There was a hubbub of delighted and incoherent exclamations as the young people greeted each other with all their heart in their eyes. Of course in the crowded station the greetings could not be just what the boys—and the girls, too—desired, but those would come later. Reggie too came in for warm handshakes.
“My word!†he exclaimed, as he smiled affably upon them all, “you folks seem glad to see one another. I’ll just slip over and look after the luggage.â€
They spared him without any regret at all. Indeed, it is doubtful if they even heard him. Joe was saying things to Mabel in an undertone, and Jim was doing the same thing to Clara. What they said was their own affair, but it seemed eminently satisfactory to all concerned.
When at last they had come somewhat to their senses, Joe poked Jim in the ribs.
“Some surprise, old man!†he remarked mischievously.
“Surprise!†repeated Jim. “It’s Paradise. It’s heaven. Don’t tell me I’m going to wake up and find it all a dream. And you knew this all the time, you old rascal, and didn’t let me in on it.â€
“Just a little scheme that Mabel and I cooked up,†laughed Joe happily. “I thought Sis might like to come on and take a look at her only brother.â€
“Brother,†mimicked Mabel saucily. “Don’t flatter yourself. You won’t be looked at much while Jim’s around.â€
Clara flushed and laughed in protest. Joe, however, did not seem disturbed at the prospect. As long as Mabel looked at him the way she was looking now, he had nothing more to ask.
A taxicab whirled them up to the pretty suite that Joe had reserved for the girls in a hotel. There were two rooms in the suite, and it was surprising how quickly Joe and Mabel took possession of one of them, while Jim and Clara found the other one much preferable. They had so much to say to each other that required no audience. Reggie, who had an adjoining room, took himself off on the plea of an engagement that would keep him till luncheon time, and the happy young people had a long delightful morning to themselves.
“Oh, I’m so proud of you, Joe,†Mabel assured him, among many other things. “You’re makingsuch a wonderful record. You don’t know how I read and treasure all the things the papers are saying about you. They give you more space than they give the President of the United States.â€
“You mustn’t make too much of it, honey,†Joe replied. “I’m in luck just now; but if I should have a slump the same people that cheer me now when I make a homer would be jeering at me when I came to the bat. There’s nothing more fickle than the public. One day you’re a king and the next you’re a dub.â€
“You’ll always be a king,†cried Mabel. “Always my king, anyway,†she added blushingly.
In the meantime Clara and Jim were saying things equally precious to themselves and each other, but of no importance at all to the general public. Jim was surprised and pleased at the intimate acquaintance she had with all the phases of his rapid rise in his profession. She knew quite as well as the rest of the world that Jim already stood in the very front rank of pitchers, second only perhaps to Joe himself, and she had no hesitation in telling him what she thought of him. Sometimes it is not a pleasant thing for a man to know what a woman thinks of him, but in Jim’s case it was decidedly different, if his shining face went for anything.
The young people took in a matinee in the afternoon and a musical show, followed by dinner,in the evening, and all were agreed in declaring it a perfect day.
Jim was slated to pitch the next day and with Clara watching from a box he turned in a perfect game, winning by a score of 1 to 0, the run being contributed by Joe, who turned loose a screaming homer in the sixth. Naturally both young men felt elated.
It was a beautiful summer evening, and they had arranged for an automobile ride out on Long Island. Joe had hired a speedy car, but dispensed with the services of a chauffeur. He himself was an accomplished driver and knew all the roads. A chauffeur would have been only a restraint on their freedom of conversation.
They bowled along over the perfect roads, happy beyond words and at peace with all the world. Mabel was seated in front with Joe, while Jim and Clara occupied the tonneau. All were in the gayest of spirits. Much of the time they talked, but speech and silences were equally sweet.
They had dinner at an excellent inn, about forty miles out of the city. There was a good string band and the young couples had several dances. The evening wore away before they knew it, and it was rather late when they turned their faces cityward.
The car was purring along merrily on a rather lonely stretch of road in the vicinity of Merrick,when a big car came swiftly up behind them. The driver tooted his horn and Joe drew a little to one side to give the car plenty of room to pass. The car rushed by and lengthened the distance until it was about a hundred yards ahead.
“Seems to be in a hurry,†remarked Jim.
“A bunch of joy riders, I suppose,†answered Joe. “Hello, what does that mean?â€
For the car had suddenly stopped and the driver had swung it across the road, blocking it.
“Something gone wrong with the steering gear,†commented Joe. “Looks like a breakdown. Perhaps we can help them.â€
He slowed up as he drew near the car. The next instant four men jumped out of the car and ran toward them. They had their caps drawn down over their eyes, and each of them carried a leveled revolver.
“Hands up!†commanded their leader, as he covered Joe with his weapon.
In an instant Baseball Joe brought the car to a stop.
But in that instant his brain worked like lightning.
Neither he nor Jim was armed. He must temporize. Resistance at the moment might be fatal. Shooting would result probably in the death of one or more of the party.
Before he had taken his hand from the wheel, he had formed a plan.
The women had screamed and Jim had jumped to his feet.
“Sit down, Jim,†said Joe. “Don’t you see they have the drop on us. I suppose it’s money you want?†he went on coolly, addressing the leader of the gang.
“No,†was the unexpected answer. “We’re not after money this time. We want a man named Matson.â€
“I didn’t know I was so popular,†replied Joe jokingly, though the mention of his name in soominous a way had sent a start through him. “My name is Matson, Joe Matson. What do you want of me?â€
“Are you giving it to us straight?†asked the leader. “Are you Matson? How many men are there with you anyway?†he went on, peering into the tonneau.
“There are two of us,†replied Joe.
“Then get down in the road, both of you,†commanded the bandit. “I want to have a look at both of you so that there won’t be any mistake. My orders are for the man named Matson. No monkey work now!â€
Joe and Jim, inwardly boiling but outwardly cool, got down into the road. As they climbed down, Joe’s hand nudged Jim ever so slightly. Jim knew what that meant. It meant to make no move until Joe gave the sign.
“Up with your hands!†ordered the leader curtly. “Bill, frisk them and see if they have guns.â€
The bandit called Bill ran his hands along their bodies and reported that they were entirely unarmed.
“Now strike a match and let’s have a look at their faces,†was the next order.
Bill obeyed, and as the light flared up, not only the leader but the rest of the band looked over the young men keenly.
“You’re Matson, all right,†said the leader to Joe, and the rest acquiesced. “I’ve seen your picture in the papers many a time, and I’ve seen you at the Polo Grounds too. All right. You get back in the car,†he said to Jim, poking him in the side with his pistol, “and drive off.â€
“What do you want with me?†asked Joe steadily.
“Oh, we’re not going to kill you,†replied the leader, with an evil grin. “But,†he muttered under his breath so low that only Joe could hear him, “by the time we’re through with you, that pitching arm of yours will be out of business. Them’s our orders.â€
“Who gave you those orders?†asked Joe.
“Never you mind who gave them,†snarled the bandit. “I’ve got them, and I’m going——â€
He never finished the sentence.
Like lightning Joe’s foot shot up and kicked the weapon from the leader’s hand. The next instant his fist caught another of the scoundrels a terrific crack on the jaw. The man went down as though he had been hit with an axe. At the same moment Jim’s hard right fist smashed into another straight between the eyes. There was the snap of a breaking bone and the man toppled over. The fourth rascal, who had been paralyzed with astonishment, forgot to shoot and started to run, but Jim was on him like a tiger and bore him to the ground,his hands tightening on his throat until the rascal lay limp and motionless.
In the meantime, the leader, nursing his hurt wrist, had hobbled to the car, whose engine all this time had remained running. Joe made a dash for the car, but the chauffeur put on all speed and darted away into the darkness.
The first task of Joe and Jim was to gather up the weapons of the assailants. The three still lay dazed or unconscious. Under other circumstances, the boys would have waited until the trio had regained their senses. But their first duty now was to the girls, who were half hysterical with fright. Joe took Mabel in his arms, after assuring her again and again in answer to her frantic questions that he was unhurt, and Jim comforted Clara until she had recovered her composure.
They laid the bandits at the side of the road, so that they could not be run over, and then Joe took the wheel and drove on. To the first policeman they saw, Joe reported that he had seen some men who seemed to be hurt, alongside the road, and suggested that they be looked after. But he said nothing about the attempted holdup. Then he sped on, and soon they were in the precincts of the city.
The girls in their alarm had failed to gather the true significance of the affair. To them it waslike a confused dream. Their general impression was that a holdup had been attempted for the purposes of robbery. Still Mabel did remember that they had asked specifically for Matson.
“Why was it that they asked for you especially, Joe?†she asked, snuggling closely to the arm that had so stoutly done its work that night. “Why was it?â€
“How do I know, honey?†answered Joe. “Perhaps,†he said jokingly, “they had heard of my increase in salary and thought I was rolling in money. Sometimes you know they kidnap a man, make him sign a check and then hold him prisoner until they cash it. No knowing what such rascals may do.â€
“Whatever it was, they’ve lost all interest in the matter now,†said Jim, with a laugh, as he thought of the discomfited bandits by the roadside and the fleeing leader in the automobile.
Both Joe and Jim made light of it to the girls and laughed away their fears until they had seen them safely to their hotel. But later on two very sober and wrathful young men sat in their own room discussing the holdup.
Joe had told Jim what the bandit leader had said about putting his pitching arm out of business, and his friend was white with anger.
“The scoundrels!†he ejaculated. “That meant that they would have twisted your arm until theyhad snapped the tendons or pulled it from its socket and crippled you for life. If I’d known that when I had my hands on that rascal’s throat, I’d have choked the life out of him.â€
“You did enough,†returned Joe. “As it is they got a pretty good dose. I know I cracked the leader’s wrist, and I heard a bone snap when you smashed that other fellow. Gee, Jim, you hit like a pile driver.â€
“No harder than you did,†replied Jim. “That fellow you clipped in the jaw was dead to the world before he hit the ground.â€
“After all, those fellows were merely tools,†mused Joe thoughtfully. “Did you hear the leader say that he had his orders? Who gave him those orders? If only the girls hadn’t been there, I’d have trussed the rascals up, waited until they had got their senses back, and then put them through the third degree until I’d found out the name of their employer. But I wouldn’t for the world have the girls know what those scoundrels were up to. They’d never have a happy moment. They’d worry themselves to death. We’ve got to keep this thing absolutely to ourselves.â€
“All the same, I can guess who the fellow was that employed them,†said Jim.
“I think I can come pretty near it, too,†affirmed Joe. “In the first place, it was a man who had money. Those fellows wouldn’t have taken thejob unless they had been well paid. Then, too, it was somebody who hated me like poison. There are two men who fulfil both of those conditions, and their names are——â€
“Fleming and Braxton,†Jim finished for him.
“Exactly,†agreed Joe. “And knowing what I do of the two, I have a hunch that it was Braxton.â€
“Braxton’s the more likely one of the two to use violence—or have it used,†said Jim. “Not but what either one of them would be mean enough to do it. But Braxton has got more nerve than Fleming. Then, too, I happen to know that Fleming has run pretty well through his money, while Braxton is a millionaire. He was pretty hard hit by the failure of the All-Star League to go through last year, but he’s got plenty left. He could give those rascals a thousand, or five thousand if necessary, and never feel it.â€
“Speaking of money,†said Joe, “reminds me of something else that may be connected with this case. Do you remember what Reggie told us when he was in Riverside about that fellow in Chicago that was betting great wads of money that the Giants wouldn’t cop the flag? Betting it, Reggie said, as though he had something up his sleeve, as though he were betting on a sure thing. Now what could be a surer thing in a race as closeas this than to cripple the Giant team by robbing it of one of its pitchers? He’d be getting a double satisfaction then—making a pile of money to make up for his losses last season and getting even with me for the thrashing I gave him. That is, of course, if the man is really Braxton.â€
“By Jove, I believe you’re right!†exclaimed Jim. “Of course that might seem a little far-fetched, if it weren’t for the other things that point to the same man. But when you remember that Braxton hails from Chicago, that the anonymous letter had a Chicago postmark, when you recall that somebody tried to injure us in that road blockade the day after I thought I saw Braxton in the training town, and that he was the only one besides ourselves who knew the road we were going to take—when you take all these things together, it seems a dead open-and-shut proposition that Braxton was the man that plotted all this scoundrelism.â€
“Some day soon I hope we’ll know the truth,†said Joe. “And when that day comes——â€
He did not finish the sentence, but his clenched fist and flashing eyes were eloquent.
The next morning the chums went around early, to learn how the girls were feeling after their trying experience. They found them still a little nervous and overwrought, but the society of the boys and the knowledge that they had come throughwithout injury soon brightened them up, and before long they were their natural selves again. The way the boys had carried themselves in the fight with their assailants made them more than ever heroes in the eyes of those they loved best, and if it had not been for the deeper knowledge they had of the affair, Joe and Jim would have been rather glad it happened.
Reggie, of course, had been told of the holdup and was almost stuttering in his wrath and indignation. But he, like the girls, figured that it had been an attack simply for the purpose of robbery, and the boys were not sure enough of Reggie’s discretion to tell him the real facts. They feared that some slip of the tongue on his part might reveal the matter, and they knew that a constant fear would from then on shadow the lives of Mabel and Clara.
In about ten days the next Western trip of the Giants was to begin, and then Clara would return home, while Mabel would go on with Reggie to Goldsboro. But those precious ten days were enjoyed to the full by the young folks. Every hour that the boys could spare from the games was spent in the society of the girls, and every day that a game was played Mabel and Clara occupied a box in the grandstand at the Polo Grounds. The knowledge of the bright eyes that were following their every move put the boys on their mettle, andthey played up to the top of their form. Jim’s progress as a boxman was evident with each succeeding game, and Joe covered himself with laurels as both pitcher and batsman. But more than once, after Joe had let down an opposing team with but a few hits, he had an involuntary shudder as he looked at the mighty arm that had scored the victory and thought of it as hanging withered and helpless at his side. And only by the narrowest of margins had he escaped that fate.
The hour of parting came at last, and it was a great wrench to all of them. There were promises on both sides of daily letters, that would serve to bridge the gulf of separation.
The fight for the pennant was waxing hotter and hotter. The Giants and the Pittsburghs were running neck and neck. First one and then the other was at the head in victories won. At times one would forge ahead for a week or two, but the other refused obstinately to be shaken off and would again assume the leadership. Everything promised a ding-dong, hammer-and-tongs finish.
Some of the other teams were still in striking distance, but the first two were really the “class†of the League. The great pitching staff of the Brooklyns had gone to pieces, and it looked as though they were definitely out of the running. The Bostons, after a poor start, had braced and were rapidly improving their average, but theyseemed too far behind to be really dangerous. The unfortunate Phillies were in for the “cellar championship†and did not have a ghost of a chance. Of the Western teams, outside of Pittsburgh, no fear was felt, though the consistent slugging of the Cardinals gave the leaders some uneasy moments. Still, batting alone could not win games, and the Cardinals’ pitching staff, though it had some brilliant performers, was surpassed in ability by several teams in the League.
In the American League also a spirited contest was going on. The White Sox, who had usually been a dangerous factor, were out of the running because they had had to build up practically a new team. But the Clevelands were as strong as they had been the year before, and were making a great bid for the flag. Detroit had started out brilliantly, and with its hard hitting outfield was winning many a game by sheer slugging. Washington loomed up as a dangerous contender, and only a little while before had won fifteen straight games.
But the chief antagonist of the Clevelands was the New York Yankee team. For many years they had struggled to win the championship, but though they had come so close at one time that a single wild pitch beat them out of it, they had never been able to gain the coveted emblem.
“It seems at times as though a ‘jinx’ were pursuing the Yankees,†remarked Jim. “But thisyear they have got together a rattling good crowd in all departments of the game. Most of all that counts in their hopes, I imagine, is the acquisition of Kid Rose.â€
Kid Rose was a phenomenal batter of whom every baseball fan in the United States was talking. He had been a pitcher on the Red Sox and had done fine work in the box. It was only after he had been playing some time in that position that he himself, as well as others, began to realize the tremendous strength that resided in his batting arm and shoulders. He was a left handed batter, so that most of his hits went into right field, or rather into the right field bleachers, where they counted as home runs. In one season he accumulated twenty-nine home runs, which was a record for the major leagues.
The Yankee owners made a deal with the Red Sox by which the “Kid†was brought to the New York club at a price larger than had ever been paid for a player. It was a good investment, however, for the newcomer was excelling his home run record of the year before and drew so many people to the parks where he played that a constant golden stream flowed into the strong boxes of the club. He made as many home runs as all the other players of his team together. Now, owing to his work, the Yankees were fighting it out with the Clevelands for the lead, and thepapers were already beginning to talk of the possibility of both championships coming to New York. If this should be the case, the World Series games would probably draw the greatest crowds that had ever witnessed such a contest, and the prize money for the players would undoubtedly be larger than ever before in the history of the game.
Joe and his comrades needed no such spur as this to make them play their best. A strong loyalty to the club marked every player of the team. Still it was not at all an unpleasing thought that the result of winning would add a good many thousand dollars to the salary of every member.
The Giants started out in high hopes on this second Western invasion.
“Sixteen games to be played on this trip, boys,†McRae had said to them, as they boarded the train at the Pennsylvania Station. “And out of that sixteen I want at least twelve. Nix on the breaking even stuff. That won’t go with me at all. I want to get so far ahead on this trip that we’ll be on easy street for the rest of the race.â€
“Why not cop the whole sixteen, Mac?†asked Larry, with a broad grin.
“So much the better,†answered McRae. “But I’m no hog. Give me an average of three out of four in each series and I’ll ask for nothing better.â€
The team started out as though they were goingto give their manager what he wanted. Their first stop this time was Pittsburgh, and here they won the first two games right off the reel. The third, however, was lost by a close margin. In the fourth the Giants’ bats got going and they sent three Pirate pitchers to the showers, winning by the one-sided score of eleven to two. So that it was in high spirits that they left the Smoky City for Cincinnati.
Here they met with a rude shock. The Reds were in the midst of one of their winning streaks and were on a hitting rampage. They had the “breaks,†too, and cleaned up by taking every game. It was a complete reversal, and the Giants were stunned.
Robson’s round face had lost its usual smile. McRae’s was like a thundercloud, and the players evaded him as much as they could. Even Larry was “Laughing Larry†no longer. It was a disgruntled crowd of baseball players that shook the dust of Cincinnati from their feet and started for Chicago.
“Better luck next time,†Joe comforted his mates. “After all it’s the uncertainty of the game that makes baseball. How many people would have been at the park if they thought their pets didn’t have a chance to win?â€
“That’s all very well,†grumbled Curry, “but we ought at least to have had our share of the breaks. We hit the ball hard enough, but every time it went straight to the fielders. They didn’t hit any better, but the ball went just out of the reach of our fellows. Talk about fool luck! If those Cincinnati players fell in the water they’d come up with a fish dinner.â€
“That’s just the reason we’re due for a change,†argued Jim. “We’ll get it all back from the Cubs.â€
But here again there was disappointment. Joe pitched the first game and won in a close fight, although the Cubs tied it up in the ninth and Joe had to win his own game in the eleventh by a homer. But the next two went to Chicago, and in the fourth game, which Jim pitched, the best he could do was to make it a tie, called in the twelfth on account of darkness.
This time it was not luck that gave to the Giants only one game out of three. They had as many of the breaks of the game as their opponents. They simply slumped. One of those mysterious things that come to almost every team once at least in a season had them in its clutches. Perhaps it was overanxiety, perhaps it was a superstitious feeling that a “jinx†was after them, but, whatever it was, it spread through the team like an epidemic. Their fingers were “all thumbs.†Their bats had “holes†in them. The most reliable fielders slipped up on easy chances. They booted the ball, or if they got it they threw either too high or too low to first. Double plays became less frequent. Two of the best batters in the team, Larry and Burkett, fell off woefully in their hitting.
In vain McRae raged and stormed. In vainRobbie begged and pleaded and cajoled. In vain Jim and Joe, who still resisted the infection, sought to stem the tide of disaster. The members of the team with a few exceptions continued to act as if they were in a trance.
McRae did everything in his power to bring about a change. He laid off Willis and Iredell, and put two promising rookies, Barry and Ward, in their places. This added a little speed on the bases to the team, but did not materially add to the batting or fielding, for the rookies were nervous and made many misplays, while they were lamentably short on the “inside stuff†that takes long experience to acquire. He shook up the batting order. But the hits were still few and far between.
St. Louis gave the Giants a sound trouncing in the first game, but in the second the Giants came to life and reversed the score.
Joe was in the box in this contest, and as he came in to the bench in the fourth inning, he noted, sitting in the grandstand, a figure that seemed familiar to him. The man seemed to have seen Baseball Joe at the same time, but he hid himself behind the form of a big man sitting in front of him, so that Joe could not be sure of his identification.
“What were you looking at so steadily, Joe?†inquired Jim, as his friend sat down on the benchbeside him. “Did you by any chance catch sight of the jinx that’s been following us?†he continued jokingly.
“Maybe I did, at that,†replied Joe. “I could have sworn that I got a glimpse of Bugs Hartley in the grandstand.â€
“Bugs Hartley?†echoed Jim in surprise. “How could that old rascal have got as far as St. Louis?â€
“Beat his way, perhaps,†answered Joe. “Of course I’m not dead sure but that I might have been mistaken. And I won’t have much time to look for him while I’m in the box. But suppose in the meantime you go down to the coaching line near first. While you’re pretending to coach, you can take an occasional look at the grandstand and see if you can pick out Bugs. He’s somewhere about the third row near the center. Just where the wire netting is broken.â€
Jim did as suggested, and studied the grandstand with care. He had only a chance to make an affirmative nod of the head as Joe, the inning ended, went out again to the box, but when he returned after pitching the side out on strikes, Jim told Joe that he was right.
“It’s Bugs all right,†he said. “I had a good chance to see that ugly mug of his, and there can’t be any mistake. But what in thunder can he be doing in St. Louis?â€
“Oh, panhandling and drinking himself to death, I suppose,†answered Joe carelessly, his mind intent upon the game.
“But how did he get here?†persisted Jim. “I don’t like it, old man. It takes money to travel, and I don’t think Bugs could hustle up railroad fare to save his life. And if somebody gave him the money to get here, why was it done? I tell you again, Joe, I don’t like it.â€
“Well, perhaps it’s just as well we caught sight of him,†admitted Joe. “It will help us to keep our eyes open.â€
In the seventh inning for the Giants, with the score tied at 3 to 3, Larry started a rally for the Giants by lining out a screaming single to right. Denton followed with a hit to short that was too hot for the shortstop to handle. He knocked the ball down, however, and got it to first. Denton had thought the play would be made on Larry, who was already on his way to third. Denton, therefore, had rounded first and started for second, but saw the ball coming and scrambled back to first. There was a grand mixup, but the umpire declared Denton safe.
It was a close play, and the St. Louis team was up in arms in a moment. Some of them, including their manager, rushed to the spot to argue with the umpire. The crowd also was enraged at the decision and began to hoot and howl. One or twopop bottles were thrown at the umpire, but fell short.
Joe, who was next at bat, had taken his stand at the plate, awaiting the outcome of the argument. Suddenly a bottle, aimed with great skill and tremendous force, came through the broken wire netting, whizzed close by his head, the top of it grazing his ear in passing. If it had hit his head, it would have injured him greatly beyond a doubt.
Joe turned toward the stand and saw a man hastily making his way out toward the entrance. He could only see his back, but he knew at once to whom that back belonged.
“Stop him! Stop him!†he shouted, as he threw aside his bat and rushed toward the stand.
But Jim had already vaulted over the barrier and was rushing through the aisle.
The people in the grandstand had not fully grasped the significance of the cowardly attack, as the attention of most of them was centered upon the dispute at first base. But the shout of Baseball Joe and the rush of Jim through the aisle of the stand had brought them to their feet, and some of them started in pursuit or tried to stop the flying figure of the fugitive.
But this very desire of so many to apprehend him helped in his escape. Men crowded in the aisle, and Jim, who could otherwise have captured him, found himself in the midst of a throng that effectually hindered his progress. He pushed his way through desperately, using his arms and hands to clear a passage, but by the time he arrived at the outer edge, the man had disappeared. Either he had mixed with the enormous crowd or had found his way through one of the numerous exits. In any event, he was not to be seen, and at last Jim, flaming-eyed and dripping with sweatfrom his exertions, had to come back empty-handed.
In the meantime, the umpire had asserted his authority at first base, and given the St. Louis players one minute by his watch to resume play. With much muttering and grumbling they obeyed. The decision stood, and Larry was on third, while Denton danced around on first and “kidded†the Cardinal first baseman on the umpire’s decision.
Joe again took up his position at the plate, the fairer-minded among the spectators giving him a cheer as he did so, to express their indignation at the dastardly attack that had been made on him. He was somewhat shaken by the close call he had had, and the first two balls were strikes. Then he took a grip on himself, and when the next one came over he smashed a beauty to right. It went for two bases, while Larry scored easily, and Denton by great running and a headlong slide also reached the plate. The next man up sacrificed Joe to third, but there he remained, as the next two batters, despite McRae’s adjurations, were not able to bring him in.
The Giants, however, had now broken the tie and had a two-run lead, and although that ended their scoring, it was sufficient, as Joe put on extra steam and mowed down the Cardinals almost as fast as they came to the bat. One hit was made off him for the remainder of the game, but as thebatter got no farther than first there was no damage done.
Joe and Jim did not care to discuss the matter before their mates, and the attack was put down to some rowdy who was sore at the umpire’s decision and took that method of showing it. But the two friends knew that it was much more than that.
“Well, what do you think now of my hunch?†demanded Jim, when the chums were alone together. “Was I right when I said I was uneasy about that fellow being in the grandstand?â€
“You certainly were, Jim,†answered Joe. “It must have been Bugs who threw that bottle. I know at any rate that it was he whom I saw hustling out of the stands. And when I looked at where he had been sitting the seat was empty.â€
“It was Bugs all right,†affirmed Jim with decision. “I saw his face once, when he glanced behind him while he was running. Then, too, only a pitcher could have hurled the bottle with the swiftness and precision that he did. It went nearly as far as the pitcher’s box before it struck the ground. Gee! my heart was in my mouth for a second when I saw it go whizzing past your ear. If it had hit you fair and square, it would have been good night.â€
“It did barely touch me,†replied Joe, pointing to a scratch on his ear. “The old rascal hasn’t forgotten how to throw. How that fellow musthate me! And yet I was the best friend that he had on the team.â€
“He hates you all right,†replied Jim. “But it wasn’t only his own personal feeling that prompted him to do that thing to-day. That isn’t Bugs’ way. He’d dope your coffee on the sly. Or he’d throw a stone at your head in a dark street, as he did that time when we’d started on our tour around the world. But to do a thing in the open, as he did to-day, means that he had a mighty big incentive to lay you out. That incentive was probably money. Somebody has put up the cash to send him to St. Louis, and that same somebody has probably promised him a big wad of dough if he could do you up. The chance came to-day, when the fans began to throw bottles at the umpire. He figured that that was the time to get in his work. If he’d been caught, he could have said that he was only one of a good many who did the same thing, and that he had no idea the bottle was going to hit anybody.â€
“Then you think that Bugs this time was acting as the tool of Braxton, or whoever it is that’s trying to put me out of business,†remarked Joe.
“Think so!†cried Jim. “I’m sure of it. So many things, all pointing to deliberate purpose, don’t happen by accident. The same fellow who hired those auto bandits to cripple you hired Bugs for the same purpose. Lots of people have heardof the hatred that Bugs has for you. I suppose he’s panning you all the time in the joints where he hangs out. This fellow that’s after your hide has heard of Bugs and put him on the job. If he can’t get you in one way, he’s going to try to get you in another. He figures that some time or other one of his schemes will go through. Gee!†he exclaimed, jumping up and pacing the floor, “what would I give just to come face to face with him and have him in a room alone with me for five minutes. Just five minutes! I’d change his face so that his own brother wouldn’t know him.â€
“I hope that job’s reserved for me,†replied Joe, as his fist clenched. “He’d get a receipt in full for all I owe him.â€
“In the meantime, what shall we do about Bugs?†asked Jim anxiously. “He ought to be put in jail. It isn’t right that a man who’s tried to cripple another should be at large.â€
“No,†agreed Joe, “it isn’t. But I don’t see just what we can do about it. The chances are ten to one against his being found. Even if he were, nobody could be found probably who saw him actually throw the bottle. We didn’t ourselves, though we feel absolutely certain that he did. He could explain his leaving by saying that he was taken ill and had to leave. Then, too, if he were arrested, we’d have to stay here and prosecute him, and we can’t stay away from the team. Besidesthe whole thing would get in the papers, and Mabel and Clara and all the folks would have heart failure about it. No, I guess we’ll have to keep quiet about it.â€
“I suppose we will,†admitted Jim reluctantly. “But some day this scoundrel who’s hounding you will be caught in the open. And I’m still hoping for that five minutes!â€
St. Louis was in good form on the following day, and a perfect deluge of hits came from their bats. The Giants, too, had a good hitting day, and the fans who like to see free batting had their desire satisfied to the full. And their pleasure was all the greater because the home team had the best of the duel, and came out on top by a score of 17 to 12.
Jim was in the box on the next day, and by superb pitching had the St. Louis sluggers hitting like a kindergarten team. They simply could not solve him. His team mates had scarcely anything to do, and only by the narrowest of margins did he miss turning the Cardinals back without a hit. One hit narrowly escaped the fingers of the second baseman, as he leaped in the air for it. But it did escape him, and counted for the only hit made by the St. Louis in the game. It was a magnificent exhibition and wound up a disastrous trip in a blaze of glory.
Still it could not be denied that the trip had put a big dent in the Giants’ aspirations for the pennant. Instead of the twelve games out of sixteen that McRae had asked for, they had only turned in six victories. It was the most miserable record that the Giants had made for years.
“And we call ourselves a good road team!†snorted Curry in disgust, as they settled down in the Pullman for the long ride back from St. Louis to New York. “A bunch of school girls could have done better work.â€
“Luck was against us,†ventured Larry. “It sure was against us.â€
“Luck, nothing!†exclaimed Curry. “We simply fell down, and fell down hard. The whole League is laughing at us. Look at the way the other Eastern teams held up their end. The Brooklyns copped ten games, the Bostons got eleven, and the Phillies pulled down seven. We ought to sneak back into New York on a freight train instead of riding in Pullmans.â€
“I guess there won’t be any band at the station to meet us,†remarked Joe. “But after all, any team is liable to have a slump and play like a lot of dubs. Let’s hope we’ve got all the bad playing out of our systems. From now on we’re going to climb.â€
“That’s the way to talk,†chimed in Jim. “Of course we can’t deny that we’ve stubbed our toeson this trip. But we know in our heart that we’ve got the best team in the League. We’ve got the Indian sign on all of them. The fans that are roasting us now will be shouting their heads off when we get started on our winning streak. Remember, boys, it’s a long worm that has no turning.â€
There was a general laugh at this, and the spirits of the party lightened a little. But not all of the gloom was lifted.
The prediction that their reception in New York would be rather frosty was true. Such high hopes had been built on the result of this trip that the reaction was correspondingly depressing. And what made the Giants feel the change of attitude the more keenly was the fact that while they had been doing so poorly, the Yankees at home had been going “like a house afire.†They had taken the lead definitely away from the Clevelands, and it did not seem as though there was any team in their League that could stop them. New York was quite sure that it was going to have one championship team. But it was quite as certain that it was not going to have two. That hope had gone glimmering.
Both teams were occupying the Polo Grounds for the season, while the new park of the Yankees was being completed. The schedule therefore had been arranged so that while one of the teams wasplaying at home the other was playing somewhere out of town.
Thus on the very day the Giants reached home the Yankees were starting out on their trip to other cities. They went away in the glory of victory. The Giants came home in the gloom of defeat.
The change of sentiment was visible in the first home game that the Giants played. On the preceding day, at their last game, the Yankees had played before a crowd of twenty-five thousand. The first game of the Giants drew scarcely more than three thousand. Many of these were the holders of free season passes, others, like the reporters, had to be there, while the rest were made up of the chronic fans who followed the Giants through thick and thin. There was no enthusiasm, and even the fact that the Giants won did not dispel the funereal atmosphere.
And then the Giants began to climb!
At first the process did not attract much attention. The public was so thoroughly disheartened by the downfall of their favorites in the West, that they took it for granted that they were out of the running for the pennant. Of course it was assumed that they would finish in the first division—it was very seldom that a New York team could not be depended on to do that—and that by some kind of miracle it might be possible to finishsecond. But there was very little consolation in that. New York wanted a winner or nothing. If the Giants could not fly the championship flag at the Polo Grounds, nobody cared very much whether they came in second or eighth or anywhere between.
The first team to visit the Polo Grounds was the Bostons. They had greatly improved their game since the beginning of the season, and were even thought to have a look-in for the flag. They chuckled to themselves at the thought that they would catch the Giants in the slump that had begun out West and press them still deeper in the direction of the cellar. At first they thought they might even make a clean sweep. They lost the first game, but only by reason of a muff of an easy fly that let in two unearned runs in the sixth. That of course disposed of the clean sweep idea, but still, three out of four would do. But when they lost the second game also, their jubilation began to subside. Now the best they could hope for was an even break. But again they lost, and the climax was put to their discomfiture when the Giants simply walked away with the fourth game by a score of 10 to 0.
But even with this series of four in a row captured by the Giants, the public refused to enthuse. It might have been only a flash in the pan. It is true that the sporting writers were beginning tosit up and take notice. Most of their time hitherto had been spent in advising McRae through the columns of their paper how he might strengthen his team for next year. The present season of course was past praying for. Yet there was a distinct chirking up on the part of the scribes, although they carefully refrained from making any favorable predictions that afterward they might be sorry for. They would wait awhile and see. Besides, the Brooklyns were coming next, and they had usually found it easy to defeat the Giants. If the Giants could hold the men from over the big bridge to an even break, it might mean a great deal.
The Brooklyns came, saw and—were conquered. Four times in succession they went down before superb pitching and heavy batting. Four times they called on their heavy sluggers and their best boxmen, but the Giants rode over them roughshod. The sporting writers sat up and rubbed their eyes. Was this the same team that had come home forlorn and bedraggled after their last trip? Had the Giants really come to life? Was the pennant still a possibility?
By this time the public had begun to wake up. The stands at the Polo Grounds no longer looked like a desert. The crowds began to pack the subway cars on their way up to the grounds. Everywhere the question was beginning to be asked:“What do you think of the Giants? Have they still got a chance?â€
It was the Phillies’ turn next, and they had also to bend the knee. The Giants took them into camp as easily as they had the Braves and the Dodgers. And to rub it in, two of the games were shutouts.
Twelve games in a row, and the Giants tearing through the other teams like so many runaway horses!
The Giants were in for a winning streak, and New York City promptly went baseball mad!
Now there was no question of filling the grounds. It was rather a question of getting there early enough to secure seats.
The Polo Grounds could accommodate thirty-five thousand, and again and again that number was reached and exceeded. The great amphitheatre was a sea of eager faces. Fans stood in hundreds in the rear of the upper grandstands. The lower stand too was filled to overflowing, and the bleachers were packed. It was astonishing how many business men closed their rolltop desks with a bang on those summer afternoons. Young and old alike were wild to be at the games and see the Giants add one more to their rapidly mounting list of victories.
Thirteen—fourteen—fifteen—sixteen! Were the Giants ever going to be stopped? If so, who was going to stop them? The Western teamswere coming now and the St. Louis team had left their scalps in the Giant’s wigwam. Chicago was next in line. Could they stop the Giants in their mad rush for the flag?
They could not, although they tried desperately, and Brennan, their resourceful manager, used all the cunning and guile that his long experience had taught him. The Giants tamed the Cubs with a thoroughness that left nothing to be desired from a New York point of view. And now the string of victories had mounted to twenty.
Old records were got out and furbished up. It was found that once before, when Markwith and Hughson were in their prime, the New Yorks had won twenty-six games in a row. Could they repeat? Could they beat their own record that had been hung up so long for other teams to aim at? That was the question that absorbed public interest, not only in New York, but in baseball circles all over the country.
The reason for this phenomenal spurt of the Giants, it was recognized, could be found in two chief factors. One was the wonderful work being done by Joe both as a pitcher and a batter. The other was the marvelous advance that had been made by Jim as a twirler.
Joe had never had such complete mastery of the ball as he was showing this season. Even the pitching he had done the previous year, in theWorld Series between the Giants and the Sox, paled in comparison with what he was doing now. His control was something almost magical. It was such a rarity for him to give a base on balls that when it happened it was specially noted by the sporting writers. He worked the corners of the plate to perfection. He mixed up his fast ones with slow teasers that made the opposing batsmen look ridiculous as they broke their backs reaching for them. His slants and twists and hops and curves had never been so baffling. It was fast getting to the point where the other teams were half beaten as soon as they saw Joe pick up his glove and go into the box.
But it was not even his pitching, great as it was, that held the worshiping attention of the crowds. It was the home run record that he was piling up in such an amazing fashion that already he was rated by many the equal of the wonderful Kid Rose. That wonderful eye of his had learned to time the ball so accurately as it came up to the plate that the bat met it at precisely the hundredth part of a second when it did the most good. Then all his mighty arm and shoulder leaned on the ball and gave it wings. Almost every other game now saw a home run chalked up to his credit. In three games of the winning streak he had made two home runs in a single game. It was common talk that he was out to tie the record of Ed Delehanty,the one-time mighty slugger of the Phillies, who in the years of long ago had hung up a record of four homers in a game. He had not done it yet, but there was still time before the season closed.
More still would have gone to his credit had not the opposing pitchers become so afraid of him that they would not let him hit the ball. Again and again when he came to the bat, the catcher would stand away off to the side and the pitcher would deliberately send over four balls, so wide that Joe could not possibly reach them without stepping out of the box. This was a mighty disappointment to the crowds, half of whom had come with no other object in view than to see Joe smash out a homer. They would jeer and taunt the pitcher for his cowardice in fearing to match his slants against Joe’s bat, but the practice continued nevertheless.
Even this, however, was not a total loss to the Giants. It put Joe on first anyway, and counted at least for as much as a single would have done. And Joe was so fleet of foot on the bases that McRae once said jokingly that he would have to have detectives on the field to keep him from stealing so many bags. Many a base on balls thus given to Joe out of fear for his mighty bat was eventually turned into a run that helped to win the game.
One morning when Joe, with the rest of theGiant team, was going out on the field for practice, his eye caught sight of a long white streak of kalsomine that ran up the right field wall to the top, behind the bleachers.
“What’s the idea?†he asked, turning to Robbie, who was close beside him.
“Don’t you really know, you old fence-breaker?†asked Robbie, a smile breaking over his jovial face.
“Blest if I do,†answered Joe.
“Well, I’ll tell you,†answered Robbie. “The fact is that you’ve got into such a habit of knocking the ball into the right field stands—mighty good habit, too, if you ask me—that the umpires have asked us to paint this line so that they can see whether the hit is fair or foul. The ordinary hit they can tell easy enough. But yours are so far out that they have to have especial help in judging them. It’s the first time it’s had to be done for any hitter in the history of the game. Some compliment, what?â€
But Joe’s work, wonderful as it was, would not alone have started and maintained the Giants’ winning streak. No one man, however great, can carry a whole team on his shoulders. The next most important element was the pitching that Jim was showing. It was only second in quality to that turned in by Joe himself. Jim was a natural ball player, and his close association and friendshipwith Joe had taught him all the fine points of the game. He had learned the weaknesses of opposing batters. He knew those who would bite at an outcurve and those to whom a fast high one was poison; those who would offer at the first ball and those who would try to wait him out; those who would crowd the plate and those who would flinch when he wound the ball around their necks. He had a splendid head on his shoulders and a world of power in his biceps; and those two things go far to make a winning combination.
Another element of strength was the return of Hughson to the team and his ability to take his regular turn in the box. His arm still hurt him, and it was beginning to be evident that he would never again be the Hughson of old. But his skill and knowledge of the game and the batters was so great that it more than atoned for the weakness of his pitching arm. His control was as wonderful as ever, and he nursed his arm as much as possible. He did not attempt to do much striking out, as that would have been too severe a strain. More and more he let the batsmen hit the ball, and depended upon the eight men behind him to back him up. Often he would go through an inning this way and the three put outs would be made by the infield on grounders and the outfielders on flies. But once let a man get on first and the “Old Master†would tighten up and prevent scoring.By thus favoring his arm, he was able to turn in his share of the victories.
Markwith also had a new lease of life, and was winging them over as in the days when he had been without question the best port side flinger in the League.
In fact the pitching staff was at the height of its form and had never been going better. And the rest of the team, without exception, was playing great ball. There was not a cripple on the list. Willis and Iredell had been restored to their positions at third and short respectively, and were playing the best ball of their careers. With Larry at second and Burkett at first, they formed a stonewall infield that seldom let anything get away from them. They made hair-raising stops and dazzling double plays, gobbling up grounders on either side, spearing high liners that were ticketed for singles, and played like supermen. The outfielders had caught the spirit of enthusiasm that pervaded the team, and were making what seemed like impossible catches. Add to this that the team members were batting like fiends and running bases like so many ghosts, and the reason for the winning streak becomes apparent. The Giants were simply playing unbeatable ball.
So the Cincinnatis found when the time came for their heads to drop into the basket. That series was sweet revenge for the Giants, who hadnot forgotten the beating the Reds had given them on their last swing around the circuit.
Twenty-one—twenty-two—twenty-three—twenty-four. Two more games to tie their own previous record. Three more to beat it. Would they do it?
Many shook their heads. On the mere law of averages, a break for the Giants was now due. The team had been under a fearful strain. Such phenomenal work could not last forever.
Besides, the severest test was now at hand. The Pittsburghs were coming. The Smoky City boys had been playing great ball themselves. They had won nineteen games out of the last twenty-four, and the margin of seven games that they had had when the Giants began their streak still kept them in the lead by two games. They had boasted that they would break the Giants’ streak as soon as they struck New York.
The time had come to make good their boast. Would they do it?
It was Jim’s turn to go on the mound in the first game with the Pittsburghs, and in the practice work before the game he showed that he was keyed up for his work. For so comparatively young a pitcher, he might well have been a bit nervous at facing so redoubtable a team before the immense crowd that had gathered to see whether or not the Giants’ winning streak was doomed to be broken. But there was no trace of it in his manner, and McRae, looking him over, concluded that there was no reason to change his selection.
His confidence was justified. Jim that afternoon was at as high a point of pitching form as he had ever reached in his career. He pitched a masterly game and held the Pirate sluggers to four hits. His support was all that could be desired, and some of the stops and throws of his comrades bordered on the miraculous. The Giants came out at the big end of the score, their tally being three to the solitary run scored by their opponents.
“Twenty-five!†chuckled Joe, as he slapped his friend on the back, when the Pirates had been turned back in their half of ninth. “Jim, you’re a lulu! You had those fellows rolling over and playing dead.â€
“I guess we had all the breaks,†returned Jim, smiling modestly.
“Nothing of the kind,†disclaimed Joe. “If anything, they had whatever breaks there were. It was simply a case of dandy pitching. You had them buffaloed.â€
“Only one more game to go before we tie our own record,†said Jim. “Gee, Joe, I wish you were going to pitch to-morrow. We’re just in sight of the Promised Land. That will be the most important game of all.â€
“Oh, I don’t know,†replied Joe. “It will be something to tie the record, but I want to break it. Day after to-morrow will be the big day. That is, if we win to-morrow, and I think we shall. It’s Markwith’s turn to go in, and he’s going fine. The Pittsburghs aren’t any too good against left-handed pitchers, anyway.â€
But whatever the alleged weakness of the Pirates against southpaws, they showed little respect for Markwith’s offerings on the next day. They had on their batting clothes and clouted the ball lustily. Only phenomenal fielding on the part of the Giants kept the score down, and again andagain Markwith was pulled out of a hole by some dazzling bit of play when a run seemed certain. Still he worried through until the first part of the eighth. At that time the score was five to four in favor of the visitors. The Giants had been batting freely, but not quite as hard as the Pirates.
In the eighth, Markwith was plainly beginning to wobble in his control. He passed two men in quick succession. That was enough for McRae, and Joe, who had been warming up at the right of the grandstand, was sent into the box.
The Pirates’ scoring stopped then and there. Astley, who was at the bat, fanned on three successive strikes. Brown hit to the box and Joe made a lightning throw to Larry at second, who relayed it to first for a sparkling double play, putting out the side.
The Giants’ half of the eighth was scoreless. All the Pittsburghs had to do now was to hold them down for one more inning, and the winning streak would be broken.
Joe made short work of the visitors in their last inning and the Giants came in for their final half.
Willis was the first man up. He made a savage lunge at the first ball pitched, but caught it on the under side, and it went up directly over the plate. Jenkins the Pittsburgh catcher, did not have to move from his tracks to gather it in.Larry sent a fierce low liner to Baskerville at short, who made a magnificent catch, picking it off his shoe tops. Two out, and the crowd fairly groaned as the winning streak seemed at last about to be broken.
All hopes were now pinned on Denton. All he could do, however, was to dribble a slow one to the box. It seemed a certain out, and nine times out of ten would have been. But the Pittsburgh pitcher, in running in on it, snatched it up so hurriedly that it fell out of his hand. He recovered it in an instant and shot it to first. But that fumble had been fatal, and Denton by a headlong slide reached first before the ball.
A tremendous roar arose from the stands, and the people who had started to leave sat down suddenly and sat down hard.
In the Giants’ dugout, all was excitement and animation. McRae ran down to first to coach Denton. Robbie rushed over to Joe, who was next in turn and had already picked up his bat.
“For the love of Pete, Joe,†he begged, “paste the old apple. Show them again what you’ve been showing us all along. Kill the ball! Just once, Joe, just once! You can do it. One good crack, and you’ll save the winning streak.â€
“I’ll do my best,†was Joe’s reply.
Frantic adjurations of the same nature were showered on Joe as he took up his position at theplate. Then there was a great silence, as the crowd fairly held their breath.
But the crafty Pittsburgh pitcher was to be reckoned with. He had no mind to see the game go glimmering just at the moment it seemed to be won. He signaled to his catcher and deliberately pitched two balls wide of the plate. It was evident that he was going to give Joe his base on balls and take a chance with Mylert, the next batter.
But the best laid plans sometimes miscarry. The third ball he pitched did not go as wide of the plate as he had meant it should. Joe sized it up, saw that he could reach it, and swung for it with all his might.
There was a crack like that of a rifle as the bat met the ball and sent it mounting ever higher and higher toward the right field wall. It seemed as though it were endowed with wings. On it went in a mighty curve and landed at last in the topmost row of the right field seats. There it was pocketed by a proud and happy fan, while Joe, sending in Denton ahead of him, jogged easily around the bases to the home plate. The game was won! The winning streak was saved! The Giants had tied their record, which had stood untouched for so many years!
The scene in the stands and bleachers beggared description. Roar after roar went up, while the crazy spectators threw their straw hats into the airand scattered them by scores over the field. The Polo Grounds had been transformed into a madhouse, but differing from other insane asylums in that all the inmates were happy. All, that is, except the Pirates and their supporters, who thought unspeakable things as they saw the game in a twinkling torn from their grasp.
Joe’s only escape from his enthusiastic well-wishers lay in flight, and he made a bee line for the clubhouse. He got inside not a moment too soon. For a long time afterward a great crowd hung about the entrance, waiting for him to reappear, and it was only by slipping out of a back entrance that he eluded them.
The old record had been tied. Could it be beaten?