this! And they tell us there's no chance ofgetting out to-night. "

"There is for you, " remarked Joe, quietly. 

"How?" asked Reggie, quickly. "Did they push the relief-train through?"

"I'm all the relief-train there is, " announced Joe, and he told abouthaving the cutter in readiness. 

"Say, that's fine of you!" cried Reggie. "Shall we go with him, Mabel?"

"Well, I rather guess so, " she answered. "I couldn't stay here anotherhour. "

"It won't be much fun traveling through the storm, " Joe warned hisfriends. At this Reggie looked a bit doubtful, but his sister exclaimed:

"I don't mind it! I love a storm, anyhow, and I just can't bear sittingstill, and doing nothing. Besides, there isn't a thing to eat aboardthis train, for they took off the dining car right after lunch. "

"I brought along a little something. It's in the cutter, " Joe said. "Ididn't bring it in here for fear the famished passengers would mob mefor it, " he added, with a smile. "Well, if you're willing to trustyourself with me, perhaps we'd better start, " he went on. "It is gettingdarker all the while, and the snow is still falling. "

"I'll be ready at once!" cried Mabel. "Reggie, get down the valises;will you, please? Can you take them?" she asked of Joe. 

"Oh, yes--room for them in the cutter, " he assured her. 

The other passengers looked on curiously, and enviously, when they heardwhere Reggie and his sister were going. But, much as Joe would haveliked to take them all to a place of comfort, he could not. The threewent back to the baggage car, and, saying good-bye to the card-players, stepped out into the storm. 

"I guess your brother and I had better carry you, Mabel, " suggested Joe, as he saw the deep snow that led along the track to where he had leftthe cutter. 

"Indeed you'll not--thank you!" she flashed back at him. "I have onstout shoes, and I don't mind the drifts. " She proved it by stridingsturdily through them, and soon the three were at the cutter, thehorses whinnying impatiently to be gone. 

"Have some hot coffee and a sandwich, " invited Joe, as he got out thebasket, and served his guests. 

"Say, you're all right!" cried Reggie. Mabel said nothing, but the lookshe gave Joe was reward enough. 

The coffee in the vacuum bottle was warm and cheering, and soon, muchrefreshed from the little lunch, and bundled up well in the robes Joehad brought, Reggie and his sister were ready for the trip to town. 

"Step along!" cried the young baseball player to the horses, and gladenough they were to do so. Out to the highway they went, and it was notuntil they were some distance away from the cut that Joe noticed howmuch worse the going was. The snow was considerably deeper, and haddrifted high in many more places. 

"Think you can make it?" asked Reggie, anxiously. 

"Well, I'm going to make a big try!" responded Joe. "I've got a goodteam here. "

Half an hour later it was quite dark, but the white covering on theground showed where the road was faintly outlined. Joe let the horseshave their heads, and they seemed to know they were going toward theirstable, for they went along at a good pace. 

"There's a bad drift!" exclaimed Joe as, ahead of him, he saw a bigmound of snow. He tried to guide the horses to one side, and must havegiven a stronger pull on the reins than he realized. For the steedsturned sharply, and, the next moment, the cutter suddenly turned over onits side, spilling into the snow the three occupants. 

CHAPTER IV

AN APPEAL

"Look out there!"

"See if you can grab the horses, Reggie!"

"Mabel, are you hurt?"

Fast and excitedly came the exclamations, as Joe managed to free himselffrom the entanglement of robes and lines. Then he stood up, and, givinga hasty glance to see that Mabel and her brother were extricatingthemselves (apparently little if any hurt), the young pitcher sprang forthe heads of the horses, fearing they might bolt. 

But, as if the steeds had done mischief enough; or, possibly becausethey were well trained, and had lost most of their skittishness in thecold, they stood still. 

"For which I'm mighty glad!" quoth Joe, as he looked to see that no partof the harness was broken, a fact of which he could not be quite sure inthe darkness. 

"Are you all right, Mabel?" called Joe, as he stood at the heads of theanimals. 

"All right, Joe, yes, thank you. How about yourself?"

"Oh, I haven't a scratch. The snow is soft. How about you, Reggie?"

"Nothing worse than about a peck of snow down my neck. What happened, anyhow?"

"Hit a drift and turned too suddenly. I guess you'll wish I had left youin the train; won't you?"

"No, indeed!" laughed Mabel. "This isn't anything, nor the first upsetI've been in--Reggie tipped us over once. "

"Oh, that was when I was first learning how to drive, " put in the otheryouth, quickly. "But can we go on, Joe?"

"I think so. Nothing seems to be broken. We'll have to right the sled, though. I wonder if the horses will stand while we do it? I wouldn'tlike them to start up, but----"

"Let me hold them!" begged Mabel. "I'm not afraid, and with me at theirheads you boys can turn the sled right side up. It isn't tipped all theway over, anyhow. "

She shook the snow from her garments, and made her way to where Joestood, holding the reins close to the heads of the horses. It was stillsnowing hard, and with the cold wind driving the flakes into swirls anddrifts, it was anything but pleasant. Had they been left behind by thehorses running away, their plight would have been dangerous enough. 

"Perhaps I can help you, " suddenly called a voice out of the storm, andJoe and the others turned quickly, to see whence it had come. 

The snow-encrusted figure of a man made its way over the piles of snow, and stood beside Joe. 

"I'll hold the horses for you, " the stranger went on. "You seem to havehad an accident. I know something about horses. I'll hold them while youright the sled. "

"Thanks, " said Joe, and, as he spoke, he wondered where he had heardthat voice before. He knew he had heard it, for there was a familiarring to it. But it was not light enough to make out the features of theman. Besides, he was so wrapped up, with a slouch hat drawn low over hisface, and a scarf pulled up well around his neck, that, even indaylight, his features would have been effectually concealed. 

"I guess they won't need much holding, " Joe went on, all the whileracking his brain to recall the voice. He wanted to have the man speakagain, that he might listen once more. 

And the unknown, who had appeared so suddenly out of the storm, did notseem to have anything to conceal. He spoke freely. 

"Don't worry about the horses, " he remarked. "I can manage them. "

"They won't need a lot of managing, " responded Joe. "I guess they've hadpretty nearly all the tucker taken out of them in the storm. It waspretty hard coming from Riverside. "

"Are you from there?" the man asked rather quickly. 

"Yes, " answered Joe, "and we're going back. "

"Then I'm glad I met you!" the man exclaimed, and Joe, who had halfformed an opinion as to his identity, changed his mind, for the voicesounded different now. "Yes, I'm glad I met you, " the stranger went on. "I was looking for someone to ask the road to Riverside, and you cantell me. I guess I lost my way in the storm. I heard your sleigh-bells, and I was heading for them when I heard you upset. You can show me theshortest road to Riverside; can't you?"

"We can do better than that, " spoke Joe, trying, but stillunsuccessfully, to get a look at the man's face. "We've got plenty ofroom in the sled, and you can ride back with us, once we get it on therunners again. Come on, Reggie, give me a hand, if you will, and we'llget this cutter right side up with care. "

"If it needs three of you, I can take my place at the horses, " suggestedMabel, who was standing beside Joe, idly looking through thefast-gathering darkness at the stranger. 

"Oh, the two of us can easily do it, " said the young ball player. "Itisn't heavy. Come on, Reggie. Better stand a bit back, Mabel. It mightslip, " he advised. 

Joe and his friend easily righted the sleigh, while the stranger stoodat the heads of the horses, who were now quiet enough. Then, thescattered robes having been collected, and the baggage picked up, allwas in readiness for a new start. 

Joe tucked the warm blanket well around Mabel, and then called to thestranger:

"Get up on the front seat, and I'll soon have you in Riverside. It isn'tvery far now. "

"Thanks, " said the man, briefly. "This is better luck than I've had insome time. "

For a while, after the mishap, none of the occupants of the cutterspoke, as the willing horses pulled it through the big drifts of snow. Joe drove more carefully, taking care not to turn too suddenly, and heavoided, as well as he could, the huge heaps of white crystals that, every moment, were piling higher. 

Reggie was snuggling down in the robes, and Mabel, too, rather worn outby the events of the day, and the worry of being snowed in, maintainedsilence. 

As for Joe, he had all he could do to manage the horses in the storm, though the beasts did not seem inclined to make any more trouble. Theman on the seat beside him appeared wrapped, not only in his heavygarments, but in a sort of gloomy silence, as well. He did not speakagain, and Joe was still puzzling over his identity. 

"For I'm sure I've met him before, and more than once, " reasoned Joe. "But then I've met so many fellows, playing ball all around the country, that it's no wonder I can't recall a certain voice. Maybe I'll get achance to have a good look at him later. "

"You'll come right to our house, " said Joe, turning to speak to Mabeland Reggie. "Mother said so. "

"Oh, but we have our rooms engaged at the hotel, " objected the otheryouth. 

"That doesn't matter. You can go there later, if you like. But motherinsisted that I bring you home, " Joe went on. "You can be morecomfortable there--at least, until you get over this cold trip. "

"It's perfectly lovely of your mother, " declared Mabel. "But I don'twant to put her to so much inconvenience. "

"It isn't any inconvenience at all, " laughed Joe. "She wants to meetyou, and so does my sister Clara. "

"And I want to meet them, " responded Mabel, with a blush that was unseenin the darkness. 

"Well, have it your own way, " said Reggie, who was, perhaps, rather toomuch inclined to give in easily. Life came very easy to him, anyhow. "It's very nice of you to put us up, Joe. By the way, how is yourfather since the operation?"

"Oh, he has almost entirely recovered. His eyesight is better than ever, he says. "

"How lovely!" cried Mabel. "And how lucky it was, Joe, that your shareof the money your team got for winning the pennant helped to make theoperation possible. "

"Yes, I sure do owe a debt of gratitude to baseball, " admitted the youngpitcher. 

"Do you play ball?" suddenly asked the man on the seat beside Joe. 

"Yes, I play at it, " was the modest answer. 

"Amateur or professional?"

"Professional. I am with the Central League. "

Was it fancy, or did the man give a sudden start, that might indicatesurprise? Joe could not be sure. 

"I suppose you'll be at it again this year, Joe, " put in Reggie. 

"Oh, yes. But I may change my club. I'll tell you about it later. We'llsoon be at the house. Is there any special place I can take you to, inRiverside?" asked Joe of the stranger. 

"Well, I'm looking for a young fellow named Matson, " was the unexpectedanswer. 

"Matson?" cried Joe. "Why, that's my name!"

"Joe Matson?" the man exclaimed, drawing slightly away in order, possibly, to get a better look at the young player. 

"I'm Joe Matson--yes. Are you looking for me?"

"I was, and I'm glad I found you!" the man exclaimed. "I've got a veryspecial request to make of you. Is there some hotel, or boarding house, where I could put up, and where I could see you--later?" he asked, eagerly. 

"Why, yes, there are several such places in town, " said Joe, slowly, trying, harder than ever, to place the man who had so unexpectedlyappeared. 

"Take me to a quiet one--not too high-priced, " requested the man in alow voice. "I want to see you on a very particular matter--that is, it'sparticular to me, " he added, significantly. "Will you come and seeme--after you take care of your friends?"

"Why, yes, I guess so--perhaps to-morrow, " replied Joe, for he did notfancy going out in the storm again that night. "But why can't you stopoff at my house now?" he asked. 

"No, I don't want to do that, " the man objected. "I'd rather you wouldcome to see me, " and there was a note of appeal in his voice. 

"Very well, I'll see you to-morrow, " Joe promised, wondering if thisman's seeking of him had any connection with his possible draft to theSt. Louis Cardinals. 

CHAPTER V

THE THREAT

"Here's a boarding house that will suit you, I think, " announced Joe, alittle later, as he stopped the horses in front of a sort of hostelry ofgood reputation. It was not as large nor as stylish as some of the otherplaces in Riverside, but Joe bore in mind the man's request to be takento a moderate-priced establishment. 

"Thanks, " said the stranger. "Then you'll come here to see me to-morrow?I'll be in all day. "

"I'll call in the afternoon, Mr. --er----" and Joe hesitated. "I don'tbelieve I caught your name, " he said, significantly. 

"No, I didn't mention it, but it's Shalleg, " was the answer. 

"Oh, of the Clevefield team!" exclaimed the young player, knowing nowwhere he had heard the voice before. 

"Yes, of the Clevefield team, " admitted Mr. Shalleg, repeating the nameof one of the nines forming the Central League, and which team Joe'sclub had met several times on the diamond. 

"I was trying, ever since you spoke, to recall where I'd met youbefore, " went on Joe, "but you had me guessing. I'm glad to meet youagain. I suppose you're going to stay with the League this comingseason?"

"I--er--I haven't quite made my plans, " was the somewhat hesitatinganswer. "I've been looking about. I was over in Rocky Ford this morning, seeing a friend, and I happened to recall that you lived in Riverside, so I came on, but lost my way in the storm. I didn't recognize you backthere, where you had the upset. "

"The lack of recognition was mutual, " laughed Joe, puzzling over whatShalleg's object could be in seeking him. "Well, I must get these folksin out of the storm, " Joe went on. "I'll see you to-morrow, Mr. Shalleg. "

The latter alighted from the cutter, and entered the boarding house, while Joe turned the heads of the horses toward his own home. 

"I guess you'll be glad to get indoors, " he said to Reggie and Mabel. 

"Well, it's pretty cold, " Reggie admitted, "though I suppose my sisterwill say she likes it. "

"I do!" declared Mabel. "But it isn't so nice when it's dark, " sheconfessed. 

They were now on the principal street of Riverside, and the lamps fromthe shop windows gleamed dimly on the swirling flakes, and drifts ofsnow. 

A little later Joe pulled up in front of his own house, and escorted thevisitors into the cheery living room. 

"Here they are, Mother--Clara!" he called, as Mrs. Matson and herdaughter came out to welcome their guests. 

"I am glad to see you, " said Clara, simply, as she kissed Mabel----andone look from the sister's eyes told Joe that Clara approved of hisfriends. 

"Where's father?" asked Joe. 

"Bathing his eyes, " replied his mother. "He'll be here presently, " forMr. Matson had recently undergone an operation on his eyes, after anaccident, and they still needed care. 

Soon a merry party was gathered about the supper table, where the eventsof the day were told, from the receipt by Joe of the two letters, to therescue from the stalled train, and the accident in the snow. 

"But I sure would like to know what it is Shalleg wants, " mused Joe, whohad come back from leaving the horses at the livery stable. "I surewould. "

"Didn't he give you any hint?" asked Clara. 

"No. But perhaps he wants some advice about baseball matters. I'mgetting to be some pumpkins, you know, since St. Louis is after me!"cried Joe, with simulated pride. 

"Oh, do tell us about it!" cried Mabel, and Joe related the news of thedraft that would probably take him to the big league. 

Reggie and Mabel spent the night at Joe's house. The storm kept upthrough the hours of darkness, and part of the next day, when itstopped, and the sun came out. Old Sol shone on a scene of whiteness, where big drifts of snow were piled here and there. 

"I wonder how the stalled train is faring?" remarked Mabel, afterbreakfast. "We'll have to get our trunks away from it, somehow, Reggie. "

"Yes, I suppose so, " he said. "And I've got to look after those businessmatters. I think we had better go to the hotel, " he added. 

"Very well, " assented Joe. "I'll go down to the station with you, andwe'll see about your baggage. "

"I'll stay here until you boys come back, " decided Mabel, who had takenas great a liking to Clara, as the latter had to her. 

Joe and Reggie found that the train was still stalled in the snow drift, but a large force of shovelers was at work, and the prospect was thatthe line would be opened that afternoon. Thereupon Reggie went to thehotel to arrange about his own room, and one for his sister. 

"And I'll go see Shalleg, " decided Joe. "Might as well get it over with, though I did tell him I wouldn't come until afternoon. I'm anxious toknow what it's all about. "

"He's making a sort of mystery of it, " observed Reggie. 

"Somewhat, " admitted Joe, with a smile. 

Greatly to his relief (for Joe was anxious to get the matter over with)he found Shalleg at the boarding house when he called. 

"Come up to my room, " invited the baseball player. "It's warmer thandown in the parlor. "

In his room he motioned Joe to a chair, and then, looking intently atthe young pitcher, said:

"Matson, do you know what it is to be down and out?"

"Down and out? What do you mean?"

"I mean to have few friends, and less money. Do you know what thatmeans?"

"Well, not personally, " said Joe, "though I can't boast of a superfluityof money myself. "

"You've got more than I have!" snapped Shalleg. 

"I don't know about that, " said Joe, slowly, wondering whither theconversation was leading. 

"Your team won the pennant!" cried the man, and Joe, as he caught theodor of his breath, realized what made Shalleg's manner so excited. Theman was partially intoxicated. Joe wished he had not come. "Your teamwon the pennant, " Shalleg went on, "and that meant quite a little moneyfor every player. You must have gotten your share, and I'd like toborrow some of you, Matson. I'm down and out, I tell you, and I needmoney bad--until I can get on my feet again. "

Joe did not answer for a moment, but mentally he found a reason forShalleg's being "off his feet" at present. Bad habits, very likely. 

"Can you let me have some money--until Spring opens?" proceeded Shalleg. "You'll be earning more then, whether I am or not, for I don't know thatI'm going back with Clevefield. I suppose you'll play with the Pittstonteam?"

"I don't know, " answered Joe, preferring to reply to that questionfirst. He wanted time to think about the other. 

"You don't know!" Shalleg exclaimed, in surprise. 

"No. I hear I am to be drafted to the St. Louis Nationals. "

"The St. Louis Nationals!" cried Shalleg. "That team! Why, that team isthe one I----"

He came to a sudden halt. 

"What is it?" asked Joe, wonderingly. 

"I--er--I--er--well, never mind, now. Can you let me have--say, twohundred dollars?"

"Two hundred dollars!" cried Joe. "I haven't that much money to spare. And, if I had, I don't know that I would be doing my duty to my fatherand mother to lend it. "

"But I need it!" cried Shalleg. "Did you ever know what it was to bedown and out?"

"Well, I've seen such sad cases, and I'm sorry for you, " spoke Joe, softly. He thought of John Dutton, the broken-down pitcher whose rescue, from a life of ruin, had been due largely to our hero's efforts, as toldin the volume immediately preceding this. 

"Being sorry isn't going to help, " sneered Shalleg, and there was anugly note in his voice. "I need money! You must have some left from yourpennant winnings. "

"I had to spend a large sum for my father's operation, " said Joe. "Hehas had bad luck, too. I really have no money to spare. "

"That's not so--I don't believe you!" snapped Shalleg. "You must havemoney, and I've got to get some. I've been begging from a lot of fellowswho played ball with me, but they all turned me down. Now you're doingthe same thing. You'd better be careful. I'm a desperate man!"

"What do you mean?" asked Joe, in some alarm, for he thought the fellowmeditated an attack. Joe looked to see with what he could defendhimself, and he noted, though with no cowardly satisfaction, that thedoor to the hall was close at hand. 

"I mean just what I say. I'm desperately in need of money. "

"Well, I'm very sorry, but I'm not in a position to be able to helpyou, " said Joe, firmly. "Why don't you go to the manager of your team, and get him to give you an advance on your salary? That is often done. I'm sure if you told him your need he'd do it. "

"No, he wouldn't!" growled Shalleg. "I've got to borrow it somewhereelse. Then you won't let me have it?" and he glowered at Joe. 

"I can't, even if I would. "

"I don't believe it!" snarled the other. "And now I tell you one thing. I'm a bad man to be bad friends with. If you don't let me have thismoney it will be the worse for you. "

"I guess you are forgetting yourself, " returned Joe, quietly. "I did notcome here to be threatened, or insulted. I guess you are not yourself, Mr. Shalleg. I am sorry, and I'll bid you good day. "

With that Joe walked out, but not before the infuriated man called afterhim:

"And so you're going to St. Louis; are you? Well, look out for me, that's all I've got to say! Look out for Bill Shalleg!" and he slammedthe door after Joe. 

CHAPTER VI

A WARNING

Joe Matson's brain was in a whirl as he left the boarding house whereShalleg had made his strange threat. The young pitcher had never beforegone through such an experience, and it had rather unnerved him. 

"I wonder what I'd better do?" he mused, as he walked along the street, where many men were busy clearing away the snow. "I don't like to reportwhat he said to me to any of the baseball authorities, for it would lookas though I was afraid of him. And I'm not!" declared Joe, sturdily. "Shalleg wasn't himself, or he wouldn't have said such things. He didn'tknow quite what he was doing, I guess. "

But, the more Joe thought of it, as he trudged along, the more worriedhe became. 

"He has a very bad temper, and he might do me some injury, " mused Joe. "But, after all, what _can_ he do? If he stays on the Clevefield team, and I go to St. Louis, we'll be far enough apart. I guess I won't doanything about it now. "

But the youth could not altogether conceal the emotions that had swayedhim during the strange interview. When, a little later, he called at thehotel to see if Reggie and his sister had comfortable rooms, his facemust have showed something unusual, for Mabel asked:

"Why, Joe, what is the matter?"

"Matter? Nothing, " he replied, with a laugh, but it was rather forced. 

"You look as though--something had happened, " the girl went on. "Perhapsyou haven't recovered from your efforts to rescue us from the stalledtrain last night. "

"Oh, yes, I'm all over that, " declared Joe, more at his ease now. 

"It was awfully good of you, " proceeded Mabel. "Just think; suppose wehad had to stay in that train until now?"

"Oh, they've been relieved by this time, " spoke Joe. 

"Yes, but they had to stay there all night. I can't thank you enough forcoming after us. Are you sure there is nothing the matter?" sheinsisted. "You haven't had bad news, about not making the St. Louisteam; have you?"

"No, indeed. I haven't had any news at all since that one letter fromMr. Gregory. And no news is good news, they say. "

"Not always, " and she smiled. 

"Are you comfortable here?" asked Joe, as he sat in the parlor betweenthe bedrooms of brother and sister. 

"Oh, yes. And Reggie likes it very much. He has a lot of business toattend to. Father is putting more and more on his shoulders each year. He wants him finally to take it up altogether. Reggie doesn't care somuch for it, but it's good for him, " and she smiled frankly at Joe. 

"Yes, work is good, " he admitted, "even if it is only playing baseball. "

"And that sometimes seems to me like hard work, " responded Mabel. 

"It is, " Joe admitted. "How long do you stay in Riverside?"

"Three or four days yet. Why?"

"Because there'll be good sleighing, and I thought perhaps you'd like togo out for a ride. "

"I shall be delighted!"

"Then I'll arrange for it. Won't you come over to the house thisevening?"

"I have an engagement, " she laughed. 

Joe looked disappointed. Mabel smiled. 

"It's with your sister, " she said. "I promised to come over and learn anew lace pattern. "

"I'm just crazy about fancy work myself!" and Joe laughed in turn. "It'sas bad as the new dances. I guess I'll stay home, too. "

"Do, " Mabel invited. And when Joe took his leave some of the worrycaused by Shalleg's threat had passed away. 

"I guess I'll say nothing about it, " mused our hero. "It would do nogood, and if father and mother heard about it they might worry. I'lljust fight it out all alone. I guess Shalleg was only a 'bluff, ' anyhow. He may be in desperate straits, but he had no right to make threats likethat. "

Riverside was storm-bound for several days, and when she was finally dugout, and conditions were normal, there was still plenty of snow left forsleighing. Joe planned to take Mabel for a ride, and Reggie, hearing ofit, asked Clara to be his guest. 

Two or three days passed, and Joe neither saw nor heard any more ofShalleg, except to learn, by judicious inquiry, that the surly andthreatening fellow had left the boarding house to which Joe had takenhim. 

"I guess he's gone off to try his game on some other players in theLeague, " thought the young pitcher. "I hope he doesn't succeed, though. If he got money I'm afraid he'd make a bad use of it. "

There came another letter from Mr. Gregory, in which he told Joe that, while the matter was still far from being settled, the chances were thatthe young pitcher would be drafted to St. Louis. 

"I will let you know, in plenty of time, whether you are to train withus, or with the big league, " the manager of the Pittston team wrote. "Soyou will have to hold yourself in readiness to do one or the other. "

"They don't give you much choice; do they?" spoke Reggie, when Joe toldhim this news. "You've got to do just as they tell you; haven't you?"

"In a measure, yes, " assented Joe. "Baseball is big business. Why, Iread an article the other day that stated how over fifty million personspay fifteen million dollars every year just to see the games, and thevalue of the different clubs, grounds and so on mounts up to manymillions more. "

"It sure is big business, " agreed Reggie. "I might go into it myself. "

"Well, more than one fortune has been made at it, " observed Joe. 

"But I don't like the idea of the club owners and managers doing as theyplease with the players. It seems to take away your freedom, " argued theother lad. 

"Well, in a sense I suppose it does, " admitted Joe. "And yet theinterests of the players are always being looked after. We don't have tobe baseball players unless we want to; but, once we sign a contract, wehave to abide by it. 

"Then, too, the present organization has brought to the players biggersalaries than they ever got before. Of course we chaps in the minorleagues aren't bid for, as are those in the big leagues. But we alwayshope to be. "

"It seems funny, for one manager to buy a player from another manager, "went on Reggie. 

"I suppose so, but I've grown sort of used to it, " Joe replied. "Ofcourse the players themselves don't benefit by the big sum one managermay give another for the services of a star fielder or pitcher, but itall helps our reputations. "

"Is the St. Louis team considered pretty good?" Reggie wanted to know. 

"Well, it could be better, " confessed Joe, slowly. "They reached oneplace from the top of the second division last season, but if I playwith them I'll try to pull them to the top of the second half, anyhow, "he added, with a laugh. "The Cardinals never have been considered sovery good, but the club is a money-maker, and we can't all be pennantwinners, " he admitted, frankly. 

"No, I suppose not, " agreed Reggie. "Well, I wish you luck, whatever youdo this Summer. If I ever get out to St. Louis I'll stop off and see youplay. "

"Do, " urged Joe. He hoped Mabel would come also. 

When Joe reached home that afternoon his mother met him in the livingroom, and said quickly:

"Someone is waiting for you in the parlor, Joe. "

"Gracious! I hope it isn't Shalleg!" thought the young pitcher. "If hehas come here to make trouble----" And his heart sank. 

But as he entered the room a glad smile came over his face. 

"Hello, Charlie Hall!" he cried, at the sight of the shortstop of thePittston team, with whom Joe had been quite chummy during the leagueseason. "What good wind blows you here?"

"Oh, you know I'm a traveling salesman during the Winter, and I happenedto make this town to-day. Just thought I'd step up and see how youwere. "

"Glad you did! It's a real pleasure to see you. Going back at the gamein the Spring, I expect; aren't you?"

"Sure. I wouldn't miss it for anything. But what's this I hear aboutyou?"

"I don't know. Nothing to my discredit, I hope, " and Joe smiled. 

"Far from it, old man. But there's a rumor among some of the old boysthat you're to be drafted to the Cardinals. How about it?"

"Well, Gregory told me as much, but it isn't all settled yet. Say, Charlie, now you're here, I want to ask you something. "

"Fire ahead. "

"Do you know a fellow named Shalleg?"

Charlie Hall started. 

"It's queer you should ask me that, " he responded, slowly. 

"Why?" Joe wanted to know. 

"Because that's one of the reasons I stopped up to talk to you. I wantto warn you against Shalleg. "

"Warn me! What do you mean?" and Joe thought of the threats the man hadmade. 

"Why, you know he's out of the Clevefield team; don't you?"

"No, I didn't know it, " replied Joe. "But go on. I'll tell you somethingpretty soon. "

"Yes, he's been given his unconditional release, " went on Charlie. "Hegot to gambling, and doing other things no good ball player can expectto do, and keep in the game, and he was let go. And I heard somethingthat made me come here to warn you, Joe. There may be nothing in it, butShalleg----"

There came a knock at the door of the parlor, and Joe held up a warninghand. 

"Wait a minute, " he whispered. 

CHAPTER VII

BASEBALL TALK

There was silence for a moment, following Joe's warning, and then thevoice of his mother was heard:

"Joe, you're wanted on the telephone. "

"Oh, all right, " he answered in a relieved tone. "I didn't want her tohear about Shalleg, " he added in a whisper to Charlie. "She and fatherwould worry, and, with his recent sickness, that wouldn't be a goodthing for him. "

"I should say not, " agreed the other ball player. 

"I'll be right there, Mother, " went on Joe, in louder tones and then hewent to the hall, where the telephone stood. It was only a message froma local sporting goods dealer, saying that he had secured for Joe acertain glove he had had made to order. 

Joe went back to his chum, and the baseball talk was renewed. 

"What were you going to say that Shalleg was up to?" asked Joe. 

"As I was saying, " resumed Charlie, "there may be nothing in the rumor, but it's the talk, in baseball circles, that Shalleg has been trying hisbest, since being released, to get a place with the Cardinals. "

"You don't mean it!" cried Joe. "That accounts for his surprise, andperhaps for his bitter feeling against me when I told him there was achance that I would go to St. Louis. "

"Probably, " agreed Charlie. "So, having heard this, and knowing thatShalleg is a hard character, I thought I'd warn you. "

"I'm glad you did, " returned Joe warmly. "It was very good of you to goto that trouble. And, after the experience I had with Shalleg, Ishouldn't wonder but what there was something in it. Though why heshould be vindictive toward me is more than I can fathom. I certainlynever did anything to him, except to refuse to lend him money, and Iactually had to do that. "

"Of course, " agreed Charlie. "But I guess, from his bad habits, his mindis warped. He is abnormal, and your refusal, coupled with the fact thatyou are probably going to a team that he has tried his best to make, andcan't, simply made him wild. So, if I were you, I should be on thelookout, Joe. "

"I certainly will. It's queer that I met Shalleg the way I did--in thestorm. It was quite an unusual coincidence. It seems he had been toRocky Ford, a town near here, to see if he could borrow money fromsomebody there--at least so he said. Then he heard I lived here, and hestarted for Riverside, and got lost on the way, in the storm. Altogetherit was rather queer. I never was so surprised in my life as when, afterriding with me for some time, the man said he was looking for me. "

"It _was_ queer, " agreed Charlie. "Well, the only thing to do, afterthis, is to steer clear of him. And, after all, it may only be talk. "

"Yes, " assented Joe, "and now let's talk about something pleasant. Howare you, anyhow? What are your plans for the coming season? And how areall the boys since we played the last pennant game?"

"Gracious!" exclaimed Charlie with a laugh. "You fire almost as manyquestions at a fellow as a lawyer would. "

Then the two plunged into baseball talk, which, as it has no specialinterest for my readers, I shall omit. 

"Have you anything special to do?" asked Joe, as Charlie and he came toa pause in recalling scenes and incidents, many of which you will findset down in the previous book of this series. 

"No. After I clean up all the orders I can here I will have a few days'vacation, " replied Hall. 

"Good!" cried Joe. "Then spend them with me. Reggie Varley and hissister are here for a while--you remember Reggie; don't you, Charlie?"

"As well as you remember his sister, I reckon, " was the laughingrejoinder. 

"Never mind that. Then I'll count on you. I'll introduce you to a nicegirl, and we'll get up a little sleigh-riding party. There'll be a finemoon in a couple of nights. "

"Go as far as you like with me, " invited Charlie. "I'm not in trainingyet, and I guess a late oyster supper, after a long ride, won't do meany particular harm. "

Charlie departed for the hotel, to get his baggage, for he was going tofinish out the rest of his stay in Riverside as Joe's guest, and theyoung pitcher went to get the new glove, about which he had received thetelephone message. 

It was a little later that day that, as Clara was passing her brother'sroom, she heard a curious, thumping noise. 

"I wonder what that is?" she murmured. "Sounds as though Joe wereworking at a punching bag. Joe, what in the world are you doing?" sheasked, pausing outside his door. 

"Making a pocket in my new glove, " he answered. "Come on in, Sis. I'mall covered with olive oil, or I'd open the door for you. "

"Olive oil! The idea! Are you making a salad, as well?" she askedlaughingly, as she pushed open the portal. 

She saw her brother, attired in old clothes, alternately pouring a fewdrops of olive oil on his new pitcher's glove, and then, with an oldbaseball pounding a hollow place in the palm. 

"What does it mean?" asked Clara. 

"Oh, I'm just limbering up my new glove, " answered Joe. "If I'm to playwith a big team, like the St. Louis Cardinals, I want to have the bestsort of an outfit. You know a ball will often slip out of a new glove, so I'm making a sort of 'pocket' in this one, only not as deep as in acatcher's mitt, so it will hold the ball better. "

"But why the olive oil?"

"Oh, well, of course any good oil would do, but this was the handiest. The oil softens the leather, and makes it pliable. And say, if youhaven't anything else to do, there's an old glove, that's pretty badlyripped; you might sew it up. It will do to practice with. "

"I'll sew it to-morrow, Joe. I've got to make a new collar now. Mabeland I are going to the matinee, and I want to look my best. "

"Oh, all right, " agreed Joe easily. "There's no special hurry, " and hewent on thumping the baseball into the hollow of the new glove. 

"Well, Joe, is there anything new in the baseball situation?" asked Mr. Matson of his son a little later. The inventor, whose eyesight had beensaved by the operation (to pay for which most of Joe's pennant moneywent) was able to give part of his time to his business now. 

"No, there's not much new, Dad, " replied the young player. "I am stillwaiting to hear definitely about St. Louis. I do hope I am draftedthere. "

"It means quite an advance for you; doesn't it, Joe?"

"Indeed it does, Dad. There aren't many players who are taken out of asmall league, to a major one, at the close of their first season. Isuppose I ought to be proud. "

"Well, I hope you are, Joe, in a proper way, " said Mr. Matson. "Pride, of the right sort, is very good. And I'm glad of your prospectiveadvance. I am sure it was brought about by hard work, and, after all, that is the only thing that counts. And you did work hard, Joe. "

"Yes, I suppose I did, " admitted the young pitcher modestly, as hethought of the times he pitched when his arm ached, and when his nerveswere all unstrung on account of the receipt of bad news. "But otherfellows worked hard, too, " he went on. "You've _got_ to work hard inbaseball. "

"Will it be any easier on the St. Louis team?" his father wanted toknow. 

"No, it will be harder, " replied Joe. "I might as well face that atonce. "

And it was well that Joe had thus prepared himself in advance, forbefore him, though he did not actually know it, were the hardeststruggles to which a young pitcher could be subjected. 

"Yes, there'll be hard work, " Joe went on, "but I don't mind. I like it. And I'm not so foolish as to think that I'm going to go in, right offthe reel, and become the star pitcher of the team. I guess I'll have tosit back, and warm the bench for quite a considerable time before I'mcalled on to pull the game out of the fire. "

"Well, that's all right, as long as you're there when the time comes, "said his father. "Stick to it, Joe, now that you are in it. Your motherdidn't take much to baseball at first, but, the more I see of it, andread of it, the more I realize that it's a great business, and a cleansport. I'm glad you're in it, Joe. "

"And I am too, Dad. "

CHAPTER VIII

THE QUARREL

"Are we all here?"

"Oh, what a glorious night!"

"Did you ever see such a moon!"

"Looks about as big as a baseball does when you're far from first andthe pitcher is heaving it over, to tag you out!"

This last observation from Joe Matson. 

"Oh, what an unpoetical remark to make!"

That from Mabel Varley. 

There came a chorus of laughter, shouts, good-natured jibes, littleshrieks and giggles from the girls, and chuckles from the young men. 

"Well, let's get started, " proposed Joe. 

It was the occasion of the sleigh ride that Joe had gotten up, ostensibly for the enjoyment of a number of his young friends, but, inreality for Mabel, who, with her brother, was still staying on inRiverside, for the Varley business was not yet finished. 

It was a glorious, wintry night, and in the sky hung the silvery moon, lighting up a few fleecy clouds with glinting beams, and bringing intogreater brightness the sparkling snow that encrusted the earth. 

"Count noses, " suggested Charlie Hill, who, with a young lady to whomJoe had introduced him a day or so before, was in the sleighing party. 

"I'll help, " volunteered Mabel, who, of course, was being escorted byJoe, while Reggie had Clara under his care. Mabel and Joe made sure thatall of their party were present. They were gathered in the office of thelivery stable, whence they were to start, to go to a hotel about twelvemiles distant--a hotel famous for its oyster suppers, as many asleighing party, of which Joe had been a member, could testify. Following the supper there was to be a little dance, and the party, properly chaperoned, expected to return some time before morning. 

"Yes, I guess we're all here, " Joe announced, as he looked among theyoung people. And it was no easy task to make sure, for they wereconstantly shifting about, going here and there, friends greetingfriends. 

Four sturdy horses were attached to a big barge, in the bottom of whichhad been spread clean straw, for it was quite frosty, and, in spite ofheavy wraps and blankets, feet would get cold. But the straw served, ina measure, to keep them warm. 

"All aboard!" cried Charlie Hill, who had made himself a generalfavorite with all of Joe's friends. "All aboard!"

"Why don't you say 'play ball'?" asked Mabel, with a laugh. "It seems tome, with a National Leaguer with us, the least we could do would be tomake that our rallying cry!" Mabel was a real "sport. "

"I'm not a big leaguer yet, " protested Joe. "Don't go too strong onthat. I may be turned back into the bushes. "

"Not much danger, " commented Charlie, as he thought of the fine work Joehad done in times past. Joe was a natural born pitcher, but he haddeveloped his talents by hard work, as my readers know. 

Into the sled piled the laughing, happy young folks, and then, snuglytucked in, the word was given, and, with a merry jingle of bells, awaythey went over the white snow. 

There were the old-time songs sung, after the party had reached the opencountry, and had taken the edge off their exuberance by tooting tinhorns. "Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party, " "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean, ""Old Black Joe"--all these, and some other, more modern, songs weresung, more or less effectively. But, after all, it was the spirit andnot the melody that counted. 

On over the snowy road went the big sled, pulled by the willing horses, who seemed all the more willing because of the joyous party they weredragging along. 

"Look out for this grade-crossing, " remarked Joe to the driver, for theywere approaching the railroad. 

"I will, Joe, " the man replied. "I have good occasion to remember thisplace, too. "

"So have I, " spoke Mabel, in a low voice to her escort. "There is wherewe were snowed in; isn't it?" she asked, nodding in the direction ofDeep Rock Cut. 

"That's the place, " replied Joe. 

"Yes, sir, I have occasion to remember this place, " went on the driver. "And I'm always careful when I cross here, ever since, two years ago, Iwas nearly run down by a train. I had just such a load of young folks asI've got now, " he went on. 

"How did it happen?" asked Reggie, as the runners scraped over the barerails, a look up and down the moon-lit track showing no train in sight. 

"Well, the party was making quite a racket, and I didn't hear thewhistle of the train, " resumed the driver. "It was an extra, and Ididn't count on it. We were on our way home, and we had a pretty narrowescape. Just got over in time, I tell you. The young folks were prettyquiet after that, and I was glad it happened on the way home, instead ofgoing, or it would have spoiled all their fun. And, ever since then, whether I know there's a train due or not, I'm always careful of thiscrossing. "

"It makes one feel ever so much safer to have a driver like him, " spokeMabel to Clara. 

"Oh, we can always trust Frank, " replied Joe's sister. 

Laughing, shouting, singing and blowing the horns, the party went on itsmerry way, until the hotel was reached. 

Everything was in readiness for the young people, for the arrangementshad been made in advance, and soon after the girls had "dolled-up, " asJoe put it, by which he meant arranged their hair, that had become blownabout under the scarfs they wore, they all sat down to abountifully-spread table. 

"Reminds me of the dinner we had, after we won the pennant, " saidCharlie Hall. 

"Only it's so different, " added Joe. "That was a hot night. "

Talk and merry laughter, mingled with baseball conversation went aroundthe table. Joe did not care to "talk shop, " but somehow or other, hecould not keep away from the subject that was nearest his heart. Norcould Charlie, and the two shot diamond discussion back and forth, theothers joining in occasionally. 

The meal was drawing to an end. Reggie Varley, pouring out a glass ofwater, rose to his feet. 

"Friends and fellow citizens, " he began in a sort of "toastmastervoice. "

"Hear! Hear!" echoed Charlie, entering into the spirit of the occasion. 

"We have with us this evening, " went on Reggie, in the approved mannerof after-dinner introductions, "one whom you all well know, and whom itis scarcely necessary to name----"

"Hear! Hear!" interrupted Charlie, pounding on the table with his knifehandle. 

All eyes were turned toward Joe, who could not help blushing. 

"I rise to propose the health of one whom we all know and love, " went onReggie, "and to assure him that we all wish him well in his new place. "

"Better wait until I get it, " murmured Joe, to whom this was a greatsurprise. 

"To wish him all success, " went on Reggie. "And I desire to add that, asa token of our esteem, and the love in which we hold him, we wish topresent him this little token--and may it be a lucky omen for him whenhe is pitching away in the big league, " and with this Reggie handed toJoe a stick-pin, in the shape of a baseball, the seams outlined indiamonds, and a little ruby where the trademark would have been. 

Poor Joe was taken quite by surprise. 

"Speech! Speech!" came the general cry. 

Joe fumbled the pin in his fingers, and for a moment there was a mistbefore his eyes. This little surprise had been arranged by Reggie, andhe had quietly worked up the idea among Joe's many young friends, all ofwhom had contributed to the cost of the token. 

"Go on! Say something!" urged Mabel, at Joe's side. 

"Well--er--well, I--er--I don't know what to say, " he stammered, "exceptthat this is a great surprise to me, and that I--er--I thank you!"

He sat down amid applause, and someone started up the song "For He's aJolly Good Fellow!"

It was sung with a will. Altogether the affair was successfully carriedout, and formed one of the most pleasant remembrances in the life ofBaseball Joe. 

After the presentation, others made impromptu speeches, even the girlsbeing called on by Reggie, to whom the position of toastmasterparticularly appealed. 

The supper was over. The girls were in the dressing room, donning theirwraps, and Joe and Reggie had gone to the office to pay the bill. 

The proprietor of the hotel was in the men's room, and going there Joewas greeted by name, for the hotel man knew him well. 

"Everything satisfactory, Mr. Matson?" the host asked, and at themention of Joe's name, a rough-looking fellow, who was buying a cigar, looked up quickly. 

"Yes, Mr. Todd, everything was fine, " replied Joe, not noticing theman's glance. "Now we'll settle with you. "

"No hurry, " said the proprietor. "I hear you're going to leave ussoon--going up to a higher class in baseball, Joe. "

"Well, there's some talk of it, " admitted our hero, and as he took outthe money to make the payment, the rough-looking man passed behind him. Joe dropped a coin, and, in stooping to pick it up, he moved back astep. As he did so, he either collided with the man, who had observedhim so narrowly, or else the fellow deliberately ran into Joe. 

"Look out where you're walking! You stepped on my foot!" exclaimed theman in surly tones. "Can't you see what you're doing? you country gawk!"

"I beg your pardon, " spoke Joe quietly, but a red flush came into hisface, and his hands clenched involuntarily. 

"Huh! Trying to put on high society airs; eh?" sneered the other. "I'llsoon take that out of you. I say you stepped on me on purpose. "

"You are mistaken, " said Joe, still quietly. 

"Huh! Do you mean to say I'm sayin' what ain't so?" demanded the other. 

"If you like to put it that way; yes, " declared Joe, determined to standupon his rights, for he felt that it had not been his fault. 

"Be careful, " warned Reggie, in a low voice. 

"Say, young feller, I don't allow nobody to say that to me!" blusteredthe fellow, advancing on Joe with an ugly look. "You'll either beg mypardon, or give me satisfaction! I'll----"

"Now here. None of that!" interposed the proprietor. "You aren't hurt, Wessel. "

"How do you know? And didn't he accuse me of----"

"Oh, get out. You're always ready to pick a quarrel, " went on the hotelman. "Move on!"

"Well, then let him beg my pardon, " insisted the other. "If he don't, I'll take it out of him, " and his clenched fist indicated his meaningonly too plainly. 

CHAPTER IX

JOE IS DRAFTED

For a moment Joe stood facing the angry man--unnecessarily angry, itseemed--since, even if the young ball player had trod on his foot, theinjury could not have amounted to much. 

"I told you once that I was sorry for having collided with you, though Ido not believe it was my fault, " spoke Joe, holding himself in checkwith an effort. "That is all I intend to say, and you may make the mostof it. "

"I'll make the most of you, if you don't look out!" blustered the man. "If you'll just step outside we can settle this little argument to thequeen's taste, " and he seemed very eager to have Joe accept hischallenge. 

"Now see here! There'll be no fighting on these premises, " declared thehotel proprietor, with conviction. 

"No, we'll do it outside, " growled the man. 

"Not with me. I don't intend to fight you, " said Joe as quietly as hecould. 

"Huh! Afraid; eh?"

"No, not afraid. "

"Well, you're a coward and a----"

"That will do, Wessel. Get out!" and the proprietor's voice left no roomfor argument. The man slunk away, giving Joe a surly look, and then thesupper bill was paid, and receipted. 

"Who was he?" asked Joe, when the fellow was out of sight. 

"Oh, I don't know any good of him, " replied the hotel man. "He's beenhanging around town ever since the ball season closed. "

"Is he a player?" Joe inquired. 

"No. I'm inclined to think he's a gambler. I know he was always wantingto make bets on the games around here, but no one paid much attention tohim. You don't know him; do you?"

"Never saw him before, as far as I recollect, " returned Joe slowly. "Iwonder why he wanted to pick a quarrel with me? For that was certainlyhis object. "

"It was, " agreed Reggie, "and he didn't pay much attention to you untilhe heard your name. "

"I wonder if he could be----?" began Joe, and then he hesitated in hishalf-formed question. Reggie looked at his friend inquiringly, but Joedid not proceed. 

"Don't say anything about this to the girls, " requested Joe, as theywent upstairs. 

"Oh, no, of course not, " agreed Reggie. "He was only some loafer, Iexpect, who had a sore head. Best to keep it quiet. "

Joe was more upset by the incident than he liked to admit. He could notunderstand the man's motive in trying so hard to force him into a fight. 

"Not that I would be afraid, " reasoned Joe, for he was in goodcondition, and in splendid fighting trim, due to his clean living andhis outdoor playing. "I think I could have held my own with him, " hethought, "only I don't believe in fighting, if it can be avoided. 

"But there was certainly something more than a little quarrel back of itall. Wessel is his name; eh? I must remember that. "

Joe made a mental note of it, but he little realized that he was to hearthe name again under rather strange circumstances. 

"What's the matter?" asked Mabel, on the way home in the sleigh, drawnby the prancing horses with their jingling bells. 

"Why?" parried Joe. 

"You are so quiet. "

"Well--I didn't count on so much happening to-night. "

"You mean about that little pin? I think it's awfully sweet. "

"Did you help pick it out?" asked Joe, seeing a chance to turn theconversation. 

"Yes. Reggie asked me what I thought would be nice, and I chose that. "

"Couldn't have been better, " declared Joe, with enthusiasm. "I shallalways keep it!"

They rode on, but Joe could not shake off the mood that had seized him. He could not forget the look and words of the man who endeavored toforce a quarrel with him--for what object Joe could only guess. 

"I'm sure there's something the matter, " insisted Mabel, when the song"Jingle Bells!" had died away. "Have I done anything to displease you?"she asked, for she had "split" one dance with Charlie Hall. 

"No, indeed!" cried Joe, glad that he could put emphasis into hisdenial. "There's nothing really the matter. "

"Unless you're sorry you're going away out to Missouri, " persisted thegirl. 

"Well, I am sorry--that is, if I really have to go, " spoke the youngball player sincerely. "Of course it isn't at all certain that I willgo. "

"Oh, I guess it's certain enough, " she said. "And I really hope you dogo. "

"It's pretty far off, " said Joe. "I'll have to make my headquarters inSt. Louis. "

"Reggie and I expect to be in the West a good part of the comingSummer, " went on Mabel, in even tones. "It's barely possible thatReggie may make his business headquarters in St. Louis, for papa'strade is shifting out that way. "

"You don't mean it!" cried Joe, and some of his companions in the sleighwondered at the warmth of his tone. 

"Oh, yes, I do, " said Mabel. "So I shall see you play now and then; forI'm as ardent a 'fan' as I ever was. "

"That's good, " returned Joe. "I'm glad I'm going to a major league--thatis, if they draft me, " he added quickly. "I didn't know you might be outthere. "

From then on the thought of going to St. Louis was more pleasant to Joe. 

The sleigh ride was a great success in every particular. The youngpeople reached home rather late--or, rather early in the morning, happyand not too tired. 

"It was fine; wasn't it?" whispered Clara, as she and her brothertip-toed their way into the house, so as not to awaken their parents. 

"Dandy!" he answered softly. 

"Weren't you surprised about the pin?"

"Of course I was. "

"But you don't seem exactly happy. Is something worrying you? I heardMabel ask you the same thing. "

"Did you?" inquired Joe, non-committally. 

"Yes. Is anything the matter?"

"No, Sis. Get to bed. It's late. "

Clara paused for a moment. She realized that Joe had not answered herquestion as she would have liked. 

"But I guess he's thinking of the change he may have to make, " thesister argued. "Joe is a fine fellow. He certainly has gone ahead inbaseball faster than he would have done in some other line of endeavor. Well, it's good he likes it. 

"And yet, " she mused, as she went to her room, "I wonder what it is thatis worrying him?"

If she could have seen Joe, at that same moment, sitting on the edge ofa chair in his apartment, moodily staring at the wall, she would havewondered more. 

"What was his game?" thought Joe, as he recalled the scene with the manat the hotel. "What was his object?"

But he could not answer his own question. 

Joe's sleep was disturbed the remainder of that night--short as theremainder was. 

At breakfast table, the next morning, the story of the jolly sleigh ridewas told to Mr. And Mrs. Matson. Of course Joe said nothing of thedispute with the surly man. 

"And here's the pin they gave me, " finished the young player as hepassed around the emblem that had been so unexpectedly presented tohim. 

His mother was looking at it when the doorbell rang, and the maid, whoanswered it, brought back a telegram. 

"It's for Mr. Joseph, " she announced. 

Joe's face was a little pale as he tore open the yellow envelope, andthen, as he glanced at the words written on the sheet of paper, heexclaimed:

"It's settled! I'm drafted to St. Louis!"

CHAPTER X

OFF TO ST. LOUIS

For a few seconds, after Joe's announcement, there was silence in theroom. Then, as the realization of what it meant came to them, Clara wasthe first to speak. 

"I'm _so_ glad, Joe, " she said, simply, but there was real meaning inher words. 

"And I congratulate you, son, " added Mr. Matson. "It's something to beproud of, even if St. Louis isn't in the first division. "

"Oh, they'll get there, as soon as I begin pitching, " declared Joe witha smile. 

Mrs. Matson said nothing for a while. Her son, and the rest of thefamily, knew of her objection to baseball, and her disappointment thatJoe had not entered the ministry, or some of the so-called learnedprofessions. 

But, as she looked at the smiling and proud face of her boy she couldnot help remarking:

"Joe, I, too, am very glad for your sake. I don't know much aboutsporting matters, but I suppose this is a promotion. "

"Indeed it is, Mother!" Joe cried, getting up to go around the table andkiss her. "It's a fine promotion for a young player, and now it's up tome to make good. And I will, too!" he added earnestly. 

"Is that all Mr. Gregory, your former manager, says in the telegram?"asked Mr. Matson. 

"No, he says a letter of explanation will follow, and also a contract tosign. "

"Will you get more money, Joe?" asked Clara. 

"Sure, Sis. I know what you're thinking of, " Joe added, with a smile atthe girl, as he put his stick-pin in his scarf. "You're thinking of thering I promised to buy you if I got this place. Well, I'll keep my word. You can go down and get measured for it to-day. "

"Oh, Joe, what a good brother you are!" she cried. 

"Then you really will get more money?" asked Mrs. Matson, and her voicewas a bit eager. Indeed Joe's salary, and the cash he received as hisshare of the pennant games, had been a blessing to the family during Mr. Matson's illness, for the inventor had lost considerable funds. 

"Yes, I'll get quite a bit more, " said Joe. "I got fifteen hundred ayear with the Pittstons, and Mr. Gregory said I ought to get at leastdouble that if I go with St. Louis. It will put us on Easy Street; won'tit, Momsey?"

"It will be very welcome, " she replied, with a sigh, but it was rather ahappy sigh at that. She had known the pinch of hard times in her day, had Mrs. Matson. 

"I'd have to be at the game of lawyering or doctoring a long while, before I'd get an advance like this, " went on Joe, as he read thetelegram over a second time. And then he put it carefully in his pocket, to be filed away with other treasures, such as young men love to look atfrom time to time; a faded flower, worn by "Someone, " a letter or two, a--but there, I promised not to tell secrets. 

The first one who knew of his promotion, after the folks at home, wasMabel. Joe made some excuse to call at the hotel. Reggie was out onbusiness, but Joe did not mind that. 

"Oh, I'm so glad--for your sake, Joe!" exclaimed Mabel warmly. "I hopeyou make a great reputation!"

"It won't be from lack of trying, " he said, with a smile. "And I do hopeyou can get out to St. Louis this Summer. "

"We expect to, " she answered. "I have been there with Reggie severaltimes. "

"What sort of a place is it?" asked Joe eagerly, "and where does myteam play?" he inquired, with an accent on the "my. "

"There are two major league teams in St. Louis, " explained Mabel, who, as I have said, was an ardent "fan. " She was almost as good as a boy inthis respect. "The National League St. Louis team, or the 'Cardinals, 'as I suppose you know they are nicknamed, plays on Robison Field, atVandeventer and Natural Bridge road. I've often been out there to gameswith Reggie, but I'll look forward to seeing them now, with a lot morepleasure, " she added, blushing slightly. 

"Thanks, " laughed Joe. "I guess I'll be able to find my way about thecity. But, after all, I'll be likely to strike it with the team, forI'll probably have to go South training before I report in St. Louis. "

"It isn't hard to find your way about St. Louis, " went on Mabel. "Justtake a Natural Bridge line car, and that'll bring you out to RobisonField. Or you can take a trunk line, and transfer to Vandeventer. Butthe best way is the Natural Bridge route. Is there anything else you'dlike to know?" she asked, with a smile. "Information supplied at shortnotice. The Browns, or American League team, play at Grand andDodier----"

"Oh, I'm not interested in them!" interrupted Joe. "I'm going to stickto my colors--cardinal. "

"And I'll wear them, too, " said Mabel in a low voice, and the blush inher cheeks deepened. Already she was wearing Joe's color. 

"This is our last day here, " the girl went on, after a pause. 

"It is?" cried Joe in surprise. "Why, I thought----"

"I'm sorry, too, " she broke in with. "You have given Reggie and me alovely time. I've enjoyed myself very much. "

"Not half as much as _I_ have, " murmured Joe. 

Reggie came in a little later, and congratulated the young player, andthen Charlie Hall added his good wishes. It was his last day in townalso, and he and the Varleys left on the same train, Joe and his sistergoing to the station to see them off. 

"If you get snowed in again, just let me know, " called Joe, with alaugh, as the train pulled out. "I'll come for you in an airship. "

"Thanks!" laughed Mabel, as she waved her hand in a final good-bye. 

As Joe was leaving the station a train from Rocky Ford pulled in, andone of the passengers who alighted from it was the ill-favored man whohad endeavored to pick a quarrel with Joe at the hotel the nightbefore. 

The fellow favored the young player with a surly glance, and seemedabout to approach him. Then, catching sight of Clara at her brother'sside, he evidently thought better of it, and veered off. 

Joe's face must have showed his surprise at the sight of the man, forClara asked:

"Who is that fellow, Joe? He looked at you in such a peculiar way. Doyou know him?"

Joe was glad he could answer in the negative. He really did not know theman, and did not want to, though it certainly seemed strange that heshould encounter him again. 

"He seems to know you, " persisted Clara, for the man had looked back atJoe twice. 

"Maybe he thinks he does, or maybe he wants to, " went on the pitcher, trying to speak indifferently. "Probably he's heard that I'm the comingtwirling wonder of the Cardinals, " and he pretended to swell up hischest, and look important. 

"Nothing like having a good opinion of yourself, " laughed Clara. 

That afternoon's mail brought Joe a letter from Mr. Gregory, in whichthe news contained in the telegram was confirmed. It was also statedthat Joe would receive formal notice of his draft from the St. Louisteam, and his contract, which was to be signed in duplicate. 

"I wish he'd said something about salary, " mused our hero. "But probablythe other letter, from the St. Louis manager, will have that in, and thecontract will, that's certain. "

The following day all the details were settled. Joe received formalnotice of his draft from the Pittstons to the St. Louis Cardinals. Hewas to play for a salary of three thousand dollars a year. 

In consideration of this he had to agree to certain conditions, amongthem being that he would not play with any other team without permissionfrom the organized baseball authorities, and, as long as he was in thegame, and accepted the salary, he would be subject to the call of anyother team in the league, the owners of which might wish to "purchase"him; that is, if they paid the St. Louis team sufficient money. 

"I wonder what they'll consider me worth, say at the end of the firstseason?" said Joe to Clara. 

"What a way to talk!" she exclaimed. "As if you were a horse, or aslave. "

"It does sound a bit that way, " he admitted, "and some of the starplayers bring a lot more than valuable horses. Why, some of the playerson the New York Giants cost the owners ten and fifteen thousand dollars, and the Pittsburgh Nationals paid $22, 500 for one star fellow as apitcher. I hope I get to be worth that to some club, " laughed Joe, "butthere isn't any danger--not right off the bat, " he added with a smile. 

"Well, that's a part of baseball I'm not interested in, " said Clara. "Ilike to see the game, but I watch it for the fun in it, not for themoney. "

"And yet there has to be money to make it a success, " declared Joe. "Grounds, grandstands and trips cost cash, and the owners realize on theabilities of the players. In return they pay them good salaries. Many aplayer couldn't make half as much in any other business. I'm glad I'm init. "

Joe signed and returned the contract, and from then on he was the"property" of the St. Louis team, and subject to the orders of theowners and manager. 

A few days later Joe received his first instructions--to go to St. Louis, report to the manager, and then go South to the training camp, with the team. There his real baseball work, as a member of a bigleague, would start. 

Joe packed his grip, stowing away his favorite bat and his new pitcher'sglove, said good-bye to his family and friends in Riverside, and took atrain that eventually would land him in St. Louis, at the Union Depot. 

The journey was without incident of moment, and in due time Joe reachedthe hotel where he had been told the players were quartered. 

"Is Mr. Watson here?" he asked the clerk, inquiring for the manager. 

"I think you'll find him in the billiard room, " replied the clerk, sizing up Joe with a critical glance. "Here, boy, show this gentleman toMr. Watson, " went on the man at the register. 

"Do you know him by sight?" he asked. 

"No, " replied Joe, rather sorry he did not. 

"I know him!" exclaimed the bellboy, coming forward, with a cheerfulgrin on his freckled face. "He sure has a good ball team. I hope theywin the pennant this year. Are you one of the players?" he asked. 

"One of the new ones, " spoke Joe, modestly enough. 

"Gee! Dat's great!" exclaimed the lad admiringly. "There's 'Muggins'Watson over there, " and he pointed to a man in his shirt sleeves, playing billiards with a young fellow whom Joe recognized, from havingseen his picture in the papers, as 'Slim' Cooney, one of the St. Louispitchers. 

"Mr. Watson?" inquiringly asked Joe, waiting until the manager had made, successfully, a difficult shot, and stood at rest on his cue. 

"That's my name, " and a pair of steel-blue eyes looked straight at ourhero. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm Joe Matson, and----"

"Oh, yes, the new recruit I signed up from Pittston. Well, this is thefirst time I've seen you. Took you on the report of one of my men. Gladto meet you, " and he held out a firm hand. "Slim, " he went on to hisopponent at billiards, "let me make you acquainted with one of yourhated rivals--Joe Matson. Matson, this is our famous left-hand twirler. "

Joe laughed and shook hands. He liked the manager and the other player. I might state, at this point, that in this book, while I shall speak ofthe players of the Cardinals, and of the various National League teams, I will not use their real names, for obvious reasons. However, if any ofyou recognize them under their pseudonyms, I cannot help it. 

CHAPTER XI

GOING DOWN SOUTH

"Well, are you going to help us win the pennant, Matson?" asked ManagerWatson, when he had introduced Joe to a number of the other St. Louisplayers, who were lounging about the billiard room. It was a cold andblustery day outside, and the hotel, where the team had lately taken upquarters, ready for the trip to the South, offered more comfort than theweather without. 

"I'm going to do my best, " replied Joe modestly, and he blushed, formost of the other players were older than he, many of them seasonedveterans, and the heroes of hard-fought contests. 

"Well, we sure do need help, if we're to get anywhere, " murmured HalDoolin, the snappy little first baseman. "We sure do!"

"You needn't look at me!" fired back Slim Cooney. "I did my share of thework last season, and if I'd had decent support----"

"Easy now, boys!" broke in Mr. Watson. "You know what the papers saidabout last year--that there were too many internal dissensions among theCardinals to allow them to play good ball. You've got to cut that out ifI'm going to manage you. "

I might add that Sidney Watson, who had made a reputation as aleft-fielder, and a hard hitter on the Brooklyn team, had lately beenoffered the position as manager of the Cardinals, and had taken it. Thiswould be his first season, and, recognizing the faults of the team, hehad set about correcting them in an endeavor to get it out of the"cellar" class. Quarrels, bickerings and disputes among the players hadbeen too frequent, he learned, and he was trying to eliminate them. 

"Have a heart for each other, boys, " he said to the men who gatheredabout him, incidentally to covertly inspect Joe, the recruit. "It wasn'tanybody's fault, in particular, that you didn't finish in the firstdivision last season. But we're going to make a hard try for it thisyear. That's why I've let some of your older players go, and signed upnew ones. I'm expecting some more boys on in a few days, and then we'llhike for the Southland and see what sort of shape I can pound you into. "

"Don't let me keep you from your game, " said Joe to the manager. "Oh, I'll let Campbell finish it for me, he's better at the ivories than Iam, " and Watson motioned for the centre fielder to take the cue. "I'llsee what sort of a room we can give you, " the manager went on. "Nothinglike being comfortable. Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes, indeed. "

"Contract satisfactory, and all that?"

"Oh, yes. And, by the way, Mr. Watson, if it isn't asking too much I'dlike to know how you came to hear of me and sign me up?"

"Oh, I had scouts all over last fall, " said the manager with a smile. "One of them happened to see you early in the season, and then he sawthe game you pitched against Clevefield, winning the pennant. You lookedto him like the proper stuff, so I had you drafted to our club. "

"I hope you won't repent of your bargain, " observed Joe, soberly. 

"Well, I don't think I will, and yet baseball is pretty much of a chancegame after all. I've often been fooled, I don't mind admitting. But, Matson, let me tell you one thing, " and he spoke more earnestly, as theywalked along a corridor to the lobby of the hotel. "You mustn't imaginethat you're going in right off the reel and clean things up. You'll haveto go a bit slow. I want to watch you, and I'll give you all theopportunity I can. 

"But you must remember that I have several pitchers, and some of themare very good. They've been playing in the big leagues for years. You'rea newcomer, and, unless I'm much mistaken, you'll have a bit of stagefright at first. That's to be expected, and I'm looking for it. I won'tbe disappointed if you fall down hard first along. But whatever else youdo, don't get discouraged and--don't lose your nerve, above all else. "

"I'll try not to, " promised Joe. But he made up his mind that he wouldsurprise the manager and make a brilliant showing as soon as possible. Joe had several things to learn about baseball as it is played in thebig leagues. 

"I guess I'll put you in with Rad Chase, " said Manager Watson, as helooked over the page of the register, on which were the names of theteam. "His room is a good one, and you'll like him. He's a young chapabout your age. "

"Was he in there?" asked Joe, nodding toward the billiard room, where hehad met several of the players. 

"No. I don't know where he is, " went on the manager. "Is Rad out?" heasked of the clerk. 

That official, stroking his small blonde mustache, turned to look at therack. From the peg of room 413 hung the key. 

"He's out, " the clerk announced. 

"Well, you might as well go up and make yourself at home, " advised themanager. "I'll tell Rad you're quartered with him. Have his grip takenup, " went on Mr. Watson to the clerk. 

"Front!" called the young man behind the desk, and when the samefreckle-faced lad, who had pointed out to Joe the manager, cameshuffling up, the lad took our hero's satchel, and did a little one-stepglide with it toward the elevator. 

"Tanks, " mumbled the same lad, as Joe slipped a dime into his palm, whenthe bellboy had opened the room door and set the grip on the floor bythe bed. "Say, where do youse play?" he asked with the democraticfreedom of the American youth. 

"Well, I'm supposed to be a pitcher, " said Joe. 

"Left?"

"No, right. "

"Huh! It's about time the Cardinals got a guy with a right-handdelivery!" snorted the boy. "They've been tryin' southpaws and beenbeaten all over the lots. Got any speed?"

"Well, maybe a little, " admitted Joe, smiling at the lad'singenuousness. 

"Curves, of course?"

"Some. "

"Dat's th' stuff! Say, I hopes you make good!" and the lad, spinningthe dime in the air, deftly caught it, and slid out of the room. 

Joe looked after him. He was entering on a new life, and many emotionswere in conflict within him. True, he had been at hotels before, for hehad traveled much when he was in the Central League. But this time itwas different. It seemed a new world to him--a new and big world--a muchmore important world. 

And he was to be a part of it. That was what counted most. He was in aBig League--a place of which he had often dreamed, but to which he hadonly aspired in his dreams. Now it was a reality. 

Joe unpacked his grip. His trunk check he had given to the clerk, whosaid he would send to the railroad station for the baggage. Then Joechanged his collar, put on a fresh tie, and went down in the elevator. He wanted to be among the players who were to be his companions for thecoming months. 

Joe liked Rad Chase at once. In a way he was like Charlie Hall, butrather older, and with more knowledge of the world. 

"Do you play cards?" was Rad's question, after the formalities ofintroduction, Joe's roommate having come in shortly after our hero wentdown. 

"Well, I can make a stab at whist, but I'm no wonder, " confessed Joe. 

"Do you play Canfield solitaire?"

"Never heard of it. "

"Shake hands!" cried Rad, and he seemed relieved. 

"Why?" asked Joe. 

"Well, the fellow I roomed with last year was a fiend at Canfieldsolitaire. He'd sit up until all hours of the morning, trying to makehimself believe he wasn't cheating, and I lost ten pounds from notgetting my proper sleep. "

"Well, I'll promise not to keep you awake that way, " said Joe with alaugh. 

"Do you snore?" Rad wanted next to know. 

"I never heard myself. "

Rad laughed. 

"I guess you'll do, " he said. "We'll hit it off all right. "

Joe soon fell easily into the life at the big hotel. He met all theother players, and while some regarded him with jealous eyes, most ofthem welcomed him in their midst. Truth to tell, the St. Louis team wasin a bad way, and the players, tired of being so far down on the list, were willing to make any sacrifices of professional feeling in order tobe in line for honors, and a share in the pennant money, providing itcould be brought to pass that they reached the top of the list. 

Joe spent a week at the hotel while Manager Watson was arranging mattersfor the trip South. One or two players had not yet arrived, "dickers"being under way for their purchase. 

But finally the announcement was made that the start for the trainingcamp, at Reedville, Alabama, would be made in three days. 

"And I'm glad of it!" cried Rad Chase, as he and Joe came back oneevening from a moving picture show, and heard the news. "I'm tired ofsitting around here doing nothing. I want to get a bat in my hands. "

"So do I, " agreed Joe. "It sure will be great to get out on the grassagain. Have you ever been in Reedville?"

"No, but I hear it's a decent place. There's a good local team therethat we brush up against, and two or three other teams in the vicinity. It'll be lively enough. "

"Where do you like to play?" asked Joe. 

"Third's my choice, but I hear I'm to be soaked in at short. I hate it, too, but Watson seems to think I fill in there pretty well. "

"I suppose a fellow has to play where he's considered best, whether hewants to or not, " said Joe. "I hope I can pitch, but I may be sent outamong the daisies for all that. "

"Well, we've got a pretty good outfield as it is, " went on Rad. "Iguess, from what I hear, that you'll be tried out on the mound, anyhow. Whether you stick there or not will be up to you. "

"It sure is, " agreed Joe. 

A box-party was given at the theatre by the manager for the players, tocelebrate their departure for the South. The play was a musical comedy, and some of the better known players were made the butt of jokes by theperformers on the stage. 

This delighted Joe, and he longed for the time when he would be thoughtworthy of such notice. The audience entered into the fun of theoccasion, and when the chief comedian came out, and, in a witty address, presented Manager Watson with a diamond pin, and wished him all successfor the coming season, there were cheers for the team. 

"Everybody stand up!" called Toe Barter, one of the veteran pitchers. "Seventh inning--everybody stretch!"

The players in the two boxes arose to face the audience in the theatre, and there were more cheers. Joe was proud and happy that he was a partof it all. 

That night he wrote home, and also to Mabel, telling of his arrival inSt. Louis, and all that had happened since. 

"We leave for the South in the morning, " he concluded. 

The departure of the players on the train was the occasion for anothercelebration and demonstration at the depot. A big crowd collected, several newspaper photographers took snapshots, and there were cheersand floral emblems. 

Joe wished his folks could have been present. Compared to the time whenhe had gone South to train for the Pittston team, this was a bigoccasion. 

A reporter from the most important St. Louis paper was to accompany theteam as "staff correspondent, " for St. Louis was, and always has been, agood "fan" town, and loyal to the ball teams. 

"All aboard!" called the conductor. 

There were final cheers, final good-byes, final hand-shakes, finalwishes of good luck, and then the train pulled out. Joe and histeammates were on their way South. 

It was the start of the training season, and of what would take placebetween that and the closing Joe little dreamed. 

CHAPTER XII

THE QUARRELING MAN

Quite a little family party it was the St. Louis players composed asthey traveled South in their private car, for they enjoyed thatdistinction. This was something new for Joe, as the Pittston team wasnot blessed with a wealthy owner, and an ordinary Pullman had sufficedwhen Joe made his former trip. Now it was travel "de luxe. "

The more Joe saw of Rad Chase the more he liked the fellow, and the twosoon became good friends, being much in each other's company, sharingthe upper and lower berths by turns in their section, eating at the sametable, and fraternizing generally. 

Some of the older players were accompanied by their wives, and after thefirst few hours of travel everyone seemed to know everyone else, andthere was much talk and laughter. 

"Can't you fellows supply me with some dope?" asked a voice in the aislebeside the seats occupied by Joe and Rad. "I've gotten off all thedeparture stuff, and I want something for a lead for to-morrow. Shootme some new dope; will you?"

"Oh, hello, Jim!" greeted Rad, and then, as Joe showed that he did notrecognize the speaker, the other player went on: "This is the_Dispatch-Times's_ staff correspondent, Jim Dalrymple. You want to benice to him, Joe, and he'll put your name and picture in the paper. Gotanything you can give him for a story?"

"I'm afraid not, " laughed Joe. 

"Oh, anything will do, as long as I can hang a lead on it, " saidDalrymple hopefully. "If you've never tried to get up new stuff everyday at a training camp of a ball team, you've no idea what a littlething it takes to make news. Now you don't either of you happen to havea romance about you; do you?" he inquired, pulling out a fold of copypaper. (Your real reporter never carries a note book. A bunch of paper, or the back of an envelope will do to jot down a few facts. The rest iswritten later from memory. Only stage reporters carry note books, and, of late they are getting "wise" and abstaining from it. )

"A romance?" repeated Joe. "Far be it from me to conceal such a thingabout my person. "

"But you _have_ had rather a rapid rise in baseball; haven't you, Joe?"insinuated Rad. "You didn't have to wait long for promotion. Why notmake up a yarn about that?" went on Rad, nodding at the reporter. 

"Sure I'll do it. Give me a few facts. Not too many, " the newspaper mansaid with a whimsical smile. "I don't want to be tied down too hard. Ilike to let my fancy have free play. "

"He's all right, " whispered Rad in an aside to Joe. "One of the bestreporters going, and he always gives you a fair show. If you make anerror he'll debit you with it, but when you play well he'll feature you. He's been South with the team a lot of times, I hear. "

"But I don't like to talk about myself, " objected Joe. 

"Don't let that worry you!" laughed Rad. "Notoriety is what keepsbaseball where it is to-day, and if it wasn't for the free advertisingwe get in the newspapers there would not be the attendance that bringsin the dollars, and lets us travel in a private car. Don't be afraid ofboosting yourself. The reporters will help you, and be glad to. Theyhave to get the stuff, and often enough it's hard to do, especially atthe training camp. "

In some way or other, Joe never knew exactly how, Dalrymple managed toget a story out of him, about how Joe had been drafted, how he had begunplaying ball as a boy on the "sand lots, " how he had pitched Yale tovictory against Princeton, and a few other details, with which myreaders are already familiar. 

"Say, this'll do first rate!" exulted the reporter, as he went to asecluded corner to write his story, which would be telegraphed back tohis daily newspaper. "I'm glad I met you!" he laughed. 

Dalrymple was impartial, which is the great secret of a newspaperreporter's success. Though he gave Joe a good "show, " he also "playedup" some of the other members of the team. So that when copies of thepaper were received later, they contained an account of Joe's progress, sandwiched in between a "yarn" of how the catcher had once worked in aboiler factory, where he learned to catch red-hot rivets, and how one ofthe outfielders had inherited a fortune, which he had dissipated, andthen, reforming, had become a star player. So Joe had little chance toget a "swelled head, " which is a bad thing for any of us. 

The first part of the journey South was made in record time, but afterthe private car was transferred to one of the smaller railroad linesthere were delays that fretted the players. 

"What's the matter?" asked Manager Watson of the conductor as thatofficial came through after a long stop at a water tank station, "won'tthe cow get off the track?" and he winked at the players gathered abouthim. 

"That joke's a hundred years old, " retorted the ticket-taker. "Think upa new one! There's a freight wreck ahead of us, and we have to go slow. "

"Well, as long as we get there some time this week, it will be allright, I reckon, " drawled the manager. 

Reedville was reached toward evening of the second day, and thetravel-weary ball-tossers piled out of their coach to find themselves atthe station of a typical Southern town. 

Laziness and restfulness were in the air, which was warm with the heatof the slowly setting sun. There was the odor of flowers. Colored menwere all about, shuffling here and there, driving their slowly-amblinghorses attached to rickety vehicles, or backing them up at the platformto get some of the passengers. 

"Majestic Hotel right this yeah way, suh! Right over yeah!" voiced thedriver of a yellow stage. "Goin' right up, suh!"

"That's our place, boys, " announced the manager. "Pile in, and let mehave your checks. I'll have the baggage sent up. "

Joe and the others took their place in the side-seated stage. A littlelater, the manager having arranged for the transportation of thetrunks, they were driven toward the hotel that was to be theirheadquarters while in the South. 

They were registering at the hotel desk, and making arrangements aboutwho was to room with who, when Joe heard the hotel clerk call Mr. Watsonaside. 

"He says he's with your party, suh, " the clerk spoke. "He arrivedyesterday, and wanted to be put on the same floor with your players. Says he's going to be a member of the team. "

"Huh! I guess someone is bluffing you!" exclaimed the manager. "I've gotall my team with me. Who is the fellow, anyhow?"

"That's his signature, " went on the clerk, pointing to it on the hotelregister. 

"Hum! Wessel; eh?" said Mr. Watson. "Never heard of him. Where is he?"

"There he stands, over by the cigar counter. "

Joe, who had heard the talk, looked, and, to his surprise, he beheld thesame individual who had tried to pick a quarrel with him the night ofthe sleigh ride. 

CHAPTER XIII

UNDER SUNNY SKIES

"That man!" exclaimed Mr. Watson, as he gave the stranger a quickglance. "No, I don't know him, and he certainly isn't a member of myteam. He isn't going to be, either; as far as I know. I'm expecting someother recruits, but no one named Wessel. "

Joe said nothing. He was wondering if the man would recognize him, and, perhaps, renew that strange, baseless quarrel. And, to his surprise, theman did recognize him, but merely to bow. And then, to Joe's furthersurprise, the individual strolled over to where the manager and some ofthe players were standing, and began:

"Is this Mr. Watson?"

"That's my name--yes, " but there was no cordiality in the tone. 

"Well, I'm Isaac Wessel. I used to play short on the Rockpoint team inthe Independent League. My contract has expired and I was wonderingwhether you couldn't sign me up. "

"Nothing doing, " replied Mr. Watson, tersely. "I have all the material Ineed. "

"I spoke to Mr. Johnson about it, " naming one of the owners of the St. Louis team, "and he said to see you. "

"Did he tell you to tell me to put you on?"

"No, I wouldn't go so far as to say that, " was the hesitating reply. 

"And did he say I was to give you a try-out?"

"Well, he--er--said you could if you wanted to. "

"Well, I _don't_ want to, " declared the manager with decision. "And Iwant to say that you went too far when you told the clerk here youbelonged to my party. I don't know you, and I don't want anything to dowith a man who acts that way, " and Mr. Watson turned aside. 

"Well, I didn't mean any harm, " whined Wessel. "The--er--I--er--theclerk must have misunderstood me. "

"All right. Let it go at that, " was all the answer he received. 

"Then you won't give me a chance?"

"No. "

The man evidently realized that this was the end, for he, too, turnedaside. As he did so he looked sneeringly at Joe, and mumbled:

"I suppose you think you're the whole pitching staff now?"

Joe did not take the trouble to answer. But, though he ignored the man, he could not help wondering what his plan was in coming to the trainingcamp. Could there be a hidden object in it, partly covered by thefellow's plea that he wanted to get on the team?

"Do you often have cases like that, Mr. Watson?" Joe asked the managerwhen he had a chance. 

"Like what, Matson?"

"Like that Wessel. "

"Oh, occasionally. But they don't often get as fresh as he did. The ideaof a bush-leaguer thinking he could break into the majors like that. Hesure had nerve! Well, now I hope we're all settled, and can get to work. We've struck good weather, anyhow. "

And indeed the change from winter to summer was little short ofmarvelous. They had come from the land of ice and snow to the warmbeauty of sunny skies. There was a feeling of spring in the air, and theblood of every player tingled with life. 

"Say, it sure will be great to get out on the diamond and slam the ballabout; won't it?" cried Joe to Rad Chase, as the two were unpacking intheir hotel room. 

"That's what! How are you on stick work?"

"Oh, no better than the average pitcher, " replied Joe, modestly. "I hada record of . 172 last season. "

"That's not so worse, " observed Rad. 

"What's yours?" asked Joe. 

"Oh, it runs around . 250. "

"Good!" cried Joe. "I hope you get it up to . 300 this year. "

"Not much chance of that. I was picked because I'm pretty good with thestick--a sort of pinch hitter. But then that's not being a starpitcher, " he added, lest Joe feel badly at the contrast in their battingaverages. 

"Oh, I'm far from being a star, but I'd like to be in that class. There's my best bat, " and he held out his stick. 

"Oh, you like that kind; eh?" spoke Rad. "Well, I'll show you what Ifavor, " and then the two plunged into a talk that lasted until mealtime. 

The arrival of the St. Louis team in the comparatively small town ofReedville was an event of importance. There was quite a crowd about thehotel, made up mostly of small boys, who wanted a chance to see theplayers about whom they had read so much. 

After the meal, as Joe, Rad and some of the others strolled out for awalk about the place, our hero caught murmurs from the crowd of ladsabout the entrance. 

"There's 'Toe' Barter, " one lad whispered, nodding toward a veteranpitcher. 

"Yes, and that fellow walking with him is 'Slim' Cooney. He pitched ano-hit, no-run game last year. "

"Sure, I know it. And that fellow with the pipe in his mouth is 'Dots'McCann, the shortstop. He's a peach!"

And so it went on. Joe's name was not mentioned by the admiring throng. 

"Our turn will come later, " said Rad, with a smile. 

"I guess so, " agreed his chum, somewhat dubiously. 

Reedville was a thriving community, and boasted of a good nine, withwhom the St. Louis team expected to cross bats a number of times duringthe training season. Then, too, in nearby towns, were other teams, someof them semi-professional, who would be called on to sacrificethemselves that the Cardinals might have something to bring out theirown strong and weak points. 

"Let's go over to the grounds, " suggested Joe. 

"I'm with you, " agreed Rad. 

"Say, you fellows won't be so anxious to head for the diamond a littlelater in the season, " remarked "Doc" Mullin, one of the outfielders. "You'll be only too glad to give it the pass-up; won't they?" heappealed to Roger Boswell, the trainer and assistant manager. 

"Well, I like to see young fellows enthusiastic, " said Boswell, who hadbeen a star catcher in his day. But age, and an increasing deposit offat, had put him out of the game. Now he coached the youngsters, andwhen "Muggins, " as Mr. Watson was playfully called, was not on hand hemanaged the games from the bench. He was a star at that sort of thing. 

"Go to it, boys, " he advised Joe and Rad, with a friendly nod. "Youcan't get too much baseball when you're young. "

The diamond at Reedville was nothing to boast of, but it would servewell enough for practice. And the grandstand was only a frail, woodenaffair, nothing like the big one at Robison Field, in St. Louis. 

Joe and Rad walked about the field, and longed for the time when theywould be out on it in uniform. 

"Which will be about to-morrow, " spoke Rad, as Joe mentioned his desire. "We'll start in at light work, batting fungo and the like, limbering upour legs, and then we'll do hard work. "

"I guess so, " agreed Joe. 

The weather could not have been better. The sun shone warmly from ablue sky, and there was a balmy spiciness to the southern wind. 

Rad and Joe walked about town, made a few purchases, and were turningback to the hotel when they saw "Cosey" Campbell, the third baseman, standing in front of a men's furnishing store. 

"I say, fellows, come here, " he called to the two. They came. "Do youthink that necktie is too bright for a fellow?" went on Campbell, pointing to a decidedly gaudy one in the show window. 

"Well, it depends on who's going to wear it, " replied Rad, cautiously. 

"Why, I am, of course, " was the surprised answer. "Who'd you s'pose?"

"I didn't know but what you were buying it to use for a foul line flag, "chuckled Rad, for Campbell's weakness for scarfs was well known. Hebought one or two new ones every day, and, often enough, grewdissatisfied with his purchase before he had worn it. Then he tried tosell it to some other member of the team, usually without success. 

"Huh! Foul flag!" grunted Campbell. "Guess you don't know a swell tiewhen you see it. I'm going to get it, " he added rather desperately, asthough afraid he would change his mind. 

"Go ahead. We'll go in and see fair play, " suggested Joe, with a smile. 

The tie was purchased, and the clerk, after selling the bright scarf, seeing that Campbell had a package in his hand, inquired:

"Shall I wrap them both up together for you?"

"If you don't mind, " replied the third baseman. And, in tying up thebundle, the one Campbell had been carrying came open, disclosing threeneckties more gaudy, if possible, than the one he had just purchased. 

"For the love of strikes!" cried Rad. "What are you going to do; start astore?"

"Oh, I just took a fancy to these in a window down street, " repliedCampbell easily. "Rather neat; don't you think?" and he held up a redand green one. 

"Neat! Say, they look like the danger signals in the New York subway!"cried Rad. "Shade your eyes, Joe, or you won't be able to see the ballto-morrow!"

"That shows how much taste you fellows have, " snapped Campbell. "Thoseare swell ties. "

But the next day Joe heard Campbell trying to dispose of some of thenewly purchased scarfs to "Dots" McCann. 

"Go ahead, 'Dots, ' take one, " pleaded the baseman. "You need a new tie, and I've got more than I want. This red and green one, now; it's realswell. "

"Go on!" cried the other player. "Why I'd hate to look at myself in aglass with that around my neck! And you'd better not wear it, either--atleast, not around town. "

"Why not?" was the wondering answer. 

"Because you might scare some of the mules, and there'd be a runaway. Tie a stone around it, Campbell, and drown it. It makes so much noise Ican't sleep, " and with that McCann walked off, leaving behind him a veryindignant teammate. 

That night notice was given that all the players would assemble at thebaseball diamond in uniform next morning. 

"That's the idea!" cried Joe. "Now for some real work. "

CHAPTER XIV

HARD WORK

The rooms of the ball players were all in one part of the hotel, alongthe same hall. Joe and Rad were together, near the stairway going down. 

That night, their first in the training camp, there was considerablevisiting to and fro among the members of the team, and some littlehorse-play, for, after all, the players were like big boys, in manyrespects. 

Rad, who had been in calling on some of his fellow players, came back tothe room laughing. 

"What's up?" asked Joe, who was writing a letter. 

"Oh, Campbell is still trying to get rid of that hideous tie we helpedhim purchase. He wanted to wish it on to me. "

"And of course you took it, " said Joe, with a smile. 

"Of course I did _not_. Well, I guess I'll turn in. We'll have plenty todo to-morrow. "

"That's right. I'll be with you as soon as I finish this letter. "

But Rad was sound asleep when Joe had finished his correspondence, andslipped downstairs to leave it at the desk for the early mail. Joelooked around the now almost deserted lobby, half expecting to see thestrange man, Wessel, standing about. But he was not in sight. 

"I wonder what his game is, after all?" mused Joe. "I seem to have beenrunning into two or three queer things lately. There's Shalleg, whobears me a grudge, though I don't see why he should, just because Icouldn't lend him money, and then there's this fellow--I only hope thetwo of them don't go into partnership against me. I guess that's hardlylikely to happen, though. "

But Joe little realized what was in store for him, and what danger hewas to run from these same two men. 

Joe awakened suddenly, about midnight, by hearing someone moving aroundthe room. He raised himself softly on his elbow, and peered about theapartment, for a dim light showed over the transom from the halloutside. To Joe's surprise the door, which he had locked from the insidebefore going to bed, now stood ajar. 

"I wonder if Rad can be sick, and have gone out?" Joe thought. "Maybe hewalks in his sleep. "

He looked over toward his chum's bed, but could not make out whether ornot Rad was under the covers. Then, as he heard someone moving aboutthe apartment he called out:

"That you, Rad?"

Instantly the noise ceased, to be resumed a moment later, and Joe feltsure that someone, or something, went past the foot of his bed and outinto the hall. 

"That you, Rad?" he called again. 

"What's that? Who? No, I'm here, " answered the voice of his chum. "What's the matter?"

Joe sprang out of bed, and in one bound reached the corridor. By meansof the one dim electric lamp he saw, going down the stairs, carrying agrip with him, the mysterious man who had tried to quarrel with him. Hewas evidently taking "French leave, " going out in the middle of thenight to "jump" his hotel bill. 

"What's up?" asked Rad, as he, too, left his bed. "What is it, Joe?"

The young pitcher came back into the room, and switched on a light. Aquick glance about showed that neither his baggage, nor Rad's, had beentaken. 

"It must have been his own grip he had, " said Joe. 

"His? Who do you mean--what's up?" demanded Rad. 

"It was Wessel. He's sneaking out, " remarked Joe in a low voice. "Shallwe give the alarm?"

"No, I guess not. We don't want to be mixed up in a row. And maybe he'sgoing to take a midnight train. You can't tell. "

"I think he was in this room, " went on Joe. 

"He was? Anything missing?"

"Doesn't seem to be. "

"Well, then, don't make a row. Maybe he made a mistake. "

"He'd hardly unlock our door by mistake, " declared Joe. 

"No, that's so. Did you see him in here?"

"No, but I heard someone. "

"Well, it wouldn't be safe to make any cracks. Better not make a row, aslong as nothing is gone. "

Joe decided to accept this advice, and went back to bed, after takingthe precaution to put a chair-back under the knob, as well as lockingit. It was some time before he got to sleep, however. But Rad wasevidently not worried, for he was soon in peaceful slumber. 

Rad's theory that Wessel had gone out in the middle of the night to geta train was not borne out by the facts, for it became known in themorning that he had, as Joe suspected, "jumped" his board bill. 

"And he called himself a ball player!" exclaimed Mr. Watson in disgust. "I'd like to meet with him again!"

"Maybe you will, " ventured Joe, but he did not know how soon hisprediction was to come to pass. 

"Well, boys, we'll see how we shape up, " said the manager, a littlelater that morning when the members of the team, with their uniforms on, had assembled at the ball park. "Get out there and warm up. Riordan, batsome fungoes for the boys. McCann, knock the grounders. Boswell, youcatch for--let's see--I guess I'll wish you on to Matson. We'll see whatsort of an arm he's got. "

Joe smiled, and his heart beat a trifle faster. It was his first trialwith the big league, an unofficial and not very important trial, to besure, but none the less momentous to him. 

Soon was heard the crack of balls as they bounded off the bats, to befollowed by the thuds as they landed in the gloves of the players. Thetraining work was under way. 

"What sort of ball do you pitch?" asked the old player pleasantly ofJoe, as they moved off to a space by themselves for practice. 

"Well, I've got an in, an out, a fadeaway and a spitter. "

"Quite a collection. How about a cross-fire?"

"I can work it a little. "

"That's good. Now let's see what you can do. But take it easy at first. You don't want to throw out any of your elbow tendons so early in theseason. "

"I guess not, " laughed Joe. 

Then he began to throw, bearing in mind the advice of the veteranassistant manager. The work was slow at first, and Joe found himselfmuch stiffer than he expected. But the warm air, and the swinging of hisarm, limbered him up a bit, and soon he was sending in some swift ones. 

"Go slow, son, " warned Boswell. "You're not trying to win a game, youknow. You're getting a little wild. "

Joe felt a bit chagrined, but he knew it was for his own good that theadvice was given. 

Besides the pitching and batting practice, there was some running aroundthe bases. But Manager Watson knew better than to keep the boys at ittoo long, and soon called the work off for the day. 

"We'll give it a little harder whack to-morrow, " he said. And then Joe, as he went to the dressing rooms, overheard the manager ask Boswell:

"What do you think of Matson?"

"Oh, he's not such a wonder, " was the not very encouraging reply. "ButI've seen lots worse. He'll do to keep on your string, but he's got alot to learn. It's a question of what he'll do when he faces the bigteams, and hears the crowd yelling: 'He's rotten! Take him out!' That'swhat's going to tell. "

"Yes, I suppose so. But I heard good reports of him--that gameness wasone of his qualities. "

"Well, he'll need it all right, " declared the veteran player. 

Then Joe passed on, not wanting to listen to any more. Truth to tell, herather wished he had not heard that much. His pride was a little hurt. To give him credit, Joe had nothing like a "swelled head. " He knew hehad done good work in the Central League, and there, perhaps, he hadbeen made more of than was actually good for him. Here he was to findthat, relatively, he counted for little. 

A big team must have a number of pitchers, and not all of them can be"first string" men. Some must be kept to work against weak teams, tospare the stars for tight places. Joe realized this. 

"But if hard work will get me anywhere I'm going to arrive!" he said tohimself, grimly, as the crowd of players went back to the hotel. 

The days that followed were given up to hard and constant practice. Eachday brought a little more hard work, for the time was approaching whenpractice games must be played with the local teams, and it was necessarythat the Cardinals make a good showing. 

Life in the training camp of a major league team was different than Joehad found it with the Pittstons. There was a more business-like tone toit, and more snap. 

The newspaper men found plenty of copy at first, in chronicling thedoings of the big fellows, telling how this one was working up hispitching speed, or how that one was improving his batting. Then, too, the funny little incidents and happenings about the diamond and hotelwere made as much of as possible. 

The various reporters had their own papers sent on to them, and soon, insome of these, notably the St. Louis publications, Joe began to findhimself mentioned occasionally. These clippings he sent home to thefolks. He wanted to send some to Mabel, but he was afraid she mightthink he was attaching too much importance to himself, so he refrained. 

Some of the reporters did not speak very highly of Joe's abilities, andothers complimented him slightly. All of them intimated that some day hemight amount to something, and then, again, he might not. Occasionallyhe was spoken of as a "promising youngster. "

It was rather faint praise, but it was better than none. And Joesteeled himself to go on in his own way, taking the well-intentionedadvice of the other baseball players, Boswell in particular. 

Joe had other things besides hard work to contend against. This was thepetty jealousy that always crops up in a high-tensioned ball team. Therewere three other chief pitchers on the nine, Toe Barter, Sam Willard andSlim Cooney. Slim and Toe were veterans, and the mainstays of the team, and Sam Willard was one of those chaps so often seen in baseball, abrilliant but erratic performer. 

Sometimes he would do excellently, and again he would "fall down"lamentably. And, for some reason, Sam became jealous of Joe. Perhaps hewould have been jealous of any young pitcher who he thought might, intime, displace him. But he seemed to be particularly vindictive againstJoe. It started one day in a little practice game, when Sam, after someparticularly wild work, was replaced by our hero. 

"Huh! Now we'll see some real pitching, " Sam sneered as he sulked awayto the bench. 

Joe turned red, and was nervous as he took his place. 

Perhaps if Joe had made a fizzle of it Willard might have forgiven him, but Joe, after a few rather poor balls, tightened up and struck outseveral men neatly, though they were not star batters. 

"The Boy Wonder!" sneered Willard after the game. "Better order a cap acouple of sizes larger for him after this, Roger, " he went on to thecoach. 

"Oh, dry up!" retorted Boswell, who had little liking for Willard. 

And so the hard work went on. The men, whitened by the indoor life ofthe winter, were beginning to take on a bronze tan. Muscles hardened andbecome more springy. Running legs improved. The pitchers were sending inswifter balls, Joe included. The fungo batters were sending up betterflies. The training work was telling. 

CHAPTER XV

ANOTHER THREAT

"Play ball!"

"Batter up!"

"Clang! Clang!"

The old familiar cries, and the resonant sound of the starting gong, were heard at the Reedville diamond. It was the first real game of theseason, and it was awaited anxiously, not only by the players, but byManager Watson, the coach, and by the owners back home. For it wouldgive a "line" on what St. Louis could do. 

Of course it was not a league contest, and the work, good, bad orindifferent, would not count in the averages. Joe hoped he would get achance to pitch, at least part of the game, but he was not likely to, Boswell frankly told him, as it was desired to let Barter and Cooneyhave a fairly hard work-out on this occasion. 

"But your turn will come, son, " said the coach, kindly. "Don't you fret. I think you're improving, and, to be frank with you, there's lots ofroom for it. But you've got grit, and that's what I like to see. "

Reedville was a good baseball town, which was one of the reasons whyManager Watson had selected it as his training camp. The townspeoplewere ardent supporters of the home team, and they welcomed the advent ofthe big leaguers. In the vicinity were also other teams that played goodball. 

The bleachers and grandstand were well filled when the umpire gave hisechoing cry of:

"Play ball!"

The ball-tossers had been warming up, both the Cardinals and the hometeam, which proved to be a husky aggregation of lads, with tremendoushitting abilities, provided they could connect with the ball. And thatwas just what the St. Louis pitchers hoped to prevent. 

"Willard, you can lead off, " was the unexpected announcement of Mr. Watson, as he scanned his batting order. "McCann will catch for you. Nowlet's see what you can do. "

"I'll show 'em!" exclaimed the "grouchy" pitcher as he unbuttoned hisglove from his belt. He had been warming up, and had come to the bench, donning a sweater, with no hope of being put in the game at the startoff. But, unexpectedly, he had been called on. 

"Play ball!" cried the umpire again. 

Joe wished, with all his heart, that he was going in, but it was not tobe. 

In order to give the home team every possible advantage, they were to goto bat last. And there was some little wonder when the first St. Louisplayer faced the local pitcher. There were cries of encouragement fromthe crowd, for Robert Lee Randolph--the pitcher in question--hadaspirations to the big league. He was a tall, lanky youth, and, as theCardinal players soon discovered, had not much except speed in his box. But he certainly had speed, and that, with his ability, or inability, tothrow wildly, made him a player to be feared as much as he was admired. 

He hit three players during the course of the game, and hit them hard. 

"If they can't beat us any other way they're going to cripple us, " saidRad grimly to Joe, as they sat on the bench. 

"It does look that way; doesn't it?" agreed our hero. 

The game went on, and, as might have been expected, the St. Louis teamdid about as they pleased. No, that is hardly correct. Even a countryaggregation of players can sometimes make the finest nine ofprofessionals stand on its mettle. And, in this case, for a time, thecontest was comparatively close. 

For Mr. Watson did not send in all his best players, and, from the factthat his men had not been in a game since the former season closed, whereas the Reedville team had been at the game for two months or more, the disadvantage was not as great as it might have seemed. 

But there was one surprise. When Willard first went in he pitchedbrilliantly, and struck out the local players in good order, allowingonly a few scattering hits. 

Then he suddenly went to pieces, and was severely pounded. Onlyexcellent fielding saved him, for he was well backed-up by his fellowplayers. 

"Rexter will bat for you, Willard, " said Manager Watson, when the inningwas over. "Cooney, you go out and warm up. "

"What's the matter. Ain't I pitching all right?" angrily demanded thedeposed one. 

"I'm sorry to say you're not. I'm not afraid of losing the game, but Idon't want any more of this sort of stuff going back home, " replied themanager, as he nodded over to where the newspaper reporters werechuckling among themselves over the comparatively poor exhibition theSt. Louis Cardinals had so far put up. 

So Willard went to the bench, while crafty Cooney, with his left-handdelivery, went to warm up. And how Joe did wish _he_ would get a chance!

But he did not, and the game ended, as might have been expected, withthe Cardinals snowing under their country opponents. 

Hard practice followed that first exhibition game, and there were someshifts among the players, for unexpected weakness, as well as strengthhad by this time developed in certain quarters. 

"I wonder when I'll get a chance to show what I can do?" spoke Joe toRad, as they were on their way back to the hotel, after a second contestwith Reedville, in which our hero had still stuck to the bench. 

"Oh, it's bound to come, " his chum told him. Personally, he was joyful, for he had been given a try-out, and had won the applause of the crowdby making a difficult play. 

"Well, it seems a long time, " grumbled Joe, with a sigh. 

The practice became harder, as the opening of the season drew nearer. Some recruits joined the Cardinals at their training camp, and furthershifts were made. 

Joe was finally given a chance to pitch against a team from BottomFlats--a team, by the way, not as strong as the Reedville nine. And thatJoe made good was little to his credit, as he himself knew. 

"I could have fanned them without any curves, " he told Rad afterward. 

"Well, it's good you didn't take any chances, " his chum said. "You nevercan tell. "

Again came a contest with Reedville, but Joe was not called on. ToeBarter, who had gained his nickname from the queer habit he had ofdigging a hole for his left foot, before delivering the ball, opened thecontest, and did so well that he was kept in until the game was "in therefrigerator. " Then Joe was given his chance, but there was littleincentive to try, with the Cardinals so far ahead. 

Nevertheless, our hero did his best, and to his delight, he knocked atwo-bagger, sliding to second amid a cloud of dust, to be decided safeby the umpire, though there was a howl of protest from the "fans. "

The Cardinals won handily, and as Joe was walking to the club house withRad, eagerly talking about the game, he saw, just ahead of him in thecrowd of spectators a figure, at the sight of which he started. 

"That looks like Shalleg, " he said, half aloud. 

"What's that?" asked Rad. 

"Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw someone I knew. That is, I don'texactly know him, but----"

At that moment the man at whose back Joe had been looking turnedsuddenly, and, to our hero's surprise, it was Shalleg. The man, with animpudent grin on his face, spoke to a companion loudly enough for Joe tohear. 

"There's the fellow who wouldn't help me out!" Shalleg exclaimed. "Heturned me down cold. Look at him. "

The other turned, and Joe's surprise was heightened when he saw Wessel, the man who had tried to quarrel with him, and who had "jumped" his billat the hotel. 

"Oh, I know him all right, " Wessel responded to Shalleg. "I've seen himbefore. "

Joe and Rad, with the two men, were comparatively alone now. Theattitude and words of the fellows were so insulting that Joe almost madeup his mind to defy them. But before he had a chance to do so Shallegsnapped out:

"You want to look out for yourself, young man. I'll get you yet, andI'll get even with you for having me turned down. You want to look out. Bill Shalleg is a bad man to have for an enemy. Come on, Ike, " and withthat they turned away and were soon lost in the throng. 

CHAPTER XVI

JOE'S TRIUMPH

"Well, what do you know about that?" cried Rad, with a queer look atJoe. 

"I don't know what to think about it, and that's the truth, " was thesimple but puzzled answer. 

"But who are they--what do they mean? The idea of them threatening youthat way! Why, that's against the law!"

"Maybe it is, " agreed Joe. "As for who those men are, you know Wessel, of course. "

"Yes. The fellow who jumped his board bill at the hotel. Say, I guessthe proprietor would like to see him. He has nerve coming back to thistown. I've a good notion to tell the hotel clerk he's here. Mr. Watsonwould be glad to know it, too, for he takes it as a reflection on theteam that Wessel should claim to be one of us, and then cheat the way hedid. "

"Maybe it would be a good plan to tell on him, " agreed Joe. 

"And who's the other chap, and why did he threaten you?" his chum asked. 

"That's another queer thing, " the young pitcher went on. "He's angry atme, as near as I can tell, because I had to refuse him a loan, " and hedetailed the circumstances of his meeting with Shalleg. 

"But it's odd that he and Wessel should be chumming together. I've saidlittle about it, but I've been wondering for a long time why Wesselquarreled with me. I begin to see a light now. It must have been thatShalleg put him up to it. "

"A queer game, " admitted Rad. "Well, I think I'll put the hotelproprietor wise to the fact that he can collect that board bill from IkeWessel. "

But Joe and Rad found their plans unexpectedly changed when they went toput them into effect. They were a little late getting back to the hotelfrom the grounds, as Joe had some purchases to make. And, as the twochums entered the lobby, they saw standing by the desk the two men inquestion. Mr. Watson was addressing Shalleg in no uncertain tones. 

"No, I tell you!" he exclaimed. "I won't have you on the team, and thisis the last time I'll tell you. And I don't want you hanging around, either. You don't do us any good. "

"Is that your last word?" asked Shalleg, angrily. 

"Yes, my last word. I want you to clear out and leave us alone. "

"Huh! I guess you can't keep me away from games!" sneered Shalleg. "Thisis a free country. "

"Well, you keep away from my club, " warned Mr. Watson, with greatfirmness. "I wouldn't have you as a bat-tender. "

The flushed and ill-favored face of Shalleg grew more red, if that werepossible, and he growled:

"Oh, don't let that worry you. Some day you may be glad to send for meto help pull your old club out of the cellar. Someone has been talkingabout me, that's the trouble; and if I find out who it is I'll make 'emsweat for it!" and he glared at Joe, who was too amazed at the strangeturn of affairs to speak. 

Then the two cronies turned and started out of the hotel lobby. But Radwas not going to be foiled so easily. He slipped over to the clerk andwhispered:

"Say, that's the fellow who jumped his board bill, you know, " and henodded at Wessel. 

"Yes, I know, " the clerk replied. "He just came in to settle. Heapologized, and said he had to leave in a hurry, " and the clerk winkedhis eye to show how much belief he placed in the story. 

"Hum!" mused Rad. "That's rather queer. He must have wanted to squarematters up so he could come back to town safely. "

"Looks so, " returned the clerk. 

Joe talked the matter over with his roommate, as to whether or not itwould be advisable to tell Mr. Watson how Shalleg had threatened theyoung pitcher, and also whether to speak about the queer actions ofWessel. 

"But I think, on the whole, " concluded Joe, "that I won't say anything;at least not yet a while. The boss has troubles enough as it is. "

"I guess you're right, " agreed Rad. 

"But what about him being in our room that night?" asked Joe. "I wonderif I hadn't better speak of that?"

"Oh, I don't know as I would, " replied his chum. "In the first place, wecan't be absolutely sure that it was he, though I guess you're prettycertain. Then, again, we didn't miss anything, and he could easily claimit was all a mistake--that he went in by accident--and we'd be laughedat for making such a charge. "

"Probably, " agreed Joe. "As you say, I can't be dead sure, though I'mmorally certain. "

"One of the porters might have opened our door by mistake, " went on Rad. "You know the hotel workers have pass-keys. Better let it drop. " Andthey did. Joe, however, often wondered, in case Wessel had entered hisroom, what his object could have been. But it was not until some timelater that he learned. 

Shalleg and his crony were not seen around the hotel again, nor, forthat matter, at the ball grounds, either--at least during the next week. 

Practice went on as usual, only it grew harder and more exacting. Joewas made to pitch longer and longer each day, and, though he did not geta chance to play in many games, and then only unimportant ones, still hewas not discouraged. 

There were many shifts among the out and infield staff, the managertrying different players in order to get the best results. The pitchingstaff remained unchanged, however. Some more recruits were received, some of them remaining after a gruelling try-out, and others "falling bythe wayside. "

In addition to pitching balls for Boswell to catch, and doing some stickwork, Joe was required to practice with the other catchers of the team. 

"I want you to get used to all of them, Matson, " said the manager. "There's no telling, in this business, when I may have to call on myyoungsters. I want you to be always ready. "

"I'll try, " promised Joe, with a smile. 

"You're coming on, " observed Boswell, after a day of hard pitching, which had made Joe's arm ache. "You're coming on, youngster. I guessyou're beginning to feel that working in a big league is different thanin a minor; eh?"

"It sure is!" admitted Joe, rubbing his aching muscles. 

"Well, you're getting more speed and better control, " went on theveteran. "And you don't mind taking advice; that's what I like aboutyou. "

"Indeed I'd be glad of any tips you could give me, " responded Joe, earnestly. 

He did indeed realize that there was a hard road ahead of him, and hewas a little apprehensive of the time when he might be called on topitch against such a redoubtable team as the Giants. 

"Most folks think, " went on Boswell, "that the chief advantage a pitcherhas over a batter is his speed or his curves. Well, that isn't exactlyso. The thing of it is that the batter has to guess whether the ballthat's coming toward him is a swift straight one, or a comparativelyslow curve. You see, he's got to make up his mind mighty quickly as tothe speed of the horsehide, and he can't always do it. 

"Now, if a batter knew in advance just what the pitcher was going todeliver--whether a curve or a straight one, why that batter would havea cinch, so to speak. You may be the best twirler in the league, but youcouldn't win your games if the batters knew what you were going to handthem--that is, knew in advance, I mean. "

"But that's what signals are for, " exclaimed Joe. "I watch the catcher'ssignals, and if I think he's got the right idea I sign that I'll heavein what he's signalled for. If not, I'll make a switch. "

"Exactly, " said the old player, "and that's what I'm coming to. If yoursignals are found out, where are you? Up in the air, so to speak. So youwant to have several sets of signals, in order to change them in themiddle of an inning if you find you're being double-crossed. There'slots of coaches who are fiends at getting next to the battery signs, andtipping them off to their batters. Then the batters know whether to stepout to get a curve, or lay back to wallop a straight one. The signalbusiness is more important than most players think. "

Joe believed this, and, at his suggestion, and on the advice of Boswell, a little later, a new signal system was devised between the pitchers andcatchers. Joe worked hard to master it, for it was rather complicated. He wrote the system out, and studied it in his room nights. 

"Well, boys, a few weeks more and we'll be going home for the openingof the season, " said Mr. Watson in the hotel lobby one day. "I see theBoston Braves are about through training, the Phillies are said to beall primed, and the Giants are ready to eat up all the rest of us. "

"Whom do we open with?" asked Joe. 

"The Cincinnati Reds, " answered the manager. "The exact date isn't setyet, but it will be around the last of April. We've got some hard gameshere yet. I'm going to play some exhibitions on the way up North, tobreak you in gradually. "

More hard work and practice, and the playing of several games with theReedville and other local nines soon brought the time of departurenearer. 

"This is our last week, " Mr. Watson finally announced. "And I'm going toput you boys up against a good stiff proposition. We'll play the Nipperteam Saturday, and I want to warn you that there are some former bigleaguers on it, who can still hit and run and pitch, though they're notqualified for the big circuit. So don't go to the grounds with the ideathat it'll be a cinch. Play your best. Of course I know you will, andwin; but don't fall down!"

Joe hoped he would be called on to pitch, but when the game started, before the biggest crowd that had yet assembled at the Reedvillegrounds, the umpire announced the Cardinal battery as Slim Cooney andRob Russell. 

"Play ball!" came the signal, and the game was under way. 

To make the contest a little more even the St. Louis team were to batfirst, giving the visitors the advantage of coming up last in the ninthinning. 

"Doolin up!" called the score keeper, and the lanky left-handed hitterstrolled up to the plate, while Riordan, who was on deck, took up acouple of bats, swinging them about nervously to limber his arms. 

"Strike one!" bawled the umpire, at the first delivery of the visitingpitcher. 

Doolin turned with a look of disgust and stared at the arbiter, but saidnothing. There was an exchange of signals between catcher and pitcher, and Joe watched to see if he could read them. But he could not. 

"Ball, " was the next decision, and this time the pitcher looked pained. 

It got to be three and two, and the St. Louis team became ratherinterested. 

Doolin swung at the next with vicious force--and missed. 

"Strike three--batter's out!" announced the umpire, as the ball landedwith a thud in the deep pit of the catcher's mitt. 

Doolin threw down his bat hard. 

"What's he got?" whispered Riordan, as he went forward. 

"Aw, nothing so much! This light bothers me, or I'd have hit for athree-sacker, believe me!"

Riordan smiled, but he did little better. He hit, but the next man fliedout. Rad was up next and hit a twisting grounder that just managed toevade the shortstop, putting Rad on first and advancing Riordan. 

But that was the end. The next man was neatly struck out, and agoose-egg went up in St. Louis's frame. 

"Got to get 'em, boys, " announced the manager grimly, as the team wentto the field. 

Cooney did not allow a hit that inning, but he was pounded for two whenhe was on the mound again, St. Louis in the meanwhile managing to get arun, through an error. 

"Say, this is some little team, " declared Boswell admiringly. 

"I told you they were, " replied the manager. "I want to see our boyswork. "

And work they had to. 

The best pitcher in the world has his off days, and the best pitcher inthe world may occasionally be pounded, as Slim Cooney was hit that day. How it happened no one could say, but the Nippers began to slide ahead, chiefly through hard hitting and excellent pitching. 

"This won't do, " said Manager Watson as the sixth inning saw the scoretied. "Matson, go out and warm up. I'm going to see what you can do. I'mtaking a chance, maybe; but I'll risk it. "

Joe's heart beat fast. Here was his chance. Willard, who sat near him onthe bench, muttered angrily under his breath. 

"If I can only do something!" thought Joe, anxiously. 

CHAPTER XVII

"PLAY BALL!"

"Come on, Joe, I'll catch for you, " good-naturedly offered Doc Mullin, who had been "warming" the bench, Russell being behind the bat. "That'llgive Rob a chance to rest, and he can take you on just before we goout. "

"Thanks, " replied the young pitcher, and, flushing with pleasure, inthis his triumph, though it was but a small one, he went out to the"bull-pen, " to get some practice. 

"Huh! He'll make a fine show of us!" sneered Willard. 

"He can't make a much worse show than we've made of ourselves already, "put in Cooney quickly. "I sure am off my feed to-day. I don't know whatmakes it. "

"Trained a little too fine, I guess, " spoke the manager. "We'll take ita bit easy after this. "

"Speed 'em in, Joe. Vary your delivery, and don't forget the signals, "advised Mullin, as the two were warming up. "And don't get nervous. You'll do all right. "

"I'm sure I hope so, " responded Joe. 

He was getting more confidence in himself, but at that, when he stood onthe mound, and had the ball in his hand he could not help a littletwinge of "stage fright, " or something akin to it. 

The batter stepped back, to allow the usual interchange of balls betweenpitcher and catcher, and then, when Joe nodded that he was ready, movedup to the plate, where he stood, swinging his bat, and waiting for thefirst one. 

The catcher, Russell, signalled for a swift, straight one, and, thoughJoe would rather have pitched his fadeaway, he nodded his head to showthat he accepted. 

The ball whizzed from Joe's hand, and he felt a wave of apprehension, asecond later, that it was going to be slammed somewhere out over thecentre field fence. But, to his chagrin, he heard the umpire call:

"Ball one!"

The batter grinned cheerfully at Joe. 

"That won't happen again!" thought our hero fiercely. 

This time the catcher signalled for a teasing curve, and again Joesignified that he would deliver it. He did, and successfully, too. Thebatter made a half motion, as though he were going to strike at it, andthen refrained, but the umpire called, in tones that were musical toJoe's ear:

"Strike--one!"

"He's feedin' 'em to 'em!" joyfully exclaimed Boswell to the manager. "Joe's feedin' 'em in, all right. "

"Too early to judge, " replied the cautious manager. "Wait a bit. "

But Joe struck out his man, and a little applause came from his fellowplayers on the bench. 

"That's the way to do it, boy!"

"Tease 'em along!"

"We only need two more!"

Thus they called encouragingly to him. 

Joe was hit once that half of the inning, and no runs came in. The scorewas still tie. 

"Now, boys, we've got to bat!" said the manager when his team came in. "We need three or four runs, or this game will make us ashamed to goback to St. Louis. "

There was a noticeable improvement as the Cardinals went to bat. TomDugan slammed out one that was good for three bases, and Dots McCann, bya double, brought in the needed run. The St. Louis boys were themselvesagain. The fact that the visiting pitcher was "going to pieces" ratherhelped, too. 

The Cardinals were two runs to the good when the inning ended. 

"Now we want to hold them there. It's up to you, Joe, and the rest ofyou boys!" exclaimed Mr. Watson as the leaguers again took the field. 

Joe had more confidence in himself now, though it oozed away somewhatwhen the first man up struck the ball savagely. But it was only a foul, and, though Russell tried desperately to get it, he could not. 

It was a case of three and two again, and Joe's nerves were tingling. 

"Hit it now, Red!" the friends of the visiting player besought him. "Bang it right on the nose!"

"He hasn't anything on you!"

"Nothing but a slow out!"

"Slam out a home run!"

There was a riot of cries. 

Joe calmed himself by an effort, and then sent in his fadeaway. Itcompletely fooled the batter, who struck at it so hard that he swungaround in a circle. 

"You're out!" called the umpire. Joe's heart beat with pride. 

But I must not dwell too long on that comparatively unimportant game, asI have other, and bigger ones, of which to write. Sufficient to saythat, though there were a few scattering hits made off Joe, the visitorsdid not get another run, though they tried desperately in the last halfof the ninth. 

But it was not to be, and St. Louis had the game by a good margin. 

"That's fine work, boys!" the manager greeted them. "Matson, you'recoming on. I won't promise to pitch you against the Giants this season, unless all my other pitchers get 'Charlie-horse, '" he went on, "but I'llsay I like your work. "

"Thanks!" murmured Joe, his heart warming to the praise. 

"Congratulations, old man!" cried Rad, as they went to the dressingrooms together. "You did yourself proud!"

"I'm glad you think so. I wonder what sort of a story it will be when Igo up against a big league team?"

"Oh, you'll go up against 'em all right!" predicted his chum, "andyou'll win, too!"

Preparations for leaving Reedville were made. The training was over;hard work was now ahead for all. Nothing more was seen of Shalleg andWessel, though they might have been at that last game, for all Joe knew. 

In order not to tire his players by a long jump home, especially as theywere not to open at once on Robison Field, Manager Watson plannedseveral exhibition games to be played in various cities and towns on theway. 

Thus the journey would occupy a couple of weeks. 

The players were on edge now, a little rest from the Nipper game havingput them in fine trim. 

"They're ready for Giants!" energetically declared Boswell, who tookgreat pride in his training work. 

"Hardly that, " replied the manager, "but I think we can take care of theCincinnati Reds when we stack up against them on opening day. "

The journey North was enjoyed by all, and some good games took place. One or two were a little close for comfort, but the Cardinals managed topull out in time. Joe did some pitching, though he was not worked asoften as he would have liked. But he realized that he was a raw recruit, in the company of many veterans, and he was willing to bide his time. 

Joe had learned more about baseball since getting into the big leaguethan he ever imagined possible. He realized, as never before, what areally big business it was, involving, as it did, millions of dollars, and furnishing employment to thousands of players, besides givingenjoyment to millions of spectators. 

The home-coming of the Cardinals, from their trip up from the South, wasan event of interest. 

St. Louis always did make much of her ball teams, and though theAmerican Brown nine had arrived a day or so before our friends, and hadbeen noisily welcomed, there was a no less enthusiastic reception forthe Cardinals. There was a band, a cheering throng at the station, andany number of reporters, moving picture men and newspaper photographers. 

"Say, it's great; isn't it?" cried Joe to Rad. 

"It sure is, old man!"

Joe wrote home an enthusiastic account of it all, and also penned a noteto Mabel, expressing the hope that she and her brother would get to St. Louis on the occasion of some big game. 

"And I hope I pitch in it, " Joe penned. 

A day of rest, then a week of practice on their own grounds, brought theopening date nearer for St. Louis. Joe and the other players went out tothe park the morning of the opening day of the season. The grounds werein perfect shape, and the weather man was on his good behavior. 

"What kind of ball have the Reds been playing?" asked Joe of Rad, whowas a "fiend" on baseball statistics. 

"Snappy, " was the answer. "We'll have our work cut out for us!"

"Think we can do 'em?"

"Nobody can tell. I know we're going to try hard. "

"If I could only pitch!" murmured Joe. 

The grandstand was rapidly filling. The bleachers were alreadyoverflowing. The teams had marched out on the field, preceded by ablaring band. There had been a presentation of a floral horseshoe toManager Watson. 

Then came some fast, snappy practice on both sides. Joe, who had only afaint hope of being called on, warmed up well. He took his turn atbatting and catching, too. 

"They look to be a fast lot, " observed Joe to Rad, as they watched theReds at work. 

"Oh, yes, they're there with the goods. "

The game was called, and, as is often done, a city official pitched thefirst ball. This time it was the mayor, who made a wild throw. There waslaughter, and cheers, the band blared out, and then the umpire called:

"Play ball!"

CHAPTER XVIII

HOT WORDS

That opening game, between the St. Louis Cardinals and the CincinnatiReds, was not remarkable for good playing. Few opening games are, forthe teams have not that fierce rivalry that develops later in thepennant season, and, though both try hard to win, they are not keyed upto the pitch that makes for a brilliant exhibition. 

So that opening game was neither better nor worse than hundreds ofothers. But, as we have to deal mostly with Baseball Joe in this book, Iwill centre my attention on him. 

His feelings, as he watched his fellow players in the field, the pitcheron the mound, and the catcher, girded like some ancient knight, may wellbe imagined. I fancy my readers, even if they are not baseball players, have been in much the same situation. 

Joe sat on the bench, "eating his heart out, " and longing for the chancethat he had small hopes would come to him. How he wished to get upthere, and show what he could do, only he realized. 

But it was not to be. 

Manager Watson's Cardinals went into the game with a rush, and had threeruns safely stowed away in the ice box the first inning, after havinggracefully allowed the Reds to score a goose egg. 

Then came an uninteresting period, with both pitchers working theirheads off, and nothing but ciphers going up on the score board. 

"By Jove, old man, do you think we'll win?" asked Cosey Campbell, as hecame to the bench after ingloriously striking out, and looked at Joe. 

"I don't see why we shouldn't, " responded Joe. "We've got 'em going. "

"Yes, I know, but you never can tell when we may strike a slump. "

"You seem terribly worried, " laughed Joe. "Have you wagered a newnecktie on the result?"

"No, " he answered, "but I am anxious. You see, Matson, there's a girl--Icould point her out to you in one of the boxes; but maybe she wouldn'tlike it, " he said, craning his neck and going out from under the shelterof the players' bench and looking at the crowd in the grandstand. 

"Oh, that's all right, I'll take your word for it, " said Joe, for heappreciated the other's feelings. 

"A girl, you understand, Matson. She's here to see the game, " went onCampbell. "I sent her tickets, and I told her we were sure to win. She'shere, and I'm going to take her out to supper to-night. I've got thestunningest tie----"

He fumbled in his pocket. 

"Thought I had a sample of it here with me, " he said. "But I haven't. It's sort of purple--plum color--with a shooting of gold, and itshimmers down into a tango shade. It's a peach! I was going to wear itto-night, but, if we don't win----"

His face showed his misery. 

"Oh, cut it out!" advised Rad, coming up behind him. "We can't lose. Don't get mushy over an old tie. "

"It isn't an old tie!" stormed Campbell. "It's a new one I had made toorder. Cost me five bones, too. It's a peach!"

"Well, you'll wear it, all right, " said Joe with a laugh. "I don't seehow we can lose. "

The Cardinals were near it, though, in the seventh inning, when, withonly one out, and three on bases, Slim Cooney was called on to face oneof the hardest propositions in baseball. 

But he made good, and not a man crossed home plate. 

And so the game went on, now and then a bit of sensational fielding, ora pitcher tightening up in a critical place, setting the crowd tohowling. 

It was nearing the close of the contest. It looked like the Cardinals, for they were three runs to the good, and it was the ending of theeighth inning. Only phenomenal playing, at this stage, could bring theReds in a winner. 

Some of the crowd, anticipating the event, were already leaving, probably to catch trains, or to motor to some resort. 

"Well, it's a good start-off, " said Rad to Joe, as he started out to thefield, for the beginning of the ninth. 

"Yes, but it isn't cinched yet. "

"It will be soon. "

The Reds were at bat, and Joe, vainly wishing that he had had a chanceto show what he could do, pulled his sweater more closely about him, forthe day was growing cool. 

Then Batonby, one of the reserve players, strolled up to him. 

"You didn't get in, either, " he observed, sitting down. 

"No. Nor you. "

"But I've been half-promised a chance in the next game. Say, it's fierceto sit it out; isn't it?"

"It sure is. "

"Hear of any new players coming to us?" Batonby wanted to know. 

"Haven't heard, " said Joe. 

The game was over. The Cardinals did not go to bat to end the lastinning, having the game by a margin of three runs. 

The players walked across the field to the clubhouse, the spectatorsmingling with them. 

"Did you hear anything about a fellow named Shalleg, who used to play inthe Central League, coming to us?" asked Batonby, as he caught up to Joeand Rad, who had walked on ahead. 

"No, " answered Joe quickly. "That is, I have heard of him, but I'mpretty sure he isn't coming with us. "

"What makes you think so?"

"Why, I heard Mr. Watson tell him----"

"Say, if I hear you retailing any more stuff about me I'll take means tomake you stop!" cried an angry voice behind Joe, and, wheeling around, he beheld the inflamed face of Shalleg, the man in question. 

"I've heard enough of your talk about me!" the released player went on. "Now it's got to quit. I won't have it! Cut it out! I'll settle withyou, Matson, if I hear any more out of you, " and he shook his fistangrily at Joe. 

CHAPTER XIX

JOE GOES IN

Batonby looked wonderingly, first at Joe, and then at Shalleg. Thelatter's crony did not seem to be with him. 

"What's the row, old top?" asked Batonby easily. "Who are you, anyhow, and what's riled you?"

"Never you mind what's riled me! You'll find out soon enough, " was thesharp answer. "I heard you two chaps talking about me, and I want itstopped!"

"Guess you're a little off, sport. I wasn't talking about you, for Ihaven't the doubtful honor of your acquaintance. "

"None of your impudence!" burst out Shalleg. Joe had not yet spoken. 

"And I don't want any of yours, " fired back Batonby, slapping his glovefrom one hand to the other. "I say I wasn't talking about you!"

"I say you were. My name is Shalleg!"

Batonby let out a whistle of surprise. 

"Is that the one?" he asked of Joe. 

The latter nodded. 

"Well, all I've got to say, " went on Batonby, "is that I hope you don'tget on our team. And, for your information, " he went on, as he saw thatShalleg was fairly bursting with passion, "I'll add that all I saidabout you was that I heard you were trying to get on the Cardinals. Asfor Matson, he said even less about you. "

"That's all right, but you fellows want to look out, " mumbled Shalleg, who seemed nonplused on finding that he had no good grounds for aquarrel. 

"And I want to add, " broke in Joe, who felt that he had a right to saysomething in his own behalf, "I want to add that I'm about through withhearing threats from you, Mr. Shalleg, " and he accented the prefix. "Ihaven't said anything against you, and I don't expect to, unless yougive me cause. You've been following me about, making unjustifiedremarks, and it's got to stop!"

"Hurray!" cried Batonby. "That's the kind of mustard to give him. Heaveat it again, Joe!"

The young pitcher stood facing his enemy fearlessly, but he had saidenough. Shalleg growled out:

"Well, somebody's been talking about me to the manager, giving me a badname, and it's got to stop. If I find out who did it, he'll wish hehadn't, " and he glared vindictively at Joe. 

"I guess his own actions have given him the bad name, " remarked Batonby, as the dismissed player turned aside and walked off to join the throngthat had surged away from the little group. 

"That's about it, " agreed Joe, as Rad came up and joined them. "Goodwork, old man!" said our hero, for Rad had done well. 

"I came mighty near making an error, though, toward the last, " Radresponded. "Guess I'm not used to such strenuous life as playing nineinnings in a big game. My heart was in my throat when I saw that flyball coming toward me. "

"But you froze on to it, " said Batonby. 

"Hello, what's up?" asked Rad quickly, for Joe's face still showed theemotion he felt at the encounter with Shalleg. "Had a row?" asked Rad. 

"Rather, " admitted the young pitcher. "Shalleg was on deck again. "

"Say, that fellow, and his side partner, Wessel, ought to be put awayduring the ball season!" burst out Rad. "They're regular pests!"

Joe heartily agreed with him, as he related the circumstances of thelast affair. Then the friends passed on to the clubhouse, where the gamewas played over again, as usual, a "post-mortem" being held on it. Only, in this case the Cardinals, being winners, had no excuses to make forpoor playing. They were jubilant over the auspicious manner in which theseason had opened. 

"Boys. I'm proud of you!" exclaimed Manager Watson as he strolledthrough. "Do this often enough, and we'll have that pennant sure. "

"Yes, a fat chance we have!" muttered Willard, sulkily. 

"That's no way for a member of the team to talk!" snapped "Muggins. "

Willard did not reply. It was clear that he was disgruntled because hehad not had a chance to pitch. 

Then the splashing of the shower baths drowned other talk, and presentlythe players, fresh and shining from their ablutions, strolled out of theclubhouse. 

"Got anything on to-night?" asked Rad of Joe, as they reached the hotel. 

"Nothing special--why?"

"Let's go down to the Delaware Garden, and hear the Hungarian orchestra. There's good eating there, too. "

"I'm with you. Got to write a letter, though. "

"Tell her how the game went, I s'pose?" laughed Rad. 

"Something like that, " agreed Joe, smiling. 

He bought an evening paper, which made a specialty of sporting news. Itcontained an account of the opening game, with a skeletonized outlineof the plays, inning by inning. The Cardinals were properlycongratulated for winning. Joe wished he could have read his name in thestory, but he felt he could bide his time. 

Joe and Rad enjoyed their little excursion to the Delaware Garden thatevening, returning to the hotel in good season to get plenty of sleep, for they were to play the Reds again the next day. There were four gamesscheduled, and then the Cardinals would go out on the circuit, remainingaway about three weeks before coming back for a series on Robison Field. 

The tables were turned in the next game. The Cincinnati team, stingingfrom their previous defeat, played strong ball. They sent in a newpitcher, and with a lead of three runs early in the contest it began tolook bad for the Cardinals. 

"I'll get no chance to-day, " reasoned Joe, as he saw a puzzled frown onMr. Watson's face. Joe knew that only a veteran would be relied on to dobattle now, and he was right. 

Mr. Watson used all his ingenuity to save the game. He put in pinchhitters, and urged his three pitchers to do their best. 

Willard was allowed to open the game, but was taken out after the firstinning, so fiercely was he pounded. Cooney and Barter had been warmingup, and the latter went in next. 

"You go warm up, too, Matson, " directed Boswell, "though it's doubtfulif we'll have to use you. "

Joe hoped they would, but it was only a faint hope. 

Barter did a little better, but the Reds had a batting streak on thatday, and found his most puzzling curves and drops. Then, too, workingthe "hit and run" feature to the limit and stealing bases, which inseveral cases was made possible by errors on the part of the Cardinals, soon gave the Reds a comfortable lead of five runs. 

"I'm afraid they've got us, " grumbled the manager, as he substituted abatter to enable Cooney to go in the game. "You've got to pull us out, Slim, " he added. 

Slim grinned easily, not a whit disconcerted, for he was a veteran. Butthough he stopped the winning streak of the Reds, he could not makeruns, and runs are what win ball games. 

With his best nine in the field the manager tried hard to overcome theadvantage of his opponents. It looked a little hopeful in the eighthinning, when there were two men on bases, second and third, and only oneout, with "Slugger" Nottingham at the plate. 

"Now, then, a home run, old man!" pleaded the crowd. 

"Soak it on the nose!"

"Over the fence!"

"A home run means three tallies, old man. Do it now!"

Nottingham stood easily at the plate, swinging his bat. There was aninterchange of signals between catcher and pitcher--a slight differenceof opinion, it seemed. Then the ball was thrown. 

There was a resounding crack, and the crowd started to yell. 

"Go it, old man, go it!"

"That's the pie!"

"Oh, that's a beaut!"

But it was not. It was a nice little fly, to be sure, but the centrefielder, running in, had it safely before the batter reached first. Then, with Nottingham out, the ball was hurled home to nip the runner atthe plate. 

Dugan, who had started in from third, ran desperately, and slid in acloud of dust. 

"You're out!" howled the umpire, waving him to the bench. 

"He never touched me!" retorted Dugan. "I was safe by a mile!"

"Robber!" shrieked the throng in the bleachers. 

"Get a pair of glasses!"

"He was never out!"

The umpire listened indifferently to the tirade. Dugan dusted off hisuniform, and, losing his temper, shook his fist at the umpire, sneering:

"You big fat----" and the rest of it does not matter. 

"That'll cost you just twenty-five dollars, and you can go to theclubhouse, " said the umpire, coolly. 

Dugan's face fell, and Manager Watson flushed. He bit his lips to keepfrom making a retort. But, after all, the umpire was clearly within hisrights. 

In silence Dugan left the field, and the Reds, who were jubilant overthe double play, came in from the diamond. 

"The fat's in the fire now, for sure, " sighed Rad, "with Dugan out ofthe game. Hang it all, anyhow!"

"Oh, we can't win every time, " and Joe tried to speak cheerfully. 

And so the Reds won the second of the first series of games. There was arather stormy scene in the clubhouse after it was over, and Mr. Watsondid some plain talking to Dugan. But, after all, it was too common anoccurrence to merit much attention, and, really, nothing very serioushad occurred. 

The contest between the Reds and Cardinals was an even break, each teamtaking two. Then came preparations for the Cardinals taking the road. Aseries of four games with the Chicago Cubs was next in order, and there, in the Windy City, St. Louis fared rather better, taking three. 

"I wonder if I'm ever going to get a chance, " mused Joe, who had beensent to the "bull-pen" many times to warm up, but as yet he had not beencalled on. 

After games with the Pittsburg Pirates, in which an even break wasregistered, the Cardinals returned to St. Louis. As they had an opendate, a game was arranged with one of the Central League teams, theWashburgs. 

"Say, I would like to pitch against them!" exclaimed Joe. 

And he had his chance. When the practice was over Manager Watson, with asmile at our hero, said, with a friendly nod:

"Joe, you go in and see what you can do. "

Joe was to have his first big chance. 

CHAPTER XX

STAGE FRIGHT

Joe was a little nervous at first, but it was like being among oldfriends to work against the Washburg team. 

"How's your head, Joe?" asked some of the players whom he knew well, from having associated with them in the Central League. 

"Had to get larger sized caps?" asked another. 

"Don't you believe it!" exclaimed the Washburg catcher. "Joe Matsonisn't that kind of a chap!" and Joe was grateful to him. 

The game was not so easy as some of the Cardinal players had professedto believe it would be. Not all of the first string men went in, butthey were in reserve, to be used if needed. For baseball is often anuncertainty. 

Joe looked around at the grandstands and bleachers as he went out forwarm-up practice. 

There was a fair-sized crowd in attendance, but nothing like the throngthat would have been present at a league game. 

"But I'll pitch before a big crowd before I'm through the season!"declared Joe to himself, though it was not clear how this was to bebrought about. 

Washburg had a good team, and knew how to make everything tell. They ledoff with a run, which, however, was due to an error on the part of twoof the Cardinals. Joe was a little put out by it, for he had allowedonly scattering hits that inning. 

"Better try to tighten up--if you can, " advised Boswell, as our herocame to the bench. "They're finding you a bit. "

"They won't--any more!" exclaimed Joe, fiercely. 

The Washburg pitcher was a good one, as Joe knew, so it was notsurprising that he was not so very badly batted. In fact, it was hardwork for the Cardinals to garner three runs during their half of thefirst inning. But they got them. 

Joe had the advantage of knowing considerable about the various batterswho faced him, so it was easier than it would have been for anotherpitcher to deceive them. He varied his delivery, used his fadeaway andhis cross-fire, and had the satisfaction of pitching three inningsduring which he did not allow a hit. 

"That's the way to do it!" exclaimed his friend Boswell, the coach. "Hold 'em to that, and you'll have a look-in at a big game, soon. "

And Joe did. In vain did the Washburgs send in their best pinch hitters;in vain did they try to steal bases. Twice Joe nipped the man at first, who was taking too big a lead, and once the young pitcher stopped a hotliner that came driving right at him. 

Then the story was told, and the Cardinals romped home easy winners. Joehad done well, even though the Washburgs were not exactly big leaguers. 

In the weeks that followed, Joe worked hard. There was constant morningpractice, when the weather allowed it, and the work on the circuit wasexacting. Occasionally Joe went in as relief pitcher, when the game wassafe in the "ice box, " but the chance he wanted was to pitch against theNew Yorks at St. Louis. 

For the Giants were at the top of the league now, and holding on totheir pennant place with grim tenacity. In turn Joe and his fellowplayers went to Philadelphia, New York and Boston, eventually playingall around the circuit, but, as yet, the young pitcher had had no realchance to show what he could do. 

It was irksome--it was even heart-breaking at times; but Joe had tostand it. Sometimes he felt that he could do better than Barter, Willardand Cooney, the seasoned veterans, and especially was this so when thegame went against the Cardinals. 

For the St. Louis team was falling sadly behind. They were next to thetail-enders for some time, and the outlook was dubious. The papersalternately roasted and poked fun at the Cardinals, and Manager Watsonwas urged to "do something. "

Various remedies were suggested. New players might be had, and in factsome exchanges were made. Another catcher was imported, from theDetroits, and a new shortstop engaged in a trade. But the pitching staffremained unchanged. 

Then some reporter, looking for "copy, " saw a chance in Joe, and in asnappy little article reviewed Joe's career, ending with:

"If Mr. Watson wants to see his Cardinals crawl up out of the subway whydoesn't he give Matson a chance? The youngster can pitch good ball, andthe line of twirling that has been handed out by the Cardinals thus farthis season would be laughable, were it not lamentable. "

Of course that article made trouble for Joe, especially with thepitching staff. 

"Say, how much did you slip that reporter to pull off that dope aboutyou?" inquired Willard with a sneer. 

"What do you mean?" asked Joe indignantly. 

"I mean how much coin did you pay him?"

"You know I didn't have anything to do with it!" our hero fired back. "He asked me for my record, and I gave it to him. I didn't know he wasgoing to write that. "

"A likely story, " grumbled Willard. 

The other pitchers did not say so much, but it was clear they did notlike the "roasting" they got. But it was not Joe's doing. 

There were shifts and re-shifts, there were hard feelings manifested, and gotten over. But nothing could disguise the fact that the Cardinalswere in a "slump. "

Loyal as the St. Louis "fans" were to their teams, when they were on thewinning side, it was not in human nature to love a losing nine. 

So that it got to be the fashion to refer to the Cardinals as "losingagain. " And this did not make for good ball playing, either. There weresore hearts among the players when they assembled in the clubhouse aftersuccessive defeats. 

Not that the Cardinals lost all the time. No team could do that, andstay in the big league. But they never got to the top of the seconddivision, and even that was not much of an honor to strive for. Still, it was better than nothing. 

Joe pitched occasionally, and, when he did there was a littleimprovement, at times. But of course he was not a veteran, and once ortwice he was wild. 

Then the paper which bore the least friendliness to the Cardinals tooka different tack. It laughed at the manager for sending in a youngpitcher when a veteran was needed. 

"Say, I'd like to know just what those fellows want me to do!" Mr. Watson exclaimed one day, after a particularly severe roast. "I can'tseem to please 'em, no matter what I do. "

"Don't let 'em get your goat, " advised his coach. "Go on. Keep going. We'll strike a winning streak yet, and mark my words, it will be JoeMatson who'll pull us out of a hole. "

"He hasn't done so well yet, " objected Mr. Watson, dubiously. 

"No, and it's because he hasn't exactly found himself. He is a bitnervous yet. Give him time. "

"And stay in the cellar?"

"Well, but what are you going to do?" reasoned the other. "Cooney andBarter aren't pitching such wonderful ball. "

"No, that's true, but they can generally pull up in a tight place. I'dsend Matson in oftener than I do, only I'm afraid he'll blow up when thecrises comes. He is a good pitcher, I admit that, but he isn't seasonedyet. The Central League and the National are a wide distance apart. "

"That's true. But I'd like to see him have his chance. "

"Well, I'll give it to him. We play Boston next week. They happen to bein the second division just at present, although they seem to be goingup fast. I'll let Joe go up against them. "

"That won't be as good as letting him go against New York, " saidBoswell. 

"Well, it'll have to do, " decided the manager, who could be very set inhis ways at times. 

The Braves proved rather "easy, " for the Cardinals and, as Boswell hadindicated, there was little glory for Joe in pitching against them. Hewon his game, and this, coupled with the fact that the reporter friendlyto Joe made much of it, further incensed the other pitchers. 

"Don't mind 'em, " said Rad, and Joe tried not to. 

The season was advancing. Try as the Cardinals did, they could not getto the top of the second division. 

"And if we don't finish there I'll feel like getting out of the game, "said the manager gloomily, after a defeat. 

"Pitch Matson against the Giants, " advised the coach. 

"By Jove! I'll do it!" cried the manager, in desperation. "We open withNew York at St. Louis next week for four games. I'll let Matson see whathe can do, though I reckon I'll be roasted and laughed at for takingsuch a chance. "

"Well, maybe not, " the coach replied, chuckling. 

In the meanwhile Joe had been working hard. Under the advice of Boswellhe adopted new training tactics, and he had his arm massaged by aprofessional between games. He was surprised at the result of the newtreatment, and he found he was much fresher after a hard pitching battlethan he had been before. 

"He thinks he's going to be a Boy Wonder, " sneered Willard. 

"Oh, cut it out!" snapped Boswell. "If some of you old stagers wouldtake better care of yourselves there'd be better ball played. "

"Huh!" sneered Willard. 

The Cardinals came back to St. Louis to play a series with New York. 

"Wow!" exclaimed Rad as he and Joe, discussing the Giants' record, weresitting together in the Pullman on their way to their home city, "here'swhere it looks as if we might get eaten up!"

"Don't cross a bridge before you hear it barking at you, " advised Joe. "Maybe they won't be so worse. We're on our own grounds, that's sure. "

"Not much in that, " decided his chum, dubiously. 

When Joe reached the hotel he found several letters awaiting him. One, in a girl's handwriting, he opened first. 

"Does she still love you?" laughed Rad, noticing his friend's raptattention. 

"Dry up! She's coming on to St. Louis. "

"She is? Good! Will she see you play?"

"Well, I don't know. It doesn't look as though I was going to get agame--especially against New York. "

"Cheer up! There might be something worse. "

"Yes, I might have another run-in with Shalleg. "

"That's so. Seen anything of him lately?"

"No, but I hear he's been writing letters to Mr. Watson, intimating thatif the boss wants to see the team come up out of the subway, Shalleg isthe man to help. "

"Some nerve; eh?"

"I should say so!"

It was a glorious sunny day, perhaps too hot, but that makes for goodbaseball, for it limbers up the players. The grandstand and bleacherswere rapidly filling, and out on the well-kept diamond of Robison Fieldthe rival teams--the Cardinals and the Giants--were practicing. 

Mabel Varley and her brother had come to St. Louis, stopping off onbusiness, and Joe had called on them. 

"I'm coming out to see you play, " Mabel announced after the greetings atthe hotel. 

"I'm afraid you won't, " said Joe, somewhat gloomily. 

"Why not?" she asked in surprise. "Aren't you on the pitching staff?"

"Yes, but perhaps you haven't been keeping track of where the Cardinalsstand in the pennant race. "

"Oh, yes, I have!" she laughed, and blushed. "I read the papers everyday. "

"That's nice. Then you know we're pretty well down?"

"Yes, but the season isn't half over yet. I think you'll do better. "

"I sure do hope so, " murmured Joe. "But, for all that, I am afraid youwon't see me pitch to-day. Mr. Watson won't dare risk me, though I thinkI could do some good work. I'm feeling fine. "

"Oh, I do hope you get a chance!" Mabel exclaimed enthusiastically. "Anyhow, I'm going to have one of the front boxes, and there are to besome girl friends with me. You know them, I think--Hattie Walsh and JeanDouglass. "

"Oh, yes, I remember them, " Joe said. "Well, I hope you see us win, butI doubt it. "

And now, as the game was about to start, Joe looked up and saw, in oneof the front boxes, Mabel and her friends. He went over to speak tothem, as he walked in from practice. 

"For good luck!" said Mabel softly, as she gave him one of the flowersshe was wearing. 

"Thanks, " and Joe blushed. 

As yet the battery of the Cardinals had not been announced. ClearlyManager Watson was in a quandary. He and Boswell consulted together, while the players waited nervously. Some of the newspaper reporters, anxious to flash some word to their papers, asked who was to pitch. 

"I'll let you know in a few minutes, " was the manager's answer. 

And then, as the time for calling the game approached, Mr. Watson handedhis batting order to the umpire. 

The latter stared at it a moment before making the announcement. Heseemed a trifle surprised. 

"Batteries!" he called through his megaphone. "For New York, Hankinsonand Burke--for St. Louis--Matson and Russell. "

Joe was to pitch, and in the biggest game he had ever attempted!

There was a rushing and roaring in his ears, and for a moment he couldnot see clearly. 

"Go to it, Matson, " said the manager. "I'm going to try you out. "

Joe's lips trembled. He was glad his teammates could not know how hefelt. Nervously he walked out to the mound, and caught the new ballwhich the umpire divested of its foil cover and tossed to him. Russellgirded himself in protector and mask, and the batter stepped back toallow the usual practice balls. 

Someone in a box applauded. Joe could not see, but he knew it was Mabel. 

"Oh, Joe's going to pitch!" she exclaimed to her girl friends. "I hopehe strikes them all out!"

"Not much chance, " her brother said, rather grimly. 

Joe sent the first ball whizzing in. It went so wild that the catcherhad to jump for it. There was a murmur from the stands, and some of theGiants grinned at one another. 

Russell signalled to Joe that he wanted to speak to him. Pitcher andcatcher advanced toward one another. 

"What's the matter?" Russell wanted to know, while some in the crowdlaughed at the conference. "Got stage fright?"

"Ye--yes, " stammered Joe. Poor Joe, he had a bad case of nerves. 

"Say, look here!" exclaimed Russell with a intentional fierceness. "Ifyou don't get over it, and pitch good ball, I'll give you the bestbeating up you ever had when we get to the clubhouse! I'm not going tostand being laughed at because you're such a rotten pitcher! Do you getme!" and he leered savagely at Joe. 

The effect on the young pitcher was like an electric shock. He had neverbeen spoken to like that before. But it was just the tonic he needed. 

"I get you, " he said briefly. 

"It's a good thing you do!" said Russell brutally, and, as he walkedback to his place his face softened. "I hated to speak that way to thelad, " he murmured to himself, "but it was the only way to get him overhis fright. "

CHAPTER XXI

A QUEER MESSAGE

The next practice ball Joe sent in went cleanly over the plate, andlanded with a thud in the catcher's glove. Russell nodded at Joe, toindicate that was what he wanted. 

"Play ball!" directed the umpire, and the batter moved up closer to theplate. 

Stooping low, and concealing his signal with his big glove, Russellcalled for a straight, swift ball. Joe gave it, and as it was in theproper place, though the striker did not attempt to hit it, the umpirecalled:

"Strike--one!"

Indignantly the batter looked around, but it was only done for effect. He knew it was a strike. 

"That's the way. Now we've got 'em!" cried Boswell from the coachingline. 

"Ball one, " was the next decision of the umpire, and Joe felt a littleresentment, for he had made sure it went over the plate. But there waslittle use to object. 

A curve was next called for, and Joe succeeded in enticing the batterto strike at it. But the stick missed the horsehide cleanly. It was twostrikes. 

"Pretty work! Oh, pretty work!" howled Boswell. 

A foul next resulted, and Russell missed it by inches. The batter hadstill another chance. But it availed him little, for Joe fooled him onthe next one. 

"Good!" nodded the catcher to the young pitcher, and Joe felt his visionclearing now. He looked over toward where Mabel was sitting. She smiledencouragingly at him. 

The New Yorks got one hit off Joe that inning, but, though the man onfirst stole second, after Joe had tried to nip him several times, theother two men struck out, and a goose egg went up in the first frame. 

"Well, if you can do that eight more times the game is ours, if we canonly get one run, " said Manager Watson, as Joe came up to the bench, smiling happily. 

"I'll try, " was all he said. 

But the Cardinals did not get their run that inning, nor the next northe next nor next. The game ran along for five innings with neither sidecrossing home plate, and talk of a "pitchers' battle" began to be heard. Joe was pitching remarkably well, allowing only scattering hits. TheGiants could not seem to bunch them. 

Then, as might have been expected, Joe had a bit of bad luck. There hadbeen hard work for him that day--hard and nervous work, and it told onhim. He was hit for a two-bagger, and the next man walked, though Joethought some of the decisions unfair. 

Then the runner attempted to steal third. There was a wild throw, andthe man came in, scoring the first run. Joe felt a wave of chagrin sweepover him. He felt that the game was going. 

"Tighten up! Tighten up!" he heard Boswell call to him. By a determinedeffort he got himself well in hand, and then amid the cheers of thecrowd he succeeded in striking out the other men up, so that only theone run was in. 

But the pace was telling on Joe. He gave two men their base on balls thenext time he pitched, and by a combination of circumstances, two moreruns were made before the Giants were retired. 

"This won't do, " murmured Mr. Watson. "I'm afraid I'll have to take Joeout. "

"Don't, " advised Boswell. "He'll be all right, but if you take him outnow you'll break him all up. I think he could have a little bettersupport. "

"Possibly. The fielding is a bit shaky. I'll send in Lawson to bat forCampbell. "

This change resulted in a marked improvement With a mighty clout Lawsonknocked a home run, and, as there was a man on third, that two. Fromthen on the Cardinals seemed to find themselves. They began coming backin earnest, and everyone "got the habit. " Even Joe, proverbially poorhitters as pitchers are supposed to be, did his share, and, by placing aneat little drive, that eluded the shortstop, he brought in anotherneeded run. 

"One ahead now! That's fine!" cried Rad to his chum, though Joe "died"on second. "If we can only hold 'em down----" and he lookedquestioningly at the young pitcher. 

"I'll do it!" cried Joe, desperately. 

It did not look as though he would, though, when the first man up, afterreceiving three and two, was allowed to walk. Joe felt a bit shaky, buthe steeled himself to hold his nerve. The man at first was a notoriousbase-stealer, and Joe watched him closely. Twice he threw to the initialsack, hoping to nip him, and he almost succeeded. Then he slammed in aswift one to the batter, only to know that the runner started forsecond. 

But it did him little good to do it, for though he made third, Joestruck out his three men amid a wave of applause. 

"One more like that, and we've got the game!" cried Mr. Watson. "It's upto you, Joe. But if you can't stand it I'll send in Slim. "

"I'll stand it, " was the grim answer, though Joe's arm ached. 

And stand it Joe did. He was hit once in that last inning, and one mangot his base on balls. And then and there Joe gave a remarkably nervyexhibition. He nipped the man on first, and then in quick successionsucceeded in fooling the two batters next up. 

"That's the eye!"

"The Cardinals win!"

"What's the matter with Joe Matson?"

"He's all right!"

The crowd went wild, as it had a right to do, and Joe's face was as redwith pleasure as the nickname of his team. For he had had a large sharein defeating the redoubtable Giants, though to the credit of that teambe it said that several of its best players were laid up, and, at acritical part in the game their best hitter was ruled out for abusingthe umpire. 

But that took away nothing from Baseball Joe's glory. 

"Oh, I'm so glad you won!" cried Mabel, as he passed her box. "Isn't itglorious?"

"It sure is, " he admitted with a smile. 

"Can't you take dinner with us at the hotel?" she went on, and Joeblushingly agreed. The other girls smiled at him, and Reggie nodded in afriendly manner. 

"Great work, old man!" called Mabel's brother. "It was a neat game. "

Then Joe hurried off to have a shower, and dress, and in the clubhousehe was hailed genially by his fellow players. 

"Good work, Joe!"

"I didn't think you had it in you. "

"This sure will make the Giants feel sore. "

As for Manager Watson, he looked at Joe in a manner that meant much tothe young pitcher. 

"I told you so!" said the old coach to the manager, later that day. 

"Yes, you did, " admitted the latter. "Of course I knew Joe had goodstuff in him, but I didn't think it would come out so soon. He may helppull us up out of the cellar yet. "

Joe enjoyed the little dinner with Mabel and her friends that night, ashe had seldom before taken pleasure in a gathering. Rad was one of theguests, and later they went to the theatre, as there was no game nextday. 

But if the Cardinals expected to repeat their performance they weredisappointed. Joe was started in another contest, and he was glad Mabelwas not present, for somehow he could not keep control of the balls, andfollowing a rather poor exhibition, he was taken out after the fourthinning. But it was too late to save the game. 

"Never mind, we got one of the four, and it was due to you, " consoledRad, when the series was over. "And you've found out what it is to stackup against the Giants. "

Joe had had his "baptism of fire, " and it had done him good. The St. Louis team was to take the road again, after a time spent in the hometown, where they had somewhat improved their standing. 

"Got anything to do this evening?" asked Rad, as they were coming backfrom the ball park, after a final game with Boston. 

"No. "

"Then let's go to the Park Theatre. There's a good hot-weather show on. "

"I'm with you. "

"All right. I've got to go down town, but I'll be back before it's timeto go, " Rad went on. 

Joe dressed, and waited around the hotel lobby for his friend to return. It grew rather late, and Joe glanced uneasily at the clock. He wasrather surprised, as he stood at the hotel desk, to hear his name spokenby a messenger boy who entered. 

"Matson? There he is, " and the clerk indicated our hero. 

"Sign here, " said the boy, shortly. Joe wondered if the telegramcontained bad news from home. Giving the lad a dime tip, Joe opened theenvelope with fingers that trembled, and then he read this rather queermessage:

"If you want to do your friend Rad a good turn, come to the addressbelow, " and Joe recognized the street as one in a less desirable sectionof the city. 

CHAPTER XXII

IN DANGER

"Bad news?" asked the hotel clerk, as he noticed the look on Joe's face. 

"No--yes--well, it's unexpected news, " hesitated Joe, as he made up hismind, on the instant, not to tell the contents of the note. He wanted alittle time to think. Rapidly he read the message over again. The boywas just shuffling out of the hotel. 

"Wait a minute!" Joe called after him. "Where'd you get this note?" theyoung pitcher asked. 

"At de office. "

"Yes, I know. But who brought it in?"

"I dunno. Youse'll have to see de manager. "

"Oh, all right, " Joe assented, and then he turned aside. He was still ina quandary as to what to do. 

Once more he read the note. 

"'If you want to do your friend Rad a good turn, '" he repeated. "Ofcourse I do, but what does it mean? Rad can't be in trouble, or he'dhave sent me some word himself. That isn't a very good neighborhood atnight, but I guess I can take care of myself. The trouble is, though, ifI go out, and Rad comes back here in the meanwhile, what will happen?"

Joe was thinking hard, trying to find some solution of the mystery, andthen a flash came to him. 

"Baseball!" he whispered to himself. "Maybe it is something to do withbaseball! Someone may be scouting for Rad, and want to find out, on thequiet, if he's willing to help in making a shift to some other team. They want me to aid them, perhaps. "

Joe had been long enough in organized baseball to know that there aremany twists and turns to it, and that many "deals" are carried on inwhat might be considered an underhand manner. Often, when rivalorganizations in the baseball world are at war, the various managers, and scouts, go to great lengths, and secretly, to get some player theyconsider valuable. 

"Maybe some rival club is after Rad and doesn't want its plans known, "mused Joe. "That must be it. They know he and I are chums, and they cometo me first. Well, I sure do want to help Rad, but I don't want to seehim leave the Cardinals. I guess I'll take a chance and go down there. I'll leave word at the desk that I'll meet Rad at the theatre. Thatwill be the best. I can telephone back to the hotel, after I go to thisaddress, and find out if Rad has been back here. I'll go. "

Stuffing the queer note into his pocket, Joe started off, catching a carthat would take him near the address given. Before leaving, he arrangedwith the hotel clerk to tell Rad that he would meet him at the theatre. 

It was a rather dark, and quite lonesome, street in which Joe foundhimself after leaving the street car. On either side were tall buildingsthat shut out much of the light by day, while at night they made theplace a veritable canyon of gloom. There were big warehouses andfactories with, here and there, a smaller building, and some ramshackledwellings that had withstood the encroachment of business. 

Some of these latter had fallen into decay, and others were being usedas miserable homes by those who could afford no better. In one or two, saloons held forth, the light from their swinging doors making yellowpatches on the dark pavement. 

"I wouldn't like to have to live down here, " mused Joe, as he picked hisway along, looking, as best he could, for the number given in the note. "It's a queer place to appoint a meeting, but I suppose the baseballfellows don't want to be spied on. I'll be glad when I'm through. "

Joe walked on a little farther. The neighborhood seemed to become moredeserted and lonesome. From afar off came the distant hum and roar ofthe city, but all around Joe was silence, broken, now and then, by thesound of ribald laughter from the occasional saloons. 

"Ah, here's the place!" exclaimed Joe, as he stood in front of one ofthe few dwellings in the midst of the factories. "It looks gloomyenough. I wonder who can be waiting to see me here about Rad? Well, there's a light, anyhow. "

As Joe approached the steps of the old house he saw, at one side of thedoor, a board on which were scrawled the words:

 _Peerless Athletic Club_

"Hum! Must be a queer sort of club, " mused Joe. "I guess they do moreexercise with their tongues, and with billiard cues, than with theirmuscles. "

For, as he mounted the steps, he heard from within the click of billiardand pool balls, and the noise of talk and laughter. It was one of theso-called "athletic" clubs, that often abound in low neighborhoods, where the name is but an excuse for young "toughs" to gather. Under thename, and sometimes incorporation of a "club, " they have certain rightsand privileges not otherwise obtainable. They are often a politicalfactor, and the authorities, for the sake of the votes they control, wink at minor violations of the law. It was to such a place as this thatJoe had come--or, in view of what happened afterward, had been luredwould be the more proper term. 

"Well, what do youse want?" asked an ill-favored youth, as Joe enteredthe poorly lighted hall. The fellow had his hat tilted to one side, anda cigarette was glued to one lip, moving up and down curiously as hespoke. 

"I don't know who I want, " said Joe, as pleasantly as he could. "I wastold to come here to do my friend Rad Chase a favor. I'm Joe Matson, ofthe Cardinals, and----"

"Oh, yes. He's expectin' youse. Go on in, " and the fellow nodded towarda back room, the door of which stood partly open. Joe hesitated amoment, while the youth who had spoken to him went out and stood on thehalf-rotting steps. Then, deciding that, as he had come thus far, hemight as well see the thing through, Joe started for the rear room. 

But, as he reached the door, and heard a voice speaking, he hesitated. For what he heard was this:

"S'posin' he don't come?"

"Aw, he'll come all right, Wessel, " said another voice. "He sure isstuck on his friend Rad, and he'll want to know what he can do for him. He'll come, all right. "

"Shalleg!" gasped Joe, as he recognized the tones. "It's a trick. Hethinks he can trap me here!"

As he turned to go, Joe heard Wessel say:

"There won't be no rough work; will there?"

"Oh, no! Not too rough!" replied Shalleg with a nasty laugh. 

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Joe was hasteningaway when he accidentally knocked over a box in the hall. Instantly thedoor to the rear room was thrown wide open, giving the young pitcher, ashe turned, a glimpse of Shalleg, Wessel and several other men seatedabout a table, playing cards. 

"Who's there?" cried Shalleg. Then, as he saw Joe hurrying away, headded: "Hold on, Matson. I sent for you. I want to see you!"

"But I don't want to see you!" Joe called back over his shoulder. 

"Say, this is straight goods!" cried Shalleg, pushing back his chairfrom the table, the legs scraping over the bare boards of the floor. "It's all right. I've got a chance to do your friend Rad Chase a goodturn, and you can help in it. Wait a minute!"

But Joe fled, unheeding. Then Shalleg, seeing that his plans were aboutto miscarry, yelled:

"Stop him, somebody!"

Joe was running along the dim hallway. As he reached the outside stepsthe youth who had first accosted him turned, and made a grab for him. 

"What's your hurry?" he demanded. "Hold on!"

Joe did not answer, but, eluding the outstretched hands, made thesidewalk in a jump and ran up the street. He was fleet of foot--histraining gave him that--and soon he was safe from pursuit, though, as amatter of fact, no one came after him. Shalleg and his tools were hardlyready for such desperate measures yet, it seemed. 

Joe passed a side street, and, looking up it, saw at the other end, amore brilliantly lighted thoroughfare. Arguing rightly that he would besafer there, Joe turned up, and soon was in a more decent neighborhood. His heart was beating rapidly, partly from the run, and partly throughapprehension, for he had an underlying fear that it would not have beenfor his good to have gone into the room where Shalleg was. 

"Whew! That was a happening, " remarked Joe, as he slowed down. "I wonderwhat it all meant? Shalleg must be getting desperate. But why does hekeep after me? Unless he thinks I am responsible for his not getting aplace on the Cardinals. It's absurd to think that, but it does seem so. I wonder what I'd better do?"

Joe tried to reason it out, and then came the recollection of Rad. 

"I'll telephone to the hotel, and see if he's come back, " he said. "Then, when I meet him, I'll tell him all that happened. It's a queergo, sure enough. "

A telephone message to the hotel clerk brought the information that Radhad telephoned in himself, saying that he had been unexpectedlydetained, and would meet Joe at the theatre entrance. 

"That's good!" thought our hero. For one moment, after running away fromthe gloomy house, he had had a notion that perhaps Rad had also beenlured there. Now he knew his friend was safe. 

"Sorry I couldn't come back to the hotel for you, " Rad greeted Joe, asthey met in front of the theatre. "But my business took me longer than Icounted on. We're in time for the show, anyhow. It starts a little laterin summer. "

"That's all right, " said Joe. "As a matter of fact I have been away fromthe hotel myself, for some time. "

"So the clerk said. Told me you'd gone out and left a message for me. Say, what's up, Joe? You look as though something had happened, " fornow, in the light, Rad had a glimpse of his chum's face, and it wore astrange look. 

"Something did happen, " said Joe in a low voice. "I believe I was indanger. I'll tell you all about it, " which he did, in a low voice, between the acts of the play. 

It is doubtful if either Joe or Rad paid much attention to what occurredon the stage that evening. 

CHAPTER XXIII

A LAME ARM

"But, great Scott, Joe!" exclaimed Rad, when he had been given all thefacts of the strange occurrence, "that was a raw sort of deal!"

"I think so myself. "

"Why don't you get the police after them?"

"What would be the good? Nothing really happened, and just because Ihave an idea it would have, if I'd given them the chance to get at me, doesn't make them liable to arrest. I would look foolish going to thepolice. "

"Maybe so. But then there's that note. They didn't have any idea ofdoing me a good turn. That was almost a forgery. "

"The trouble is we can't prove it, though. I think the only thing I cando is to let it go, and be more careful in the future. "

"Well, maybe it is, " agreed Rad slowly. "But what do you think was theirobject?"

"I haven't the least idea, " replied Joe. "That is, the only thing I canimagine is that Shalleg wanted to scare me; or, perhaps, threaten mefor what he imagines I have done to him. "

"And that is?" questioned Rad. 

"That I've been spreading false reports about him to our manager, inorder to keep him off the team. As a matter of fact, I don't believe Ihave ever mentioned him to Mr. Watson. It's all imagination on Shalleg'spart. "

"What condition was he in to-night?" asked Rad, as he and Joe were ontheir way to the hotel after the play. 

"As far as I could judge, he was about as he has been most of the timelately--scarcely sober. That, and his gambling and irregular living, took him off the team, you know. "

"And he thinks, with that record behind him, that he can get on theCardinals!" exclaimed Rad. "He's crazy!"

"He's dangerous, too, " added Joe. "I'm going to be more careful afterthis. "

"And you thought you were doing me a favor, old man?"

"I sure did, Rad. I thought maybe some scout from another club wastrying to secure your valuable services. "

"Now you're stringing me!"

"No, I'm not, really. You know there are queer doings in baseball. "

"Yes, but none as queer as that. Well, I'm much obliged, anyhow. Butafter this you stick to me. If there's any danger we'll share ittogether!"

"Thanks!" exclaimed Joe warmly. 

"Going to say anything to the boss about this?" asked Rad, after apause. 

"I think not. Would you?"

"Well, perhaps we might just as well keep still about it, " agreed Rad. "We'll see if we can't trap this Shalleg and his crony, and put a stopto their game. "

"All they have been is a nuisance, so far, " spoke Joe. "But there's notelling when they might turn to something else. "

"That's so. Well, we'll keep our weather eyes open. "

Joe was not a little unnerved by his experience, and he was glad therewas not a game next day. 

The Cardinals had crept up a peg. They were now standing one from thetop of the second division of clubs, and there began to be heard talkthat they would surely lead their column before many more games had beenplayed. 

"And maybe break into the first division!" exclaimed Trainer Boswell. "If you keep on the way you've started, Matson, we sure will do it!"

"I'll do my best, " responded Joe. 

In a series of four games with the Brooklyn Superbas the Cardinals brokeeven, thus maintaining their position. But they could not seem to climbany higher. Joe's pitching helped a lot, and he was regarded as a comingstar. He was acquiring more confidence in himself, and that, in playingbig baseball, helps a lot. 

Of course I am not saying that Joe did all the work for his team. Nopitcher does, but a pitcher is a big factor. It takes batters to makehits and runs, however, and the Cardinals had their share of them. Theycould have done better with more, but good players brought high prices, and Manager Watson had spent all the club owners felt like laying out. 

The other pitchers of the Cardinals worked hard. It must not be imaginedthat because I dwell so much on Joe's efforts that he was the "wholeshow. "

Far from it. At times Joe had his "off days" as well as did the others, and there were times when he felt so discouraged that he wanted to giveit all up, and go back to a smaller league. 

But Joe had grit, and he stuck to it. He was determined to make as greata name for himself as is possible in baseball, and he knew he must takethe bitter with the sweet, and accept defeat when it came, as it isbound to now and then. 

Nor did his determination to overcome obstacles fail of its object. With the other members of the team, Joe played so surprisingly well thatsuddenly the Cardinals took one of those remarkable "braces" thatsometimes come in baseball, and from eighth position the club leapedforward into fifth, being aided considerably by some hard luck on thepart of the other teams. In other words, "things broke right" for theCardinals and the St. Louis "fans" began to harbor hopes of a possiblepennant. 

Joe had several incentives for doing his best. There were his folks. Hewanted to justify his father's faith in him, and also his sister's. Joeknew that his mother, in spite of her kind and loving ways, was secretlydisappointed that he had quit his college career to become a baseballplayer. 

"But I'll show her that it's just as honorable as one of the learnedprofessions, and that it pays better in a great many cases, " reasonedJoe. "Though of course the money end of it isn't the biggest thing inthis world, " he told himself. "Still it is mighty satisfactory. "

Then there was another reason why Joe wanted to make good. Or, rather, there was another person he wanted to have hear of his success. I guessyou know her name. 

And so the young pitcher kept on, struggling to perfect himself in thetechnicalities of the big game, playing his position for all it wascapable of. As the season went on Joe's name figured more and more oftenin the papers. 

"He's got reporters on his staff!" sneered Willard. 

"Well, I wish we all had, " observed Manager Watson. "Publicity counts, and I want all I can get for my players. It's a wonder some of youfellows wouldn't have your name in the papers oftener. "

"I don't play to the grandstand, " growled the grouchy pitcher. 

"Maybe it would help some if you did, " the manager remarked quietly. 

The baseball practice and play went on. Joe was called on more often nowto pitch a game, as Mr. Watson was kind enough to say some of the club'ssuccess was due to him, and while of course he was not considered theequal of the veteran pitchers, he was often referred to as a "comer. "

What Joe principally lacked was consistency. He could go in and pitch abrilliant game, but he could not often do it two days in succession. Inthis respect he was not unlike many celebrated young pitchers. Joe wasnot fully developed yet. He had not attained his full growth, and he hadnot the stamina and staying power that would come with added years. Buthe was acquiring experience and practice that would stand him in goodstead, and his natural good health, and clean manner of living, were inhis favor. 

The Cardinals had come back to St. Louis in high spirits over theirsplendid work on the road. 

"We ought to take at least three from the Phillies, " said Boswell, forthey were to play four games with the Quaker City nine. "That will helpsome. "

"If we win them, " remarked Joe, with a smile. 

"Well, we're depending on you to help, " retorted the trainer. 

Joe only smiled. 

There was some discussion in the papers as to who would pitch the firstgame against the Phillies, and it was not settled until a few minutesbefore the game was called, when Slim Cooney was sent in. 

"I guess Mr. Watson wants to make sure of at least the first one, "remarked Joe, as he sat on the bench. 

"Oh, you'll get a chance, " Boswell assured him. "You want to keepyourself right on edge. No telling when you'll be called on. "

It was a close game, and it was not until the eleventh inning that thehome team pulled in the winning run. Then, with jubilant faces, themembers hurried to the clubhouse. 

"Whew!" whistled Cooney, as he swung his southpaw arm about. "I surewill be lame to-morrow. "

"You can have a rest, " the manager informed him. "And be sure to haveyour arm massaged well. This is going to be a stiffer proposition than Ithought. "

"Did you see him at the game?" asked Rad of Joe, as they walked alongtogether. 

"See who?"

"Shalleg. "

"No. Was he there?"

"He sure was! I had a glimpse of him over in the bleachers when I ranafter that long drive of Mitchell's. He was with that Wessel, but theydidn't look my way. "

"Humph!" mused Joe. "Well, I suppose he's got a right to come to ourgames. If he bothers me, though, I'll take some action. "

"What?"

"I don't know, yet. But I'm through standing for his nonsense. "

"I don't blame you. "

If Joe could have seen Shalleg and Wessel talking to a certain "tough"looking character, after the game, and at the same time motioning in hisdirection, he would have felt added uneasiness. 

"Oh, let's go out to some summer garden and cool off, " proposed Radafter supper. It was a hot night, and sitting about the hotel wasirksome. 

"All right, " agreed Joe, and they started for a car. The same "tough"looking character who had been talking with Wessel and Shalleg took thecar as well. 

Coming back, after sitting through an open-air moving pictureperformance, Joe and Rad found all the cars crowded. It was an open one, and Joe and Rad had given their seats to ladies, standing up and holdingto the back of the seat in front of them. Just beyond Joe was a burlychap, the same one who had left the hotel at the time they did. He kepthis seat. 

Then, as the car reached a certain corner, this man got up hurriedly. 

"Let me past! I want to get off!" he exclaimed, in unnecessarily roughtones to Joe, at the same time pressing hard against him. 

"Certainly, " the young pitcher replied, removing his hands from the seatin front of him. At that moment the car stopped with a sudden jerk, andthe fellow grabbed Joe by the right arm, twisting it so that the ballplayer cried out, involuntarily. 

"'Scuse me!" muttered the fellow. "I didn't mean to grab youse so hard. I didn't know youse was so tender, " he sneered. 

"Seems to me you could have grabbed the seat, " objected Joe, wincingwith pain. 

The other did not answer, but afterward Rad said he thought he saw himwink and grin maliciously. 

"Hurt much?" asked Rad of Joe, as the fellow got off and the car went onagain. 

"It did for a minute. It's better now. "

"It looked to me as though he did that on purpose, " said Rad. 

"He certainly was very clumsy, " spoke one of the ladies to whom Joe andRad had given their places. "He stepped on my foot, too. "

Joe worked his arm up and down to limber the muscles, and then thoughtlittle more about the incident. That is, until the next morning. Heawoke with a sudden sense of pain, and as he stretched out his pitchingarm, he cried out. 

"What's the matter?" asked Rad. 

"My arm's sore and lame!" complained Joe. "Say, this is tough luck! Andmaybe I'll get a chance to pitch to-day. "

CHAPTER XXIV

A TIGHT GAME

Rad gave a look at his chum, and then, sliding out of bed, ran to thewindow. 

"No luck!" he exclaimed. 

"What do you mean?" asked Joe. 

"I mean it isn't raining. "

"What has that got to do with it?" the young pitcher wanted to know, ashe moved his sore arm back and forth, a little frown of pain showing onhis face at each flexing movement. 

"Why, if it rained we wouldn't have any game, and you'd get a chance torest and get in shape. It's a dead cinch that you or Barter will becalled on to-day. Willard has 'Charlie-horse, ' and he can't pitch. Soit's you or Barter. "

"Then I guess it will have to be Barter, " said Joe with a grimace. "I'mafraid I can't go in. And yet I hate to give up and say I can't pitch. It's tough luck!"

"Does it hurt much?" Rad wanted to know. 

"Enough, yes. I could stand it, ordinarily, but every time I move itwill make it worse. "

"Is it where that fellow pinched you, in getting off the car lastnight?"

"He didn't pinch me, " said Joe, "it was a deliberate twist. "

"Deliberate?" questioned Rad in surprise. 

"It sure was!" exclaimed the young pitcher decidedly. "The more I thinkof it the more I'm certain that he did it deliberately. "

"But why should he?" went on Rad. "You didn't prevent him from gettingout of the car. There was plenty of room for him to pass. Why should hetry to hurt you?"

"I don't know, " answered Joe, "unless he was put up to it by----"

"By Jove! Shalleg! Yes!" cried Rad. "I believe you're right. Shalleg isjealous of you, and he wants to see you kept out of the game, justbecause he didn't make the nine. And I guess, too, he'd be glad to seethe Cardinals lose just to make Manager Watson feel sore. That's it, Joe, as sure as you're a foot high!"

"Oh, I don't know as he thought the Cardinals would lose because Ididn't pitch, " said Joe, slowly, "but he may have been set on me byShalleg, out of spite. Well, there's no use thinking about that now. I've got to do something about this arm. I think I'll send word that Iwon't be in shape to-day. "

"No, don't you do it!" cried Rad. "Maybe we can fix up your arm. I knowhow to make a dandy liniment that my mother used on me when I was asmall chap. "

"Liniment sounds good, " said Joe with a smile. "But I guess I'd betterhave Boswell look at it. He's got some of his own----"

"Yes, and then you'd have to admit that you're lame, and give the wholething away!" interrupted Rad. "Don't do it. Leave it to me. There's sometime before the game and I can give you a good rubbing, meanwhile. I'llsend out to the drug store, get the stuff made up, and doctor you here. 

"There'll be no need to tell 'em anything about it if I can get you intoshape, and then, if you're called on, you can go in and pitch. If theythink you're crippled they won't give you a chance. "

"That's so, " admitted Joe. 

"Still, you wouldn't go in if you didn't think you could do good work, "went on his chum. 

"Certainly I would not, " agreed Joe. "That would be too much likethrowing the game. Well, see what you can do, Rad. I'd like to get agood whack at the fellow who did this, though, " he went on, as he workedhis arm slowly back and forth. 

Rad rang for a messenger, and soon had in from a drug store a bottle ofstrong-smelling liniment, with which he proceeded to massage Joe's arm. He did it twice before the late breakfast to which they treatedthemselves, and once afterward, before it was time to report at the parkfor morning practice. 

"Does it feel better?" asked Rad, as his chum began to do some pitchingwork. 

"A whole lot, yes. "

It was impossible to wholly keep the little secret from Boswell. Hewatched Joe for a moment and then asked suddenly:

"Arm stiff?"

"A bit, yes, " the pitcher was reluctantly obliged to admit. 

"You come in the clubhouse and have it attended to!" ordered thetrainer. "I can't have you, or any of the boys, laid up. "

Then, as he got out his bottle of liniment, and looked at Joe's arm, oneof the ligaments of which had been strained by the cruel twist, Boswellsaid, sniffing the air suspiciously:

"You've been using some of your own stuff on that arm; haven't you?"

"Yes, " admitted Joe. 

"I thought so. Well, maybe it's good, but my stuff is better. I'll soonhave you in shape. "

He began a scientific massage of the sore arm, something of which, withall his good intentions, Rad was not capable. Joe felt the difference atonce, and when he went back to practice he was almost himself again. 

"How about you?" asked Rad, when he got the chance. 

"I guess I'll last out--if I have to pitch, " replied Joe. "But it's notcertain that I shall go in. "

"The Phillies are out to chew us up to-day, " went on his chum. "It'sgoing to be a tight game. Don't take any chances. "

"I won't; you may depend on that. "

There was a conference between Boswell and the manager. 

"Who shall I put in the box?" asked the latter, for he often depended ina great measure on the old trainer. 

"Let Barter open the ball, and see how he does. It's my notion that hewon't stand the pace, for he's a little off his feed. But I want to takea little more care of Matson, and this will give him a couple of inningsto catch up. "

"Matson!" cried the manager. "Has he----"

"Just a little soreness, " said Boswell quickly, for that was all heimagined it to be. He had not asked Joe how it happened, for which theyoung pitcher was glad. "It'll be all right with a little more rubbing. "He knew Joe's hope, and wanted to do all he could to further it. 

"All right. Announce Barter and Russell as the battery. And you lookafter Matson; will you?"

"I sure will. I think Joe can pitch his head off if he gets the chance. "

"I hope he doesn't lose his head, " commented the manager grimly. "It'sgoing to be a hard game. "

Which was the opinion of more than one that day. 

Joe was taken in charge by Boswell, and in the clubhouse more attentionwas given to the sore arm. 

"How does it feel now?" asked the trainer, anxiously. 

"Fine!" replied Joe, and really the pain seemed all gone. 

"Then come out and warm up with me. You'll be needed, if I am anyjudge. "

To Joe's delight he found that he could send the ball in as swiftly asever, and with good aim. 

"You'll do!" chuckled Boswell. "And just in time, too. There goes a homerun, and Barter's been hit so hard that we'll have to take him out. "

It was the beginning of the third inning, and, sure enough, when it camethe turn of the Cardinals to bat, a substitution was made, and themanager said:

"Get ready, Joe. You'll pitch the rest of the game. "

Joe nodded, with a pleased smile, but, as he raised his arm to bend itback and forth, a sharp spasm of pain shot through it. 

"Whew!" whistled Joe, under his breath. "I wonder if the effects of thatliniment are wearing off? If they are, and that pain comes back, I'mdone for, sure. What'll I do?"

There was little time to think; less to do anything. Joe would not batthat inning, that was certain. He took a ball, and, nodding to Rad, whowas not playing, went out to the "bull-pen. "

"What's up?" asked Rad, cautiously. 

"I felt a little twinge. I just want to try the different balls, andfind which I can deliver to best advantage to myself. You catch. "

Rad nodded understandingly. To Joe's delight he found that in throwinghis swift one, the spitter, and his curves he had no pain. But hiscelebrated fadeaway made him wince when he twisted his arm into thepeculiar position necessary to get the desired effect. 

"Wow!" mused Joe. "I can't deliver that, it's a sure thing. Well, I'mnot going to back out now. I'll stay in as long as I can. But it's goingto hurt!"

He shut his teeth, and, trying to keep away from his face the shadow ofpain, threw his fadeaway to Rad again. 

The pain shot through his arm like a sharp knife. 

"But I'll do it!" thought Joe, grimly. 

CHAPTER XXV

IN NEW YORK

"That's good, " called Rad, as he caught a swift one. "You'll do, Joe. "

But only the young pitcher knew what an effort it was going to cost himto stay in that game. And stay he must. 

It was time for the Cardinals to take the field. The Phillies were tworuns ahead, and that lead must be cut down, and at least one more tallymade if the game were to be won. 

"Can we do it?" thought Joe. He felt the pain in his arm, but he groundhis teeth and muttered: "I'm going to do it!"

The play started off with the new pitcher in the box. The news wentflashing over the telegraph wires from the reporters on the ground tothe various bulletin boards through the country, and to the newspaperoffices. Baseball Joe was pitching for the Cardinals. 

But Joe was not thinking of the fame that was his. All he thought of wasthe effort he must make to pitch a winning game. 

Fortunately for him three of the weakest batters on the Phillies facedhim that inning. Joe knew it, and so did the catcher, for he did notsignal for the teasing fadeaway, for which Joe was very glad. 

Joe tried a couple of practice balls, but he did not slam them in withhis usual force, at which the man in the mask wondered. He had not heardof Joe's lame arm, and he reasoned that his partner was holding back forreasons best known to himself. 

"Ball one!" yelled the umpire when Joe had made his first delivery tothe batter. Joe winced, partly with pain, and partly because of thewasted effort that meant so much to him. 

"The next one won't be a ball!" he muttered fiercely. He sent in apuzzling curve that enticed the batter. 

"Strike one!"

"That's better!" yelled Boswell, from the coaching line. "Serve 'em somemore like that, Joe. "

And Joe did. No one but himself knew the effort it cost him, but he kepton when it was agony to deliver the ball. Perhaps he should not havedone it, for he ran the chance of injuring himself for life, and alsoran the chance of losing the game for his team. 

But Joe was young--he did not think of those things. He justpitched--not for nothing had he been dubbed "Baseball Joe. "

"You're out!" snapped the umpire to the first batter, who turned to thebench with a sickly grin. 

Joe faced the next one. To his alarm the catcher signalled for afadeaway. Joe shook his head. He thought he could get away with astraight, swift one. 

But when the batter hit it Joe's heart was in his throat until he sawthat it was a foul. By a desperate run Russell caught it. Joe pitchedthe next man out cleanly. 

"That's the way to do it!"

"Joe, you're all right!"

"Now we'll begin to do something!"

Thus cried his teammates. 

And from then on the Phillies were allowed but one more tally. Thiscould not be helped, for Joe was weakening, and could not control theball as well as at first. But the run came in as much through errors onthe part of his fellow players as from his own weakness. 

Meanwhile the Cardinals struck a batting streak, and made good, bunchingtheir hits. The ending of the eighth inning saw the needed winning rungo up in the frame of the Cardinals, and then it was Joe's task to holdthe Phillies hitless in their half of the ninth. 

How he did it he did not know afterward. His arm felt as though someonewere jabbing it with a knife. He gritted his teeth harder and harder, and stuck it out. But oh! what a relief it was when the umpire, as thethird batter finished at the plate, called:

"You're out!"

The Cardinals had won! Joe's work for the day was finished. But at whatcost only he knew. Pure grit had pulled him through. 

"Say, did you pitch with that arm?" asked Boswell in surprise as he sawJoe under the shower in the clubhouse later. 

"Well, I made a bluff at it, " said Joe, grimly and gamely. 

"Well, I'll be Charlie-horsed!" exclaimed the trainer. "Say, you won'tdo any more pitching for a week! I've got to take you in hand. "

Of course the story of Joe's grit got out, and the papers made much ofhow he had pitched through nearly a full game, winning it, too, whichwas more, with a badly hurt arm. 

"But don't you take any such chances as that again!" cried ManagerWatson, half fiercely, when he heard about it. "I can't have my pitchersrunning risks like that. Pitchers cost too much money!"

This was praise enough for Joe. 

And so he had a much-needed rest. Under the care of Boswell the armhealed rapidly, though, for some time, Joe was not allowed to take partin any big games, for which he was sorry. 

Whether it was the example of Joe's grit, or because they had improvedof late was not made manifest, but the Cardinals took three of the fourgames with the Phillies, which made Manager Watson gleeful. 

"They called us tail-enders!" he exulted, "but if we don't give theGiants a rub before the end of the season I'll miss my guess!"

The Cardinals were on the move again. They went from city to city, playing the scheduled games, winning some and losing enough to keep themabout in fifth place. Joe saw much of life, of the good and bad sides. Many temptations came to him, as they do to all young fellows, whetherin the baseball game, or other business or pleasure. But Joe "passedthem up. " Perhaps the memory of a certain girl helped him. Often itdoes. 

The Cardinals came to New York, once more to do battle with theredoubtable Giants. 

"But you won't get a game!" declared Manager McGraw to "Muggins" Watson. 

"Won't we? I don't know about that. I'm going to spring my colt slabartist on you again. "

"Who, Matson?"

"Um, " said the manager of the Cardinals. 

"Um, " responded the manager of the Giants, laughing. 

St. Louis did get one game of a double-header, and Joe, whose arm was inperfect trim again, pitched. It was while he was on the mound that acertain man, reputed to be a scout for the Giants, was observed to betaking a place where he could watch the young pitcher to advantage. 

"Up to your old tricks; eh, Jack?" asked a man connected with themanagement of the Cardinals. "Who are you scouting for now?"

"Well, that little shortstop of yours looks pretty good to me, " was thedrawling answer. "What you s'pose you'll be asking for him. "

"He's not for sale. Now if you mentioned the centre fielder, Jack----"

"Nothing doing. I've got one I'll sell you cheap. "

"I don't suppose you want to make an offer for Matson; do you?" askedthe Cardinal man with a slow wink. 

"Oh, no, we've got all the pitchers we can use, " the Giant scoutresponded quickly. It is thus that their kind endeavor to deceive oneanother. 

But, as the game went on, it might have been observed that the Giantscout changed his position, where he could observe Joe in action fromanother angle. 

"Didn't see anything of Shalleg since we struck Manhattan; did you, Joe?" asked Rad, as he and his chum, taking advantage of a rainy day inNew York, were paying a visit to the Museum of Natural History. 

"No, " replied Joe, pausing in front of a glass case containing animmense walrus. "I don't want to see him, either. I'm sure he planned todo me some harm, and I'm almost positive that some of his tools had todo with my sore arm. But I can't prove it. "

"That's the trouble, " admitted Rad. "Well, come on, I want to see thatmodel of the big whale. They say it's quite a sight. "

The rain prevented games for three days, and the players were getting abit "stale" with nothing to do. Then the sun came out, the grounds driedup and the series was resumed. But the Cardinals were not very lucky. 

Philadelphia was the next stopping place, and there, once again, theCardinals proved themselves the masters of the Quakers. They took threegames straight, and sweetened up their average wonderfully, being only agame and a half behind the fourth club. 

"If we can only keep up the pace!" said the manager, wistfully. "Joe, are you going to help us do it?"

"I sure am!" exclaimed the young pitcher. 

There was one more game to play with the Phillies. The evening before itwas scheduled, which would close their stay in the Quaker City, Joe leftthe hotel, and strolled down toward the Delaware River. He intended totake the ferry over to Camden, in New Jersey, for a friend of his motherlived there, and he had promised to call on her. 

Joe did not notice that, as he left the hotel, he was closely followedby a man who walked and acted like Wessel. But the man wore a heavybeard, and Wessel, the young pitcher remembered was usuallysmooth-shaven. 

But Joe did not notice. If he had perhaps he would have seen that thebeard was false, though unusually well adjusted. 

Joe turned his steps toward the river front. It was a dark night, forthe sky was cloudy and it looked like rain. 

Joe just missed one ferryboat, and, as there would be some little timebefore the other left, he strolled along the water front, looking atwhat few sights there were. Before he realized it, he had gone fartherthan he intended. He found himself in a rather lonely neighborhood, and, as he turned back a bearded man, who had been walking behind the youngpitcher for some time, stepped close to him. 

"I beg your pardon, " the man began, speaking as though he had a heavycold, "but could you direct me to the Reading Terminal?"

"Yes, " said Joe, who had a good sense of direction, and had gotten the"lay of the land" pretty well fixed in his mind. "Let's see now--how Ican best direct you?"

He thought for a moment. By going a little farther away from the ferryhe could put the stranger on a thoroughfare that would be more directthan traveling back the way he had come. 

"If you wouldn't mind walking along a little way, " said the man eagerly. "I'm a stranger here, and----"

"Oh, I'll go with you, " offered Joe, good-naturedly. "I'm not in anyhurry. "

Be careful, Joe! Be careful!

CHAPTER XXVI

ADRIFT

"There, " said Baseball Joe, coming to a halt at a dark street corner, the stranger close beside him, "if you go up that way, and turn as Itold you to, it will take you directly to the Reading Terminal. "

"I don't know how to thank you, " mumbled the other. He seemed to befumbling in his pocket. "I'll give you my card, " he went on. "If you areever in San Francisco----"

But it was not a card that he pulled from the inner pocket of his coat. It was a rag, that bore a strange, faint odor. Joe stepped back, but notquickly enough. He suspected something wrong, but he was too late. 

An instant later the stranger had thrown one powerful arm aboutthe young pitcher, and, with his other hand he pressed thechloroform-saturated rag to Joe's nose and mouth. 

Joe tried to cry out, and struggled to free himself. But his sensesseemed leaving him under the influence of the powerful drug. 

At that moment, as though it had been timing itself to the movements ofthe man who had followed Joe, there drove up a large ramshackle cab, andout of it jumped two men. 

"Did you get him, Wes?" one asked eagerly. 

"I sure did. Here, help me. He's gone off. Get him into the cab. "

Poor Joe's senses had all but left him. He was an inert mass, but hecould hear faintly, and he recognized the voice of Shalleg. 

He tried to rouse himself, but it was as though he were in a heavysleep, or stupor. He felt himself being lifted into a cab. The doorslammed shut, and then he was rattled away over the cobbles. 

"I wonder what they're going to do with me?" Joe thought. He had enoughof his brain in working order to do that. Once more he tried tostruggle. 

"Better tie him up, " suggested a voice he now recognized as that of thefellow who had twisted his arm on the street car. 

"Yes, I guess we had, " agreed Shalleg. "And then to the Delaware withhim!"

Joe was too weak, and too much under the influence of the drug, to caregreatly what they did with him--that is, in a sense, though a feeling ofterror took possession of him at the words. 

"The river!" gasped Wessel. "I thought you said there'd be no violence, Shalleg. "

"And there won't!" promised the leader of the conspirators. 

"But you said to tie him, and then to the river with him. "

"You don't s'pose I'm going to chuck him in; do you?" was the angryquestion. 

"I don't know. "

"Well, I'm not! I'm just going to put him out of the way for a time. Itold him I'd get even with him for not helping me out of a hole, andthen for spreading reports about me, that kept me from getting a placeon the Cardinals, as well as on any other team. I told him I'd fix him!"

So, this was the secret of Shalleg's animosity! He had a fanciedgrievance against Joe, and was taking this means of gratifying hispassion for revenge. Joe, dimly hearing, understood now. He longed to beable to speak, to assure Shalleg that he was all wrong, but they hadbound a rag about his mouth, and he could not utter a sound, even hadnot the chloroform held his speech in check. 

"Pass over those ropes, " directed Shalleg to his cronies in the cab, which lurched and swayed over the rough stones. The cab held four, on apinch, and Joe was held and supported by one of the men. The gag in theyoung pitcher's mouth was made tighter, and ropes were passed about hisarms and feet. He could not move. 

"What's the game?" asked Wessel, as the trussing-up was finished. 

"Well, I don't want to do him any real harm, " growled Shalleg, "but I'mgoing to put him out of the game, just as I was kept out of it by histattling tongue. I'm going to make him fail to show up to-morrow, andthe next day, too, maybe. That'll put a crimp in his record, and in theCardinals', too, for he's been doing good work for them. I'll say thatabout him, much as I hate him!"

Joe heard this plot against him, heard it dimly, through his half-numbedsenses, and tried to struggle free from his bonds. But he could not. 

On rattled the cab. Joe could not tell in which direction they weregoing, but he was sure it was along the lonely river front. The effectsof the chloroform were wearing off, but the gag kept him silent, and theropes bound his hands and feet. 

"Have any trouble trailing him?" asked Shalleg of Wessel, who haddisguised himself with a false beard. 

"Not a bit, " was the answer. "It was pie! I pretended I had lost myway. "

The men laughed. Either they thought Joe was still incapable of hearingthem, or they did not care if their identity and plans were known. 

A multitude of thoughts rushed through Joe's head. He did not exactlyunderstand what the men were going to do with him. They had spoken oftaking him to the river. Perhaps they meant to keep him prisoner on aboat until his contract with the St. Louis team would be void, becauseof his non-appearance. And Joe knew how hard it would be to get back inthe game after that. 

True, he could explain how it had happened, and he felt sure he wouldnot be blamed. But when would he get a chance to make explanations? Andthere was the game to-morrow! He knew he would be called on to pitch, for Mr. Watson had practically told him so. And Joe would not be onhand. 

"Aren't we 'most there?" asked Wessel. 

"Yes, " answered Shalleg, shortly. 

"What are we to do?" asked the other. 

"You'll know soon enough, " was the half-growled reply. 

The cab rattled on. Then it came to a stop. Joe could smell the dampnessof the river, and he realized that the next act in the episode was aboutto be played. 

He felt himself being lifted out of the cab, and he had a glimpse of astreet, but it was too dark to recognize where it was, and Joe was notwell enough acquainted with Philadelphia to know the neighborhood. Thena handkerchief was bound over his eyes, and he was in total darkness. 

He heard whispered words between Shalleg and the driver of the cab, butcould not make out what they were. Then the vehicle rattled off. 

"Catch hold of him now, " directed Shalleg to his companions. "We'llcarry him down to the river. "

"To the river!" objected Wessel, and Joe felt a shiver go through him. 

"Well, to the boat then!" snapped Shalleg. "Don't talk so much. "

Joe felt himself being carried along, and, a little later, he was laiddown on what he felt was the bottom of a boat. A moment later he couldtell by the motion of the craft that he was adrift on the Delaware. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE RESCUE

For a few moments Joe was in a sort of daze. He was extremelyuncomfortable, lying on the hard bottom of the boat, and there seemed tobe rough water, for the craft swayed, and bobbed up and down. 

Joe wondered if he was alone, for he did not hear the noise of oars inthe locks, nor did he catch the voices of the three rascals. 

But it soon developed that they were with him, for, presently Wesselasked:

"Where are we going with him?"

"Keep still!" snapped Shalleg in a tense whisper. "Do you want someoneto hear us?"

"Who, him?"

"No, someone on these ships. We're right alongside of 'em yet. Keepstill; can't you!"

Wessel subsided, but one of Joe's questions was answered. There wereother problems yet unsolved, though. What were they going to do withhim? He could only wait and learn. 

The bandage was still over his eyes, and he tried, by wrinkling theskin of his forehead, to work it loose. But he could not succeed. Hewished he could have some glimpse, even a faint one, in the darkness, ofwhere he was, though perhaps it would have done him little good. 

"Take the oars now, " directed Shalleg, after a pause. "I guess it's safeto row out a bit. There aren't so many craft here now. But go easy. "

"Hadn't we better show a light?" asked the man who had twisted Joe'sarm. "We might be run down!"

"Light nothing!" exclaimed Shalleg, who now spoke somewhat above awhisper. "I don't want some police launch poking her nose up here. It'slight enough for us to see to get out of the way if anything comesalong. I'm not going to answer any hails. "

"Oh, all right, " was the answer. 

Joe's head was beginning to clear itself from the fumes of thechloroform, and he could think more clearly. He wondered more and morewhat his fate was to be. Evidently the men were taking him somewhere ina rowboat. But whether he was to be taken wherever they were going, inthis small craft, or whether it was being used to transport them to alarger boat, he could not, of course, determine. 

The men rowed on for some time in silence. 

"It's getting late, " ventured Wessel at length. 

"Not late enough, though, " growled Shalleg. 

Joe went over, in his mind, all the events that had been crowded intothe last few hours. He had told Rad that he was going to see hismother's friend in Camden, but had given no address. 

"They won't know but what I'm staying there all night, " he reasoned. "And they won't start to search for me until some time to-morrow. When Idon't show up at the game they'll think it's queer, and I supposethey'll fine me. I wouldn't mind that if they only come and find me. Buthow can they do it? There isn't a clue they could follow, as far as Iknow. Not one!"

He tried to think of some means by which he could be traced, and rescuedby his friends, but he could imagine none. No one who knew him had seenhim come down to the ferry, or walk through the deserted neighborhood. And, as far as he knew, no one had seen the bearded stranger accost him. 

"I'll just have disappeared--that's all, " mused poor Joe, lying on thehard and uncomfortable bottom of the boat. 

For some time longer the three men, or rather two of them, rowed on, paying no attention to Joe. Then Shalleg spoke. 

"I guess we're far enough down the river, " he said. "We can go ashorenow. "

"And take him with us?" asked Wessel. 

"Well, you don't think I'm going to chuck him overboard; do you?"demanded Shalleg. "I told you I wasn't going to do anything violent. "

"But what are you going to do?"

"Wait, and you'll see, " was the rather unsatisfactory answer. 

Joe wished it was settled. He, too, was wondering. 

The course of the boat seemed changed. By the motion the men were rowingacross a choppy current, probably toward shore. Joe found this to be so, a little later, for the boat's side grated against what was probably awooden pier. 

"Light the lantern, " directed Shalleg. 

"But I thought you didn't want to be seen, " objected Wessel. 

"Do as I tell you, " was the sharp rejoinder. "We're not going to beseen. We're going to leave the boat. "

"And leave him in it?" asked the other man. 

"Yes, I'm going to turn him adrift down the river, " went on the chiefconspirator. "I'll stick a light up, though, so he won't be run down. Idon't wish him that harm. "

"Are you going to leave him tied?" Wessel wanted to know. 

"I sure am!" was the rejoinder. "Think I want him giving the alarm, andhaving us nabbed? Not much!"

Dimly, from beneath the handkerchief over his eyes, Joe saw the flashas a match was struck, and the lantern lighted. Then he heard it beinglashed to some upright in the boat. A little later Joe felt the craft inwhich he lay being shoved out into the stream, and then he realized thathe was alone, drifting down the Delaware, toward the bay, and tied handand foot, as well as being gagged. He was practically helpless. 

"There, I guess that'll teach him not to meddle in my affairs any more!"said Shalleg bitterly. Then Joe heard no more, save the lapping of thewaves against the side of the craft. 

For a time his senses seemed to leave him under the terrible strain, andwhen he again was in possession of his faculties he could not tell howlong he had been drifting alone, nor had he any idea of the time, savethat it was still night. 

"Well, I've got to do something!" decided Joe. "I've got to try and getrid of this gag, and yell for help, and to do that I've got to have theuse of my hands. "

Then he began to struggle, but the men who had trussed him up had donetheir evil work well, and he only cut his wrists on the cruel bonds. Hewas on his back, and he wished there was some rough projection in thebottom of the boat, against which he could rub his rope-entangledwrists. But there was none. 

How the hours of darkness passed Joe never knew. He was thankful for onething--that there was a light showing in his boat, for he would not berun down in the darkness by some steamer, or motor craft. By daylight hehoped the drifting boat might be seen, and picked up. Then he would berescued. Even now, if he could only have called, he might have beensaved. 

Gradually Joe became aware that morning had come. He could see a film oflight beneath the bandage over his eyes. The boat was bobbing up anddown more violently now. 

"I must be far down the bay, " thought Joe. 

He was cramped, tired, and almost parched for a drink. He had dozedfitfully through the night, and his eyes smarted and burned under thebandage. 

Suddenly he heard voices close at hand, above the puffing of amotorboat. 

"Look there!" someone exclaimed. "A boat is adrift. Maybe we can workthat into the film. "

"Maybe, " assented another voice. "Let's go over and see, anyhow. We wantthis reel to be a good one. "

Dimly Joe wondered what the words meant. He heard the voices, and thepuffing of the motor coming nearer. Then the latter sound ceased. Somecraft bumped gently against his, and a man cried:

"Someone is in this boat!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

MOVING PICTURES

For a moment silence followed the announcement that meant so much toJoe. He could hear murmurs of surprise, and the violent motion of thecraft in which he lay, bound helpless and unseeing, told him that thework of rescue was under way. The motor boat, he reflected, must bemaking fast to the other. The bandage over Joe's eyes prevented him fromseeing what went on. Then came a series of exclamations and questions, and, to Joe's surprise, the voices of women and girls mingled with thoseof men. 

"My, look, Jackson!" a man's voice exclaimed. "He's bound, and gagged. There's been some crime here!"

"You're right. We must get him aboard our boat. "

Joe could tell, by the motion of the boat which contained him, that someof the rescue party were getting into it to aid him. Then he felt thebandage being taken from his eyes, and the gag from his mouth. 

"Hand me a knife, somebody!" called a man. "I'll cut these ropes. "

Joe opened his eyes, and closed them again with a feeling of pain. Thesudden light of a bright, sunny morning was too much for him. 

"He's alive, anyhow, " a girl's voice said. 

Joe half opened his eyes this time, and saw a strange sight. Alongsidehis boat was a cabin motor craft, and on the rear deck he could seegathered a number of men, women and girls. What took Joe's attentionnext was a queer oblong box, with a crank at one side, and a tubeprojecting from it, mounted on a tripod. Then, as his eyes became moreaccustomed to the light, Joe saw bending over him in the boat, two men. 

One of them had a knife, with which he quickly cut the ropes that boundJoe's arms and feet. It was a great relief. 

He sat up and looked about him. The motor boat was a large and fine one, and was slowly drifting down into Delaware Bay, for Joe could see a vaststretch of water on all sides. 

"Too bad we can't work this rescue into a scene, " spoke one of the menon the motor craft. 

Joe looked at him wonderingly, and then at the machine on the bow of theboat. All at once he realized what it was--a moving picture camera. Hehad seen them before. 

"Are you folks in the movies?" he asked as he stood up, with the help ofthe two men. 

"That's what we are, " was the answer. "We came out early this morning todo a bit of 'water stuff, ' when we saw your boat adrift. We put over toit, and were surprised to see you tied in it. Can you tell us whathappened?"

"Yes, " answered Joe, "I was practically kidnapped!"

"Come aboard, and have some coffee, " urged a motherly-looking woman ofthe party. 

"Yes, do, " added another member of the company. "We have just hadbreakfast. "

The aroma of coffee was grateful to Joe, and soon he was aboard themotorboat, sipping a steaming cup. 

"Kidnapped; eh?" remarked one of the men. "Then we'd better save thatboat for you. It will be a clue to those who did it. "

"Oh, I know who did it, all right, " answered Joe, who was rapidlyfeeling more like himself. "I don't need the boat for evidence. But, since you have been so kind to me, I wish you'd do one thing more. "

"Name it, " promptly said the man who seemed to be in charge of thecompany. 

"Get me somewhere so I can send word to Philadelphia--to Manager Watsonof the St. Louis Cardinals. I want to explain what happened, so he won'texpect me in the game to-day. "

"Are you a member of the St. Louis team?" asked one of the men, quickly. 

"One of the pitchers--my name is Matson. "

The two leading men of the company looked at each other in an oddmanner. 

"It couldn't have happened better; could it, Harry?" one asked. 

Our hero was a trifle mystified until the man called Harry explained. 

"You see, it's this way, " he said. "My name is Harry Kirk, and this isJames Morton, " nodding toward the other man. "We manage a moving picturecompany, most of whom you now see, " and he indicated those about him. "We have been doing a variety of stuff, and we want to get some baseballpictures. We've been trying to induce some of the big teams to play anexhibition game for us, but so far we haven't been successful. Now ifyou would use your influence with your manager, and he could induce someother team to play a short game, why we'd be ever so much obliged. "

"Of course I'll do all I can!" cried Joe. "I can't thank you enough foryour rescue of me, and the least I could do would be to help you out!I'm pretty sure I can induce Mr. Watson to let his team give anexhibition, anyhow. "

"That's all we want--an opening wedge, " said Mr. Kirk, "but we couldn'tseem to get it. Our finding of you was providential. "

"It was for me, anyhow, " said Joe. "I don't know what might havehappened to me if I had drifted much farther. "

Joe explained how it had happened, and the unreasoning rage of Shallegtoward him. 

"He ought to be sent to jail for life, to do such a thing as that!"burst out Mr. Kirk. "You'll inform the police; won't you?"

"I think I had better, " said Joe, thoughtfully. 

The motor began its throbbing, and the big boat cut through the water, towing the small craft, in which Joe had spent so many uncomfortablehours. 

The young pitcher was himself again, thanks to a good breakfast, andwhen the dock was reached was able to talk to Manager Watson over thetelephone. It was then nearly noon, and Joe was in no shape to get inthe game that day. 

To say that the news he gave the manager astonished Mr. Watson isputting it mildly. 

"You stay where you are, " directed his chief. "I'll send someone down tosee you, or come myself. We'll get after this Shalleg and his gang. Thishas gone far enough!"

"What about the game to-day?" asked Joe. 

"Don't you worry about that. We'll beat the Phillies anyhow, though Iwas counting on you, Joe. But don't worry. "

CHAPTER XXIX

SHALLEG'S DOWNFALL

Plans to capture Shalleg and his cronies were carefully made, but wereunsuccessful, for, it appeared, the scoundrel and his cronies had fledafter putting Joe into the boat. 

The moving picture people readily agreed to keep silent about theaffair, and Manager Watson said he would explain Joe's absence from thegame in a way that would disarm suspicion. 

Joe soon recovered from his unpleasant and dangerous experience and, true to his promise, used his influence to induce Mr. Watson to play anexhibition game for the moving picture people. 

"Of course we'll do it!" the manager exclaimed. "That would be small payfor what they did for you. I'll see if we can't play the Phillies righthere. Of course it will have to be arranged with the high moguls, but Iguess it can be. "

And it was. The game was not to count in the series, for some changesand new rules had to be adopted to make it possible to get it within thescope of the moving picture cameras. And the picture managers agreed topay a sum that made it worth while for the players, Joe included, to putup a good game of ball. 

To his delight Joe was selected to pitch for his side, and fully himselfagain, he "put up a corking good game, " to quote his friend Rad. 

"Well, I'm not sorry to be leaving Philadelphia, " remarked Joe to Rad, when their engagement in the Quaker City was over, and they were to goon to Brooklyn. "I always have a feeling that Shalleg will show upagain. "

"I only wish he would!" exclaimed Rad. 

"I don't!" said Joe, quickly. 

"I mean and be captured, " his chum added, quickly. 

"Oh, that's different, " laughed Joe. 

Taking three of the four games from the Superbas, two of them on thesame day, in a double-header, the St. Louis team added to their ownprestige, and, incidentally, to their standing in the league, gainingfourth place. 

"I think we have a good chance of landing third place, " the managerexulted when they started West. They were to play Chicago in their hometown, then work their way to New York for a final set-to with theGiants, and end the season on Robison Field. 

And in St. Louis something happened that, for a long time, took Shallegout of Joe's path. 

The first game with Chicago had been a hard one, but by dint of hardwork, and good pitching (Joe going in at the fourth inning to replaceBarter), the Cardinals won. 

"And we'll do the same to-morrow, " good-naturedly boasted ManagerWatson, to Mr. Mandell of the Cubs. 

"Well, maybe you will, but I have a good chance to put it all over you, "said the Chicago manager, and there was that in his manner which causedMr. Watson to ask quickly:

"What do you mean?"

"Just this. How much chance do you think you'd have to win if our menknew your battery signals?"

"Not much, of course, but the thing is impossible!"

"Is it?" asked the other, quietly. "Not so impossible as you suppose. Ihave just received an offer to have the signals disclosed to me beforethe game to-morrow. "

"By whom?" cried Manager Watson. "If any of my players is trying tothrow the team----"

"Go easy, " advised the other with a smile. "It's nothing like that. Theoffer came from a man, who, I understand, tried unsuccessfully to becomea member of the Cardinals. "

"Not Shalleg!"

"That's who it was. "

"Where can I get him?" asked Mr. Watson, eagerly. "He's wanted on a gooddeal more serious charge than that. Where can I get him?"

"I thought you might want to see him, " said the Chicago manager, "so Iput him off. I've made an appointment with him----"

"Which the police and I will keep!" interrupted Mr. Watson. 

"Perhaps that would be better, " agreed Mr. Mandell. 

So the plot for the downfall of Shalleg was laid. It appeared that hehad come back to St. Louis, and, by dint of careful watching, and by hisknowledge of the game, he had managed to steal the signal system usedbetween the Cardinal pitchers and catchers. This he proposed disclosingto the Chicago team, but of course the manager would have nothing to dowith the scheme. 

Shalleg had named a low resort for the transfer of the information hepossessed, he to receive in exchange a sum of money. He was in desperatestraits, it appeared. 

The Cubs' manager, Joe and Mr. Watson, with a detective, went to theappointed meeting place. The manager went in alone, but the others werehiding, in readiness to enter at a signal. 

"Did you bring the money?" asked Shalleg, eagerly, as he saw the manwith whom he hoped to make a criminal "deal. "

"I have the money, yes, " was the cool answer. "Are you prepared todisclose to me the Cardinal battery signals?"

"Yes, but don't speak so loud, someone might hear you!" whined Shalleg. 

"That's just what I want!" cried the manager in loud tones, and that wasthe signal for the officer to come in. He, Joe and Mr. Watson had heardenough to convict Shalleg. 

"Ha! A trap!" cried the released player, as he saw them close in on him. He made a dash to get away, but, after a brief struggle, the detectiveoverpowered him, for Shalleg's manner of life was not such as to makehim a fighter. 

He saw that it was no use to bluff and bluster, and, his nervecompletely gone, he made a full confession. 

After his unsuccessful attempt to borrow money of Joe, he really becameimbued with the idea that our hero had injured him, and was spreadingfalse reports about him. So he set out to revenge himself on Joe. 

It was Shalleg who induced Wessel to pick a quarrel with Joe, hoping todisable the pitcher so he could not play ball that season. It was a meanrevenge to plot. And it was Shalleg's idea, in luring Joe to the lonelyhouse, on the plea of helping Rad, to involve him in a fight that mightdisable, or disgrace, him so that he would have to resign from theCardinals. Likewise it was a tool of Shalleg's who kept track of Joe, who boarded the same car as did our hero, and who so cruelly twisted hisarm, hoping to put him out of the game. 

Shalleg denied having induced Wessel to enter Joe's room that night inquestion, but his denial can be taken for what it was worth. As toWeasel's object, it could only be guessed at. It may have been robbery, or some worse crime. 

And then, when all else failed, Shalleg tried the desperate plan ofkidnapping Joe, but, as he explained, he did not really intend bodilyharm. And perhaps he did not. He was a weak and criminally bad man, butperhaps there was a limit. 

"Well, this is the end!" the former ball player said, bitterly, as hewas handcuffed, and led away. "I might have known better. "

Some time afterward, when the ball season had closed, Shalleg was triedon the charge of mistreating Joe, and was convicted, being sentenced toa long term. His cronies were not caught, but as they were only toolsfor Shalleg no one cared very much whether or not they were punished. 

CHAPTER XXX

THE HARDEST BATTLE

Filled to overflowing were the big bleachers. Crowded were thegrandstands. Above the noise made by the incoming elevated trains, andthe tramp of thousands of feet along the boarded run-ways leading to thebig concrete Brush Stadium at the Polo Grounds, could be heard theshrill voices of the vendors of peanuts, bottled ginger ale and icecream cones. 

Out on the perfect diamond, laid out as though with rule and compass, men in white and other men in darker uniforms were practicing. Ballswere being caught, other balls were being batted. 

It was a sunny, perfect day, hot enough to make fast playing possible, and yet with a refreshing breeze. 

"Well, Joe, are we going to win?" asked Rad, as he and his chum went tothe bench after their warm-up work. 

"I don't know, " answered the young pitcher slowly. "They're a hard teamto beat. "

It was the final game between the Giants and the Cardinals. To win itmeant for the St. Louis team that they would reach third place. And ifthey did get third position, it was practically certain that they couldkeep it, for their closing games in St. Louis were with the tail-endersof the league. 

"Are you going to pitch, Joe?"

"I don't know that, either. Haven't heard yet, " was the answer. 

Just then a messenger came up to Joe. 

"There's somebody in that box, " he said, indicating one low down, andjust back of home plate, "who wants to speak to you. "

Joe looked around, and a delighted look came over his face as he saw hisfather and mother, Clara, and one other. 

"Mabel!" exclaimed Joe, and then he hurried over. 

"Say, this is great!" he cried, with sparkling eyes. "I didn't know youfolks were coming, " and he kissed his mother and sister, and wished--butthere! I said I wouldn't tell secrets. 

"Your father found he had some business in New York, " explained Mrs. Matson, "so we thought we would combine pleasure with it, and see youplay. "

"And they looked me up, and brought me along, " added Mabel. "I justhappened to be in town. Now we want to see you win, Joe!"

"I don't even know that I'll play, " he said, wistfully. 

Joe felt that he could bide his time, and yet he did long to be the oneto open the game, as it was an important one, and a record-breakingcrowd was on hand to see it. 

But it was evident that Manager Watson's choice of a pitcher must bechanged. It needed but two innings to demonstrate that, for the Giantsgot four hits and three runs off Slim Cooney, who, most decidedly, wasnot in form. 

The substitution of a batter was made, and the manager nodded at Joe. 

"You'll pitch!" he said, grimly. "And I want you to win!"

"And I want to, " replied Joe, as he thought of those in the box watchinghim. 

It was to be Baseball Joe's hardest battle. Opposed to him on the moundfor the Giants was a pitcher of world-wide fame, a veteran, well-nighpeerless, who had won many a hard-fought game. 

I might describe that game to you in detail, but I will confine myselfto Joe's efforts, since it is in him we are most interested. I mighttell of the desperate chances the Cardinals took to gain runs, and ofthe exceptionally good stick work they did, against the redoubtablepitcher of the Giants. 

For a time this pitcher held his opponents to scattering hits. Then, fora fatal moment, he went up in the air. It was a break that was at oncetaken advantage of by the Cardinals. They slammed out two terrific hits, and, as there were men on bases, the most was made of them. Two wildthrows, something exceptional for the Giants, added to the luck, andwhen the excitement was over the Cardinals had tied the game. 

"Oh, wow!"

"Now, we've got 'em going!"

"Only one run to win, boys!"

"Hold 'em down, Joe!"

Thus came the wild cries from the stands. Excitement was at its height. 

There was a hasty consultation between the peerless pitcher and theveteran catcher. They had gone up in the air, but now they were down toearth again. From then on, until the beginning of the ninth inning, theCardinals did not cross home plate, and they got very few hits. It was amarvelous exhibition of ball twirling. 

But if the Giant pitcher did well, Joe did even better, when youconsider that he was only rounding out his first season in a big league, and that he was up against a veteran of national fame, the announcementthat he was going to be in the game being sufficient to attract a largethrong. 

"Good work, old man! Good work!" called Boswell, when Joe came to thebench one inning, after having allowed but one hit. "Can you keep itup?"

"I--I hope so. "

It was a great battle--a hard battle. The Giants worked every trick theyknew to gain another run, but the score remained a tie. Goose egg aftergoose egg went up on the score board. The ninth inning had started withthe teams still even. 

"We've just _got_ to get that run!" declared Manager Watson. "We've just_got_ to get it. Joe, you are to bat first. See if you can't get a hit!"

Pitchers are proverbially weak hitters. One ingenious theory for it isthat they are so used to seeing the ball shooting away from them, andtoward the batter, that, when the positions are reversed, and they seethe ball coming toward them they get nervous. 

"Ball!" was the umpire's first decision in Joe's favor. The youngpitcher was rather surprised, for he knew the prowess of his opponent. 

And then Joe decided on what might have proved to be a foolish thing. 

"I'm going to think that the next one will be a swift, straight one, andI'm going to dig in my spikes and set for it, " he decided. And he did. He made a beautiful hit, and amid the wild yells of the crowd hestarted for first. He beat the ball by a narrow margin, and was declaredsafe. 

A pinch hitter was up next, and amid a breathless silence he waswatched. But the peerless pitcher was taking no chances, and walked him, thinking to get Joe later. 

But he did not. For, as luck would have it, Rad Chase made the hit ofhis life, a three-bagger, and with the crowd going wild, two runs camein, giving the Cardinals the game, if they could hold the Giants down. 

And it was up to Joe to do this. Could he?

As Joe walked to the mound, for that last momentous inning, he glancedtoward the box where his parents, sister and Mabel sat. A little handwas waved to him, and Joe waved back. Then he faced his first man. 

"Thud!" went the ball in Doc Mullin's big mitt. 

"Ball!" droned the umpire. 

"Thud!" went another. The batter stood motionless. 

"Strike!"

The batter indignantly tapped the rubber. 

"Crack!"

"You can't get it!" yelled the crowd, as the ball shot up in a foul. 

The umpire tossed a new ball to Joe, for the other had gone too faraway to get back speedily. 

Joe wet the horsehide, and sent it drilling in. The batter made a slightmotion, as though to hit it, but refrained:

"Strike! You're out!" said the umpire, stolidly. 

"Why, that ball was----"

"You're out!" and the umpire waved him aside, impatiently. 

Joe grinned in delight. 

But when he saw the next man, "Home Run Crater, " facing him, our herofelt a little shaky. True, the chances were in favor of the Cardinals, but baseball is full of chances that make or break. 

"If he wallops it!" thought Joe. 

But Crater did not wallop it. In his characteristic manner he swung atthe first delivery, and connected with it. Over Joe's head it was going, but with a mighty jump Joe corraled it in one hand, a sensational catchthat set the crowd wild. Joe was playing the game of his life. 

"Only one more!"

"Strike him out!"

"The game is ours, Joe!"

But another heavy hitter was up, and there was still work for BaseballJoe to do. 

To his alarm, as he sent in his first ball, there came to his arm thathad been twisted on the car, a twinge of pain. 

"My! I hope that doesn't bother me, " thought Joe, in anxiety. 

"Ball one, " announced the umpire. 

Joe delivered a straight, swift one. His arm hurt worse, and he grittedhis teeth to keep from crying out. 

"Strike!" grunted the umpire, and there was some balm for Joe in that. 

The batter hit the next one for a dribbler, and just managed to reachfirst. 

"If I could only have managed to get him out!" mused Joe. "I'd be donenow. But I've got to do it over again. I wonder if I can last out?"

To his relief the next batter up was one of the weakest of the Giants, and Joe was glad. And even yet a weak batter might make a hit that wouldturn the tables. 

"I've got to do it!" murmured Joe, and he wound up for the delivery. 

"Strike!" announced the umpire. Joe's heart beat hard. 

"Here goes for the fadeaway, " he said to himself, "though it will hurtlike fun!"

It did, bringing a remembrance of the old hurt. But it fooled thebatter, and there were two strikes on him. 

The game was all but over. With two out, and two strikes called, therecould be but one result, unless there was to be something that occursbut once in a lifetime. And it did not occur. 

"Strike! You're out!" was the umpire's decision, and that was the end. The Cardinals had won, thanks, in a great measure, to Joe Matson'ssplendid work. 

"That's the stuff!"

"Third place for ours!"

"Three cheers for Joe Matson--Baseball Joe!" called his teammates, whocrowded around him to clap him on the back and say all sorts of nicethings. Joe stood it, blushingly, for a moment, and then he made his wayover to the box. As he walked along, a certain quiet man who had beenintently watching the game said softly to himself. 

"He must be mine next season. I guess I can make a trade for him. He'dbe a big drawing card for the Giants. "

"Oh, Joe, it was splendid! Splendid!" cried Mabel, enthusiastically. 

"Fine!" said his father. 

"Do you get any extra when your side wins?" asked his mother, while thecrowd smiled. 

"Well, yes, in a way, " answered Joe. "You get treated extra well. "

"And it's going to be my treat this time, " said Mabel, with a laugh. "Iwant you all to come to dinner with me. You'll come; won't you, Joe?"she asked, pleadingly. 

"Of course, " he said. 

"And bring a friend, if you like, " and she glanced at Clara. 

"I'll bring Rad, " Joe answered. 

They lived the great game over again at the table of the hotel whereMable was stopping. 

"Is your arm lame?" asked Mrs. Matson, noticing that her son favored hispitching member a trifle. 

"Oh, I can finish out the season, " said Joe. "The remainder will beeasy--only a few more games. "

"And then what?" asked Rad. 

"Well, a vacation, I suppose, and then get ready for another season withthe Cardinals. "

But Joe was not destined to remain with the Western team. The horizonwas widening, and those of you who wish to follow further the adventuresof our hero may do so in the succeeding volume, which will be called"Baseball Joe on the Giants; Or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in theMetropolis. "

In that we shall see how Joe rose to even higher fame, through grit, hard work and ability. 

"Well, you turned the trick, old man!" declared Manager Watson, when, afew days later, the team was on the way back to St. Louis. "You did it. I felt sure you could. "

"Well, _I_ didn't, at one time, " was the rejoinder. "My arm started togo back on me. "

"Well, there's one consolation, Shalleg and his crowd will never getanother chance at you, " went on the manager. "Now take care of yourself. I'm only going to let you play one game--the closing one at St. Louis. We won't need our stars against the tail-enders. "

And the Cardinals did not, winning handily with a number of secondstring men playing. 

"Where are you going, Joe?" asked Rad, as they sat in their hotel roomone evening, for Joe was "dolling up. "

"Out to a moving picture show. "

"Moving pictures?"

"Yes. That film of the exhibition game we played in Philadelphia isbeing shown in town. Come on up. "

"Sure, " assented Rad; and as they went out together we will take leaveof Baseball Joe. 

THE END

 * * * * *

BOOKS BY LESTER CHADWICK

THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated

 THE RIVAL PITCHERS A Story of College Baseball

 A QUARTER-BACK'S PLUCK A Story of College Football

 BATTING TO WIN A Story of College Baseball

 THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN A Story of College Football

 THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS A Story of College Water Sports

THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES

 _12mo. Illustrated. Price 50 cents per volume. Postage 10 cents additional. _

 [Illustration: BASEBALL JOE PITCHING WIZARD LESTER CHADWICK]

 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. _

CHAMPION SPORTS STORIES

By NOEL SAINSBURY, JR. 

_Every boy enjoys sport stories. Here we present three crackerjackstories of baseball, football, and basketball, written in the vernacularof the boy of to-day, full of action, suspense and thrills, in languageevery boy will understand, and which we know will be enthusiasticallyendorsed by all boys. _

 _Large 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Jacket in color. Price 50 cents per volume. _

 _Postage 10 cents additional_

[Illustration: CRACKER STANTON]

1. CRACKER STANTON _Or The Making of a Batsman_

Ralph Stanton, big, rawboned and serious, is a product of the backwoodsand a crack rifle shot. Quick thinking and pluck bring him a scholarshipto Clarkville School where he is branded "grind" and "dub" byclassmates. How his batting brings them first place in the League andhow he secures his appointment to West Point make CRACKER STANTON anup-to-the-minute baseball story no lover of the game will want to putdown 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 productof too much money and indulgence at home. How Clarkville School andfootball develop Shorty's real character and how he eventually stars onthe gridiron brings this thrilling tale of school life and football to agrandstand finish. 

3. THE FIGHTING FIVE _Or the Kidnapping of Clarkville's Basketball Team_

Clarkville School's basketball team is kidnapped during the game for theState Scholastic Championship. The team's subsequent adventures underthe leadership of Captain Charlie Minor as he brings them back to theState College Gymnasium where the two last quarters of the Championshipgame are played next evening, climaxes twenty-four pulsating hours ofadventure and basketball in the FIGHTING FIVE. . . . 

 CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers New York