Baseball Joe, Home Run King; or, The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record, Page 3

  CHAPTER II

  A SURPRISE

  The water was icy and deep, and at this point the current was swift.The force with which the luckless occupants of the car had beenpropelled sent them far beneath the surface and some distance out intothe stream.

  A moment later their heads appeared above the water, and they struckout for the shore. Both were strong swimmers, and in a few strokes theyreached the bank. Fortunately they had escaped striking any part of thecar in their wild hurtling through space, and apart from the chill andwetting were unharmed.

  From the mud at the river's edge, they dragged their dripping feet tothe solid ground of the road. Then they stood still and looked at eachother. The shock and suddenness of it all still affected them, but asthey continued to look at the comical figure that each presented, withhair plastered over their faces and clothes clinging to their bodies,their sense of the ludicrous got the better of them and they burst intolaughter.

  "Talk about scarecrows!" gurgled Jim, as he dragged a wet handkerchieffrom his pocket and mopped his face in a vain attempt to dry it.

  "None of them have anything on us," admitted Joe, as he threw off hiscoat and wrung one dripping trousers leg after the other.

  "If only the team could get a snapshot of us now, they'd kid us for therest of our natural lives," remarked Jim.

  "You said it," agreed Joe. "But now," he added more soberly, "justlet's take a look at what it was that so nearly killed us or crippledus for life."

  They made their way to the mass of timber in the road. At first Jimthought that it might have fallen off some wagon, unknown to thedriver. But a closer examination showed that this was an error. Thetimbers were piled in a way that could have been done only by humanhands, and what made this certain was the fact that rocks had beenplaced on either side to prevent the logs from slipping. It was aformidable barrier, and if the car had dashed into it at the rate itwas going, the occupants would almost certainly have been killed.

  "Whoever put those timbers there meant harm," said Joe solemnly, whenthe examination had been completed.

  "It looks that way," agreed Jim. "Whoever did it was a scoundrel whoought to be in jail."

  "It might have been the work of a crazy man," suggested Joe.

  "As crazy as a fox," rejoined Jim, looking squarely into his chum'seyes.

  "What do you mean?" asked Joe, in some perplexity.

  "I mean," said Jim, carefully weighing every word, "that the man whoput that mass of timber there was just as sane as you or I. I meanthat he intended that some one should be seriously hurt. I'll go evenfurther. That man meant to injure Joe Matson, whom he hated with adeadly hatred."

  "You mean that Braxton did it?" cried Joe.

  "I mean that Braxton did it," replied Jim quietly.

  They stared at each other with strange emotions stirring in theirhearts. And while they stand there, as if turned to stone, it may bewell, for the benefit of those who have not read the earlier volumes ofthis series, to trace the fortunes of Baseball Joe up to the time thatthis story opens.

  Joe Matson was born in a little inland village of the Middle West,and grew up in a pleasant home amid wholesome surroundings. His firstexperience in the great national game, where he was destined to becomefamous as the greatest pitcher of his time, was gained on the simplediamond of his home town, and his natural aptitude was such thathe soon became known as a rising player all over the county. Whatobstacles he met and surmounted at that time are related in the firstvolume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars."

  Some time later, when playing on his school nine, he had considerabletrouble with a bully who tried to down him, but found out, as so manytrouble makers did later on in life, that Joe Matson was not easilydowned. He put into his playing all that experience, combined with hisnative ability, could teach him, and he served an apprenticeship thatstood him in good stead when later he went to Yale. The trials andtriumphs of his school experience are told in the second volume of theseries, entitled: "Baseball Joe on the School Nine."

  With the natural buoyancy of youth, Joe had hoped when he entered Yalethat he would have a chance to show his mettle in the box in some ofthe great annual games that Yale played with Harvard and Princeton.There were many rivals, however, for the honor, including those who hadalready won their spurs in actual contests. But Joe's light was notmade to shine under a bushel, and one day when the cohorts of Princetoncame down in their orange and black prepared to "tie the can" to theBulldog's tail, Joe got his chance and sent a very bedraggled Tigerback to his lair in Princeton. How Joe won gloriously is told in thethird volume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe at Yale."

  Though he enjoyed his college days at Yale, stood high in his studies,and was popular with his mates, he felt that he was not cut out for oneof the learned professions. His mother had hoped that he would be aclergyman and had been urgent in having him adopt that profession. ButJoe, though he respected the noble aims of that calling, was not drawnto it. It was the open air life that he craved and for which he wasfitted, and the scholastic calm of a study had little attraction forhim. He felt that he had it in him to win supremacy in athletic fields.

  His mother, of course, was greatly disappointed when she learned howhe felt, but she was too wise to insist on her plan when she realizedthat it was contrary to his special gifts. She knew very little aboutbaseball, but she had the impression that it was no place for aneducated man. The fact, however, that so many college men were enteringthe ranks of professional baseball was made the most of by Joe, and shefinally yielded to his wishes.

  His chance was not long in coming, for he was soon picked up by oneof the scouts who are always looking for "diamonds in the rough," andwas offered a contract with the Pittston team of the Central League.The League was a minor one, but Joe had already learned that a manwho proved that he had the makings of a star in him would soon havean opportunity with one of the majors. How speedily his ability wasproved and recognized is narrated in the fourth volume of the series,entitled: "Baseball Joe in the Central League."

  From the bushes to the National League was a big jump, but Joe madeit when he was drafted into the ranks of the St. Louis Cardinals. Theteam was in the second division when Joe came into action, and wasaltogether out of the running for the championship. But Joe's twirlingwas just what it needed to put new heart and life into it, and beforethe season ended it had climbed into the first division and if the racehad been a little longer might have made a big stroke for the pennant.The story of the team's climb, with all its exciting episodes, is toldin the fifth volume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe in the BigLeague."

  McRae, the crafty and resourceful manager of the New York Giants, hadhad his eye on Joe all the season, and when the race was ended he madean offer for him that the St. Louis management could not refuse. Now,indeed, Joe felt that the ambition of his life was in a fair way tobe realized. McRae had intended to bring him along slowly, so that hecould be thoroughly seasoned, but circumstances put on him the heft ofthe pitching, and how fully he justified his manager's confidence isnarrated in the sixth volume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe onthe Giants."

  After the winning of the National League Championship by the Giants,came the World Series with the Boston Red Sox, who had won the titlethat year in the American League. The Sox were a hard team to beat,and the Giants had their work cut out for them. In addition to thestrain of the games in which he was slated to pitch, Joe had to contendwith the foul tactics of a gang of gamblers who had wagered heavilyon the Sox and did all they could to put Joe out of action. But hisindomitable will and quick wit triumphed over all obstacles, and hismagnificent pitching in the last game of the series won the World'sChampionship for the Giants. The story of that stirring fight is toldin the seventh volume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe in theWorld Series."

  During these experiences, Joe had not escaped the toils of Cupid.Mabel Varley, a charming young girl, had been rescued by Joe at themoment that a runawa
y horse was about to carry her over a cliff. Theromantic acquaintanceship thus begun soon grew into a deep affection,and Joe knew that Mabel held the happiness of his life in her hands.Jim Barclay, also, a promising young Princeton man and second stringpitcher for the Giants, who was Joe's special chum, had grown veryfond of Clara, Joe's pretty sister, and hoped that some day she wouldpromise to be his wife.

  The World Series had scarcely ended before Joe and Jim were invited byMcRae to make a trip around the world with the Giant and All-Americanteams. They were eager for the chance, and their delight was increasedwhen it developed that there were to be a number of wives of theplayers in the party so that Mabel and Clara could go along.

  The teams played in Japan, in China, and in many of the cities ofEurope, and the experience would have been a thoroughly happy onefor Joe, had it not been for the machinations of men who were tryingto form a rival league and had by the meanest trickery secured Joe'ssignature to what afterward turned out to be a contract. How Joefinally unmasked the plotters and had the satisfaction of giving theringleader a tremendous thrashing is narrated in the preceding volumeof the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe Around the World."

  And now to return to Joe and Jim, as they stood in their drippingclothes on the country road in the growing light of the spring morning.

  For some seconds after Jim's startling statement, Joe stood as thoughrooted to the spot. Then he pulled himself together.

  "Come now, Jim, isn't that pretty far-fetched?" he said, with a forcedlaugh, in which, however, there was little mirth. "You haven't a shredof proof of anything of the kind."

  "No," admitted Jim, "there isn't anything--yet--that would convince ajudge or a jury. I'll agree that it wouldn't go far in a court of law.But just put two and two together. Yesterday afternoon we were talkingabout this trip. You distinctly mentioned the hill near Hebron. It wasjust after you spoke that I saw Braxton pass the door."

  "Thought you saw," corrected Joe.

  "All right, then," said Jim patiently, "let it go at that--thoughtI saw Braxton passing the door. Now just suppose for a minutethat I was right and see what comes of it. The man who hates youworse, probably, than any man on earth--the man to whom you gave aterrible thrashing--knew that you would be driving a car just beforedaylight--knew that you would have to climb a hill--knew that as yougot near it you'd probably put on speed to carry the car up--knew thatan obstacle put near the bottom of the hill would almost certainlywreck the car and hurt the driver. Knowing all this, might not such aman as we know Braxton to be see his chance and take it?"

  There was silence for a moment. Then:

  "It certainly sounds strong the way you put it," Joe said thoughtfully."But how on earth could Braxton get here in time to do all this? Thinkof the distance."

  "It isn't so great a distance," rejoined Jim. "That is, if a man camestraight across country in a speedy car for instance. It seemed longto us because of the roundabout way we had to go by train. Then toothat was early in the afternoon, and Braxton could have had four hours'start of us. He's a rich man and probably has a fast car. He could havemade it all right and got here hours ago."

  "Yes, but even then," argued Joe, "he couldn't have done it all alone.It's as much as you and I can do together to handle these timbers."

  "That's true," conceded Jim. "But he may have had one or moreconfederates with him. Money you know can do almost anything. Ishouldn't wonder if that fellow Fleming helped him. He owed you a debttoo, you remember, and the pair were as thick as thieves on the worldtour."

  "Well, it may be just as you say," replied Joe. "But I hate to thinkthat any man hates me so badly as to try to injure me in such acowardly way as that. At any rate, it won't do any harm for us to keepour eyes open in the future. But we've got plenty of time to think ofthat. Now let's get busy and hustle these timbers over to the side ofthe road so that nobody else can run into them. Then we'll take a lookat the car."

  They set to work with a will, and in a few minutes had removed theobstacles from the road.

  "Now for the machine," said Joe, as he led the way to the river bank."I've got an idea that what we owe Hank will put a dent in our bankrolls."

  To their delight they found, however, that, apart from superficialinjuries, the car seemed to be intact. The wind shield had beenshattered and the mud guards were badly bent. But the axles seemedto be sound, the wheels were in place, and as far as they couldjudge there had been no injury to the engine. To all appearances theexpenditure of a hundred dollars would put the car in good shape again.

  But the wheels were so firmly imbedded in the mud of the shore thatdespite all their efforts they could not budge the car. They strainedand pushed and lifted, but to no avail. Joe climbed into the driver'sseat and set the engine going, but the car was stubborn and refused toback.

  "Swell chance of our getting home in time for breakfast," grumbled Joe,as he stopped to rest for a moment.

  "Lucky if we get there in time for supper," muttered Jim. "We'll haveto go somewhere and borrow a shovel so that we can dig the wheels outof the mud."

  But just at this moment they heard the rumbling of a cart, and runningto the road they saw it coming, drawn by two stout horses, while thedriver sat handling the reins in leisurely fashion.

  They waved their hands and the cart came to a halt, the driver scanningcuriously the two young men who had appeared so unexpectedly from theside of the road. He was a bluff, jovial person, and his eyes twinkledwith amusement as he noted the wet garments that were clinging to theirlimbs.

  "Been taking a bath with all your clothes on?" he asked, as he got downfrom his seat.

  "Something like that," replied Joe, with a laugh, "but the bath came asa sort of surprise party. The road was blocked, and it was either themorgue or the river for us, so we chose the river."

  "Road blocked?" repeated the newcomer, looking about with a puzzledexpression. "I don't get you. Looks clear enough to me."

  "It wouldn't if you'd been here half an hour ago," replied Joe,and then, as the man listened with interest that soon changed toindignation, he recounted briefly the events of the morning.

  "Whoever did that ought to be jailed," he burst out, when the boys hadconcluded their story. "And he can't be very far away, either. Thisroad was clear when I passed over it last night. Jump in and I'll driveyou into town and we can send out an alarm."

  "Not much use of that I'm afraid," replied Joe. "The man or men may befifty miles away by this time. But if you'll give us a hand to get thisauto out of the mud, you'll do us a big favor."

  "Sure I'll help you," said the friend in need, whose name they learnedwas Thompson. "I've got a spade right here in the cart. We'll digaround the wheels a little. Then I'll hitch a trace chain to themachine and my horses will yank it out in a jiffy."

  A few minutes of work sufficed to clear the wheels. Then boards wereplaced behind them, the chain was attached to the rear axle, and thehorses drew the car back into the road.

  It presented rather a forlorn appearance, but the boys cared little forthat. What they were far more concerned about was their own bedraggledcondition.

  "We match the car all right," remarked Jim disgustedly, as he looked athis own clothes and those of his companion.

  "It will never do to let Mabel and Clara see us like this," respondedJoe lugubriously.

  "Don't let that worry you," laughed their new friend. "Just drive intotown and stop at Eph Allen's tailor shop. It's pretty early, but Ephsleeps in the back of his shop and he'll let you in and fix you up inno time."

  This was evidently the best thing to be done, and the young men, afterrepeated thanks to their newly made friend and with fullest directionsas to how to find the tailor shop in question, jumped into the auto andstarted on the way back to Hebron.

  "Old bus seems to work as well as ever," commented Joe, as the carmoved on without any visible evidence of injury.

  "That's one bit of good luck," replied Jim. "And it's certainly comingto us to make up in part for the bad."r />
  They thanked their stars that it was too early yet for many people tobe stirring in the town, and were relieved when they found themselvesin front of Allen's shop. Eph must have been a pretty sound sleeper,for it took a good deal of knocking to wake him up, and when at last hethrust his tousled head through the door to ask what was wanted, he wasnot in the best of temper. But as soon as he learned the circumstancesthat had occasioned the early call, he became at once all interest andattention, and hustled about to put their clothes in presentable shape.

  It was a fairly good job that he at length turned out after he hadironed and pressed their suits, though they had by no means the BeauBrummel effect with which the boys had planned to impress the girls.

  By this time the sun had fully risen and Joe looked at his watch.

  "Perhaps we'll be in time to catch them at breakfast yet," he remarked."It's only about twenty miles from here to Riverside. Maybe they won'tbe surprised when we break in on them. They don't think we're withinseveral hundred miles of them."

  "Perhaps we ought to have telegraphed that we were coming," said Jim.

  "It might have been just as well, I suppose," admitted Joe. "But thatwould have taken away the fun of the surprise. I want to see the lookon their faces."

  "Of course we won't say anything about what happened to us thismorning," suggested Jim, as the machine bowled along over a road thatwith every minute that passed was growing more familiar.

  "Not on your life," replied Joe earnestly. "None of them would everhave another easy minute. They'd be seeing our mangled remains everynight in their dreams. All we'll tell them is that we had a littlespill and got wet. But not a word about the blocked road or what wesuspect regarding Braxton."

  Before long they were passing the straggling houses that marked theoutskirts of Riverside. Joe pulled his cap down over his eyes so thathe would not be recognized and stopped by any of the people of thetown, where he was regarded as something of an idol. All he wanted todo was to get to his family and Mabel, or, as perhaps he would have putit, get to Mabel and his family.

  His ruse was successful, for there was no sign of recognition from thefew he passed on the streets, and in a few minutes he brought the carto a stop in front of the Matson home.

  The young men jumped out, and with Joe leading the way ran lightly upthe steps. He tried the front door and found that it yielded to histouch. With his finger on his lips as a warning to Jim, he tiptoedsoftly through the hall to the door of the dining room.

  The odor of coffee and bacon came to them and from the click of platesand cups, as well as the murmur of several voices, they knew that thefamily was still at the breakfast table.

  Joe waited no longer but threw open the door.

  "Hello, folks!" he cried.