Baseball Joe at Yale; or Pitching for the College Championship, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  A HOME CONFERENCE

  "Well, I wonder if I'll ever see him again," mused Joe, as the trainswung out of sight around a curve in the track. "It sure was a hustlingtime. I wonder who he was? Seemed like some sort of an athlete, and yethe didn't talk sports--nor much of anything, for that matter.

  "I'm glad I could help him get his train. Funny he should want to payme, and yet I suppose he isn't used to having favors done him. He seemedlike a nice sort of fellow. Well, I've got to get over with thesepatterns. I'll be late getting home, I expect."

  Joe's first visit was to the livery stable, where he told the proprietorof the accident.

  "Hum! Well, I s'pose he was driving reckless like," said Mr. Munn, whohired out old horses and older vehicles to such few of the townspeopleas did not have their own rigs.

  "No, he was going slowly," said Joe. "I guess that wheel was pretty wellrotted."

  "Mebby so. I'm glad I charged him a good price, and made him pay inadvance. Yes, I'll send out and get the rig. Much obliged to you, Joe.Did he pay ye for bringin' him back?"

  "No, I didn't want anything," and with this parting shot the youngpitcher went on his way.

  And, while he is jogging along to Birchville, musing over the recenthappenings, I will, in a paragraph or two, tell you something more aboutour hero, since he is to occupy that place in these pages.

  Those of you who have read the previous books in this series, need nointroduction to the youth. But to those who pick up this volume to begintheir acquaintance, I might state that in the initial book, called"Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars," I related how he first began hisupward climb as a pitcher.

  Joe Matson lived with his father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. John Matson,in the town of Riverside, in one of our New England states. Mr. Matsonwas an inventor of farming machinery, and after a hard struggle was nowdoing well financially.

  Joe's ambition, ever since he began to play baseball, had been to becomea pitcher, and how he made the acquaintance of Tom Davis, the boy livingback of him; how they became chums, and how Joe became a member of theSilver Stars nine is told in my first book.

  The nine was a typical one, such as is found in many country towns,though they played good ball. After an upward struggle Joe was madepitcher, and helped to win some big games. He made many friends, andsome enemies, as all boys will.

  In the second volume, called "Baseball Joe on the School Nine," I toldhow our hero and his chum, Tom Davis, went to Excelsior Hall, a boardinginstitution just outside of Cedarhurst, about a hundred miles fromRiverside.

  At school Joe found that it was more difficult to get a chance at hisfavorite position than he had imagined it would be. There, too, he hadhis enemies; but Joe was a plucky fighter, and would not give up. Howfinally he was called on to pitch in a great game, and how he, more thananyone else, helped to win the Blue Banner, you will find set down in mysecond book.

  Three years passed, all too quickly, at Excelsior Hall, with Joe doingthe twirling for the school nine at all the big games. And now, with thecoming of Fall, and the beginning of the new term, he was not to goback, for, as I have intimated, he was to be sent to Yale University.

  The course at Excelsior Hall was four years, but it was found thatat the end of the third Joe was able to take the Yale entranceexaminations, which he had done successfully. He did not enter withflying colors, for Joe was no great scholar, but he was by no means atthe foot of the ladder.

  So he was to plunge at once into the turmoil of university life--his oneregret being, as I have said, that he could not join the ranks of theprofessional baseball players. But he was willing to bide his time.

  Another regret, too, was that he would be very much of a stranger atYale. He did not know a soul there, and he wished with all his heartthat Tom Davis could have gone with him, as he had to Excelsior Hall.But Tom's parents had other views of life for him.

  "It doesn't seem like three years ago that I first started forExcelsior," mused Joe, as he drove along. "I sure was nervous then, andI'm in a worse funk now. Well, there's no help for it. I've got to stickit out. No use disappointing dad and momsey. I only hope I make out halfway decently."

  His errand accomplished, he drove back home, arriving rather late, and,to his mother's anxious inquiries as to what kept him, he related thehappening of the broken carriage.

  "And you don't know who he was?" asked Clara, Joe's sister, curiously.

  "No, sis. Say, but you're looking pretty to-night! Got your hair fixeddifferently, somehow. Somebody coming?" and playfully he pinched herred cheeks.

  "Yes, Mabel Davis is coming to call," replied Clara, pretending to bevery busy arranging some articles on the mantle.

  "Oh, ho! So that's how the wind blows!" exclaimed Joe, with a laugh."But I'll wager someone besides Mabel is coming over. Tom Davis told meto come and see him, Mabel is going out, you're all togged up--say, sis,who's the lucky chap?"

  "Oh, don't bother me!" exclaimed the blushing girl.

  "That's all right. Tom and I will come around later and put a tic-tac onthe window, when you and Mabel, and the two chaps, are in the parlor."

  "I thought you had gotten all over such childish tricks--and you a YaleFreshman!" exclaimed Clara, half sarcastically.

  "Well, I suppose I will have to pass 'em up--worse luck!" exclaimed herbrother, with something like a groan. "Have your fun, sis. It'll soon beover."

  "Oh, my! What a mournful face!" laughed the girl. "There, run along now,little boy, and don't bother me."

  Joe looked at her for a moment, and the conviction grew on him that hissister was prettier than ever, with that blush on her face.

  "Little sister is growing up," thought Joe, as he turned away. "She'llbe a young lady soon--she's growing up. Well, I guess we all are," andour hero sighed as though he could scarcely bear the weight ofresponsibility on his own shoulders.

  This was after supper, and as Joe left the room, and Clara hastened toher apartment, there to indulge in further "prinking," as Joe called it,Mr. and Mrs. Matson looked at each other.

  "What's getting into Joe, I wonder?" spoke his father. "He's actingrather strange of late."

  "Oh, I expect the responsibility of college life is making itself felt,"said Mrs. Matson. "But I'm proud that I have a son who is going to Yale.It is good you can afford it, John."

  "Yes, Ellen, I am too. Education is a great thing, and a college coursedoes a lot for a young fellow. I never had the chance myself, butperhaps it's just as well."

  "I am determined that Joe shall have all the advantages we can givehim--and Clara, too," went on the wife. "I think Joe should be veryproud and happy. In a short time he will be attending one of the bestcolleges in the world."

  "Yet he doesn't seem very happy," said Mr. Matson, musingly.

  "And I wonder why," went on his wife. "Of course I know he wasn't verykeen about going, when I proposed it, but he gave in. I'm sure it'sbaseball that made him want to stay on at Excelsior Hall."

  "Probably. Joe eats, sleeps and dreams baseball."

  "I do wish he would get that idea of being a professional baseballplayer out of his mind," went on Mrs. Matson, and her tone was a trifleworried. "It is no career to choose for a young man."

  "No, I suppose not," said her husband slowly. "And yet there are manygood men in professional baseball--some rich ones too, I guess," headded with a shrewd laugh.

  "As if money counted, John!"

  "Well, it does in a way. We are all working for it, one way or another,and if a man can earn it throwing a ball to another man, I don't see whythat isn't as decent and honorable as digging sewers, making machinery,preaching, doctoring, being a lawyer or a banker. It all helps to makethe world go round."

  "Oh, John! I believe you're as bad as Joe!"

  "No, Ellen. Though I do like a good game of baseball. I don't think it'sthe only thing there is, however, as Joe seems to, of late. I don'taltogether uphold him in his wish to be a professional, but, at the sametime, there's nothing
like getting into the niche in life that you'rejust fitted for.

  "There are too many square pegs in round holes now. Many a poorpreacher would be a first-class farmer, and lots of struggling lawyersor doctors would do a sight better in a shop, or, maybe even on the ballfield. Those sentiments aren't at all original with me," he addedmodestly; "but they are true just the same. I'd like to see Joe do whathe likes best, for then I know he'd do that better than anything else inthe world."

  "Oh, John! surely you wouldn't want to see him a professional ballplayer?"

  "Well, I don't know. There are lots worse positions in life."

  "But I'm glad he's going to Yale!" exclaimed Mrs. Matson, as the littlefamily conference came to an end.