our base ball club. [illustration: "your father, the judge, says you should come to breakfast right away, miss."--frontispiece.] our base ball club and _how it won the championship_ by noah brooks _author of "the fairport nine," "the boy emigrants," etc._ _with an introduction_ by al. g. spalding of the chicago base ball club new york e.p. dutton and company 39 west 23d street 1884 copyright, 1884, by e.p. dutton & co. _st. johnland stereotype foundry, suffolk co., n.y._ _press of j.j. little & co. 10 astor place, n.y._ introduction. when we consider how strong a hold the pastime of base ball playing has upon our people, it is a little surprising that more frequent use of the game, as a framework, has not been made by writers of fiction. there are very few americans, certainly very few of the younger generation, who are not only familiar with the nomenclature and rules of base ball, but are enthusiastic lovers of the sport. even among the gentler sex, who may be regarded as spectators only of the game, there is to be found much sound information and an intelligent acquaintance with the details of base ball playing; while every hearty and wholesomely taught boy knows everything worth knowing about the game, the famous players, the historic contests, and the notable features of the sport, as practiced in various sections of the republic. to write an introduction to a story whose slender plot should be threaded on a base ball match seems to be an almost superfluous work. but i am glad that mr. brooks has undertaken to illustrate "the national game" by a story of outdoor life, founded on fact and incidentally introducing personages which are not wholly creatures of his imagination. the tale here told very cleverly gives the reader a glimpse of the ups and downs, the trials and the triumphs of a base ball club. it is written by one who is thoroughly well informed of the things concerning which he gives such vivid pictures, and, while nothing is really needed to popularize the game, i am sure the story will commend itself to every lover of pure and wholesome literature. a.g. spalding. contents. chapter i. great expectations 9 chapter ii. "a scrub game" 16 chapter iii. after the battle 36 chapter iv. reorganization begins 41 chapter v. notes of preparation 51 chapter vi. an interesting episode 59 chapter vii. in the field 69 chapter viii. a turn of the tide 86 chapter ix. hope and suspense 93 chapter x. how the good news came 102 chapter xi. in a new field 117 chapter xii. after the victory 139 chapter xiii. pride has a fall 146 chapter xiv. a strange message from home 167 chapter xv. mike costigan's discovery 175 chapter xvi. the conspiracy laid open 181 chapter xvii. a famous victory 188 our base ball club, _and how it won the championship_. chapter i. great expectations. alice howell was flattening her pretty nose against the window pane as she looked ruefully out into the misty atmosphere that surrounded her father's house in north catalpa. it was eight o'clock in the morning, and the great base ball match was set for two o'clock, that afternoon. as soon as she had risen, alice had run to the window to see what were the signs of the sky, for alice was an ardent lover of the american game, and her heart was set on the great match that was to come off on the agricultural grounds, near catalpa, that day. the sky was dull and lowering, and there was little chance that the game would be called. "your father, the judge, says you should come to breakfast right away, miss," said the little handmaid of the house. alice turned from the window with an impatient sigh, saying "oh dear, jessie, do you suppose the jonesville nine will come up to play the catalpas, this afternoon?" "'deed i don't know, miss. i hope so, for miss anstress has promised me that i shall go over to see the game if it is played, and goodness only knows when i shall get off again to see a base ball match if i don't go to-day." "but look at the weather! it's as dark as a pocket, and it looks as if it might rain at any moment. oh dear! oh dear! it's too bad, so it is. and this is to be the last game of the season, and the decisive one, too." and so, more talking to herself than to the small servant who trotted behind her, with a sympathetic air, the pretty miss alice went to the breakfast-table where her father waited for her with an aspect of amused dignity. "one cannot see across the river for the fog, papa," said the girl, with a disconsolate tone, as she seated herself. "the fences are dripping with moisture, and the dam roars just as it always does when there is a rain-storm coming up. how very provoking!" "well, and has my little girl forgotten that it was the day before yesterday that farmer boggs was in here from sugar grove and said that unless they had more rain before the frosts set in, it would be a hard year for winter wheat? and wasn't it my little girl who said that she wanted stone river running full, this fall, in order that she might enjoy her new club skates when the ice came?" "but, papa, the crops can wait a day or two for the fall rains, i am sure, and i should be willing to give up a whole winter's skating if the catalpas would only beat the jonesville nine--the horrid fellows! and i am sure they would beat them, if they only played them to-day, for they are in capital form now." "hush! hush! my daughter," said judge howell, with a little shudder, "that is slang that you are using, and i shall have to curtail your base ball amusement if you are so ready to pick up the jargon of what they call, i believe, 'the diamond field,' for i do not want my daughter to mingle the slang of the game with her mother's mode of speech." the judge was somewhat prosy and not at all in love with the noble game which his daughter, in common with all of the girls of catalpa, and of the whole stone river country, for that matter, followed with so much enthusiasm. the base ball club of catalpa was made up of some of the finest young fellows in the town. catalpa was situated on both sides of stone river, in northern illinois. it was a busy manufacturing and milling community, and from its homes had gone many a stalwart young chap to fight his country's battles in the southwest. the survivors of the company that went out and came back, decimated as to numbers and not all sound in body, founded the first base ball club of the region. the members of the club called themselves "the catalpas," after their town. most of the players lived on the north side of the river, and were soon dubbed "the north catalpas" by their rivals who, living on the other side of the stream, and in the main portion of the town, and forming another club, arrogated to themselves the title of "catalpa's champions." gradually, the membership of the two organizations changed. the old soldiers retired in favor of their sons and nephews. the club on the south side of the river was reorganized and an entirely new set of young men came into it. the name of "the dean county nine," was given to the southside club, and, as it was largely composed of young men who worked in the flouring mills and the lumber-yards along the river front, it was famous for the brawn and muscle of its players. the catalpa nine, on the other hand, was made up of students in the seminary, young fellows in the law and county offices of the town, and sons of gentlemen of leisure. there was a chasm as wide as stone river fixed between the dean county nine and the catalpa nine, so far as social relations were concerned. the dean county players called the catalpas "aristocrats" and the catalpas retorted with the epithet of "stalwarts" applied to their town rivals. when it is added that the finest residences were built on the north side of the river dividing the town, and that the men of more moderate means dwelt on the business side of the stream, the reason for the imaginary line of separation betwixt the two ball clubs will be more apparent. after repeated and not always friendly matches between the rival clubs, they were drawn together by the appearance of a common enemy. from the little town of jonesville, situated eighteen miles down the river, came the jonesvillians, as they called themselves, a powerful and well-trained nine. they had challenged and vanquished the nine of dry plains, the blue falls nine, and their own home club, commonly known through the stone river region as "the jonesville scrubs." flushed with victory, the jonesvillians had challenged and played two games with the catalpas, contesting the championship of northern illinois. it must be admitted that the record of neither of the two catalpa clubs was one of which the people of the town had any right to be proud. both clubs, while closely contesting with each other, had been repeatedly beaten by visitors from the surrounding region. naturally the sympathies of the "stalwarts" was with the "aristocrats" when an out-of-town club came to try conclusions. every true son and daughter of the town of catalpa was hotly enlisted for the home nine in any contest that might be fought out for the championship. it was aggravating that the jonesville nine, most of whom were rough and loud-talking fellows, should conquer the whole country, from the wisconsin line to lasalle, and from chicago to the mississippi river. that was the reason why miss alice howell, the only daughter and the spoiled child of the eminent and widowed district judge, should be downcast and fidgety when she looked out and saw, on this fateful morning, that the weather gave signs of being unfit for the decisive game for the championship. the jonesville nine had won the first game. the catalpas were victors in the second game. to-day, if all went well, would give the championship to the catalpas. the catalpas had regularly "whitewashed" the dean county nine, in spite of their stalwart strength. but they had failed to hold their own against many another club from other portions of the country roundabout. in the first game for the championship, the catalpas had beaten the jonesvillians by a score of 24 to 13--an overwhelming defeat for the down-river club. but the jonesville men had carried off the second game with a score of 14 to 13, which was a close game, and was lost by the catalpas, as their friends all said, by the catalpas being in bad condition. albert heaton, the catcher, was afflicted with blistered hands and could do very little effective work behind the bat; and george buckner, center fielder, had been obliged to leave the field just before game was called, on account of a sudden sickness in his own home; and this necessitated sundry changes that demoralized the nine, and disarranged their plans. "and after all," said alice, exultingly, as she recounted these facts to her father, on the morning of the fateful day, "after all, the jonesvillians only beat by one run. to-day, the catalpas are in splendid form--condition, i mean, and if it only would clear off, i am sure they will send the jonesville fellows down the river with what ben burton calls 'a basket of goose eggs,'--i beg pardon, papa, for this bit of slang; but you will observe that it is a quotation." "yes, from a favorite author," said the judge, rising from the breakfast table, with a shrewd smile. alice flushed, a little angrily, perhaps, for she did not like burton, although he was her cousin and was said to be a suitor for her favor. chapter ii. "a scrub game." notwithstanding the gloom of the morning, the day came off bright and fine, and by the time the train was due from the west, bringing the jonesville boys, the weather was perfect. a serene october sky bent over catalpa, and the bright river flowed rippling toward the mississippi, its banks red and yellow with autumnal foliage. crossing the bridge from north catalpa and from the farming settlements to the north were strings of buggies, lumber-wagons and other vehicles; and not a few sight-seers jogged along on horseback, all with their faces set toward the agricultural fair grounds, just above the town and lying to the southward. catalpa is built on a slope that descends from the rolling prairie to the bank of stone river. once out of the town, one reaches a lovely stretch of undulating ground skirted by a dead level plain, admirably adapted for a base ball field. the original use of the fair grounds had almost been forgotten when the ball clubs of catalpa began to practice within the enclosure. the northern district fair had gone farther north, and the grounds were left to chance comers--a travelling circus, or an occasional amateur racing match. to-day, the blue and white flag of the catalpas floated proudly from what had once been the judges' stand, while the pale green colors of the jonesvillians hung lazily from a staff driven into the ground to the westward of the track. for more than an hour before the time set for the calling of the game, a steady stream of people poured into the enclosure. the battered and rickety seats had been patched up to bear the weight of those who were willing to pay the small fee exacted for the privilege; but the mass of the spectators were grouped together in the open spaces to the westward and southward of these, and farther around the ring was a thin line of vehicles of various descriptions. men and women on horseback, young girls crowded into wagon-boxes, and boys ramping around on scrubby mustangs, filled up the background. it was a pretty sight. and while the crowd waited for the hour to arrive, much scientific base ball gossip drifted about the enclosure. village lads who had worked hard or had teased with uncommon assiduity to secure the "two bits" needed to gain admission to the grounds, chaffed each other vociferously and exchanged learned comments on the playing and the qualities of the combatants. "oh you should have seen john brubaker play right field that day when the catalpas sent the jonesvillers home with a big headache," said one of these small critics, as he viewed with admiration brubaker's stalwart form reclining at ease in the shade of the judges' stand. "why he just everlastingly got away with the ball every time one of the jonesvillers gave him one. then there was lew morris, there's no player in the jonesvillers, 'cept it is larry boyne, that can catch a ball like lew, and why the catalpas keep him in the left field, i don't know." "oh you talk too much with your mouth, you, bill, you," cried a bigger base ball connoisseur. "what do you know about the game? why, i saw the jonesvillians, three years ago, when they first played the old catalpas, i mean the soldier boys. that was playing, now i tell you. hurrah! there comes the nine!" pretty alice howell, sitting in her father's carriage and accompanied by the judge and her severe-looking aunt, miss anstress, clapped her hands at the sight, for the two nines drew near to each other and the game was called. the dignified judge smiled at the girl's enthusiasm, but, as he looked around, he saw that multitudes of other young ladies, as well as ladies no longer young--mothers and aged spinsters, watched the preliminaries of the game with absorbing interest. the jonesville nine were not so well developed, physically, as the catalpas. they were mostly farmer's sons, born and bred on the low prairies to the westward of stone river. it is a region long famous for its prevailing fever-and-ague epidemic. the sallow faces of some of the jonesville players suggested quinine and "cholagogue," just then a favorite specific among the ague-smitten population of northern illinois. nor were the members of the visiting nine as uniform in size and appearance as the catalpas. the breadth of chest and vigorous outline of the home nine were not repeated in the forms of the jonesville boys. [illustration: "pretty alice howell, sitting in her father's carriage, and accompanied by the judge and her severe looking aunt, miss anstress, clapped her hands at the sight."--page 18.] the catalpas were well chosen with an eye to symmetry and uniformity. they were all brawny and athletic young fellows. as they were mostly men of leisure, they had had plenty of time to practice, and they were apparently ready to give good account of themselves. chiefly on al heaton, the stalwart catcher, did the eyes of the multitude rest with favor. he was a tall, shapely young fellow, with a ruddy and oval face, bright brown eyes, a keen glance, and a sinewy length of limb that gave him pre-eminence in the field. the batting game of the catalpas was better than that of the jonesvillians, as all previous encounters had shown. but the fielding of the jonesville boys was far better than that of any other nine with whom they had measured their strength and skill. and larry boyne, a fresh-faced and laughing young man from sugar grove, but a member of the jonesville nine, was the champion catcher of the whole region. so long as the jonesville nine held on to larry, they felt sure of victory. larry boyne was a trifle shorter than the average of his comrades. his round and well-poised head was covered with a shock of curly flaxen hair, and his sturdy legs, muscular arms and ample chest gave token of a large stock of reserved power. "that's the best looking jonesvillian of them all" was the secret thought of many an observant girl and the open criticism of many a loud-talking spectator. this is the manner of placing the two clubs:- _catalpas._ lewis morris, l.f. charlie king, p. hart stirling, 2d b. will sprague, 3d b. john brubaker, r.f. hiram porter, 1st b. george buckner, c.f. albert heaton, c. ben burton, s.s. _jonesvilles._ studley, 2d b. larry boyne, c. morrison, 1st b. ellis, p. wheeler, c.f. martin, l.f. simpson, 3d b. berthelet, r.f. alexander, s.s. the catalpas won the toss and went to the field, with due consideration for the improvement of their chances in the final innings, and the game began with a comfortable feeling pervading the champions of the home nine. the winning of the toss was a good omen, everybody thought. a buzz of half-suppressed excitement swept over the field as studley, of the jonesville nine, went first to the bat. he sent a low ball to second base which hart stirling failed to hold, and studley got to first base. larry boyne followed and sent up a sky-high ball, and studley, having stolen to second and third base, got safely home, while larry reached second base. morrison sent a good right fielder, on which he got half-way around, while larry, with a rush, made the home run, adding one more to the score of the jonesvilles. alice bit her lip with vexation, but some of the more magnanimous of the townspeople commented, under their breath, "good for the red-cheeked irishman!" great things were expected of ellis, the champion pitcher of the jonesvillians, who went next to the bat, and who was reckoned as nearly as good with the bat as with the ball; but he made a poor strike, and, with a long-drawn "oh-h-h!" from the sympathetic friends of the home club, the ball dropped near the home base and the young champion of jonesville went out on his first. next, morrison, in his haste to get to third base, was put out by will sprague, and the fortunes of the visitors visibly waned. wheeler, who went next to the bat, provoked a murmur of approbation from the spectators, who were now warming up to the game, and who admired the handsome proportions and springy movements of the center fielder of the jonesvillers. he sent a resounding ball safely to the right field, got to first base, but, overrunning the second base, was neatly put out by hart stirling, the second base man of the catalpas. thus closed the innings--two runs for the visiting nine. "not much to brag of," remarked bill van orman, the big pitcher of the dean county nine. "not much to brag of, and i don't think that the jonesvillians are feeling first rate over this. let them wait until al heaton and charlie king get after them. then they'll sing small, i allow." "hush up, you, there goes lew morris to the bat for the catalpas. he'll show them something. look at that chist of his! golly! don't i remember him, though!" remarked hank mitchell. lew morris, tall, handsome and sinewy, deserved the praises lavished upon him, as he stood, modestly but confidently, to open the innings for the catalpas. but, to the great disappointment of his admirers, he failed to make a hit and was sent to first base on three called balls. charlie king justified the expectations of his friends by striking a tremendous ball to right field, on which lew morris tallied one, but in trying to get to second base, was put out by studley in excellent style. hart stirling followed, making the first quarter, and will sprague went to second base on a strong hit to right field, which brought stirling home. john brubaker next went to the bat, with an air of serene confidence, but he failed to satisfy the expectations of the on-lookers, and went out on a foul tip. "your champions do not seem to be in good condition, to-day, alice," said the judge, demurely. "i am just beginning to become interested in the game, and i must say that i shouldn't like to see the catalpas beaten." "thank you, papa," said alice, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "i thought you would get waked up if you once saw the play and realized how much depends on the game to-day." "it's the championship of the northern district, is it not, my child?" "yes, and if the catalpas don't win now, i am afraid--well, i don't know what i am afraid of. but they will be dreadfully discouraged." "so shall i be," said the judge, gravely turning his eyes to the stand, where hiram porter, the first base man of the home nine, and an honor man in his class at ann arbor, had taken up the bat. hiram retrieved the failing fortunes of the catalpas by a powerful ball to center field on which he reached the first base. george buckner, who followed, sent a high ball which was beautifully caught by studley, on second base, amidst murmurs of applause, as if the townsmen and townswomen of the catalpas were half-ashamed to give full expression to their extorted admiration of the visitors' good play. "that was well done, anyway," remarked hank mitchell, "and that winds up the first inning with three outs and three runs to two for the jonesvillians. come, you must wake up, catalpas, or we shall get licked again." "wait until the catalpas come in on the last innings, and then you'll see some fun. they are laying low for black ducks, and don't you forget that. we've tried them too many times, hank, and you know it." this was van orman's shrewd comment, as the second inning began with martin, the jonesville left fielder, at the bat. he should not have made the first base "by rights" as the observant hank remarked, under his breath, but charlie king and hiram porter fumbled the ball, and he got safely to first. simpson struck the ball straight into the pitcher's hands and went out ignominiously. then berthelet went out on three strikes, and the spirits of the sympathetic spectators rose perceptibly. two out and no runs for the visitors. "things are looking dark for your friends from jonesville," said the judge. "and, by the way, isn't there danger of their getting what you call 'a goose-egg' in this game, alice?" "o yes, papa," she answered, "i shouldn't wonder the least bit if they should be whitewashed in this inning, but there are so many chances against it that i wouldn't like to boast too much beforehand. those jonesville boys are awful sly!" "that's sam alexander at the bat now, trying in vain to strike the ball." and, as alice spoke, alexander walked to first base on called balls, and martin cleverly made his home run, scoring one for the jonesvillians. "so they will not be whitewashed, at all events," said alice, with a little sigh. studley now made his second base by a ground ball to third base which will sprague failed to stop, and by which also alexander came home. larry boyne, smiling, but keenly alive to the critical condition of affairs, now went to the bat, made a magnificent ball to center field and went to first base whither he was quickly followed by morrison, and studley scored another run for the jonesville nine. next, amidst great excitement, for the play was now waxing hot, ellis struck a splendid right fielder, by which larry and morrison easily reached the home plate and studley got to second base. the spectators trembled with excitement as wheeler made a capital safe hit to center field, studley got in, wheeler reached the second base, stole to third, and, by the wild throwing of the catalpas, got home on a passed ball. next, martin got to first base on a slow ball to right field, and then home on passed balls. he was followed by simpson, after two strikes, on which he got to first base and came dangerously near being put out by hart stirling, who made a fine one-handed catch amidst the ringing applause of the spectators, alice howell's small handmaid exciting much mirth by her shrill exclamation of "isn't he grand!" when hart, with a tremendous leap, secured the ball as it was flying far above his head. berthelet then went out on a foul tip leaving simpson on the base and closing the innings for the jonesvillians. al heaton having gone to the bat for the catalpas, made his first base on called balls, and when ben burton, who succeeded him at the bat, made a good hit, he reached third base. burton then got to second base, and al heaton reached the home plate, while larry boyne was attempting to throw burton out at second base. lew morris next got to first base through the muffing of studley, but was forced out by charlie king, who sharply followed him to the first. will sprague sent the ball well up into the sky, but berthelet, the agile and keen-eyed young frenchman in the right field, caught it handsomely, and will retired in good order. john brubaker went to first base, and then ellis, the jonesville pitcher, made a muff with his ball, giving the catalpas one tally. hiram porter followed with a safe hit, but george buckner went out on a foul ball and the inning closed with a score of ten for the jonesville boys and eight for the catalpas. the jonesvilles opened the third inning by sending alexander to the bat. he was sent to first base on called balls, and was followed by studley, who sent a ball to ben burton at short stop, but which ben muffed, and studley got safely to first base. larry boyne followed with a winged ball which he sent flying to the right field and which enabled him to reach second base and brought alexander and studley home. morrison sent an air ball to left field, by which he reached first base, and larry came home. then ellis hit a ground ball to ben burton at short stop, which ben muffed again, allowing larry to come home and ellis to get to first base. wheeler made first base on a ground ball to left field, and martin sent a slow ball to center field which reached the first base before him. during the passage of the ball, however, morrison came home, and ellis subsequently tallied on a passed ball. simpson went to the bat and was struck out, and berthelet, who followed, was neatly caught out on a foul fly by ben burton, who thus partially retrieved his reputation and the inning was closed for the jonesvilles. the showing for the catalpas was now pretty dark, and it did not improve during their next inning. al heaton, who led for the home nine, was put out in attempting to steal from first to second base, and ben burton, who followed him, met with a similar disaster. lew morris went to first base on a ball to short stop which alexander overthrew to first base. next, charlie king hit an air ball which was caught by alexander at short stop, leaving three out with morris dead on the second base. the score then stood, jonesvilles, 15; catalpas, 8. "a whitewash!" cried hank mitchell, uncertain whether he ought to exult as an old adversary of the home club, or be downcast as a citizen of the town of catalpa. but, his patriotism rallying in time, he cried to andrew jackson simis, a jonesville spectator, "i s'pose you think your boys are going to get away with us, this time? just you wait till the last innings, and then you will see them come up with a rush." "they'd better begin to rush pretty quick, then," was the sneering answer. "i guess your goose is cooked." there was a stir among the dean county nine, who, with their friends, sat together at the end of the range of seats, when this unfriendly remark was flung out. there were threatening glances and clenched fists in the group of catalpa boys. "here! here! no squabbling!" cried deputy sheriff wheeler, hurrying up, as his vigilant eye fell on the angry-looking knot of lads. "these men are visitors; can't you behave yourselves?" but the catalpas were in nowise cast down. lew morris, their captain, went among the boys and impressed on them something of his own cheerful courage and roused them to the importance of making a tremendous effort in the next inning. perhaps the jonesvillians were unduly elated. their first man at the bat, alexander, was put out by sending the ball almost directly into the hands of hiram porter at first base. then studley sent a good ball to center field, on which he went to first base, and went to second while larry boyne was batting. larry tipped a foul fly which al heaton caught, and morrison, who succeeded him, was caught out in a precisely similar manner, and the inning closed with studley left on the second base and a "whitewash" for the visitors. there was great uproar in the crowd around the field, as soon as the catalpas went in their turn to the bat. the townsfolk forgot all decorum in their delight over the semblance of victory thus snatched from defeat. they cheered the catalpas as they came in from the field, and by their noise, at least, showed that no impartial judgment could be expected from the majority of the spectators. judge howell critically looked over the crowd and remarked to alice that he thought it was bad mannered in the townspeople to exult over the defeat or reverses of their visitors. "but it is because they know that the catalpas are going to be beaten, after all," said alice, with a tone of great despondency. "going to be beaten?" asked the judge, with surprise. "why, haven't they just given the jonesvilles a whitewash, as i think you call it, and the score is 15 to 8, with your favorites going to the bat?" "yes, papa, that is so; but you see that the jonesvillians play a much better fielding game than the catalpas, and i am sure that our club will never be able to regain what they have lost." miss alice soon began to think that she had lost hope too soon, for the catalpas scored three runs in their inning, hart stirling having made a home run on a tremendous ball sent to left field where it was muffed shamefully, first by martin and then by simpson. will sprague and john brubaker followed him successfully, and hiram porter, who had made his first base, was put out by morrison. the same fate overtook george buckner and al heaton, who were put out by the active and vigilant first base man of the jonesvilles. nevertheless, the inning closed with a decided gain for the home nine, the score being 15 for the jonesvilles, 11 for the catalpas. there was intense but suppressed excitement all around the field, as the visitors sent ellis to the bat, and he was at once caught out by hart stirling on a fly sent to second base. wheeler made first base, and martin, who followed him, was put out on first base, while wheeler came home on a ball balked by charlie king. simpson was put out on first base, and the catalpas took their inning, sending ben burton to the bat. he was caught out by studley; then lew morris was put out at first base by a ball sent by alexander to morrison; next charlie king went out on called balls, and, amidst cries of "another whitewash!" the inning closed with a score of 16 to 11, in favor of the visitors. in the sixth inning, the jonesvilles added eight to their score, and the catalpas gained seven, thus making the home nine a little more hopeful, although the relative distance of the two nines was not changed. the feature of this inning was a grand hit to the center field made by larry boyne, on which he made first base and brought home alexander and studley, who were on the second and third bases, respectively. the score stood thus: jonesvilles, 24, catalpas, 18. and there was no exultation in the ranks of the townsfolk. larry boyne went to the bat in the next inning, for the visiting nine. he sent a magnificent air ball so high that it seemed lost in the misty blue of the october sky. but it descended straight into the hands of john brubaker in the right field, and a chorus of "ah-h-h's" went up from the assembled multitude. morrison was caught out on a foul fly; ellis shared his fate, and wheeler was put out on first base. great was the exultation among the citizens of catalpa. the jonesvillers had been again whitewashed. the short october day was wearing on apace, but the chances of the catalpas were improving as the light went down in the west. the home nine added three to their score in the inning, home runs being made by john brubaker, hiram porter, and george buckner. al heaton and ben burton were both put out by foul flies. charlie king was put out on first base, leaving lew morris on third base. but as the score stood 24 for the jonesvilles and 21 for the home nine, the spirits of the majority of the spectators, whose sympathies were all one way, began to rise. perhaps the jonesvillers would be sent home without the championship. but these hopes were dashed by the next inning, which was the eighth, the jonesvilles having gained one run, while the catalpas were ignominiously "whitewashed." the visitors showed their good qualities in the field by a fine double play in their inning. hart stirling being on the first base, will sprague hit short to ellis, who sent the ball to studley at second base, cutting off stirling; and john brubaker, in attempting to steal from first to second base, was run out by studley and morrison. nobody stirred from the field, although the day was dying slowly and the simple habits of the catalpa women called them home to their household duties. the decisive inning was near at hand, and as alice stood up in her father's carriage, in order to get a better view of the game, the hitherto orderly crowd closed in around the players. spectators and players drew a long breath as larry boyne went to the bat for the jonesvilles. he wielded the bat with great skill and dexterity; but charlie king's pitching was wonderfully clever, and larry went out on a foul tip to al heaton, catcher. morrison made third base on a safe hit; ellis made first base and morrison came home on a ball muffed by charlie king, and then martin, on a center field ball hit, brought ellis and wheeler home. simpson now made first base on a hit to the right field, and an overthrow brought martin home and gave second base to simpson. berthelet was caught out on a foul fly by al heaton, and simpson, in attempting to steal home, was run out by al heaton and will sprague. "three out on the last inning!" roared two or three of the dean county nine, great hulking fellows, who stood near the carriage of the judge. alice looked at them reproachfully, although her cheeks were ruddy with half-suppressed excitement. "it's real mean of them, isn't it, papa?" she said. "they will not seem to consider that we should be very angry if we were treated thus in jonesville." now went hiram porter, big and handsome hiram, to the bat for the catalpas. hiram looked as tall as a giant in the gathering twilight, and he stood up in manly fashion. but hiram was put out on first base by a ball sent by studley to morrison, and george buckner, who followed him, had great ado to save himself. but he made first base, and al heaton next sent a singing ball to center field, on which he went to second base and buckner to third. ben burton then undertook to bat buckner home, but he was, himself, put out on first base. lew morris then took the bat, sent a high ball to center field and secured the first base. charlie king followed to the first, and amidst despondent cries of "three out!" the game and the inning ended with a score of 29 for the jonesville nine and 23 for the catalpas. deputy sheriff wheeler, forgetting for the time his official dignity, stood up in what was once the judges' stand and shouted, "three cheers for the champions of northern illinois! now, then! hip! hip! hip!" the cheers were given with a pretty good will, considering how great was the disappointment of the townspeople. the captain of the catalpas set a laudable and manly example to his comrades by going straight to larry boyne, the captain of the jonesville nine, and, grasping him warmly by the hand, congratulating him on the victory so honorably and handsomely won. "of course you can't expect that a fellow can say that he is glad to have lost the day; but you have worked hard for the pennant, and it belongs to you without any grumbling." larry, with his ruddy face still ruddier than before, responded in frank fashion and then the crowd began to melt away, for the darkness was coming on. passing by the judge's carriage, yet entangled in the throng of vehicles, larry glanced up at the pretty girl whom he had noticed with distant admiration. the judge intercepted his glance, and leaning over with what was meant to be a gracious smile, said, "this is larry boyne, the famous catcher of the down-river nine? well, i congratulate you, young man, on your well-won victory and on your own beautiful playing." larry very much taken aback by this unexpected condescension from the great man of catalpa, touched his cap, blushed and stammered and gladly rejoined his comrades. "fine young man, that," said the judge, sententiously, as his carriage slowly drew out of the crowd and moved toward the gate. "if a few such players as he were in the place of some of the muffs in the catalpa nine," said alice, "i think that the championship of the whole state would belong in this town." "why i do believe my little daughter is crying!" cried the judge. "i am not crying," said alice stoutly. "but i confess that i am mad enough to cry. are we always going to be beaten by every scrubby nine that comes here, i'd like to know?" dr. selby, the staid and dignified village town apothecary, who was walking by the carriage, heard the indignant outburst, and looking up, said with a smile, "we've got the timber here for a first-class nine, miss alice, but the thing is to get the timber together." judge howell, with his grandest manner, said, "if there is any movement to retrieve the honor of catalpa in the base ball field, please count on my assistance and support." chapter iii. after the battle. to say that the town of catalpa was very deeply mortified by this latest and most signal defeat of the favorite nine would be a mild way of putting the case. for weeks afterwards, nothing was talked of in the place but the disgraceful overthrow of the catalpa nine. very soon, so high did the debate run, there were two sides formed among the townspeople, one party blaming the catalpas for their lack of training and practice, and the other excusing them for their evident inability to cope with the sturdy farmer boys from "down the river." "i tell you it is not mere brute muscle that our fellows want," said squire mead, one of the great lights of the town, "it's not brawn, but skill, that they must acquire before they can stand up against the base ball players of this part of the country. let them pay more attention to work, and less to frills, and they will come out all right." but dr. selby, whose son was one of the rising players in the less aristocratic dean county nine, would have none of this sort of argument. tom selby was not only a wiry and agile player in the field, but he was the best oarsman on the river, and he could lift a barrel of flour, properly slung, "without turning a hair." he had done it often. his father believed in muscle. "now there's bill van orman, the dean county nine's catcher," dr. selby would say, "who is like an ox in appearance, and i really believe could stave in the panel of that door with one blow of his fist, but who gets about the bases as spry as a cat, and who has got down the curve to such a fine point that nobody can pitch like him in half a dozen counties. sam ellis, the champion pitcher of the jonesvilles, cannot hold a candle to van's pitching. and do you pretend to tell me that any light-waisted young fellow, like will sprague, for instance, could ever, by all the training in the world, make such a catcher or such a pitcher as bill?" it was the old question over again--skill against muscle. but judge howell, whose opinions on all subjects whatever commanded respect, probably gave voice to the average public judgment when he said, "what we want, gentlemen, is muscle _and_ training. i am confident that in this good town of catalpa there are more than nine young men who can give time to the practice necessary for the purpose, and who are endowed by nature with the requisite powers for the development of first-rate base ball players." "good for you, jedge!" it was tony may, an aged and disreputable loafer in the store where this debate was taking place, who spoke. tony was usually called "rough and ready" because of his frequent use of that phrase as applied to himself. having applauded the judge's remark, he drew back, a little confusedly, and murmured "'scuse me, jedge, i didn't mean to be interruptious, but you know i'm rough and ready, rough and ready, jedge, and that 'ere remark of yourn does seem to be about the fust sensible thing i've hearn in this 'ere jag of words. 'scuse me, jedge, fer sayin' so; you know i'm rough and i'm ready." and the speaker subsided into a corner pulling his 'coonskin cap down over his shaggy brows. judge howell, with an additional stiffness perceptible in his manner, waved his hand towards the dry goods boxes in the angles of which "rough and ready" had dropped and said, "our friend here is enthusiastic. he has a right to be. his son fremont has certainly distinguished himself, before now, as the right fielder of the dean county nine. but does anybody know if that handsome young irish lad, larry boyne, could be drawn from the jonesville nine, in case we should desire to reinforce our home nine by drafts on foreign material, so to speak?" nobody knew; but jason elderkin, the storekeeper, leaned over his counter, pausing in his occupation of measuring off a yard of kentucky jean, and said: "i tell you what it is, judge, that's the likeliest young fellow in these parts. he lives with his mother over to sugar grove, and started in to read law with 'squire welby, over to dean center; but he had to give it up on account of his father's being killed by being crushed under a tree that he was felling. awful blow to the boy, likewise to his ma. the jonesvilles pay him something for playing with them; so i've hearn tell." [illustration: "what we want, gentlemen, is muscle _and_ training."--page 37.] this suggestion created a momentary stir in the congress, for the gathering had by this time assumed such a character. two or three of the speakers did not see how anybody could think of making a professional club out of an amateur, such as the jonesville nine pretended to be. if larry boyne was paid a salary, why were not others? and if salaries were paid to the men, it was a professional club, wasn't it? "i don't know enough about what we may call the etiquette of the game to decide what is an amateur and what a professional club," remarked judge howell, in slow and dignified accents. "but if we are in earnest in this proposition to organize a really creditable base ball club in catalpa, and i take it that we are,"--and here he glanced at "rough and ready," who had slid forward into sight again,--"and i take it that we are, i say, we may as well make up our minds to put our hands into our pockets and help the boys a little, otherwise we shall go down again." "right as a trivet, jedge," cried rough and ready. "right as a trivet; for unless we take hold all together, we shell go down to where flour is nine dollars a bar'l and no money to buy it at that; 'scuse me, gen'lemen, but i'm rough and ready, you know. i allow that the jedge here speaks the senterments of the community." and the old man retreated into the depths of his 'coonskin cap. the oracle of the grocery store was right in saying that judge howell spoke the sentiments of the community in regard to the necessity of taking hold in earnest and organizing a base ball club, if anything serious was to be accomplished. the project took definite shape at once. "why," said weeks, the bridge-tender, who, from his position, came into contact with half of the townspeople, nearly every day, as they crossed and recrossed the river. "why, every town north of bloomington, as far as i know, has got a champion base ball nine, and why should catalpa be behind the rest? that's what i want to know. and if we are to have champions, we have got to take hold and help the boys, like they do in other towns. and the very first thing i want to see done is the licking of them jonesvilles. they are so everlastingly set up by their carrying off the pennant that they are ready to challenge all creation. so i'm told." around many an evening fire and in many a lounging-place in the town, the question was animatedly discussed, as autumn waned into winter, and most outdoor sports became a little unseasonable. it was decided, in that informal and irregular way with which a western community settles its internal affairs, that there must be in catalpa a first-rate base ball nine, and that it must be organized before the spring opened. chapter iv. reorganization begins. "where now, larry?" asked 'squire mead, meeting larry boyne, on stone river bridge, one wintry day in november. cold weather had set in early, and huge cakes of ice had already formed on the edge of the dam, and a light fall of snow gave promise of sleighing for thanksgiving week, then not far off. larry was mounted on a sorry-looking nag, borrowed from a sugar grove neighbor, and he carried behind him a big bundle of knitted mittens, the handiwork of his mother and sisters, to be exchanged for goods at one of the stores in town. "oh, i'm just going to town to trade a bit, and i have a message from al heaton that he and his father want to see me about joining a new base ball club to be gotten up here. know anything about it, 'squire?" "well, yes," replied the 'squire, "i'm told that there is something of a stir in town about the matter." the crafty old lawyer did not say how much the stir was indebted to him for its existence. "quite a stir, larry, and they do say that they will get up a new nine; even if they have to hire players to go into it." larry's cheeks flushed even deeper red as he replied, "there is no disgrace in hiring players to help out, i suppose, 'squire? i was paid a share of the gate money while i was with the jonesville nine, and they have offered me a regular salary if i go with them next season. but i wouldn't touch a penny of it if i thought it was the least bit off-color for a fellow to take pay for his services." "no, no," said the 'squire, warmly, "there is nothing in that that an honorable and high-toned young fellow like you are could object to; and if i were you, i would make the very best terms i could for next year. you have been obliged to give up studying law, i hear, on account of the death of your father. if you do well in the ball-field, next summer, you might save up enough to set you right next year, so far as studying is concerned. and, between you and me and the gate-post, al heaton and his father are bound to have you in the new nine. so make as good a bargain for yourself as you can. al can't play next season." "why, what is the matter with al? why can't he play any more?" "it's mighty cold standing here talking on the bridge, larry, and i don't know that i have any right to give al's reasons, but i have a notion that his mother objects to his going around the country playing base ball. she's got high and mighty airs since her uncle george was elected to congress from the sangamon district, and i reckon that that is what is the matter with al's base ball business. pity 'tis, too, for al is a first-rate catcher. nobody like him, unless it is larry boyne," he added with a kindly smile. larry thanked the 'squire, and, with a hearty "good-bye," went thoughtfully on his way across the bridge. as his steed climbed bridge street, larry was conscious that he had several new ideas in his head. and when, his little errands done, he found his way to mr. heaton's counting-room in the mills near the dam, he had made up his mind that jonesville had no claim on him and that he belonged no more to jonesville than he did to catalpa. in other words, he was in the market for employment. the mortgage on the farm must be paid off; his sisters and the little brother must be kept at school, and he had his own way to make in the world. to take one season's compensation as a base ball player would help matters at home very much. it was a gleam of hope in an otherwise gloomy outlook for the young man. "glad to see you, larry," said mr. heaton, heartily. "al's been waiting for you this some time, and we may as well go right to business. the boys are talking of getting up a first-class nine, and as my son cannot very well go into it, next year, he has coaxed me to turn in and help the others. and so i will, for i want to see old catalpa come out ahead at the end of the season." young heaton, with evident regret, told larry that he would be unable to play in the catalpa nine, but that it was his dearest wish that the club should be the champion club of the state. "so," said he, "with my father's consent, i have agreed to give my monthly allowance for the benefit of the club, and that will help make up a pool to pay expenses. we can't get good players (i mean players to compete with chicago and springfield, and other large cities), without paying them something--gate-money anyhow, and perhaps more." larry said not a word. it was yet a new proposition, this of earning money as a professional ball player. somehow it did not strike him pleasantly. but he listened respectfully while mr. heaton unfolded the plans that had been slowly matured since the signal defeat of the catalpas, last october. they must organize a new nine. some of the old players must be dropped, and two, al and lewis morris, had already declined to play any longer. new men must be found to take their places. would larry join the new nine? did he recommend any other players in the vicinity? larry's ruddy face glowed as he walked up and down the little counting-room, thinking over the situation. mr. heaton watched the young man's well-knit and graceful figure with admiration, and winked at albert, as if to say, "that is your man. get him if you can." "i'll consider any offer that you make in behalf of the new nine, mr. heaton," said larry, "and if i were to suggest any other players from the jonesvilles, i should like to say a good word for sam morrison and neddie ellis. morrison is our first base man, and neddie is as good a pitcher as there is in the country, unless it is charlie king. i hope your men don't think of letting out charlie?" "oh, no," replied young heaton, "they want him to stay, and he says that he'll not only stay but will give in his share of the gate-money for the use of the club. oh, charlie's clear grit, he is, and he'll stand by the club," said the young man, with friendly warmth, dashed with a little regret, perhaps, that family complications forbade him a similar sacrifice. the details of the bargain could not be settled at once. mr. heaton and his son were the representatives of a company of public-spirited citizens who were bent on getting up a good base ball club. they could only secure larry's promise to wait for terms from them before accepting any other engagement, and to give them some hint as to what compensation he should expect. this last, however, larry resolutely declined to do; and, after some debate, young heaton exclaimed, "well, hang it all, larry! what's the use beating round the bush! i think our folks have made up their minds that they will give you a share of the gate-money, say one eighth, and a salary of a thousand dollars for the season. does that strike you favorably?" larry's eyes shone as he said, "it strikes me as being more than i am worth." "well, this is all informal and entirely between us, you know," said mr. heaton. "you will keep the matter to yourself until we have reported to the rest of the committee, for there is a committee," he added with a smile. and so the matter was concluded, and larry, mounting his horse, with a cheery salutation to father and son standing in the mill-door, rode across the bridge into the november twilight, with a light heart. the next day, lewis morris rode over to sugar grove to expostulate with larry. he had heard that the heatons had offered larry one thousand dollars and one-eighth of the gate-money. "now," said he to larry, "i cannot play with the nine, next season, neither can al heaton, and the chances are that will sprague will drop out, too. charlie king does not need any pay or any income from the playing to induce him to go. so he will not want any gate-money. geo. buckner says he will go along as an extra man, and he will take neither salary nor gate-money. if we get sam morrison and neddie ellis, we shall have to pay them gate-money at least. but there will be, according to my figuring, only seven out of ten to draw on the gate-money, for hiram porter, i am sure, will decline to take anything for his services." larry expressed his entire satisfaction with the terms offered him by mr. heaton, on behalf of the new club. he was willing to do what he could, short of any great sacrifice, to make up a strong nine. he would take less salary, or less of the income of the club, if that were necessary to induce the best men to join it. "that's very good of you, larry, old boy," said morris, heartily, "but you can't afford to waste your summer playing base ball for nothing. i want them to take bill van orman from the dean county boys. how do you think he would do?" "first-rate! first-rate!" cried larry, with enthusiasm. "i do not think of another fellow on the river as good as he is as catcher, unless it is al heaton, and he is out of the question." "unless it is larry boyne," said morris, reproachfully. "you are a great sight better catcher than bill van orman, and i should hope you would take that place if you were to go into the new catalpa nine." larry protested that he had watched van orman's catching for two seasons, and had made up his mind that he was the best man in that position that could be got, now that al heaton was out of the field. would van orman serve at all? "oh, yes," replied morris. "all of the dean county boys are just wild to get into the new nine. they are willing to play for catalpa, and they don't care whether they are in their own nine or in a new one. they drop all thoughts of rivalry, so far as the future is concerned." as lewis morris cantered back from his visit to sugar grove, he met cyrus ayres, driving homeward from town, his lumber-wagon making a great din as it rattled and rumbled over the rough, frozen road. the two young men exchanged greetings as they passed, and cyrus call out to lewis something which the noise of the wagon drowned; so, turning back, he said, "what was that you were saying about bill van orman?" "oh, i only said that bill is to be catcher in the new nine. i was in jase elderkin's store, just now, and he allowed that bill would take anything the boys had a mind to give him. but charlie king and ben burton said that larry boyne wouldn't want to serve as catcher, if he did go into the new nine, and that bill would be the next best man, and larry would go on one of the bases. say first base. how's that, think ye?" "i don't like it," said lewis, "but we'll see what we shall see. i am willing, so far as i am concerned, to leave it all to larry. he has got a level head, and don't you forget it." "right you are," responded cyrus, as, giving the reins to his impatient team, he rattled noisily down the river road. as he passed judge howell's handsome house, lewis looked up and caught the glance of miss alice, who was sitting in the window-seat, curled up on a big cushion, and scribbling something that seemed to puzzle her very much. the girl wrote, re-wrote, erased and wrote again. finally she held her work, somewhat blurred and scratchy as it was, at arm's length, and said in soliloquy, "i really think that is the very best thing that could be done! but i wonder what i put that young irishman's name at the head of the list for?" with a faint pink tint suffusing her cheek, she drew a line through the name at the top of the page, wrote it at the bottom, and then laughed softly to herself. just then lewis morris rode by, gallantly taking off his cap as he passed the house. if mr. lewis could have looked over alice's shoulder, he would have read this list of names: s. morrison, l.f. neddie ellis, c.f. charlie king, p. hart stirling, 2d b. john brubaker, r.f. hiram porter, 1st b. ben burton, s.s. wm. van orman, 3d b. lawrence boyne, catcher. alice concealed the paper in her pocket, as she saw her father drive up the road from the bridge. then she took it out again with a pretty little air of determination, saying to herself. "my papa knows that i am so much interested in the new nine scheme, why shouldn't i tell him that this is what i think about the re-organization?" so, when the judge, that night, drew his motherless child to his knee, she brought to him the list of players which she had made out. "perhaps you will think it mannish in me, papa," she said, "but i have made out a list of the players in the new catalpa nine. i have a whim that this is about the way they will be placed." the judge took the crumpled and blurred paper, and running his eyes over it, said, "that is a good cast, as they say in the theaters, alice; but don't you think you are a little premature? the new nine is not yet formed, and until they begin to practice they can hardly tell where each player should be placed. i don't pretend to know much about the game; not so much as my little daughter does, for example, but isn't that about the way it strikes you?" alice admitted that her father was right. but she had given a great deal of thought to the matter. everybody in the town was discussing this absorbing topic. and, out of all that she had heard, she had evolved this cast of characters, so to speak. anticipating the story of the catalpa nine a little, it may be said that alice howell's list, although its features were known only to herself and her father, was adopted with two exceptions, larry boyne was chosen to the third base and bill van orman took the position of catcher. but this was not done until far later in the winter, when the new nine was finally organized for the summer campaign. chapter v. notes of preparation. on the ridge above the town of catalpa stands a huge building known as "the fair building." when the northern district agricultural fair was held in catalpa, this structure was used for displays of mammoth squashes, women's handiwork, exhibits of flax, wheat, flour, and the other products of the fertile region of northern illinois. now it was given over to desolation and neglect. the men who had helped to pay for its erection were not willing to signify by tearing it down that they had given up all hope of ever winning back to catalpa the institution that had moved away up to the northern part of the state. some of these days, they said, the fair would come back to catalpa, and then the building would be ready for the show, as of old. the promoters of the new base ball club scheme had no difficulty in securing permission for the players to practice in the building. accordingly, when the leisure days of winter came on, the lads betook themselves to the lonesome and barnlike structure and warmed themselves with the exercise that pitching, catching and running made needful. "if we had had this old ark built for us," said hiram porter, whose father was one of the directors of the agricultural society, "it couldn't have been better planned. suppose we call a ball sent up there where marm deyo used to spread out her wonderful bed-quilts a foul ball? and then we might imagine that the lower gallery is full of girls looking on at larry's scientific pitching. gals--gallery; see?" and the boys all laughed at hiram's small joke, for their spirits rose as they warmed to their work. thither went, also, occasionally, a favored few of the townspeople who were very much waked up now over the work of the nine that was to be the champion of the region, if not of the state. to such an extent had the men, women and children of catalpa been aroused by what was going on, that a stranger coming into town and hearing the gossip around the street corners and in the more comfortable stores and shops, would have supposed that catalpa was devoting itself exclusively to the practice of base ball. it was the dead of winter, and, except a few teams slowly pulling in from the outlying country, with a few farmers in quest of the necessaries of life from the town stores, very little life was visible about the place. occasionally, a fierce snow storm would sweep over the town, blocking the streets, and cutting it off from all communication except by railroad. the main street would be desolate, and the bridge show only a solitary passenger whom dire necessity brought out in such a cold and wintry gale as the "blizzard" proved to be. at such times, however, up in the big fair building whose yawning cracks let in the driving snow, and on whose roof the shingles rattled merrily, a party of hardy and stalwart young fellows was sure to be found practicing arduously for the work of the coming summer. around the hot stoves in the lounging-places, down town, grown men were talking of base ball, and small boys, hanging eagerly on the outer edges of the groups, drank in with silent intelligence the words of wisdom that dropped from the lips of their elders. for a time, at least, it looked as if nothing would ever be done in that town but to prepare for the base ball season of the next year. but the winter wore away and the regular industries of the stone river valley began to revive. the ice went out of the river with the usual rush, and people wondered, as they always had, if the bridge would stand the pressure of the ice-flood. the roads were once more channels of bottomless mud, and eastern people, whom business errands brought out into that part of the country, sourly berated a country "in which everything depended on the state of the roads." the blue jays were calling from the tree-tops and the meadow larks were whistling along the fences. the prairies were gradually growing green, and the low places and hollows where the snow lately lingered became shining pools reflecting the tender blue of the spring sky. one day, bill van orman, after carefully going over the agricultural fair grounds in company with al heaton, reported that it was about time to begin practicing out of doors. for months, the members of the new nine had been wishing for the day to come when they could get out into the open air and put some of their indoor practice into actual work. so, with the assistance of a few of their associates who were not members of the new club, they organized two nines and went to work in earnest. the long winter had borne its fruit. the talk and gossip of the town had run almost altogether to base ball. there was nobody in catalpa, unless it was poor old father bickerby, who was stone deaf, who had not heard the smallest particulars of the progress of the new nine discussed. did larry boyne make a particularly fine running, one-hand catch in the practice of a winter's afternoon? it was minutely described that night over a hundred tea-tables in catalpa. did charlie king bewilder everybody, some day, by the dexterity and rapidity of the balls that he delivered, so that even the players, always reluctant to praise each other, applauded him? sage old men hanging over the open fire in the drug store would say that charlie king "would warm those jonesvillers, next summer." and, what was of more immediate importance, the financial arrangements necessary to start the club prosperously on its way were perfected while the dull times of a western winter pervaded the town of catalpa. judge howell, himself, with an air of great condescension, headed a list of gentlemen who agreed to give a certain sum to enable the club to carry out their campaign. others followed the great man of the town, according to their ability. and others, again, pledged themselves to lend any sum that might be required to make up a possible deficiency. but, so many who were able to give outright to what they called "the good cause" came forward with their gifts, there was no chance for any deficiency. since the outbreak of the war, when everybody was scraping lint, making "comforts" for the soldiers, or marching to the front, there had not been so hot a fever of enthusiasm in catalpa. the soldiers of this new campaign were the lusty young heroes up in the agricultural fair grounds who were doing battle, every day, with imaginary foes and making ready to face the real antagonists who could not now be very far off; for the base ball season would open in a few weeks. there was a little jealousy over the choice of a captain. gradually, the place of each man in the nine had been settled without much debate. as we have seen, the list that alice howell had made up, in the privacy of her own solitude, became that which the players finally fixed upon, except that larry boyne went to third base and bill van orman took the place of catcher, instead of the positions which the fair alice had assigned them in her draft of an ideal nine. ben burton was supported for the captaincy of the club by several of the members, all of the new players, except larry boyne, being in favor of choosing him. ben was a warm champion of his own claims to the place. larry, on the other hand, modestly, but very decidedly, supported hiram porter for the post of captain. he was in every way fit for it, and he and his father had done more for the new club than any others. besides all that, the porters held a first-rate social position in dean county and that would count for something in the organizing of the campaign. the young men considered the withdrawal of al heaton, and the cause of his loss to them, and they laughed at the thought. ben burton was very savage at the suggestion that his family was not just as good as the porters. what had family to do with base ball, anyway? the discussion grew warm, after a while, and larry and ben were brought into sharp antagonism. there had been rumors that larry boyne had dared to show to miss alice howell some of the little attentions with which the young swains of the region were wont to manifest their admiration for a young lady of their choice. he had even gone so far as to ask her to allow him to drive her to a little dancing party given in darville, one of the numerous rivals of catalpa, a little prairie town on the rush river railroad, twelve miles distant. alice, warned by a suggestion from her father, who exhibited a species of panic at the bare idea of the invitation, had declined the young man's kindly offer, and had staid at home to murmur at her hard fate. ben burton could not seriously cherish a belief that larry boyne was "paying attention" to the judge's daughter; but he felt that he, somehow, owed him a grudge. the impending storm, if any really did impend, blew over when it was ascertained by ballot that hiram porter was the choice of the club. and hiram, who was tall, dark, strong, long of limb, handsome and skillful, was accordingly chosen captain of the catalpa nine. ben burton, with some show of generous magnanimity, clapped hiram on the back and boisterously congratulated him on his having secured the coveted honor of the captaincy. but larry, with a manly air, said, "you'll find that all the boys will take orders from you, hi, with as much cheerfulness as if we were soldiers in the field and you were leading them to battle. isn't that so, fellows?" the rest of the young men noisily and heartily asserted their allegiance to their chief, and the new club began their final preparations for the field with enthusiasm and harmonious good-will. by the evening lamp, that night, in judge howell's house, the matter was discussed by the judge and his daughter. "it is an excellent choice, alice, my child, don't you think so?" "certainly, papa, but it is not of very great importance, after all, who is captain of the nine. 'the play's the thing,' as hamlet says; isn't it hamlet, papa?" "i don't know about that, my little girl, i am somewhat rusty in my shakespeare; but the play is the thing, i suppose. nevertheless, since social rank does not go for much in base ball, i should have been glad to see larry boyne made the captain of the new nine." "oh, papa, that was not to be thought of. he is a new recruit. who knows how he may turn out? he may be a secret emissary from jonesville to 'throw the game,' some day." "bless my life!" cried the judge, "i never thought of that." chapter vi. an interesting episode. although the stock of the catalpa base ball club was divided among many share-holders in the town of catalpa, it was evident that the mere holding, or non-holding, of shares made no difference with those who were engaged in the active duties of playing. to be sure, the nine had not yet begun their summer campaign. the first of april was early enough for the beginning of outdoor practice, and active work in the field would not open until the first of may; but enough had been done, in the preliminary organization and preparing for the summer's work, to test the temper of the members of the club. it was not a purely business-like venture into which these young men had gone for the purpose of making capital or money for themselves. they were burning to retrieve the reputation of "old catalpa" as they called their town, albeit it was one of the youngest in northern illinois. and so, as larry boyne and al heaton were sitting on the rail fence that encloses the court house of dean county, in catalpa, discussing the future prospects of the club, both were confidential and intimate in their exchange of opinions concerning the members of the nine. "no, i tell you that you are wrong, al, in your estimate of ben burton," said larry, earnestly. "i do not think that i could be prejudiced against ben; and i try to judge him fairly; and so i cannot bring myself to believe that he would be tricky, or that he would undertake to play any foul game on me, or on anybody else, for that matter. he is sullen and moody, at times, and i know that he took to heart his defeat as candidate for captain of the club. i know that he don't like me, although i don't know why he should dislike me, as he certainly does." "pooh! larry," was albert's frank reply, "you know well enough that he fancies that you are in his way as a suitor for the hand of a certain young lady, whose name shall not be mentioned even in this very select society. he knows that that young lady smiles on you in the most bewitching way, and he knows--" "oh, see here, al," interrupted larry, with flaming cheeks, "you are riding your horse with a free rein, don't you think so? i have no right to think of any young lady with the seriousness you seem to put into the matter. i am young, poor, and without friends or influence." "hold on there, larry," cried young heaton, warmly. "you have no right to say that. you will never want for friends. you have a town-full of them, and when you need any one to stand by and back you up in anything you undertake, you can just put out your hand, without getting off of this rail, to find one friend that will be the man to stand right there as long as he is wanted." larry laid his hand on albert's knee as he said, "i know that, al, and it is good to know it and to have you say it in that straightforward way of yours, and i will say too, that your father called me into the mill, the other day, and said pretty much the same thing to me; and he told me that he should consider it a favor, or something of that sort, if i would allow him to have a fatherly lookout for the folks at home, while i am off, this summer, in case anything should happen." and larry's honest blue eyes filled with moisture as he looked far off over the outlying prairie, in the vain effort to conceal how deeply he had felt the kindness showed to him. "that was very good of the governor, i'm sure," said albert, stoutly, "and i don't care if he is my father of whom i am saying it. but it's nothing more than fair for him, and for the rest of us who stay at home, to do what we can to keep your mind at ease about your folks while you are out in the ball field for the summer. but what i was getting at is this: ben burton is down on you; he will try to get the advantage of you, if he can; and, what is of more consequence to all of us, he would not scruple to bring the whole club into disgrace for the sake of gratifying any selfish purpose that he might happen to have in view." "but what evil purpose could he have?" demanded larry. "as i said before, i don't know. i don't want to do ben an injustice, but i do know that he is underhanded and mean. so you look out for him. as far as his relations to you are concerned, i might say, if you were not so everlastingly toploftical about it, that he is jealous of you on account of your supposed good standing with alice howell--" "oh, hush-h-h-h!" cried larry, looking around in unfeigned consternation, to see if there were listeners near. "you really must not mention that young lady's name in that manner, nor in any manner connected with my own. it would be almost insulting to her, it would fill the judge with wrath (and i shouldn't blame him for being angry), to know that gossiping young fellows like us were using his daughter's name in this light fashion." "and why, i should like to know?" answered albert. "he need not put on any high and mighty airs. i have heard my father say that when the howellses came here from kentucky, when the stone river country was first settled, and old man hixon was running his ferry across the stream here, they were so poor that they wore bed-ticking clothes, went barefoot, and lived on hog and hominy for many a year afterwards. side-meat was good enough for them then. the fat of the land is not good enough for them now. it just makes me sick! such airs!" and honest albert got down from the fence to give freer expression to his deep disgust. larry went away from this casual meeting with his stanch friend albert with a sense of depression. his nature was unsuspicious and he chose to think that all men were as honest and as frank as he certainly was. young heaton's talk had shaken his faith in human nature as far as that was represented in one man--ben burton, the open-eyed and bluff ben burton. no wonder larry repelled al heaton's notion that ben "was not altogether square" and should be watched. larry was to stop at armstrong's blacksmith shop, on the north side, on his way home, to have his horse shod. so, as he was leading the animal across the bridge, lost in thought and dwelling somewhat darkly on his conversation with al heaton, he did not notice that a young lady, very charmingly dressed and daintily booted and gloved, was tripping along toward him from the opposite side of the river, in the foot-walk that skirted the lower side of the rickety old wooden bridge. he did not look up until his steed, never very easily startled out of a heavy and slouching gait, jumped wildly at a sudden flash from a sky-blue parasol which the young lady deliberately shook at him. "whoa, nance!" cried larry, astonished at the beast's unprecedented skittishness, "you old fool!" but here he stopped, for his eyes fell on the bewitching apparition on the other side of the timbered rail, and he colored deeply red as he beheld miss alice ready to giggle at his confusion. "good day, mr. boyne," said the girl, "i am glad i have met you. i wanted to ask you how the club is getting along, and if you think you will be in good condition for the coming season. to be sure, papa tells me that he has every confidence in your success; but then, papa is hardly a judge in base ball matters, you know, although he has learned a great deal lately, and so have many other people, and they all seem very confident; but the wish is father to the thought, you know, and so i thought i would like to see some one in whose judgment and candor i could put a great deal of confidence, a very great deal, you know, and see what he thinks about the prospect before us. i say 'us,' you see, because it is a sort of town matter. now isn't it?" the young lady had rattled on in a random manner, as if she was giving time for larry to recover himself. certainly, he needed time. he was covered with blushes, not altogether becoming, for his natural color was quite deep enough for all artistic considerations. but as he stood there, cap in hand, the river breeze lightly lifting his brown curls and fanning his hot cheeks, the maiden's bright eyes rested on the picture with a certain sense of satisfaction, and she said to her most secret and hidden inner self that there were very few handsomer young men in the region than he who stood before her. [illustration: "i wanted to ask you how the club is getting along."--page 64.] larry, laying his brown hand on the timber guard that capped the railing betwixt them, said, "you startled me so, miss alice, that i almost forgot my manners; and i haven't much. oh, you wanted to know about the prospects of the catalpa nine? well, i do not think it would be wise to build many hopes on the future until we have met at least one of the best nines of the country about us. some of our friends think we are going to sweep the deck. excuse the expression. and some are even talking of our being the champion nine of the state." "why," said the girl, "don't you hope for the championship? is not that what you are going out to get?" "of course, miss alice, we hope for everything that is in sight, as the saying is; but we cannot expect, with any sort of reason, for so great success as that during our very first season. the matches are now nearly all made up for the coming season, and if we were never so good players, we should have no chance for the championship, i am afraid." "i never thought of that," said alice. "what an awful lot you know about base ball. but then that is because you are a man. my papa says that girls have no business learning about base ball. now what do you think, mr. boyne?" "i am not used to being called 'mr. boyne' for one thing," replied larry, gallantly, "and i should feel very much honored indeed if miss howell would remember that i am only 'larry' the new third base man of the catalpa nine." the heavy rumble of a farm wagon driving up on the town end of the bridge at that moment warned larry that he must get out of the way. so, with a few concise words as to the all-absorbing topic of the day, he bowed, replaced his cap, and passed on to north catalpa. sal monnahan drove the sorrel horses that now came pounding along the wooden way. when she reached her home in oneosho village, that evening, she informed her nearest neighbor that she had seen "larry boyne lallygagging with that high-strung darter of judge howell's, on the north catalpa bridge, that arternoon, and then when the gal came off she looked as if she had been talking with her sweetheart, her eyes were so shiny, just like dimonds, and her cheeks were as red as a poppy in the corn. it do beat all how that young irish feller gets on with folks in town. gals and fellers--all the same." as for larry, he went across the bridge, leading his nag, and walking so lightly that it seemed to him that his steps were in the air. while armstrong was shoeing the horse and chatting the while with larry, he thought within himself that this was a particularly fine young fellow, and that it was a pity that he was poor. presently his thoughts took shape and he said: "don't you think you are too smart a chap, larry, to waste your time playing base ball?" "i am not going to waste much time playing, tom. i know enough about base ball to know that a player doesn't last as a good player more than ten or twelve years. he is too young to play before he is seventeen years old, and he is done for and is dropped out by the time he is thirty. so if i had any notion of making ball-playing my calling in life, i should have that fact in view to warn me. oh, no tom, i am only making this a bridge to carry me over a hard place." "that's good sense. i was afraid you were going off with the base ball fever, and so never be fit for anything else. that's what will become of some of those young kids over in town who don't think of anything, from morning till night, but base ball. i always thought you had more sense into you than most of the boys around here. you are older than your years, larry," and the plain-speaking blacksmith looked admiringly in the young man's face, "older than your years." "older than your years." these words rang in larry's ears as he swung himself lightly into his saddle and ambled down the river road to sugar grove. the blacksmith looked after him and muttered to himself, "he is smart enough to be anything in the way of a lawyer that there is in these parts. and if he were to cast sheep's eyes on the judge's daughter, or on anybody else's daughter, for that matter, i just believe he would win her in time. he's got such a taking way with him." and honest thomas armstrong resumed his work with a mild glow of pleasure stealing through him as he thought of larry boyne and his possibilities. chapter vii. in the field. it was an impressive occasion when the catalpa club started on their first pilgrimage. they had arranged a practice game with the black hawk nine, of sandy key, in the central part of the state, to begin the season with. other games were arranged for later work, but this match, which was partly for practice, and partly to test the material of the new nine, was felt to be one of the most important. from sandy key the nine were to go to bluford to play the famous "zoo-zoo nine," as they called themselves, of that city, and then they were to begin a struggle for the championship of northern illinois with the red stockings of galena. how much depended on the result of the meeting of the black hawks and the catalpas, you who have followed the career of a base ball nine can best reckon. in catalpa, at least, the game would be watched with great, although distant, interest and absorption. two or three of the more active promoters of the base ball scheme were to go down to sandy key, which is on the illinois central railroad, to witness the struggle of their favorite champions with the strangers. the black hawks were renowned as fielders. they had acquired a reputation that inspired terror among the base ball players of the southern portion of the state; and when it was noised abroad that a new nine from dean county, heretofore unknown in the diamond field, had actually challenged the black hawks, experienced amateurs and professional players made remarks about the assurance of the new men from the north that were not intended to be complimentary or encouraging. the catalpas had adopted blue as their standard color, and a uniform of blue and white, with a pennant of white, edged and lettered with blue, carried the colors of the club into new and untried fields. great was the enthusiasm of the townspeople when the club, packed into two big omnibuses, with their friends, finally departed for the railway station, which was on the outer and upper edge of the town. a vast number of sympathizing friends and well-wishers attended the party to the station, and those who remained in town watched with a certain impressiveness the coming train as it skirted north catalpa, crossed the tall trestle work that spanned the river below the town and finally disappeared in the grove of trees near the depot. it had been told all abroad that the new nine was to make its first sally on that train, and the jaded and dusty passengers from the north looked from the windows with languid interest as the lusty young fellows made a final rush for the cars, followed by the irregular cheers of the bystanders and accompanied by a goodly number of their old associates who were "going to see fair play." the conductor, with an affectation of indifference that he did not feel, disdained to look at the surging and animated crowd, but turned his face toward the engine, waved his hand, and shouted "all aboard!" just as if he did not carry catalpa and its fortunes with him. the train rolled away, innumerable handkerchiefs and caps waving from its windows, and hearty and long resounding cheers flying after it. a cloud of yellow dust, a hollow rumble of the train on the culvert beyond, a tall column of blackness floating from the engine over the woods, and the catalpa nine were gone. "i never felt so wrought up in all my life," said alice howell, confidentially, to her friend ida boardman, as they descended the hill toward the town. "it seems, sometimes, as if i was sure that our nine would win, and then, again, i am almost certain that they will be beaten by the black hawks. i saw the black hawks play the springfields, last summer, and they were glorious players; such fielding! oh, i am almost sure they will out-field our boys." "if our nine were all like that larry boyne; why, isn't he just splendid? if they were all like him, i should have no fears for catalpa. and then there's hiram porter, how beautifully he does handle the bat! don't you think larry boyne is the handsomest young fellow in the nine, alice?" alice colored, she knew not why, as she made answer: "i don't see what good looks have to do with playing. you are so illogical, ida. what do you think of ben burton, for example. don't you think he is handsome enough to make a good player?" "ben burton! why he is perfectly horrid, and so disagreeable and high and mighty in his ways. i detest him, and if anybody loses the game, to-morrow, i hope it will be he. no, i take that back, for i cannot bear to think that anybody will lose the game for our nine. do you, ally?" alice agreed most heartily with her friend that it would be a strange and lamentable catastrophe if the game at sandy key should be lost by the catalpas. "but i am afraid, i am afraid," the girl repeated as the twain slowly paced down the plank walk leading to the town. her words were re-echoed, that day, many times by the people of catalpa who would have given a great deal if "the boys" could have been thereby assured of success on the morrow. meantime, as the train was speeding onward, the nine were in high spirits and full of fun. for a time, at least, their thoughts were with those left behind rather than with the unknown adversaries that were before them. they were too young and buoyant to borrow trouble. their spirits rose as they plunged forward into new scenes, and all suggestions of possible defeats were left unheeded for to-day. only larry, "older than his years," felt a little foreboding at the entrance of this most important crisis of his young life. but his cheery face showed no sign of distrust or anxiety. he was, as usual, the center of a lively and talkative group of his comrades. he wore in his button-hole a delicate knot of flowers which had come there so mysteriously that none of the noisy fellows about him could guess who had put it there. "who is she? why didn't we see her?" queried the laughing boys as they pressed around larry, affecting to sniff great delight from his nosegay. larry's face beamed as he told them that this was a reminder that every irishman must do his duty, and that he was going to carry the little bouquet to the field of victory for the catalpas. "those pansies grew in judge howell's garden," said ben burton, surlily, from his seat. larry's eyes flashed at the covert insult that he thought he saw under ben's sneer. but he said not a word. "for shame, ben burton!" cried al heaton, "for shame to call names like that!" there was a little cloud over the sun for a fleeting moment. but larry's bright face and cheery voice soon dispelled the transient shadow, and the talk was turned into merrier channels. ben burton grumbled to himself, and, as he saw how his fellows clustered around larry, whose brown and shining curls were only now and again visible among the lads who pranced about him, he said to bill van orman, "thinks he's the biggest toad in the puddle; don't he, bill?" bill, whose nickname was "the lily," because he was so big, and red, and beefy, only opened his eyes in surprise. the telegraph office in catalpa was in the second story of niles's building, a brick structure on the main street of the town and chiefly occupied by lawyers and doctors. the narrow stairway was found too narrow for the throngs of people who flocked thither, next day, to learn the news from the contest in sandy key. arrangements had been made by _the catalpa leaf_, the only daily paper in the place, to publish bulletins from the base ball ground, as fast as received. to all inquirers, miss millicent murch, "the accomplished lady operator," as the local newspapers called her, stiffly replied that the telegraph office had no news to give away and that the editor of _the leaf_ would distribute his intelligence as soon as received. even to so great a personage as judge howell, who early appeared in search of information, the young lady gave her one unvarying answer. but public excitement ran high when, about two o'clock in the afternoon, a despatch from al heaton was received by his father, saying that the game had been called and that "the boys were in tip-top condition." mr. heaton signified his intention of staying at the office or thereabouts, until the game was over, in order to receive al's despatches. "is albert going to send despatches from the ball ground, all day, mr. heaton?" asked alice howell, who, with sparkling eyes, was eagerly waiting for news from the absent company. "indeed he is, alice," said mr. heaton. "that is what he went down to sandy key for, and i think you know my boy well enough to believe that he will keep us informed. al is as much of an enthusiast in base ball matters as you and i are, my dear, and if he is alive and well we will hear from him until the fortunes of the day are decided." mr. heaton smiled in a kindly way as he looked down into the bright face of the young lady, and added, "and i believe and hope that he will send us a pleasant message before the day is done. depend upon that." "i hope so too, mr. heaton," alice replied, with a slight cloud passing over her countenance, "but somehow, i feel as if we were to be defeated this time. i don't know why. but that is my superstitious notion about it." meantime, the telegraph machine had been industriously ticking and miss millicent writing as industriously, while the bystanders were talking in low tones. "a message for mr. heaton," said the operator, with perfect composure, as she folded and placed in an envelope, duly addressed, a telegraph despatch which she handed to mr. heaton. "hateful old thing!" murmured miss ida boardman, "she has had that message all the time and said nothing about it until she got good and ready." "hush!" said alice, in a sort of stage whisper, "let us hear the news." mr. heaton, having glanced hurriedly over the despatch, cried, "good news from the boys! hear this!" a dead silence prevailed in the office as the beaming miller read:- _hurrah for our side! first two innings over. catalpas score two. black hawks none. great excitement in sandy key. everything lovely._ _albert._ "hooray!" broke from many lips, and the waiting crowd below the windows, hearing the cry, took it up and a fusillade of irregular and scattering hurrahs scattered along the street. judge howell, who had lingered during the noonday recess of his court, admonished the crowd that the lady at the telegraph desk would be embarrassed by the confusion, whereupon the company went out and added their joy to that of the assemblage that crowded around a bulletin that was at once posted by the door of _the catalpa leaf_ office. "what did i tell you, alice," said miss ida, regardless of the fact that she had told her nothing. "didn't i say that the catalpas would win?" "but the game has only just begun," said alice. "i am still hoping and fearing, and i am not going to be put off of my base, so to speak, by the first news which happens to be good. only two innings, ida; remember that." the cheering of the small boys and the excited comments of the still smaller girls, however, proved infectious. one would think that a great battle had been fought, and that victory was already assured to the household troops. the dry-goods man laid down his yard-stick; the carpenter dropped his plane, and even the old bridge-tender forsook his post long enough to stroll into the nearest barber-shop and ask for the news from "the boys" in sandy key. "another bulletin!" cried hank jackson, the burly short stop of the dean county nine, as the tall form of mr. heaton emerged from the telegraph office. this time, the face of the ardent champion of catalpa's prowess was not illuminated by a smile. mounting a convenient dry-goods box, he announced that two more innings had been played and that the score then stood two and two, the black hawks having made two runs, and the catalpas having added nothing to their score. a blank silence fell on the assemblage and henry jackson vengefully planted his big fist, with a tremendous thud, upon the short ribs of a side of beef that hung from the doorway of adee's butcher shop. "that for the black hawks," he muttered, with clenched teeth. but a great triumph was in store for the friends of the absent sons of catalpa. even while alice howell was trying to cheer her despondent friend ida with the suggestion that the game was "yet young," the editor of _the leaf_, whose despatches were sent to him across the street in a flying box attached to a wire, put his dishevelled head out of his office window and excitedly cried, "three cheers for the catalpa nine! fifth inning, catalpas, five; black hawks, one!" there was something like a little groan for the discomfited black hawks and then a wild yell broke out for the home nine. the small boys hurrahed shrilly and lustily, and even the street dogs, sharing in the general joy, barked noisily and aimlessly around the edges of the crowd. miss anstress howell, scanning the joyful mob from the windows of her brother's office, remarked to herself, with aggravated sourness, that it was perfectly ridiculous to see alice mixing herself up there in the street with a lot of lunatics who were making themselves absurd over a pesky base ball game, away down in sangamon county. it was unaccountable. judge howell, sitting on his judicial bench in the court-house on the hill, heard the pother in the town below and covertly smiled behind his large white hand to think that the home nine was undoubtedly doing well in sandy key. once more the traditional enterprise of the daily press vindicated itself with the earliest news, and editor downey put out of his office window his uncovered head, every hair of which stood up with excitement, as he bawled, "sixth inning, catalpas, none; black hawks, two. seventh inning, no runs scored." "now you yoost keep your big fists out of my beef!" said jake adee, with his wrathful eye fixed on hank jackson, who was looking around for some enemy to punch. there was depression in the crowd, but alice howell smiled cheerfully in the rueful face of mr. heaton and said that she felt her spirits rising. she was getting more confident as the rest of the party became despondent. [illustration: "three cheers for the catalpa nine."--page 78.] the innings had been made rapidly. scarcely an hour had passed, and, so intense was the interest in the game, that everybody thought the despatches had trodden upon each other in their hurry to tumble into catalpa. it was a warm, bright day, and the prairie wind blew softly down the hill above the town. to look into the knots of people standing about the street corners, one would suppose that it was an august noon. everybody was perspiring. it was a warm engagement down there in sandy key where the boys were vigorously doing battle for the honor of old catalpa. but it seemed even hot in the town where the people waited for the news. so when mr. heaton, radiant with joy, and without waiting to come down the stairs of the telegraph office, put his leg and his head out of the window of the building and cried "good news again!" everybody stood breathless. as miss anstress howell afterwards remarked, with disdain, one might have heard a pin drop. _victory! victory! eighth inning, catalpas, nine; black hawks, none. glory enough for one day. your loving son,_ _albert_. then went up a shout that reached the jury in the case of the county of dean against jeremiah stowell, shut up in the close room provided in the court-house for jurors and other criminals, and which startled judge howell, who, looking out of the window from his private room, beheld his daughter, flushed and almost tearful with joy, hurrying across the court-house green, eager to tell her father the good news. the solitary horse-thief in the jail heard that hurrah and wondered if relief was coming to him from his long-delayed accomplices. dr. everett, reining his sturdy steed at the next street corner above the telegraph office, asked a wandering small boy what had happened, but got no answer, for the urchin was off like a shot to tell his mates who were bathing prematurely down under the mill dam. and careful housewives, making ready their early suppers, in houses beyond the railroad track, heard the yell of triumph, and softly laughed to be told in this far-off way that the catalpa nine were victorious over their adversaries in sandy key. the game was virtually decided. the ninth and last inning showed one run for the catalpas and a "goose egg" for the black hawks. there was more cheering in the street under the windows of the telegraph office. somebody suggested that the flag should be hoisted on the court house, but fears of judge howell's displeasure and veto prevailed, and the proposition fell dead. hiram porter's father, however, raised the stars and stripes over the catalpa house of which he was proprietor. editor downey flung out from his third story window the red bunting with the white catalpa leaf that symbolized his standard sheet to the world below. later on, when the wild shower of despatches from al heaton, hiram porter, and others of the home nine, had ceased for a time, this bulletin appeared on the board of _the catalpa leaf_. a glorious victory for our nine! old catalpa to the front! 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 catalpas 2 0 0 0 5 0 0 9 1=17. black hawks 0 0 0 2 1 2 0 0 0= 5. _first base by errors_, catalpas, 8; black hawks, 1. _earned runs_, catalpas, 7; black hawks, 1. _struck out_, catalpas, 2; black hawks, 5. _our esteemed fellow citizen, benjamin f. burton, especially distinguished himself with his fine play at short stop, and larry boyne, of sugar grove, did some of the most brilliant work in the game, having made the highest number of runs of any man in the nine, and being 'like lightning' as a third base man. great excitement prevails in sandy key, but our men have been treated with distinguished courtesy by the citizens. the receipts at the gate were nearly $1,000._ when al heaton came home, next day, he was the hero and oracle of the hour. by reflection, he was shining with the honors of the catalpa nine. wherever he went about the town, he was sure to become the center of an admiring knot of fellow-citizens and small boys, eager to learn how the absent ball-players bore themselves in the arena at sandy key. "i tell you what it is, fellows," said albert, "you should have seen 'the lily,' as they call bill van orman, get on the home base in the fifth inning. he never stopped to look for the ball. he seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, and just as he was on the point of being caught out, when he was at least ten feet from the home base, he gave a lunge and threw himself flat on his stomach, ploughed up the turf as he plunged forwards, and, reaching out, grabbed the bag with his hands before he could be put out. ten feet did i say? well, i should say it was nearer fifteen feet. and you should have seen 'the lily's' track where he scooted along that turf." "the _leaf's_ correspondent telegraphed that ben burton covered himself all over with glory," remarked jason elderkin. "how was that?" "well, you see that ben, being at short stop, had many opportunities to do good work, and he put in some very fine licks at different times. for instance, in the first play he put out harris, the black hawk's pitcher, after having muffed the ball, and then picked it up on the run. everybody said it was one of the best in-field plays of the day. and in the eighth inning, he made a beautiful run, stealing two bases just as easy as falling off a log. oh, i tell you, ben is a first-rate player, and they say that the captain of the chicago calumets was down there and wanted to know if ben would go into their nine, next season. ben was very high and mighty about something, and i guess that that was what was the matter with him. he was very much set up about something." the mention of the famous calumets evoked much enthusiasm among the base ball connoisseurs of catalpa, and it was noised about the town that that club might be induced to accept a challenge from the catalpa nine. albert heaton, when asked what he thought of the possibility of such an event, shook his head. "i tell you what, doctor," he said to dr. selby, "we all thought it pretty cheeky in our boys to accept a challenge from the black hawks, and it is astonishing that we got out of the scrape as well as we did. to be sure, we came off with flying colors, and we have made a great reputation, that is to say, the boys have, for i am not in the nine. but the calumets are the champions of the state, and i suppose they will be to the end of the season; to the end of the chapter, unless something very unexpected happens. i guess our boys had better be contented with the laurels they will win outside of chicago, this year, at any rate." but that very day while albert was strolling across the bridge with miss alice howell, and pouring into her ear a glowing account of larry boyne's prowess in the field at sandy key, he told her, in the strictest confidence, that the catalpas would never be satisfied until they had measured their strength with the famous chicago nine, the calumets. alice's eyes sparkled, whether with the excitement stirred by albert's narrative of larry's exploits, or at the prospect of so bold a dash for fame as that proposed by the catalpas, it is not easy to say. the young girl's ardor cooled when she considered the chances against the success of the catalpas in so unequal a contest. "i did not believe that we should beat the black hawks," said she. "i was almost sure that we should be defeated, and when the tide began to turn in favor of the catalpas, i could not bring myself to believe that we were actually going to carry off the honors of the day. it was a famous victory, to be sure, and i hope that the nine will be able to do as well through the season, and then, if all goes well, another season may see them pitted against the best nine in the state, even the best in the country; who knows? they have made a glorious beginning, haven't they, albert?" of course this was conceded by so fast a friend of the absent nine as al heaton certainly was, and it was also clear to even an impartial observer that the nine had made something of a name for themselves, at the very outset of their career, by defeating the black hawks, a nine of established reputation, victors in many fields. "what would you think if our nine were to play the calumets, papa?" asked alice that night, as they lingered over the tea-table. "think?" said the judge. "i should think that it was a great piece of assurance." "so should i!" replied alice; "but i wish they could do it." chapter viii. a turn of the tide. defeat, utter and overwhelming, followed the catalpas to bluford, where they played the "zoo-zoo nine" of that city. the "zoo-zoos" were picked players, the lineal descendants of a company of illinois zouaves renowned in the civil war for their bravery, dash, and skill as skirmishers. the original founders of the club had long since disappeared from the field of action, but their successors bore up the banner of their illustrious namesakes with infinite credit. none of the catalpa people had gone to bluford to witness the game, al heaton being sick at home and the other immediate friends of the nine being too busy with their farms and merchandise. and so it happened that the only news that came to the town from bluford dribbled in from the keokuck evening papers, sent by wire to the editor of _the catalpa leaf_, late at night. mr. downey did not think it worth while to post on his bulletin board the discouraging news that the "zoo-zoo nine" had beaten the catalpas by a score of eleven to one. but the news got out, of course, for the whole town was on the alert to hear the result from bluford. albert heaton was sitting up in bed, alternately shaken with ague and parched with fever, when his little sister brought him the unwelcome tidings. he groaned aloud and asked if alice howell had heard the news. mrs. heaton, a motherly woman who had no patience with base ball players that go about the country, like circus-riders, remarked, with some asperity, that she should suppose that judge howell would put a stop to alice's giving so much time and attention to base ball. for herself, if she had a grown-up daughter, she would try and put something else into her head than base ball and such mannish and vulgar doings. if alice's mother was alive, it would be mighty different in the howell family. as it was, the judge allowed alice to do just about as she pleased, and it was a shame, so it was, for a nice young girl like alice to be permitted to make a tom-boy of herself. flirting with that young irish fellow from sugar grove! did anybody ever hear of the like? "oh, mother," sighed poor albert. "if you only knew how sick and sore i am for the boys, you would let up on larry. if you had let me go with the nine, perhaps i might have helped them out of the defeat. at any rate, it might have been less of a clean-out than it is. dear me! how cold i am! cover me up and let me be." with a pang of remorse at having added unwittingly to albert's sufferings, his mother soothed the sick boy and left him to sorrowful meditations. "and i was fool enough to think that the boys would be able to challenge the calumets." with these repentant meditations, albert sunk into a feverish and uneasy sleep. he might have dreamed (perhaps he did) that at that very moment, alice howell was looking out into the gloom of the moist summer night and lamenting with bitterness the defeat of "our nine." next day, when _the leaf_ came out, and fuller particulars of the game were made known in a despatch from charlie king, there was nothing to mitigate the gloom of the friends of the catalpas. singularly enough, some of the dean county nine, who had been among the most enthusiastic "boomers" of the catalpa nine, now assumed a most discouraging attitude. they were sure, so they said, that the catalpas would be defeated all along the line. they had won the game at sandy key by a scratch. they had found their true level in bluford. they would be beaten along the river, for it was well known that the nines in the river towns were far ahead of those in the interior of the state. something of this talk reached the ears of al heaton, who was still suffering from fever-and-ague. he took up his bottle of cholagogue and shook it at his terrified little brother (who had retailed the gossip of the drug store, where he had been sent on an errand), and said, "if you hear any such infernal nonsense as that, down town, dan, you go and tell tom selby that i want him to lick the first fellow that says anything against our nine. do you mind me?" little dan promised stoutly that he would give tom the message. whether he did or not, it came to pass that henry jackson and thomas selby had a discussion, that very night, and that dr. selby sent his son home with strict injunctions to cover his face with brown paper and vinegar, while the big-fisted henry went to bed with a bit of raw beef on his eye. there is nothing like news from the field of battle to bring out the partisan feelings of a community far from the scene of strife. catalpa was stirred to its very depths by the ill tidings brought from bluford. those who disapproved of base ball asserted themselves in the most unexpected and exasperating manner. nobody had suspected that there were in catalpa so many who sympathized not with the home nine and who secretly wished that they might be defeated. but the fact that the nine had met with disaster only stimulated their friends to new courage and stronger hopes for the future. this was a time, they said, for the friends of the nine to show themselves. mr. heaton sent an encouraging despatch to larry boyne, assuring him that the temporary reverse had only strengthened the confidence of home friends of the club. even judge howell, who was greatly concerned lest the nine should be unduly depressed by their reverses, authorized lewis morris to write to hiram porter, as captain of the club, and say to him that the club must be prepared for occasional defeats and that the next news from "the front" would undoubtedly be inspiring to the many supporters of the catalpas. "the judge is a brick!" said larry boyne, when this message was read to the members of the club, as they lounged in one of the bed-rooms of quapaw house, in galena, where the boys were waiting to begin the championship series of games with the red stockings. "that's just what he is!" exclaimed "the lily," bringing his somewhat battered fist down with emphasis on a convenient pillow. bill had had hard luck in the late contest. his fingers had been badly sprained and twisted, and he had played with infinite difficulty on account of the battering that he had received in a game played with the fulton city nine, when the catalpas were on their way to bluford from sandy key. but he was still confident and determined. "i suppose some of the folks at home think that we are going to get beaten right along, every day from this out," he continued, with a scornful laugh. "they don't know us, do they, larry? they don't know what we had to contend with in bluford, what with being used up with that hard ride on the strap-iron railroad and the lame fingers of your humble servant. oh, yes, i suppose there is downheartedness among the boys at home." "but i know one chap who is not downhearted," said larry boyne, cheerfully, "and that is al heaton. he will never get discouraged, whatever happens. and then there is his father, his despatch shows where he stands. al is clear grit and so is his father; you may depend on that, boys." ben burton, who had virtually lost the game in bluford by his repeated muffing of the ball, as well as by his failure at the bat, sneered as he said, "i suppose a certain young lady in north catalpa prompted the judge's despatch, didn't she, larry?" larry, with reddening cheeks, protested that he had no idea that judge howell needed any prompting from anybody to send a good word to the boys when they were away from home; he was too kind-hearted a man, although a little stiff, to require any hint from outsiders to do the fair thing by the base ball club in whose welfare he had already shown great interest. "i didn't say 'outsiders,' larry," replied burton, persistently. "i said that he was probably prompted by a young lady." at this, larry deliberately rose and walked out of the room, without a word. "i say, ben, can't you quit your everlasting nagging of larry," broke in hiram porter, as the door closed with a bang behind that indignant young man. "what's the use of your getting into a debate, every day or two, about some mysterious young lady that you two fellows are thinking about? let up! i wish you would." ben muttered something about the captain's showing his little brief authority in matters that did not concern the club, when, by general consent, the meeting was broken up for the more important business of practice on the galena base ball grounds, placed at the disposal of the visitors by the managers of the championship series. chapter ix. hope and suspense. it was the custom in catalpa for the storekeepers to hang out at their doors a little blue flag when they wanted the services of an errand boy. seeing this signal at the door of jason elderkin's dry-goods store, rough and ready, wearing in the heats of summer as in winter his 'coonskin cap, shambled in and asked what was wanted. jason lifted his spectacles from his nose and said, jocularly: "why, rough and ready, i thought you had gone up to galena to see the match between the boys and the galena club." "no sir-ee," replied the old man, "i have staid at home to keep the town in order. me and jedge howell, we have to look after the boys at home, you know, or some of these frisky young colts like jase ayres would get away with the town whilst we were gone." and the old man chuckled as he added, "cap. heaton, he and his boy al have gone together, and they do say that mrs. heaton is just wild because she can't keep the old man at home when base ball is going on. well, it does beat all natur', don't it? here's al kept out of the nine because it isn't high-toned enough for mrs. heaton; and here's father and son gone a-galivanting up to galena to see the show." "i hear that al has sent a despatch to the judge's daughter saying that the catalpas are going to carry off the honors this time, and no mistake," said the storekeeper. "how's that, rough?" "seein' as how this bundle is going over to boardman's, i'll jest drop in at the jedge's house on my way back, and see if miss ally has got any news from the seat of war, as it were, and if she has, she'll be sure to tell me. oh, she's clear grit, too, is that gal, and she knows that i set a heap by larry. larry! why, it was him what give my boy all the points he has got in the game, and you may lay your bottom dollar that that boy is goin' to be the all-firedest batter in the stone river country; and you put that down to remember." the garrulous old man shouldered his bundle as he spoke and plodded down bridge street and so across to the north side of the town. it was the day for the first game of the championship at galena. the hot sun poured down into the stone river valley with great power, and the bleached surface of the old wooden bridge shimmered with undulating lines of heat as rough and ready toiled on his way. the roar of the dam had a cooling sound, and the group of cotton-woods and willows on the little island above were green and refreshing to the eye. but no breeze drew up the river, and all of the north side was steeped in liquid sunshine, the trees standing motionless and the yellow road glaring in the blinding light. the toll-keeper's dog panted in the shade of the toll-house, lolling his tongue as old rough and ready passed by, without stopping for a word of gossip with the keeper who dozed within the doorway. the old man paused, when half-way across the bridge, to lift his furry cap from his head and wipe the servile drops from off his burning brow. while he rested his bundle on the guard rail of the bridge, miss anstress howell, the judge's aged sister, came mincing along from the north catalpa side, cool and fresh as if she had never before been outside of a bandbox. "i wonder ef it will be safe to tackle her for news from galena?" muttered the old man to himself. "she's a dangerous team to fool with. mebbe she'll get away with me, but i'll try it." "good arternoon, miss howell. fine hot day. good growin' weather, as the farmers say. hev you heerd that any of your folks got a despatch from galena givin' any account of how the ball opens?" miss howell's manner stiffened a little as she said, with a slight toss of her head, "judge howell, my brother, is holding court in pawpaw, to-day, for judge sniffles, and nobody else but the judge would be likely to have any despatches concerning base ball." "well, miss howell, i heerd over in town that miss ally had a message of some kind, no offence to you, marm, and i want to hear from the boys powerful bad, you see, and so i make bold to ask if miss alice mayn't hev a despatch, or something from larry, i mean al." "there is altogether too much nonsense about this base ball business in catalpa, mr. rough,--excuse me, i forget your other name. it does seem to me as if the people had gone crazy, and the weather so hot too! excuse me, i don't know anything about what is going on in galena, no more than a child, i may say, and if any grown people want to begin over again and make children of themselves with playing ball, they have my sympathy." so saying, and flirting off an imaginary fleck of dust from her gown with a spotless handkerchief, miss howell resumed her deliberate walk across the bridge. rough and ready replaced his cap, and looking after her said, "sarves me right! i might hev knowed that i should get the worst on it in a talk with her. my grief! but she is a teaser. has forgot all about the time when she was a young gal, it's so long ago. p'raps she never was young." with this, the old man shouldered his bundle and slowly made his way northward. but alice had received a telegram from galena, and as rough and ready climbed the slope by the judge's house, a sunny head was popped from one of its upper windows and alice's cheerful voice cried, "oh, roughy,--excuse me for calling you roughy, but i'm so glad!--albert heaton has telegraphed to me that the catalpas have made ten runs in the first three innings and the galenas only one! isn't that perfectly splendid? does anybody over in town know anything about it?" [illustration: "good arternoon, miss howell. fine hot day."--page 95.] "bless your bright eyes! miss ally, no; the whole town's asleep. it's a hot day, you know, and there's nobody stirring. all the farmers are busy with their crops, and the streets are as lonesome as a last year's bird's nest. ten to one, did you say? by the great horn spoon! i must go back and wake up the folks." suiting the action to the word, the old man tossed mrs. boardman's bundle of sheeting over the fence and made his way back to town as fast as his rheumatic legs would carry him. half way across, he met lewis morris who was on his way over to verify the rumor that he had caught concerning the early success of the catalpas in galena. "hooray for our side!" cried rough and ready, exultingly. "i have heard it from the gentle miss ally. our boys have made ten runs in the first three innings, and the galena fellows have made one--one whole one." "then i'll turn right around and tell the news in town!" said lewis, with excitement. "i'll have to stir the people up, for the whole town has gone to sleep, except dr. selby, and he was sweating at every pore, as i came by the drug store, for thinking of another defeat for the catalpas." rough and ready gazed after the rapidly retreating form of the young man who turned and stepped swiftly across the bridge. then, putting his hand to his 'coonskin cap, as if trying to recall something to his mind, he murmured, "if i didn't go and leave that ther bundle of sheetin' in the judge's dooryard! 'pears to me as if that pesky base ball had knocked my wits clean out." and, smiling at his own feeble joke, he retraced his steps to the north catalpa side of the river. when lewis morris reached the center of the town, he saw a knot of men and boys gathered around the bulletin board of _the leaf_. "just my luck," he muttered. "downey has got the news out, and they have taken the edge of it off before i could get back." but lewis forgot his little disappointment when he eagerly scanned the bulletin which the editor had posted during his brief run across the bridge. this was what he read: _an overwhelming victory for our nine! in the contest to-day, the catalpas were the victors by a score of 13 to 3. great enthusiasm prevails and the visiting nine are now being cheered by the excited populace. the result has astonished everybody, none more so than the defeated nine and their immediate friends. our esteemed fellow townsman, mr. albert heaton, senior, has telegraphed to_ the leaf _the score by innings, as follows:_ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 _total._ catalpas 5 4 1 0 0 2 1 0 0 13. galenas 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 0 1 3. _errors_, galenas, 13; catalpas, 1. "here's lew morris!" cried brawny hank jackson, "glory enough for one day! hey, lew? everybody in galena was astonished, they say, and so was everybody in catalpa, for that matter. why, i was just coming along the street with andy brubaker, and we was a-talking about the chances of our nine's giving up the season if they got cleaned out in galena, when i heard mr. downey tell dr. selby that the home nine had beat the galenas on the first six innings, and says i to him, 'if that's so, mr. downey, why don't you put it on the bulletin?' sure enough, he went up them stairs, five at a time, to have it done, and no sooner had he got up there than he put his head outen the winder and screeched, 'the catalpas have won the game by thirteen to three!' gosh! you should have heerd the whoop that the boys gave! and there it is, as big as life." and hank regarded the bulletin board with an affectionate interest. the fact was that the community of catalpa was unprepared for any such victory as that which had dropped in upon them, as it were, like a bolt out of a clear sky. the defeat at bluford had unnerved all but a few faithful and undaunted spirits, and the usual dull current of town life had resumed its sluggishness until the unexpected news from the north had startled the townsfolk into new alertness. it was a great achievement, as the galenas were famed for their prowess in the diamond field. they were reckoned as first in the number of batters in their nine. one of them, devoy, stood very near the head of the list of champion batters in the state, and another, shallcross, was not far behind him in his general average. yet the catalpas had "got away with" the famous players. it was marvellous how the news flew through the town and out upon the prairie, so that by the time the moon rose, red and full, over the bluffy banks above catalpa, in innumerable cabins and farm-houses, far out on the distant wheat-farms, and over many an evening meal, the details of the triumph and its probable effect on the fortunes of "our nine" were discussed with a glow of pride, or with a lively curiosity. "the boys," in galena, resting from their labors, and withdrawn from the admiring attention of the citizens of the town, lounged in a big bedroom in the quapaw house, and told, over and over again, the stirring incidents of the day--incidents on which so much depended that they now became almost like ancient history in importance. they were not too tired to play another game right then, so exhilarated were they by their unwonted success. there was no murmuring, no jealousy, and no "nagging" in the party now. every man was elated and flushed with a sense of his own value as a factor in the game that had been played, as well as in that which was to be played on the morrow. "somehow, boys, i feel it in my bones that we are going to beat to-morrow," said larry boyne, who had won fresh laurels in the field, that day. and larry's bright eyes sparkled anew as he spoke. "well, that's a new rã´le for you to play, larry," said al heaton who was admiringly hanging over larry, whom he regarded as the rising player of the country. "you always were a croaker, you know, larry, old boy, and for you to say that you feel confident of victory now, makes me almost shudder. it seems as if you were losing your head; only i know you are not." "no, old chap, i am not losing my head. but you know i am rather superstitious; at least, my mother says so, and i have a queer notion, to-night, that we are going to do as well to-morrow as we did to-day." "that's an encouraging sign, larry," broke in captain hiram porter. "but you fellows must all do your level best, all the same, and we mustn't let any notion of our superiority run away with us, for we are not superior, perhaps except that i do think that we are better fielders than the galena boys." "whatever happens to-morrow, al," said larry, as they broke up their sitting for the night. "put it down that i said that we were to win the second game in this championship series." "and if we lose, you will charge it to some adverse fate, won't you, larry?" "in the bright lexicon--you know the rest, al." by a singular coincidence, at that very hour, miss alice howell, writing to her father the glad news, added a postscript thus: "you will think me overconfident, but i am sure the catalpas will win the championship." chapter x. how the good news came. catalpa was wide awake, next day, although the weather was hotter than ever and the little breeze that drew in from the prairie was laden with heat. the unexpected result of yesterday's game had set everybody to speculating on the issue of this day's contest. some scandal was created by the appearance of hank jackson on the street with a roll of bills, offering to make bets on the game. it had never been the custom of anybody in catalpa to wager anything on a base ball game, and there was some frowning now on the part of conservative and upright people; and those who were not specially conservative, but who disapproved of gaming, did not hesitate to reprove hank in terms more forcible than elegant. hank had spent some days in bloomington, where he had frequented pool rooms and had acquired a taste for betting, and his brief experience was regarded by the younger portion of catalpa with much awe and interest. he was followed about by the smaller boys of the town who listened while he bantered some of his cronies into making bets. but public opinion in catalpa was not yet educated to the point of engaging in gambling on the uncertain result of a base ball game. added to this, it should be said, was hank's persistence in offering bets on the defeat of the home nine. that was an unpopular side. almost everybody wanted the catalpas to win the game. it would decide the championship; and, although it was almost too much to hope for, there was a feeling of confidence through the town that was quite inexplicable. so, hank, after making a swaggering tour of the shops and stores, but without receiving much popular countenance, quietly dropped out of the throngs which gathered at the street corners and in other public places. it was in vain that he argued with rude logic that it was just as safe to bet on a base ball game as on a horse race. very few who listened to him cared to encourage this new sort of gambling. this time, it was al heaton who fired the heart of catalpa with the first intelligence from the diamond field. it was nearly three o'clock when his first despatch arrived, and the game had been called at two o'clock. there was much grumbling in the main street of the town, where numerous groups stood in the shade of awnings and tall buildings, waiting for the news. the windows of _the leaf_ office opened on this street, as well as on the side street on which the telegraph office was situated. editor downey had announced that he had made arrangements with albert to send news directly from the base ball grounds in galena, and that he would display a bulletin from his office windows. accordingly, when there was hung out a big white sheet of paper, with black lettering thereon, the assembly below was hushed in expectation. the despatch ran thus: _everybody confident. larry boyne says our nine will win the game. weather hot, and the dust intolerable. look out for fun._ _albert heaton._ "what does he mean by looking out for fun; and who cares what larry boyne thinks?" growled hank jackson. "i should think he might send us something more bracing than that by this time." but the straggling cheer that greeted albert's encouraging message drowned jackson's grumbling, and the crowd showed by their excitement that they were ready to accept the slightest omen as proof positive that the catalpa nine would carry the day. so, when judge howell's carriage drove up and halted under the shade of the huge catalpa tree that grew in front of dr. selby's drug store, from which the fair alice could see the throng and watch for the bulletin from the newspaper office, there was a little hurrah from some of the younger lads. they seemed to think that the young lady, in some fashion, represented the absent judge, who was now recognized as one of the steadfast friends of the band of heroes. "that's a good sign! i'll swear to gracious!" said rough and ready, in a low and hoarse whisper, as he saw the judge's handsome bays, champing their bits, and prancing uneasily under the shade of the spreading catalpa. "it's a good sign, for that gal never went back on the nine, and her coming will bring good luck. mark my words, jake!" jake, the big butcher, nodded his head and only said "yaw," when the bulletin was again flung out from the window of the printing-office. the magical black letters were read in silence broken only by the stamping of the horses tethered along the street and worried by the flies. this is what the eager spectators read: _first inning--catalpas, 1; galenas, 0._ "a big round goose egg!" screamed lew morris, with delight. then he raised a hurrah, and the small boys took up the yell. horses jumped and tore at their halters and vagrant dogs barked madly about the street. then there were smiles and even broad laughter among the devoted supporters of the home nine. almost everybody looked pleased, and dr. selby, with the easy confidence of an old friend, went to the side of the judge's carriage and shook hands heartily with miss alice who was waving her parasol with a vague notion that it was necessary to celebrate the auspicious opening of the game. "i didn't tell you, did i, doctor, that i dreamed, last night, that we had won the game? well, i did. aunt anstress says that dreams go by contraries and that that means our nine will be defeated. but i don't believe that; do you, doctor?" "well, i don't believe in dreams, anyhow, miss alice, and so i hardly think that that counts. but we will keep on thinking that the boys will beat, to-day, and even if we are disappointed, we have yet one more chance." the doctor, accepting alice's invitation, took a seat in the carriage from which advantageous point he looked over the gathering throng, now reinforced by arrivals from the region roundabout the town, for the news had gone forth that despatches were coming in from al heaton, and every man, woman and child who had the least interest in the game (and these were many) and could leave the labors and duties of the day, was there to hear. "it looks as it did in the war, when the news from shiloh and vicksburg was coming in; doesn't it, doctor?" "i don't know about that, alice. i was in the war, myself, you know; was at port hudson and vicksburg. you were a baby then, and i believe your father was in congress. yes, i guess it does look like war times. but see! there comes another bulletin!" editor downey had rigorously excluded from his office all outsiders, and was devoting his personal attention to the all-important business of the day. with his own hands, he hung out the paper sheet bearing these words: _2d inning,--catalpas, 0; galenas, 1; 3d inning, catalpas, 0; galenas, 0._ "not so good as it might be," remarked dr. selby, cheerfully, "but it will grow better, by and by." a little cloud passed over the face of alice, and she bit her lip with vexation as hank jackson bawled with a rough voice, "ten to five on the galenas!" "if i were a man, i'd like to take that offer," she said, her eyes sparkling. "oh, no, you wouldn't, alice," cried her friend ida. "you wouldn't encourage gambling on base ball, i'm sure." "perhaps not; but if i were a man, i would like to thrash that big ruffian." better news came, after a little while. the bulletin for the fourth inning showed four for the catalpas and a big round "0" for their opponents. at this, there was a general and apparently concerted hurrah from the company in the street below. editor downey, as if thinking the cheer a personal compliment, put his frowsy head out of the window and bowed with as much grace as was possible under the circumstances. "mr. downey's hair looks as if he was laboring under great excitement," said the apothecary, blandly smiling at the editor's somewhat towseled appearance. "every individual hair is standing on end, as if he were charged with electricity." alice laughed joyously and seemed glad to find something under which she could cover her great elation at the good news from the north. miss ida uttered sarcastic remarks about the editor's exuberant comments in the morning paper regarding the coming contest in galena. she declared that she did not think the game nearly as important as any one of the decisive battles of the war. and she was sure that _the leaf_ would be perfectly ridiculous, next day, if the catalpas were to win the championship. her remarks were cut short by the display of another bulletin announcing the result of the fifth inning in these terms:- _hurrah for our nine! fifth inning--catalpas, 0; galenas, 0._ "what in thunder does that mean?" asked lew morris, angrily. "why does the numbskull tell us to hurrah for our nine when both sides have a zero?" a yell of derision went up from the crowd, and the editor, hearing groans and cat-calls in the street below, put out his head and, with much trepidation, cried, "it was a mistake. i forgot to put on the sixth inning. catalpas, one; galenas, nix!" a loud laugh greeted this sally, and the crowd good-humoredly proposed three cheers for _the catalpa leaf_, which were given in a random fashion, mingled with laughter. mr. downey, now well-smeared with ink, and perspiring with excitement, acknowledged the salute with gravity. "six innings played and the catalpas are six to the galena's one!" exclaimed alice, who was keeping the score with an assiduity that seemed to come from a belief that exactness in the figures would, somehow, affect the final result. scraps of paper, on which observers had marked the score and had set down their prognostications of the innings yet to come, were circulated through the crowd. the catalpas now had the lead, and it would be difficult for their adversaries to come up with them. lew morris, leaning on the door of the carriage, chatted with alice, drawing on his vivid imagination for pictures of the nine as they were probably looking now, away up there in galena. he could see, he thought, hiram porter devouring the ground as he made his bases with a giant's stride, his handsome face glowing with mingled heat and determination. he could even hear larry's voice, in a stage whisper, crying, "go it, hiram!" and he could see larry, at third base, when the catalpas were in the field, making one of those superb running catches of his, ben burton looking on, "as if he would eat him up," added lewis, jocularly. "why should ben want to eat larry up?" asked dr. selby, innocently. "does he love him so?" "on the contrary, quite the reverse," laughed lewis. "larry is showing himself to be the best player in the nine, and as ben thought that _he_ was the best, and is finding out that he is not, he loves larry accordingly. besides that, he is jealous of larry for other reasons," and the young man fixed a bold look on the blushing face of miss alice. she turned away to see if another bulletin were not ready, and the doctor shook his head deprecatingly at lewis. there was much time for talk, however, before another despatch from the seat of war appeared. the impatient crowd, panting in the heat that was more and more oppressive as the sun approached the west, flung all sorts of appeals upwards to the windows of the office of _the leaf_. there was no response, although mr. downey, as if to contradict hank jackson's loud jeer that the editor had gone to sleep, showed his shaggy head at the window and made a negative motion with the same. there was no news. finally, just as some of the less patient were beginning to make their way homewards, like a banner of victory, the sheet of paper again appeared. this time, it was blazoned with these returns:- _7th inning--catalpas, 1; galenas, 0; 8th inning--catalpas, 0; galenas, 1._ "an even thing for the two innings!" cried lew morris triumphantly. "the galenas cannot possibly pull up in the last inning! the game is ours! the game is ours!" lew's jubilant shout was taken up by the crowd, which now grew denser again, and the excitement mounted to fever heat as the sun sank behind the cotton-woods below the town. satisfied that the game and the championship were virtually won, some of the elder citizens, after exchanging congratulations with everybody that had a word of joy on their lips, walked homewards. but some of them stopped on the road and turned a listening ear towards the main street to hear the rousing cheer that soon went up, telling the town and all the stone river valley that the game was won and that our nine had captured the pennant of northern illinois. a grimy and inky young imp, on the roof of _the leaf_ building, hoisted a particularly inky and grimy flag as the editor hung out from his window this bulletin:- _the victory is complete! old catalpa to the front! glory enough for one day! following is the score by innings:_ 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 _total._ catalpas 1 0 0 4 0 1 1 0 1 8. galenas 0 1 0 0 0 0 0 1 1 3. _the galenas will banquet the catalpas at the quapaw house, this evening, when a right royal time is expected._ _albert heaton._ "and now for the championship of the state, dad?" shouted tom selby, exultingly, as his father descended from the carriage of the judge. alice, who was beaming with delight, could hardly speak her joy. the great contest was over, and the home nine would come back covered with glory. but she shook her head at tom's vain-glorious remark. the league games were all made up for the season, she knew, and it would be difficult, if not impossible, to secure a challenge from any club in the league. oh, no, she couldn't think of it. tom must not think of it, at least, not until another summer. the good doctor smiled at the lad's enthusiasm and said that glory enough for one day meant glory enough for one season. there were other contests before the home nine, and they could be content, or they should be, to wear the laurels already won, whatever happened to them hereafter. they could not lose any prestige by any manner of means. when judge howell arrived by the early evening train from pawpaw, he was surprised to see the dingy flag of _the catalpa leaf_ drooping lazily from its staff. he had not forgotten that the second game in the northern district championship was to have been played that afternoon; and he remembered his daughter's prediction of success. but it seemed incredible that this should have actually come to pass. as he alighted from the train, his judicial dignity a little soiled by travel and perspiration, he was met by rough and ready, who, with a slight touch of his 'coonskin cap, the only recognition of high station of which he was ever capable, said, "any baggage, jedge? carry it as cheap as anybody. our nine has flaxed out the galenas--eight to three! big thing, jedge! lemme take that grip-sack. great day for old catalpa, jedge. your darter, she said as how she allowed that you mought like to get the news straight, so i told her i'd come up and tell you quick. thank you, jedge." and, dropping a silver quarter into his pocket, rough and ready turned and collared a stranger from whom he wrested his valise and marched triumphantly down into the town. when the judge, clothed once more in the dignity of cleanliness and his home headship, heard that night from the animated lips of his daughter the story of the winning of the championship, he said, with an air of graceful condescension, "it was a famous victory, alice. we have reason to be proud of our nine; and i will venture to say that when we get the full particulars of the game, we shall find that that fine-looking young fellow, lawrence boyne, contributed the largest share to the triumph." when the details of the game were brought to catalpa, next day, in a letter to _the leaf_, it was found that the judge knew just what he was talking about. but greater news than this came with larry boyne and hiram porter, a week or two later. the nine had been playing a few games along the river towns and had rested for a day or two in rock island, after playing the dacotahs of that city. several of the nine took advantage of a lull in their engagements to visit catalpa. mr. heaton and albert had returned home, and larry and hiram had gone to chicago on some mysterious errand, nobody knew just what. neddie ellis was one of those who had come back to catalpa while the time was passing before they should play the new series of games beginning with the moline club. neddie looked very wise when asked where larry and hiram had gone, and albert heaton assumed a most important air whenever he said anything about the doings of the two absent members of the nine. but it all came out in due time. captain porter and his trusty lieutenant arrived by the noon train, and before the sun had set everybody in catalpa knew that a match had been arranged between the catalpa nine and the calumet club for the state championship. it was indeed wonderful news, and nothing since the war had happened to stir the population of that region as the intelligence. there were divers opinions regarding this unexpected development. many thought that it was indiscreet for so young and green a club as the catalpas to challenge the calumets--the famous and renowned calumets. then there were others who thought that it was presumptuous for the catalpa boys even so much as to ask any leading club to play them merely because a triumph had been unexpectedly achieved in galena. but all agreed that it was a great feather in the cap of "our nine" that the chicago club should have accepted the challenge, or should have agreed to meet them on any terms whatever. "i am not certain whether i am glad or sorry that our nine will play the calumets, papa," said alice howell. "i mean that i cannot tell yet whether i shall be disappointed if they lose. i depend a great deal on my impressions, you know, and i haven't any as yet." the judge smiled at his daughter's odd notion of waiting for impressions, and replied, "i do not wait for any inspiration on the subject, my child. i am sure that the catalpa nine will be badly beaten. i don't know much about base ball, but i do know enough to know that the calumet club has been in the newspapers for a long time as the great base ball club of the northwest." "that's so, papa," sighed alice, "and i have dreadful forebodings when i think of the risk that they have undertaken." "nothing venture, nothing have, alice, and it will be no disgrace if our nine are defeated by the calumets. unless they are very badly beaten indeed, and that is not improbable, to be sure, they will bring some new honors off the field." the judge's conservative and moderate view of the case was that of the average of catalpa. to play the calumets was in itself an honor. henry jackson represented the most discouraging element in catalpa public opinion. and when ben burton returned to town for a day's holiday, and became at once unusually familiar with hank, larry's face clouded and alice howell confidentially informed her friend ida boardman that she never could abide ben burton, and that now she knew he was a man who would consort with mean companions. nothing could be lower, she thought, than the course that henry jackson had taken during the late contest between the catalpas and the galenas. it was only by a lucky accident that the calumets had been able to find a place in their later engagements for a championship series of three games with the catalpas. the sudden sickness of several members of the osceola club, engaged to play the calumets, had made it necessary to cancel all the engagements of the former club for the season. the osceolas had been overtaken by a contagious disease that had made sad havoc that summer, as many will remember, among strangers who visited the lower portion of the state, which had been under water from late in february until the beginning of may. but the ill-luck of the osceola club was the means of opening a way for the catalpas to play the calumets; and that was felt to be something almost providential--at least, in the town of catalpa. chapter xi. in a new field. "i wish so many of the catalpa folks had not come in to see the game, to-day," said larry boyne, discontentedly, on the morning of the first of the championship series of games in chicago, late in the following october. "it is bad enough to feel like a cat in a strange garret as i do here, without the feeling added of being watched by our friends from home, who will be so awfully cut up if we do not win." "but you are not afraid of our losing, are you, larry? and i am sure there is one young lady, at least, whose smiles will encourage you," said hiram porter, with a grin that was meant to be sly and also cheery. "it is pretty generally understood among the boys (and as long as we are alone together, there is no need of our being shamefaced about it) that you and miss alice have come to an understanding, as the saying is. you needn't say whether that is so or not, larry, my boy. but, if i were in your place, i would be glad to have those beautiful and sympathetic eyes watching my play. it would make me put in my very best licks, you may be sure of that." larry murmured something about there being a difference in people, and turned the subject to the preparations to be made for the day's event. the catalpas had had only a little opportunity to make themselves familiar with the chicago base ball grounds. at the end of a game played on the previous day, they had a little practice at pitching, and had taken in the situation of the arena sufficiently to enable them to be not entirely strangers to the place. they found themselves inside of a complete enclosure, skirted by a grand stand at one end and uncovered and open seats at the other. a high board fence bounded the grassy lawn on which the diamond field was laid, and the seats for spectators rose above this fence, so that the players were securely left to their own devices while the game should be in progress. a breeze from the lake, tempered by the october sun, swept over the grounds, and was broken, when the wind arose, by the screen formed by the board enclosure. when the nine, with beating hearts and quickened pulses, entered the grounds on the day so fraught with importance to them, they were a little dumbfounded to see that an immense crowd of people, perhaps ten thousand, all told, occupied the vast array of seats that lined the amphitheater. a brass band blared and brayed in a tall stand set apart for them, and the entrance of the catalpa nine was the signal for a burst of kindly applause that helped to reassure the lads composing that now well-known club. since the matches played in the river towns, the nine had met some of the best-known clubs in the state, and in iowa. with varying success, but generally doing credit to their own native place, the catalpas had attracted attention by their uniformly excellent play, their manly bearing, and by their steady habits. they had made no enemies. so, when the young fellows, clad in their blue and white uniform, came into the range of vision of the throngs in the grand stand and boxes, a round of applause greeted them, and one enthusiastic citizen from catalpa, no less a person than the deputy sheriff of dean county, ventured to propose three cheers for the catalpa nine. the proposition fell very flat, and, covered with confusion, the deputy sheriff sat down and mopped his manly brow. as hiram porter threw up the penny for the toss, larry's eye involuntarily sought a curtained box to which his attention had been directed, the day before, as he had inspected the grounds in company with miss ida boardman, miss alice howell and two other ladies from catalpa. the party was under the guidance of mr. heaton. albert was never long in one place. he was too highly excited to be depended upon as an escort for the young ladies, and he divided his time between his old companions of the catalpa nine and the pitcher of the calumets, samuel morse, an old school chum, who had helped signally in arranging the present contest. so, as larry's glance lighted on the first box to the right of the grand stand, it caught an answering smile from miss alice, and albert heaton, who was momentarily fluttering about the box, waved his hand to the favorite third base man of the catalpas and said, under his breath, "sail in, old boy!" "you don't imagine that mr. boyne heard that, do you, in all this noise?" asked alice, with rosy face and sparkling eyes. "no, i don't suppose that larry heard or saw anything but what he saw and guessed at in that telegraphic look of yours, miss ally," replied albert, mockingly. "larry, the dear boy, knows well enough what i would be saying to him; and i hope he knows what you would be telegraphing him by way of encouragement. hurrah! hiram has won the toss! he'll send the calumets to the bat, see if he don't." albert was right. the home club were sent to the bat, and thomas walsh, of the black hawks, took his place as umpire. this was the order in which the two clubs were named and stationed on that eventful day:- _catalpas._ larry boyne, 3d b. samuel morrison, l.f. neddie ellis, c.f. charlie king, p. hart stirling, 2d b. john brubaker, r.f. hiram porter, 1st b. (capt.) ben burton, s.s. wm. van orman, c. _calumets._ darius ayres, 1st b. (capt.) samuel morse, p. john handy, 3d b. rob peabody, r.f. thomas shoff, c.f. glenn otto, s.s. james kennedy, 2d b. charlie webb, c. james mcwilliams, l.f. the catalpa boys thought there should have been breathless silence in the enclosure as hiram porter, having carefully placed his men, called to the umpire "play!" play was accordingly called, but there was silence, by no means, in the grounds. the clatter of late comers reaching their seats, the buzz of conversation that yet arose from the crowds in the amphitheater, and the cry of boys selling score-cards disturbed the serenity of the ardent champions of the catalpa nine. they wondered why people should talk when so momentous a game was about opening. and alice, with a feverish sigh of impatience, said to miss ida that she should think that the chicago people had very little manners. whereupon miss anstress, with great severity, said that the spectators were not so much in love with the players that they cared a pin whether either side won. this unkind remark was turned aside by mr. heaton who said that there were not a few among the on-lookers who had bet money in the gambling rooms outside and who did care very much which side won the game. all this talk was brought to an end when darius ayres, the captain of the calumets, stood up at the bat and made ready for the first play. darius was a tall and shapely young fellow, renowned for his long-field hits, and a swift runner. he had an evil look in his eyes, as some of the catalpa visitors thought, and when he struck a straight ball, like a cannon shot, to right field, there was a little shudder in one of the private boxes. but john brubaker, always alert, captured it on a hard run. this put the catalpas in good spirits at once. the game had opened well for them. "two good signs, alice," said ida boardman. "won the toss and caught out the first man!" john's clever catch did not pass unnoticed, for the numerous supporters of the catalpas raised a little cheer which was taken up and continued around the enclosure as sam morse went to the bat for the home club. but samuel fared no better than his captain, and retired on a short and easy fly to ben burton. the first half of the inning was ended by john handy, who hit a hot grounder to larry boyne at third base. larry mastered it in fine style and made a lightning throw to hiram porter on first base. the eyes of the visitors and their friends fairly sparkled as the catalpas came in from the field. they had made a good beginning. but no sooner had the nine reached the players' bench than ben burton began to criticise the manner in which honest john brubaker had been rewarded for capturing what ben was pleased to call "a two-old-cat fly." larry, politely requesting burton to be civil, picked up his bat and faced the pitching of the renowned sam morse. he made two ineffectual plunges at the ball, and, while the catcher of the calumets was adjusting his mask so as to enable him to come up closer to the player, larry stole a glance at his comrades and was mortified and annoyed to see a derisive smile on the blonde face of ben burton, while the other seven occupants of the bench wore an uneasy expression. ben burton was evidently making them uncomfortable. larry moistened his hands, and, carefully gauging one of morse's favorite in-shoots, hit the ball with all his might. the flying sphere went swiftly into the left field and yielded the stalwart third base man of the catalpas two bases. alice involuntarily clapped her hands, happily unmindful of the sour looks of her observant aunt. sam morrison next stood up before the redoubtable morse, and hit an easy grounder to glenn otto, at short stop, and samuel was retired at first base. his shot, however, advanced larry to third base, and neddie ellis took up the bat. but neddie could not yet understand the puzzling curves of the calumet's pitcher, and, having wildly struck the air three times, went out. this made two out for the catalpas, with larry boyne anxiously waiting on the third base. not long did he wait, however, for charlie king, long of limb and keen of eye, came to the bat with great expectations on the part of the sons of catalpa. charlie thought favorably of the first ball pitched at him by morse and he sent it flying to the center field for one base, and allowed larry to come home amidst a little round of applause from the catalpa section of the spectators. during the cheer that greeted the successful play, charlie attempted to steal to second base but was thrown out by billy webb, and the ardor of the spirits of catalpa was consequently soon dampened. the calumets now went to work with a will at the beginning of their second inning, and, after receiving some hints from jamie kennedy, who assumed to know a little about the mysteries of king's curves, robert peabody, the calumet's right fielder, a michigan university man and a famous athlete, handled the bat and called for a low ball from the pitcher of the catalpas. this was delivered, but not where rob had asked for it, and he politely refused to strike at it, muttering to captain darius, "i won't strike until i get one just knee-high." charlie king overheard this little byplay and continued to put the ball in the vicinity of peabody's shoulder until the umpire called "six balls." it was now about time for king to give the chicago player a good ball, but peabody could not be tempted to strike at it, after being ordered by his captain to try and take his base on called balls. the result was that tricky charlie king delivered three balls in rapid succession just where the dissatisfied right fielder of the calumets had requested them, and the umpire called, "one strike!" "two strikes!" "three strikes!" "striker out!" the ashen stick was then taken up by tom shoff, who sent the ball in the direction of ben burton at short stop, and who fumbled it, dropping it several times as if it were a hot potato, allowing tom to reach first base in safety. next, glenn otto hit a ball to hiram porter who fielded it handsomely, putting out the striker but allowing shoff to go to second base. while jamie kennedy was at the bat, a passed ball allowed shoff to complete three quarters of his homeward journey. with two out and a man on third base, captain porter naturally felt alarmed. he cautioned his men to be cool and careful, "especially cool," he added. after two strikes were called on kennedy, he solved one of charlie king's in-shoots and, to the delight of the chicago on-lookers, sent the ball rolling in center field while shoff sped swiftly homewards; and the score stood 1 and 1. the calumet's half of the inning was ended by the retiring of webb on a foul fly to "the lily," as bill van orman was now universally called. the catalpa boys were not disheartened; they had confidence in each other, and they went to work again with a determination to try and recover what they had lost. in the second inning, however, they found themselves unsuccessful. hart stirling was fielded out at first base by jamie kennedy; john brubaker, following him, met with the same fate, being thrown out at first by glenn otto; and hiram porter ended the inning by hitting a sky-scraper to james mcwilliams at left field. there was intense depression in the catalpa section and among the nine of that famous town; only the face of larry boyne still bore any semblance of contentment. larry smiled with his attempt to infuse a little more hopefulness into the catalpa bosom. and looking to the box where mr. heaton's tall white hat towered conspicuously, he caught an answering smile from the young lady who carried a blue parasol. the score now stood even at even innings, and the faces of the chicago players wore a broad smile of complacency in place of the gloomy look that had previously been their characteristic expression. full of confidence, james mcwilliams picked out his favorite bat and faced "tricky charlie," as they had already dubbed the pitcher of the visitors. king was determined to retire this particular player, as "mac" had often expressed a desire to "take the conceit out of that chap from catalpa." charlie did some of his fine work for the occasion and his friend mcwilliams threw down his bat in disgust, after hearing the third strike called by the umpire; and captain darius ayres, with a look of vengeful determination, took the place vacated by his club mate. he hit a sharp grounder between first and second bases and reached the first bag. at this point of the game, the boys from catalpa had lost some of the hope that they had cherished at the beginning of the contest; and they were not cheered in the least by a sarcastic smile that adorned the face of their short stop, ben burton, who appeared to be almost glad that the chances of his own club were diminishing, instead of increasing. even from her distant point of vantage, alice howell, scanning ben's sour face through her field glass, saw with uneasiness that forbidding look and said, in a tragic whisper to her companion, "ida, if that scamp could throw the game, i believe he is mean enough to do it." sam morse made a base hit to the right field, and ayres went safely home to third base, while morse stole to second base. with second and third bases occupied and but one man out, the catalpas did not feel in jovial mood, and the deputy sheriff of dean county looked around upon the bright faces of the local spectators with the air of one who is indignant at an outrage which he is powerless to abate. the next man to the bat was john handy, who had the reputation of being "a slugger," and as he called out in a stern voice, "give me a low ball, and i'll knock it's cover off," some of the excitable players quaked in their shoes; but hiram porter quieted his men by saying, in a low tone of voice, "keep cool, fellows! keep cool and we will double them up yet!" handy hit the ball, the first that was delivered him, and it went like a rocket to larry boyne at third base. that young gentleman was ready to receive it, and by making a difficult one-hand catch, he succeeded in making a double play as ayres had vacated third base without once dreaming that larry would be able to capture the ball. ben burton came now to the bat for the catalpas, in this inning; but ben had not established a very good reputation as a batsman, and his speedy retiring on a foul ball excited no remark. "the lily" took his place at the bat and at once gave evidence of his prowess by hitting the ball for two bases which he made with neatness and despatch. larry boyne followed him and gently tipped the sphere for a single base-hit, without ado, whereat "the lily" slipped to third base. the spectators eyed sam morrison as he swung his bat over his shoulder and strode to the home plate. sam was a stocky, well-built young fellow, with a well-shaped head and shoulders, and a fine pair of very long arms. he was anxious to do something to send up the score of the catalpas, but he sent up nothing but a small fly to morse, and he was at once succeeded by neddie ellis, the rather diminutive center fielder of the catalpa nine. neddie owed the club three base hits, as he thought, and was falling behind in his batting record as the season had advanced. he moistened his hands and, with the avowed intention of losing the ball, he made a plunge, and, as al heaton from his perch remarked, "hit the ball on the nose" and sent it flying over the center fielder's head. after larry and "the lily" had cleared the home plate, neddie tried his best to make a home run. tommy shoff, however, handled the ball in clever fashion, and by fielding it quickly, caught neddie at the home plate, ending the inning and making the score three to one in favor of the catalpas. a murmur of applause, mingled with the little buzz which always follows the close of an inning, like a sigh of relief, went around as the catalpas went to the field with light hearts. two or three of the baser sort of the gambling on-lookers jeered the visitors with derisive remarks, but this indiscretion was speedily suppressed. "fair play for the visitors" was the watchword of the day. the catalpa boys disposed of their opponents at the opening of the fourth inning without allowing them to send a man around the circuit. in fact, not a player of the calumet club reached first base in safety during this inning. rob peabody secured first base on called balls, and was followed at the bat by shoff who hit a grounder to hart stirling, at second base, and who delivered the ball in fine style to his captain on first base, after making a neat pick-up. glenn otto managed, by great craftiness, to send the ball outside of the diamond with tremendous force, but he lifted it too high and he fell a victim to sam morrison's alertness in the left field. jamie kennedy, who succeeded at the bat, also gave the ball a tremendous whack, but he, too, lifted it too high, and neddie ellis, in center field, captured it without serious difficulty. the catalpa club, in this inning, was obliged to be contented with a zero, and ben burton's face was a puzzling study to alice howell and her friend ida, who scanned the unconscious benjamin through their glass, as if his tell-tale countenance were an indicator of the progress of the game. this time, they could not make out whether the catalpa short stop was pleased by the ill fortune of his own club, or dismayed by the advancing prospects of the chicago boys. they gave up the riddle with disgust. there was yet no real occasion for dismay, although there was when charlie king began the work of going out by hitting a slow ball to darius ayres at first base, and hart stirling followed his example by a foul tip to charlie webb. john brubaker, "honest john," as he was called, hit the ball with all his might and had covered half the circuit before he realized that the sphere had gone outside of the foul flags. he made a second attempt, however, and was retired without hitting the ball, sam morse's out-curves being more intricate than anything that he had yet encountered. honest john's inglorious withdrawal closed the inning. the calumets sent webb first to the bat at the opening of the next inning, but charlie was not fortunate. he hit the ball several times, and it went high in air, and escaped the vigilance of the catalpas. but webb sent up one foul too many and the watchful and agile larry boyne captured it, after a hard run. james mcwilliams for the second time faced charlie king's pitching, and as he left his seat, said, "boy's, i'll eat clover for a week if i don't hit him safely this time." mac had fire in his eye, and his look and his remark did not escape the attention of charlie king, who, turning to his captain, slyly promised to give the chicago man an opportunity to make good his promise. king kept his word, and, by cunning pitching, retired mcwilliams on strikes after six balls were charged against him. captain darius ayres hit safely to the left field, but it was too late, as sam morse ruined all chances of the scoring of the calumets by sending a fly which was neatly caught by hart stirling at second base. the catalpas also failed to add any runs to their score in the fifth inning. at this point, sam morse was pitching in admirable style and it was with difficulty that the visitors could hit the ball at all. morse had a very effectual out-curve, and he had made good use of it during the last two innings. captain hiram porter went to the bat with some of the confidence that he had tried to inspire in the breasts of his comrades, but he failed to accomplish his dearest desire, and went out on the strikes successively called by the umpire. he was followed by ben burton, who walked up to the batsman's position with a lazy and indifferent manner, hit the ball in an off-hand fashion, and had the pleasure of seeing it fielded by glenn otto, and was retired at first base. here "the lily" made a desperate attempt to achieve a home run, and he probably would have been successful if he had hit the ball far enough into the out-field, judging from the manner in which he "sprinted" to first base on a slow ball which was readily fielded by jamie kennedy. "this is our lucky inning," said captain ayres to john handy, as the latter started to face the pitching of charlie king in the sixth inning. "here, take my bat for luck," he added, "and see if you can't use it to advantage." handy accepted the offer of the captain's club and used it with good effect. he called for a high ball, caught king off his guard as he struck, and so secured a good hit on the very first ball, and made first base. rob peabody followed and hit a liner to neddie ellis who misjudged the distance, and the ball went over his head and allowed rob to make two bases, while handy got safely home. this put the figures three to two in favor of the catalpas and seemed to inspire the calumets with new confidence, their captain remarking with glee, "i told you this was our lucky inning." right here, however, tommy shoff went out on a fly to larry boyne, and "the lily" caught a sharp foul tip from the bat of glenn otto, which left peabody on second base and two men out. the prospects of the home nine were not brightening. next to the bat came jamie kennedy, who tried his best to make a short right field hit that should send his colleague safely home, as peabody was a good base runner and needed only "half a chance" to make a home run. jamie hit the ball in the right direction, but his blow was a trifle too hard and the ball was cleverly caught by john brubaker at right field, and this left the game still three to two in favor of the catalpas. the latter did not, however, feel safe with so small a lead, and they thought it prudent to send several more men around the circuit of the bases, if possible. larry boyne was the first man to the bat for the catalpas in the sixth inning, and he secured his base on called balls, but fell before charlie webb's throwing, while trying to steal to the second bag. sam morrison struck out, and neddie ellis ended the inning by sending up a sky-scraper which was nicely nipped, just in the nick of time, apparently, by rob peabody. in the seventh inning, both clubs failed to score. webb hit a ball in the direction of ben burton who made an overthrow to first base. mcwilliams followed and hit a short one to hart stirling at second base, who, with the aid of hiram porter, made a very pretty double play. darius ayres secured his base on called balls, stole to second base, but was left there, as sam morse retired on strikes. not one of the catalpa players reached first base. charlie king and hart stirling both went out on flies, the former to tom shoff and the latter to glenn otto. john brubaker failed to hit the ball and was consequently called out on strikes. "the calumets have everything to gain and nothing to lose," remarked mr. heaton, sagely, as he regarded the field from the box from which the little party of interested catalpans overlooked the beautiful scene below. the yellow sun, now declining westward, tinted the woodwork of the stands and enclosures with a golden hue, and a breeze from the lake flaunted the many-colored flags that adorned the structure. the yellow light only intensified the brilliant greenness of the lawn, on which the diamond field was laid, and the brilliant costumes of the players were tricked out with a new and strange luster as the sunshine rained down through veiling mists. but the absorbed spectators, as well as the intensely engrossed players in the field below, had no eyes for the picture. every eye was fixed on john handy, as he went to the bat for the calumets. it was felt that they would take desperate chances. on the next few plays might turn the issue of the game. silence as complete as if there was not a soul in the vast enclosure reigned as handy took his place at the bat. he placed the ball safely in the center field and was followed by peabody who also gained a single hit, sending the ball into the left field. the next ball was hit to ben burton by shoff. ben was unable to handle the ball properly, and hart stirling came to his rescue and as ben dropped it out of his hands, stirling picked it up and sent it to first base in time to head off shoff. at this point in the game, only one man was out and the second and third bases were occupied. a trifling error would tie the game. a single base hit would give the calumets the lead. the attention with which the play was now regarded from the seats was something almost painful in its tenseness. glenn otto stood before charlie king's pitching with a look of resolution and defiance. he had been ordered not to strike at a ball until it was put where he asked for it, and to take the chances of the catcher of the catalpas having a passed ball charged to him. in this little scheme there was one error. king very well knew the purpose of his opponent, and he managed his own points so well that, before otto could realize what was about to happen, king had him out on strikes. jamie kennedy was the next man to fall before the destructive tactics now followed by the catalpas. jamie hit a sharp ball to larry boyne, who, with characteristic skill, retired him at first base. this clever bit of play took a load from the hearts of the catalpas, and, in the excitement of the moment, deputy sheriff wheeler ejaculated "gosh all hemlock!" whereupon everybody in that region laughed, as if glad of a pretext to slacken their attention from the play for an instant. but the riveted intentness of the spectators was at once resumed as the boys of catalpa went to the bat in the eighth inning, and succeeded in placing another run to their credit. hiram porter hit to kennedy at second base, and was retired at first base. ben burton followed his example and "the lily" finally secured the home run which he had been looking for ever since he had left catalpa. "the lily" had many strong points, but base-running was not one of them. he had two strikes called on the first two balls pitched, and then made ready for the third, and, as the ball curved in, he stepped backwards a few inches and hit it with all his might, which was a great deal, for "the lily" was a man of brawn and muscle. the ball flew over the center fielder's head like a rifle-shot and bill covered the entire circuit with ease, winning an irrepressible and resounding burst of applause from the multitudes that crowded the amphitheater. "splendid, bill! perfectly splendid!" cried alice howell, wholly oblivious of the fact that there were other people than herself in the circle about her. mr. heaton looked around with admiration at the impulsive girl, while the dignified maiden aunt glanced into the next box to see if anybody had caught the words of her erratic ward and niece. while this little byplay went on, alice's eyes were fixed on larry boyne who ended the eighth inning by sending a fly ball to mcwilliams and so going out. the score now stood four to two in favor of the catalpas. to his infinite chagrin, captain ayres saw defeat staring him in the face. hastily calling his men about him, he held a hurried consultation, as they came in from the field. he said, "boys, we must take all the chances this time. they lead us two runs, and, in order at least to tie them, you must trust to errors, and, above all things, do not hug the bases." captain darius was right in this particular, and the men obeyed his instructions to the letter in regard to hugging the bases; but it was impossible for them to show any sign of insubordination, as not a man went beyond the first base. every member of the calumet club was retired as fast as he went to the bat. charlie webb gayly faced "tricky charlie," and hit the first ball pitched. it went sailing out of the diamond and into the hands of sam morrison. the second victim was mcwilliams who failed to take down the pride of king, as he had promised himself that he would; and charlie felt prouder than ever as he sent his formidable antagonist to the players' bench, put out on strikes. darius ayres made several ineffectual attempts to hit the sphere, and at last struck the ball fairly, but larry boyne was prepared for its coming his way. running backwards, with his eye fixed on the little black speck that dropped out of the clouds with lightning-like swiftness, larry moved over the turf without seeming to move. ida boardman so far forgot herself as to cry out, at this critical juncture, "catch it! catch it!" the sphere fell into larry's hardened hand with a resounding thud, and with a fervent "heaven bless you!" the young lady sunk back into her seat, while a prodigious cheer, frightening to flight the sparrows that twittered on the edges of the structure, and faintly heard far out by sailors on the lake, proclaimed the contest ended with a famous victory for the catalpa nine. [illustration: "ida boardman so far forgot herself as to cry out at this critical juncture: 'catch it! catch it!'"--page 136.] the band broke forth into a pã¦an of triumph, and while the majority of the spectators began to shuffle out with eager haste, a few, other than the delighted visitors from catalpa, remained to gaze with undisguised admiration on the stalwart and handsome young fellows who had so unexpectedly won the day. the two captains, as the game was concluded, advanced towards each other with outstretched hands. "your men are capital players," said hiram porter, a glow suffusing his cheek, "and i consider it a great honor to have defeated them." "aye, aye," said captain ayres, not without a wince. "it is a little hard for our boys to be defeated after playing a game without errors; but your victory was due to lucky batting, and it does not signify that your men are the better players. we will try and turn the tables to-morrow." the visitors gave three cheers and a tiger for their opponents, and then retired from the field. it would be useless to attempt to describe the thrill and the suppressed exultation with which they read on the bulletin boards of the city newspaper offices, as they went to their lodgings, the following score:- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 calumets 0 1 0 0 0 1 0 0 0=2. catalpas 1 0 2 0 0 0 0 1 0=4. _runs earned_--calumets, 0; catalpas, 4. _base hits_- " 5, " 6. _errors_- " 0, " 3. _umpire_, mr. thomas walsh. _time of game, two and a half hours._ chapter xii. after the victory. "the boss says he would be obliged to you if you would make less noise." it was a tall and red-faced young man who brought this message to the catalpa nine, as they were gathered in the room of captain hiram porter, in their lodging-house, after the great match game. al heaton had hurried to join the boys, as soon as he had sent to catalpa his despatch announcing the result of the contest in the most glowing terms consistent with the rate of telegraph tolls and the needed conciseness of a despatch. all hands were in that flow of animal spirits that might have been expected from nearly a dozen young fellows who are elated over a great victory and who have laboriously repressed their jubilation until they are alone. "there! i told you, boys, that your skylarking would bring up the landlord. oh, i say, neddie, quit your fooling. you can't throw 'the lily,' if you try all night; and we are making such a racket that the whole house is disturbed." this was captain porter's admonition. "besides," said larry boyne, who was panting with the unwonted exertion of boosting charlie king over the headboard of the bedstead, where charlie was determined he would not go, "besides all that, it's time for you and me, hi, to get ready to go out to dinner." "where are you two fellows going to dinner?" demanded half a dozen voices at once. "are you going to throw off on us in that way?" captain hiram explained that he and larry had accepted an invitation to take dinner with judge morris, with whose family mr. heaton and albert were staying during the progress of the games in chicago. the morrises, he added, lived on the north side of the river, and he and larry should be ready to start, instead of "cutting up" to show how tickled they were with their recent victory. "but 'twas a famous victory," quoted larry, "for all that, and i would just as soon stay with the boys and celebrate it as go out to dine with judge morris, who, they say, is a heavy swell." "i happen to know that miss alice howell and her friend miss ida are stopping with the morrises, larry," said ben burton, with an unpleasant leer, "and you and hiram will be in clover; so you can afford to shake us until the next game." larry grew very red in the face at this, and there was a dangerous gleam in hiram porter's eye as he noted the ill-natured scowl on burton's countenance. he restrained himself, however, and said, "why do you continually harp on the judge's daughter, ben? the young lady is from our own town, and she is more interested in the success of the catalpas than some of its members, i reckon; at least, i think so, judging from appearances." "what do you mean by that, hi porter?" demanded ben, hotly. "you have insinuated that sort of thing too many times in my hearing. and i want you to understand that you can't put on any captain's airs over me, now that we are off the field. i am my own master for to-night anyway." "come, come, boys," interposed larry, soothingly. "don't let us mar the enjoyment of this evening by lugging in any old quarrels or little differences. we shall all have to pull together to-morrow, if we are to beat the calumets. they are going to give us a stiff brush, and you may depend on that. come, hiram, let's be off." burton said something, sullenly and indistinctly, about the certainty of the defeat of the catalpas, to-morrow, which caught the ear of "the lily," who, still puffing with the effects of his tussle with neddie ellis, was regarding the malcontent ben with an expression of wonder on his good-natured face. he slowly dropped out a few words of comment, in his usual fashion, upon burton's unfriendly attitude and then added: "i say, i wonder why you don't give up playing base ball, since you find so little fun in it. 'pears to me you are all the time out 'o sorts--like. you don't enjoy good health, ben, and that's what is the matter along of you. now, why do you think that the calumets are going to get away with us, to-morrow?" but before ben could form a reply and cover the confusion that crept over his face, neddie ellis, who was the universal favorite of the club, broke in with, "oh, i say, boys, do you know what these chicago people call us? why they call us 'the cats.' that's short for catalpas, i suppose. we ought to call the calumets 'the cads,' and i guess that would be getting even." under cover of the laugh which this sally raised, hiram, larry, and young heaton departed to fulfil their engagement on the north side, ben burton looking after them with a darkened countenance. "ben is angry because he is not invited to judge morris's," said larry, as the three young fellows stepped lightly off in search of a street car. "he has a jealous temper, and the least thing that looks like a slight sets him off." "well," said albert, "alice said that the judge would have liked to have invited the whole nine, if he had had room to entertain them properly; but he hadn't, and so he invited only those with whom the governor was most acquainted." "to say nothing of miss alice?" added hiram, slyly. albert admitted that miss alice's wishes were consulted in the matter, and that it was only natural that she, being a visitor, should indicate her preferences in the matter. "what does it signify, anyhow?" said larry, a little impatiently. "it seems to me that ben burton is ready to fly out at the least provocation. i almost wish we had never thought of going over to judge morris's. i am sure i have tried my level best to keep the peace with ben, but he seems to grow more and more cantankerous every day. to think of raising a breeze over such a trifle as this of our going out to dinner without him! it makes me ashamed of my companionship with him." the conversation was stopped by their entering a street car where they were entertained by the audible comments of the passengers on the wonderful game that had been played that afternoon. base ball in chicago is one of the favorite pastimes of the people. but there was so much of the element of unexpectedness in the result of that day's game that it set the tongues of everybody to wagging. unknown and in silence, the champions of the catalpa nine heard themselves and their playing discussed with great freedom and animation. the general verdict was that "the cats" would, next day, receive their reward in the shape of a "basket of goose eggs" with which they would depart for home, sadder and wiser for their visit. "what do you think of that for an opinion, larry?" asked hiram, laughingly, as they alighted from the car, one block from their destination. "what do you think of the woman in the corner who said that the calumets were only encouraging us on to our defeat?" larry replied that that was precisely what ben burton thought, and hiram ejaculated, "oh, he does, does he? then it seems that our short stop and our adversaries, or the friends of our adversaries, agree as to what is going to happen to-morrow." "perhaps they are right," said albert, cheerily. "but here we are," and stopping before a handsome house, he darted up the steps and rang the door bell. while the lads waited for admission, larry turned and looked westward, with wistful eyes, and said, "i wonder how they are taking the news in catalpa, about now?" albert's reply that they were probably having a jollification really described what was at that moment taking place. tom selby was the happy recipient of early telegrams from larry, and the editor of _the leaf_ sustained his reputation by putting out bulletins from al heaton and his father, at frequent intervals during the progress of the game. the excitement waxed high as the contest proceeded, and when the final result was reached, the town was fairly mad with joy. the event had eclipsed everything of the kind that had happened during the season. every man who had a flag hung it out to the breeze. jedediah van orman, "the lily's" father, took up a collection from the willing shopkeepers and bought a supply of powder, with which he proceeded to fire a salute from four anvils, the only artillery then accessible in the town. victory brooded over catalpa, and in every house as the red sun went down, that night, there was but one theme of conversation--base ball. chapter xiii. pride has a fall. fog and dampness covered the city of chicago, next day, when the catalpa nine, shivering in the chilly air, loitered the time away before the hour came for their little preliminary practice in the base ball grounds. somebody said, while captain hiram was marshalling his men, that the day was a bad one for catalpa. at this larry laughed heartily. "as if," he said, "the gloom of a foggy day was not just as ominous for the chicago boys as for the catalpas." "oh they are used to it," said ben burton, gruffly. soon after, when the hour for play had arrived, ben was nowhere to be found. vainly they looked for him in various nooks and corners of the structure, and they were beginning to ask if he had not been spirited away when he hurried in, looking very flushed and red. when asked somewhat tartly by his captain where he had been, ben made no answer but took up his bat and marched in with the rest. "he has been visiting some of those confounded pool rooms, i'll be bound," whispered sam morrison, who cordially disliked and actively suspected the catalpa short stop. but there was no time for discussion. the nine now emerged into the arena. the sky was brightening as the two nines met, and the crowds in the vast amphitheater, largely reinforced since yesterday, in consequence of the fame of the visiting nine being spread abroad, gave "the cats" a cheery round of applause as they made their appearance at the entrance to the field. "keep a stiff upper lip, larry, old boy," was albert's heartening injunction as the two friends parted at the doorways. larry smiled brightly and his eye involuntarily sought the upper box from which he had seemed to draw so much inspiration, the day before. it was empty, and he felt a little pang of disappointment. the momentary feeling of depression was soon dissipated, however, for the serious work of the day was now to begin, and sentimentalities were out of place. the catalpas failed to win the toss, whereat neddie ellis gave a comical little groan of pain and whispered, facetiously, to ben burton, "another evil sign, bennie!" "yes," replied ben, gloomily, "the worst yet." he paid no attention to neddie's mocking laugh, but took his place on the player's bench, as larry boyne took up his bat and advanced to the position in obedience to orders. for the scorer had shouted, "larry boyne to the bat, and sam morrison on deck!" as larry, with an elastic movement of his manly figure, placed himself squarely before sam morse, the calumet's pitcher, he said, "give me one of your favorite high balls, and i'll try to put it over that netting." morse, in his turn, squared himself and at once began to deliver a series of hot balls, but all of them too low for the catalpa player to strike at. but he gave one ball at the desired height, however, and, to use the expression of "the lily," larry "hit it squarely on the nose," and placed a base hit to his credit. sam morrison profited by his example and put the ball safely in the left field. neddie ellis then came up, with a beaming smile on his face, and justified the expectations of the catalpa delegation in the seats, now largely increased by new arrivals. he hit the ball a resounding thwack which was good for three bases, and sent in two runs, larry and morrison reaching the home plate with ease. charlie king was the first man to be put out; he hit the ball, which was a sharp one, to john handy at third base, and that active young man mastered it in fine style and retired charlie at first base. the hit, however, proved to be of value as it sent neddie ellis safely across the goal and was the means of tallying the third run for the visiting nine. hart stirling went out on a foul ball to charlie webb, and john brubaker sent up a sky-scraper which was captured by mcwilliams in the left field. this ended the first half of the first inning, and, with light hearts and radiant faces, the catalpas went to the field. as larry took his position at third base, he glanced furtively toward the draped box on the right of the grand stand. at that moment, a blue parasol was unfurled, for the sun now broke forth from the clouds and mist. one glance was all that he could spare, but it was enough. "she has come," he said to his secret heart. the calumets, on the other hand, were coming in from the field with looks of consternation which did not escape the attention of the coldly critical young ladies in the upper box. scanning them through her glass, alice declared that they looked as if they were going to a funeral, and deputy sheriff wheeler, far around on the other side of the enclosure, in the more democratic open seats, said very much the same thing. "never mind, boys," said captain ayres, trying to instil a bit of courage into his men. "perhaps that is a lively ball and we may bat it all over the field." the gallant captain took his place at the bat, and hit a line ball which was neatly captured by john brubaker, who received a round of applause, and ida boardman waved at him her parasol, with the involuntary cry of "good, john!" more fortunate than his captain was sam morse, the next at the bat. he solved the mysteries of charlie king's in-shoot and hit the ball over hart stirling's head for one base. john handy then handled the ashen stick and sent a slow ball to ben burton who fumbled it and allowed the striker to reach first base, even so far forgetting himself as to neglect to throw the ball to stirling who stood ready and impatient at second base to head off sam morse. stirling grew red in the face, clearly losing his temper, and, judging from the look he wore, the low murmur in which he gave a word to the short stop was no pleasant one to hear. the fourth man at the bat for the calumets was rob peabody, who sent up a short fly which fell into the willing hands of the second base man, making two out for the calumets with two of the bases occupied, when tom shoff went to the batsman's square. "ah, this is my jonah!" said charlie king, beckoning to the fielders to move backward, knowing shoff's ability as a batter. in this judgment charlie was correct, for shoff hit the first ball pitched, and sent it sailing into the right field, out of the reach of the anxious fielder there, and bringing in two runs and allowing thomas himself to gain the third base in safety, greatly to the comfort of the calumets who grinned among themselves as they saw all this from the bench. glenn otto now took his turn at the bat, and it was evident that king was out of humor, as he sent the sphere with such vehemence that he nearly paralyzed big bill van orman's hands. in spite of the heavy gloves he wore, the unfortunate catcher's hands began to swell until, as the dean county deputy sheriff, from his distant post remarked, "they looked like canvassed hams." but otto calmly waited for a good ball and when he got it, he gently tapped it, sending it to left field for a single sending in, and shoff made the score even at three and three. jamie kennedy finished the first inning by hitting a short fly to king. "hurrah for the calumets!" shouted some of the more excitable spectators. "three cheers for tom shoff and glenn otto!" cried another, and the enthusiasm did not abate until these two complimented gentlemen turned themselves about and doffed their caps. "i don't think that that was very smart," said ida boardman, with as much asperity as she was capable of showing. "our boys have done much better playing than that without making any fuss about it." "pretty good playing, though," said albert heaton, as he darted out to send off a despatch to the anxious people in catalpa. "we could be worse off," was hiram porter's remark, who was preparing to face morse's curves. "boys," he continued, "we are on even terms and stand the same chance of winning that they do." "provided we are as good players as they are," put in ben burton, with a little laugh. porter hit a swift grounder to handy who failed to master it in time to head off the swift base runner, who reached the first bag in safety. ben burton behaved as if he were afraid of injuring the ball and the result was that he was sent back to the players' bench by hitting an easy ball to glenn otto. "the lily" next essayed his skill and hit the sphere with all his great might, but jamie kennedy handled it finely and retired the striker at first base. larry boyne, whose turn came next, was hailed by the champions and friends of the catalpas as the man who would put in a safe hit; but he was caught out by peabody in the right field. in putting him out, peabody made a brilliant running catch, the ball, apparently being certain to go over his head. the profound stillness of the arena was immediately broken by a ringing cheer saluting the successful catch. the first striker in this inning for the calumets was charlie webb, who was known as "the chance hitter," but who invariably gave the ball, when he did hit it, such a tremendous blow that it whistled through the air as if it had been belched forth from a cannon. charlie moistened his hands and swung his bat over his shoulder, as he strode up in front of charlie king, calling in a big voice, "now give me a high ball!" he hit the ball, hit it just where he aimed to hit it, and for a moment it was lost in the misty blue above. but neddie ellis, flying for the center field fence, gave the watchful spectators an inkling of the whereabouts of the vanished sphere. charlie webb, meanwhile, was clearing the bases at a tremendous gait, and, before the ball could be returned to the diamond field, he had crossed the home plate and had put his club in the lead. there was another rumble of applause from the sympathetic chicago on-lookers, and alice howell's peachy cheek fairly paled. but she said not a word. now mcwilliams hit a grounder to larry boyne who managed, by dint of a hard struggle, to get it to first base in good season, and mac went out. ayres, the gallant captain, met with the same fate in his turn, sending a fly to larry; and sam morse ended the second inning by being fielded out at first base by stirling. at this, there was a sigh of relief from the catalpa section, and no audible cheer among the friends of the home club. in the third inning, the catalpas managed to gain some of their lost ground by making the single run necessary to put them even with their antagonists. sam morrison hit a sharp ball to handy, who attempted to field it, but the sphere went through his hands and bounded over the foul line. morrison was about to return to the home plate, thinking that the ball was "foul." but larry boyne impetuously cried, "hold your base!" instantly, the crowds were all excitement. men and boys rose to their feet shouting "foul!" "foul!" all was confusion, and mr. heaton, albert, and the young ladies in the upper box looked on speechlessly as the pandemonium raged below. the umpire seemed dazed, and the hooters, who are ever present, yelled "foul ball!" "foul ball!" as if their noise would determine the question. ben burton, with an expression of mixed amazement and chagrin, watched larry, who approached the puzzled umpire with spalding's official guide-book of base ball. the umpire glanced over the open page and his countenance cleared at once. bowing with cold politeness, he said, "you are right, mr. boyne. i am glad to see that you prairie players are well informed as to all the points in the national game." larry acknowledged the compliment with a manly salutation and returned to the players' bench. but the spectators would have no such result, and howled on vociferously. the umpire called the game and playing was stopped until silence was restored. when he could be heard, the umpire read the rule in a stentorian tone of voice, whereupon there was some grumbling, but the generous majority, seeing the justice of the position taken for the visitors, cheered "the curly-headed cat." larry acknowledged the dubious compliment. alice howell hid her blushing face behind her parasol, and the game went on. but it was evident that this episode had shaken the calumets a little, as the next two strikers secured their bases by errors. ellis won his by a misplay by glenn otto, and king took his by an error on the part of handy. this left the three bases occupied and nobody put out--a capital chance for the catalpas to get in some telling work. stirling was retired at first base by handy, but his being out allowed sam morrison to cross the marble plate in safety, by skillful base-running. john brubaker hit a fly to peabody in the right field; the latter captured the ball and also made a fine double play as neddie ellis tried to come home on it, forgetting the reputation which peabody had won as a long thrower. and then the catalpas again took the field. "i tell you what, boys, it's mighty tough work to beat these prairie roosters," said the good-natured captain of the calumets, as his associates took their seats once more on the players' bench. "if we could only once get a good lead on them," remarked jamie kennedy, "i am sure they would be so badly demoralised that we should get away with them. but they don't seem to scare worth a cent. they hold on like grim death." this conversation was brought to a close by the umpire shouting, "john handy to the bat!" and john convinced the spectators, as the dean county sheriff remarked, that he was "not handy at batting," for he was struck out; and peabody, who followed, went out on a foul to captain porter. tom shoff then proved that he was not wholly "the jonah" that charlie king had feared him to be by merely going out on a long fly to left field. this ended the third inning, with the contestants neck and neck, each being credited with four runs. as he took his position before the pitcher, captain hiram porter expressed to his comrades his conviction that the catalpas were to do some good work in that inning. he felt it "in his bones," he said, whereat ben burton laughed contemptuously, and said to "the lily," who sat next him, that if the bones of captain hiram were to be the barometer of the game, the catalpas would be in hard luck. he had no faith in the porter family bones, he said. but hiram justified his faith in his own impressions by hitting with all his might the first ball pitched and thereby securing one base. ben burton, who followed him, also took one base, but this was through the error of captain ayres, who muffed a ball thrown to him by jamie kennedy. "the lily" came next to the bat. he had previously made a small wager with ben burton that he would make a safe hit, and, in order to defeat burton and at the same time benefit the club, he kept perfectly cool, waiting for his opportunity, refusing to strike at any of "morse's coaxers," as the boys styled the calumets' pitcher's work. when he got a ball waist-high over the plate, he hit it with sufficient power to fell an ox. the sphere traveled on a right line as though it were shot out of a cannon's mouth, and gave "the lily" two bases, at the same time sending porter and burton over the home plate and giving the catalpas a lead of two runs. a broad smile adorned the countenance of "the lily," and, with cap in hand, he stood ready to fly to third base as soon as the ball was hit. but his ardent desires were not to be gratified; the next three men went out in "one-two-three" order, larry boyne on a fly to glenn otto, sam morrison on a grounder to handy, and neddie ellis on strikes. third base was the nearest van orman came to the home plate, much to his grief; and, as he adjusted his gloves for the next turn behind the bat, he muttered, "well, i made that ball whistle, anyhow!" buttoning his hand protectors, with a series of wrenches, he jerked out, "the next one--that bill hits--will never be found." glenn otto was the first man at the base for the calumets in the fourth inning; and he secured his base by neddie ellis's muff of an easy ball, and jamie kennedy reached first base on called balls. both of these men, however, were left waiting, as the three players who succeeded them at the bat failed to place the ball out of the reach of the catalpas. charlie webb went out on a fly to larry boyne, and mcwilliams hit an easy fly to charlie king; then darius ayres was thrown out at first base by larry boyne. the inning ended without adding a run to the score of the home nine, but they kept at their work with the steadiness and coolness of men who had a high reputation as players and the consciousness of great strength to support them under adversity. elation reigned among the friends of the catalpa nine. in the high box from which the fair delegation from catalpa surveyed the field, miss alice expressed her complete satisfaction with the condition of affairs, although miss ida pretended to entertain feelings of distrust. "why," she said, "at the end of the fourth inning, yesterday, the catalpas were three to the calumets' one--just leading them two, as they are to-day. do you suppose that the catalpas will keep this up all through the game?" "you are as much of a doubting thomas as ben burton is, ida," answered alice. "according to mr. boyne, ben is croaking all the while. if the wish were father to the thought, he could not be more skeptical, it seems to me. isn't he perfectly horrid?" but words could not be wasted now. the catalpas went to the bat again, and every eye was riveted on the tall form of charlie king, who, with his club on his shoulder, sauntered in leisurely and confident fashion to the square. he lifted the ball too high, however, and it was captured by tom shoff in the center field. hart stirling was deceived by a few sharp inward curves from the pitcher of the calumets and retired to his seat without hitting a ball. john brubaker hit the ball, but was thrown out from otto to ayres. the calumets now came in with a look of determination on their faces. "steady, lads, steady!" said captain darius. "wait for good balls; and, above all things, keep steady." sam morse, who was first at the bat, strictly obeyed orders and waited for what he considered a good ball. he struck an easy one to ben burton, but ben muffed it, and morse reached first base before the ball did. a dark cloud passed over the face of captain hiram as he anxiously stood at first base, and something like a cloud darkened alice howell's fair cheek, far up above the brightly-lighted field, now illuminated by the afternoon sun. a deep sigh went around among the catalpa contingent in the open seats, as stirling, having received a hot ball from rob peabody, failed to pick it up with his accustomed skill, and had the mortification of seeing the agile base runner get to the first bag in safety. it was clearly evident now that the catalpas were a little nervous. "we have them rattled," whispered the calumets among themselves, as they sat expectantly on the players' bench. even charlie king, who never lost his equipoise, appeared to have left some of his skill behind him, for he did not twirl the ball with that bewildering dexterity that had been, all along, the envy and the terror of the calumets. there was a woe-begone expression on the faces of the catalpa players--save one, and that was ben burton, who wore a settled smile of derision. he seemed to be congratulating himself on the possible coming true of his prophecies. any misplay on the part of the catalpas was the signal for what hart stirling termed "one of ben burton's contemptible laughs." shoff again faced the pitching of charlie king and the two players exchanged a grin, a half-defiant recognition of their friendly antagonism. thomas repeated his hit of the first inning, sending the ball to the left field fence for three bases and sending in morse, handy and peabody, and putting his club in the coveted position of a good lead. next, glenn otto hit a lively grounder to boyne who caught it safely and retired the base runner; but tom shoff went triumphantly home. after this, "the cats" seemed to regain something of their old vigor and spirit. a few words of warning, impressing on them the need of keeping cool, and reminding them that they now had everything to gain, and nothing to lose, were dropped by their captain, as they braced themselves for a good strong play. king neatly fooled jamie kennedy with his deceptive in-shoots and the batsman of the calumets was called out on strikes. charlie webb was the last man at the bat in this inning, and he went out on a fly to hart stirling. "that ends the fifth inning!" shouted the scorer. "score, eight to six in favor of the calumet club," an announcement which was not very comforting to the gentlemen from catalpa, whether they were in the diamond field or in the boxes. al heaton dashed his hat down over his eyes and went solemnly down to send a despatch which, a few minutes afterwards, was read in the streets of catalpa with great consternation. in the sixth inning, the calumets played with the good luck that usually seems to follow a club which has the lead in the score. perhaps it was their self-confidence, natural and fitting, that inspired them now. at any rate, they retired the catalpa representatives of the national game without allowing one of them to reach the first base. captain porter was thrown out at the first base by jamie kennedy, ben burton went out on a fly to mcwilliams, and "the lily" hit an easy ground ball to john handy, who made a lightning throw to first base in time to head off the deeply disappointed william. but the catalpa players showed that they were not out of heart, for their playing was remarkably strong in this part of the inning. burton threw mcwilliams out at first base; then darius ayres hit a "liner" to the left field which was very cleverly caught by sam morrison; and the inning was then brought to an end by sam morse who struck out; and the sentiment of the spectators was reflected by an irrepressible small boy who cried, "now 'the cats' will get a run!" larry boyne, who went to the bat for the visiting club, was the fortunate man who was to make good the small boy's prediction. he opened the inning in magnificent style by hitting the ball fairly and the flying sphere almost struck the left field foul line. it was "a tight squeeze," as one of the catalpa on-lookers observed, and the umpire's decision was invoked by the captain of the calumets. the umpire justly gave the ball as fair, whereupon some of the baser sort in the amphitheater began to hoot and cry "foul!" as if they would thus reverse the decision of the umpire. that gentleman coolly ordered the game to stop until the noise had ceased; there were counter cries of "shame!" from some of the more orderly of the spectators, and then, quiet having been restored, the contest was resumed, sam morrison being at the bat. samuel went out on a fly to ayres. while neddie ellis was at the bat, a passed ball allowed larry to get around to third base. neddie retired on a foul tip to charlie webb, and it looked as if the chances for the catalpas to make a run were very slender indeed. but charlie king came to the rescue. he hit a ball to glenn otto at short stop, which, luckily for the catalpas, went through his legs and allowed king to take his base and brought larry boyne to the home plate amidst the cheers of his many admirers. but hart stirling dashed the hopes of his comrades for this inning by sending up a fly to jamie kennedy at second base. alice howell's little hand was drumming nervously on the rail of her box, as she regarded in dejected silence the scene, when the calumets came to the bat with a feeling of confidence readily manifest in their faces. but their opponents played a fine fielding game, and the home nine were presented with the figurative "goose egg" which had been so often referred to during the contest. handy struck three times the unsubstantial air, and peabody went out disastrously also on a fly to hiram porter. shoff reached the first base on called balls, but only to be left there, as jamie kennedy failed to strike the ball after making three terrific lunges at it. the catalpas were still hopeful, but not sanguine. they had only one run to make in order to tie their competitors, and they went to work now with a will. they were not nearly so badly off as they might have been, was the cheery comment of larry boyne, as they went to the bat once more. but fate was against them, and they were retired in "one-two-three order," as the calumets played a winning game. john brubaker hit a ball to kennedy who sent it to first base in a manner that won the plaudits of the crowds intently watching the contest from the seats around the huge amphitheater. captain porter hit a fly to left field which was captured by mcwilliams in wonderfully fine style, and ben burton struck out. the calumets were very fortunate at the bat. in this inning they made another run and again placed themselves two runs in the lead. kennedy made a base hit, and went to second base on a passed ball, and then reached third base on burton's error of webb's in-field hit. jamie finally scored on mcwilliams's out at first base. next darius ayres hit a fly to sam morrison and was retired, and morse ended the inning by striking out, leaving the score nine to seven in favor of the calumets. "small chances for our taking the championship this season," was ben burton's gleeful remark, as the catalpas took their places on the bench. "and you seem to be mightily tickled about it," replied "the lily," with an angry glare in his eyes. "if i were as pleased as you seem to be at the drubbing we are likely to get from these chaps, i should expect to be fired out of the club for treachery." van orman did not stop to hear the reply which burton, white with wrath, made to this taunt. seizing his bat, he hurried to the square and faced the pitching of the redoubtable and confident morse. he waited patiently for a good ball and finally received one. with all his might--which was a great deal--"the lily" hit the sphere and sent it flying to the left field, where the lithe and agile mcwilliams captured it, after a hard run which called forth an involuntary burst of applause from the rapt spectators. "hang it all! just my luck!" muttered van orman, as, throwing down his bat, he returned to his seat. but larry boyne, as cool and calm as a spring morning, came next, reassuring his friends and comrades by the mere poise of his handsome figure as he took his place in the batter's square. not a word had he said for the past half-hour, and it was plain to see that he keenly felt the defeat that now stared the catalpas in the face. but he showed no white feather, bearing himself as if it were an every-day occurrence to find himself in so difficult a predicament. two strikes were called on him in rapid succession; the third ball he struck at and missed and he was consequently retired for the first time during the day for having failed to hit the ball. the tide seemed to be irretrievably running against the visitors, and many of the less interested spectators began to make their way to the exits, saying as they went, that the game was over. but a little diversion in favor of the catalpas now took place. sam morrison made a long line hit to center field for three bases, and a slight glimmer of hope dawned in the breasts of the sons of catalpa. the friendly champions of the club, bunched together in the seats, yelled themselves hoarse over this little turn in the game, encouraging their fellow-townsmen in the diamond field with all sorts of cheering cries and remarks. alice howell, red and white by turns, and sometimes not seeing the field for the unwonted moisture that gathered in her eyes, waved her handkerchief at the boys below, never trusting herself to say a word. with breathless interest, neddie ellis was watched as he ran to the bat and squared himself for a decisive stroke of business. even the umpire, carried away by the unwonted crisis, forgot everything but the trembling balance of the result of the game. he was brought to his senses by a shouting from the grand stand when he considered a ball was too low to be called a strike, although there were only a few persons who thought to the contrary. neddie was made a little nervous, naturally enough, by the commotion and the stress of the exigency. he knew that there were some chances of winning now depending on his making a good hit. it was a critical point in the closely contested struggle. he made a desperate lunge at the ball, but jamie kennedy was at his post and before the hapless neddie could realize what had happened, kennedy had retired him at first base and the game was won for the calumets. then a mighty shout went up from the throats of the assembled multitudes, for, although many had slipped out in time to avoid the press of the departing throngs, those who remained were sufficiently numerous and enthusiastic to create a vociferous uproar. in the midst of this, the two captains met in mid-field and shook hands cordially with a few complimentary words from each, as their respective clubs gathered around. then, the promiscuous cheering in the seats having subsided, the victors gave a rousing cheer, more or less inspired by their own exultant spirits, for their antagonists; and the catalpas, nothing abashed by their defeat, returned the cheer with great heartiness. "meet us at catalpa," said captain hiram porter to the captain of the calumet club. "meet us at catalpa, and we will try hard to retrieve the ill fortune of this day." it had been agreed that the third and concluding game of the championship series should be played at catalpa, in case the calumets should win the second game. so, with a few hurried words relating to a friendly meeting of the captains of the two nines, on the morrow, the players dispersed from the field. this was what might have been read on the bulletin boards as they went along their homeward way:-base ball to-day. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 catalpas 3 0 1 2 0 0 1 0 0 7. calumets 3 1 0 0 4 0 0 1 0 9. _runs earned_, catalpas, 4; calumets, 2. _base hits_, catalpas, 7; calumets, 7. _errors_, catalpas, 5; calumets, 7. _umpire_, mr. mark b. redmond. _time of game, two hours and ten minutes._ chapter xiv. a strange message from home. "well," cried neddie ellis, cheerily, as the nine filed into captain hiram porter's room, which had been used as a rallying-place, as it was the largest assigned to any member of the club, "well, we have one more chance at the calumets, and there is hope while there's life. hey, larry?" larry did not immediately reply. he was regarding ben burton with suspicion. that individual had received a telegram from the hands of a messenger, as he came into the house, which, having read, he tore into very small pieces and threw away with a disturbed expression of countenance. ben's eyes were now fixed on hiram, who, on coming into the room, had noticed on the mantel-piece a telegram addressed to himself. ben burton's face grew white as his captain, tearing open the envelope, read the despatch with astonishment and wrath depicted on his usually pleasant visage. "read her out, captain," cried "the lily." "read her out and let us divide the bad news with you. i'm sure it's bad news, isn't it, neddie?" without stopping to consider whether it were discreet or not to divulge the message that was causing him so much perturbation, hiram, casting a sharp glance at ben burton, said, "it is bad news, boys, for it accuses one of our number of treachery. it is from tom selby, and it reads thus:- "'_look out for ben burton; he has sold the game._'" "it's an infernal lie!" shouted ben, passionately, and very red in the face, and shaky in the limbs. "what does tom selby know about the game, and how could i sell the game in catalpa? i'll thrash tom selby as quick as i get home; see if i don't!" "no you won't," said albert heaton, who entered the room at this moment. "no you won't. hear this, mr. burton. it's a despatch from dr. selby, dated at catalpa, 5:20 p.m. you see they had then got the news that the game was lost:- "'_i am afraid you did not get tom's despatch to the captain, for we hear that the game is gone. hunt up despatch to hiram, sent to lodgings._'" "what's that despatch you've got there hi? is it tom's?" "yes," answered the captain. "it is from tom. read it." [illustration: "read her out, captain," cried "the lily."--page 167.] albert read the despatch deliberately and said: "i see it all now. my despatch was sent to judge morris's office, where i found it when i stopped in there on my way back from seeing the ladies on board of a street-car for the north side. your despatch should have been sent to the ball grounds, and the idiots here have kept it until it was too late. oh, this is too bad!" and albert fairly groaned. "they couldn't tell what was in the despatch, al," said larry, soothingly. "there's no use crying over spilt milk. but what i should like is an explanation from mr. burton." all eyes were now turned on burton, who defiantly faced his accusers. he was evidently determined to brave out the charge made against him from catalpa. his cheek grew red and pale by turns, and he failed to keep the serenity that he attempted. "see him shake," said "the lily," with bitter contempt. "did any man ever shake like that when he was innocent. oh, no, bennie did not play a muffing game, this afternoon, for nothing!" "i tell you that's a lie?" roared ben, furious with rage. "any man who says i threw the game is a slanderer and i'll fight him. any man would show feeling and shake, as you call it, bill van orman, if accused of doing such a mean thing as selling out his club, and you know it." more in sorrow than in anger, captain hiram ordered the boys to drop the matter for the present. it could not be determined, in the absence of specific testimony, what amount of truth would be found in the startling charge made against a member of the club. they must wait until they reached home, he said, before it would be worth while to take any steps in the matter. meantime, he would advise (but not order) that the members of the club drop the business and say nothing about it, especially not to any outsider. it was good advice that the captain gave, and the members of the club all followed it so far as speaking of the matter to outsiders was concerned. it was asking too much that they should not talk it over among themselves. by common consent, however, ben burton was avoided by all hands. he stood about the house until after supper, then, without leaving any word as to his intentions, he quietly disappeared and was seen no more. "what a wretched streak of luck!" murmured larry boyne to neddie ellis. "if that despatch had been sent to al heaton, or to hiram at the ball grounds, all would have been well. we could have withdrawn ben burton and put will sprague, or al heaton, in his place, before the game began. oh, why did tom do such a foolish thing as to send the message here?" "tom is an idiot!" said neddie, indignantly. "he's a feather-head; always was, and always will be! let's look at that despatch again, captain." critical examination of the message showed that it was received in chicago at half-past one o'clock. it had left catalpa at half-past eleven o'clock in the forenoon. "two hours to send that little message!" almost shrieked neddie ellis. "it's that giddy, flirting girl that works the telegraph office in catalpa! that's what's the matter with the message. now you just remember that, boys." "softly! softly! neddie," said larry. "you mustn't accuse the operator. perhaps the line was down, or somebody else blundered. at any rate, the mischief is done. we'll wait until we get home before we try to find out what it all means." "aha!" cried "the lily," as if he had seen a sudden burst of light. "now we know why ben was late in the field. don't you remember he stole out after we had got through practicing, this noon, and was gone half an hour, or so? where was he? why, he looked as if he had been stealing sheep when he came back. i'll tell you where he had been. he had been to the telegraph office on the corner below the grounds, telegraphing to some confederate in catalpa." "smart boy, bill; but why should he go to the next block below the grounds when there is an office in the building? and how could his telegram to his confederate, if he has one, get back here in tom selby's message?" "that's more than i know, cap, but i should say that he wouldn't dare to send any crooked message from the ball grounds, where he is known." "there is good sense in that, billy boy," said charlie king, who had joined the party while the discussion was going on. "there is plausibility in it, too, for i remember seeing ben go into that office and make some inquiries, as we were going to the grounds, day before yesterday, to practice." meanwhile, mr. heaton was trying to comfort the young ladies in judge morris's family, but his well-meant efforts were discouragingly received by the fair champions of the catalpa club. miss alice was perfectly certain, she averred, that ben burton had purposely "thrown" the game. she had watched him narrowly, and had been, at times, half inclined to send down word to mr. boyne, or to the captain, rather (and this was said with a blush), that burton was playing false. the players could not see it, but she could, and she knew him so well that she could not keep her eyes off him while he was playing, whether it was in the field, at the bat, or base-running. later in the evening, albert came in with two or three of the catalpa men, bearing the doleful news from tom selby. "didn't i tell you so?" demanded alice, with animation. "didn't i tell you, larry boyne, to beware of that young man?" "you did indeed, miss howell," replied larry, with mock dejection. "and we would have looked out for him, as you suggested, if we had had any tangible suspicion, or any proof whatsoever, that he was 'crooked.' but how could we make a stand against one of our own number, merely on so vague a hint as that which we had?" "if _i_ were a member of the catalpa club," said the girl, with spirit, "i would not have so evil a young man as ben burton in it, evidence or no evidence." "miss alice is right," said neddie ellis, "i always did dislike ben burton, and i would have voted against him, if it had not been that he was such a good man at short stop that i couldn't think of putting my little prejudices against what seemed to be the good of the nine." once more it was agreed that it was useless to discuss the matter until the party had reached home, when the charges against burton, and the evidence, if there were any, would be brought up in due form. by the time the players and their friends had embarked on the west-bound train, next day, they had recovered somewhat their usual high spirits. the buoyancy of youth and the natural hopefulness of healthy young fellows like these came to their relief, and the gay, chattering party that took possession of one end of a railway car, that morning, could hardly have been compared with the depressed and angry knot of youngsters that had discussed defeat and treachery, the night before. if they had been sold out, they argued to themselves, and had still fairly held their own against the famed calumets, what was not possible for the team when purged of an unworthy member? so they neared home with hearts lightened of a grievous burden and were once more cheered with the reflection that they had achieved one notable victory, at least, since their departure for chicago, although a defeat counterbalanced that triumph. and when the train drew up before the catalpa depot, the returning adventurers were gladdened by the sight of innumerable flags flying over the town in the distance. they were to be received with congratulations, after all, not as humiliated captives. "that is because we come home neck and neck, i s'pose," said "the lily," as the notes of a brass band startled his ample ear. "it's because we are not so badly off as we might be, billy boy," replied larry boyne. chapter xv. mike costigan's discovery. meantime, strange things had happened in catalpa. the town was in a ferment on the morning of the great day when the catalpa nine were to play their second game with the calumets. the glory of the first day's victory shone brightly to encourage the friends of the club as they loitered towards the telegraph office and clustered under the windows of the office of _the leaf_, when the time for calling the game drew near. in the office of that influential sheet there was much commotion, as every printer at the case and every member of the slender editorial staff, even down to the young lady who wrote fashion articles out of the chicago newspapers, was in some way interested in base ball. those who were not members of a nine were in training, or were represented by men who were active players. therefore, while the expectant crowd in the street below was hungry for news from the diamond field, the smaller convocation in the printing office above was even hungrier for the opportunity to hang out the banner of victory which all were sure would wave from the roof of _the leaf_ before the day was done. a few despatches, vague and dealing only in glittering generalities, as the editor said, were sent early by albert heaton and were duly bulletined by "the leaflet," as mr. downey's office boy was generally called. there were many inquiries at the telegraph office for news, but "the lady operator," with needless asperity, referred all applicants to the editor of _the leaf_. mike costigan, the telegraph messenger, and hank jackson, the ex-champion of the dean county nine, were the greatest trials which the long-suffering lady at the telegraph desk had to endure. mike had put his whole soul, which was large for his small body, into the base ball championship, and he was ready to weep if the catalpas should not return with what he called "the skelps of them chicago fellers" at their belts. as for hank, he pretended to be in momentary expectation of a telegraphic despatch. as early as nine o' clock in the morning, he had begun to haunt the telegraph office and demand a message that did not come. mike was sure that jackson would have early news from the seat of war, and, wisely fearing hank's heavy hand and rough tongue, he followed him at a respectful distance, waiting to hear something to encourage his fond hopes of the catalpa club. the lad had been hurrying out with a message to heaton's flouring mills, and he bounced up the stairs of the telegraph office, three at a time, and flew into the room where the hard-worked operator was rattling at the instrument. a swift look from mike took in the whole situation. henry jackson was seated on a bench in a corner of the office, with his back to the door, puzzling over a little book and a telegraphic despatch. he inspected the pages of the book, then scanned the message, and then, licking the end of a lead-pencil, wrote something on the paper containing the despatch. "here, hurry with this message, mike," said the lady in the office, "and be quick about it; you are always loitering about the corner when you are wanted." almost wild at being sent out before he could get an opportunity to extract a bit of news from hank jackson, mike flew out on his errand, astonished the receiver of the message by telling him to hurry up with his signature, and then went back to the office on the wings of the wind. alas! when mike re-entered the room, breathless and hot, hank had departed without leaving any trace of the quality of the news that he might have received. no, not quite so bad as that, thought mike, as he ruefully surveyed the empty bench, for there in a corner, tossed under the bench on which henry had been sitting, was a wad of crumpled paper which the boy's experienced eyes told him was from the telegraph company's stores of stationery. pouncing upon the ragged ball with the hunger of a small boy in pursuit of information concerning a base ball match, mike drew forth a "receiving blank," torn and crumpled, on which was written an incomprehensible message. kneeling on the floor, his stubby hands shaking with excitement, mike smoothed out the torn despatch, joining the two larger fragments so as to get the meaning of the words. and this, after some botheration, was what was revealed to mike's distended eyes:-[illustration: form 2. mutual union telegraph co errors can be guarded against only by repeating a message back to the sending station for comparison, and the company will in transmission or delivery of unrepeated messages, beyond the amount of tolls paid thereon, nor in any case where the sixty days after sending the message. this is an unrepeated message, and is delivered by request of the sender, under the conditions named above. john g. moore, president. ======================================================================== get all the bet you can against catalpas they lose game sure ======================================================================== read the notice at the top.] "gosh all hemlock!" this was mike's extreme of profanity, "if ben burton hasn't gone and sold the game!" the lad, who was shrewd beyond his years, carefully put the pieces of paper inside of his jacket, buttoned it up tightly, and, after ascertaining that no message was coming over the wires, and that he might decamp without fear, bolted out of the office, threw himself downstairs, and darted into dr. selby's shop like a shot. [illustration: "mike smoothed out the torn despatch."--page 178.] "here! here! tom," he gasped, almost beside himself with anxiety and alarm. "ben burton's goin' to sell the game! leastways, here's somethin' crooked! look at it!" thomas, who was keeping shop while his father was absent for a moment, took the paper, with a puzzled look at mike, then spreading it out on the counter, scrutinized it carefully, and, as he felt a cold chill running down his back at the revelation of an unsuspected rascality, he smote the walnut plank of the counter and cried, "by ginger!" this was tom's extreme of profanity. "where did you get this?" he demanded of the excited mike. "in the office, under the bench there by the stove, where hank throwed it. i seen him readin' it, and then lookin' into a little book--one of them books that has the meanin' of words into 'em." "dictionary?" suggested tom. "yes, dictionary, that's what it is. and he'd get a word outen that, then put it down. i had to get out on a message to 'squire dewey, and when i got back he was gone; but i got the message. don't you think it's crooked?" "of course i do; and be sure you don't let on to a living soul what you have seen. we'll circumvent him yet." mike rushed back to his post, sober with a sense of the important secret that he carried under his ragged jacket. as soon as dr. selby returned, tom laid the matter before him. the old gentleman was astounded and grieved. no time was to be lost. tom must hasten to the telegraph office and send a warning message to captain hiram porter. the lad hurried away, stopping on the sidewalk below the office long enough to note hank jackson offering "two to one," as he phrased it, against the catalpas. the despatch was sent and tom sauntered back, half-tempted to take up one of the offers of the presumptuous and boastful hank; but he refrained. he knew that the game of the conspirators had been circumvented. it would be his day's delight to stand by and see the dishonest scheme recoil upon the heads of its promoters. but as the day wore on and despatches from the ball ground (at first favorable and conclusive proof to the selbys that they had nipped the conspiracy in the bud) grew more and more discouraging, tom became desperate; he longed for wings that he might fly to chicago and reveal the depth of infamy into which one of the club had fallen. later in the day, when defeat seemed certain, yielding to the boy's importunities, dr. selby sent a message to albert heaton, in care of judge morris. "where did you send hiram's despatch to?" he asked of tom, suddenly, as if a new suspicion crossed his mind. "to the lavalette house, of course. they all stop there!" "oh, you idiot!" groaned his father. "they had gone to the ball ground before your despatch could reach chicago!" chapter xvi. the conspiracy laid open. the selbys kept their own counsel, although tom burned to tell everybody whom he met not to bet with hank jackson on the base ball match; but, after pondering the matter in his mind, he came to the conclusion that if people would bet on a base ball game, they must run their own risks and chances. it would serve them right, he thought, if they did lose their money in this foolish fashion. the league, he knew, had enacted severe rules against gaming, and the influence of that example should be strengthened even if by the misfortunes of those who laid wagers. so there would have been no suspicion of hank's complicity in any plot, if mike had been able to keep a secret, but mike adored "the lady operator" secretly and from afar. he submitted in silence and uncomplainingly to her rebuffs and scoldings for the sake of winning her regard. in a moment of confidence, he imparted to the object of his dumb worship the information that the cipher message which she had received for jackson was "crooked." the young lady was shocked. she had heard that hank was going about town offering to bet against the catalpa nine, and now she instantly divined what was going on, and was indignant accordingly. the fact that she had been the unconscious channel of communicating with the culprit did not lessen her wrath. unhappily for henry, he came to the office in the course of the afternoon, and the operator, as soon as she saw him, "gave him a piece of her mind," to his great discomfiture. hank, unlike his co-conspirator, did not attempt to deny anything, but tacitly admitted all that was charged against him by the irate young lady. after turning over in his mind the circumstances of the scrape into which he had been drawn, master jackson coolly sat down and wrote the following despatch to ben burton: _the thing is blown. look out for yourself._ _henry j. jackson._ it was this warning, received by burton after the game was over, that put him on his guard when he was confronted with the despatch sent to hiram porter. next day, when the town was alive with enthusiasm over the reception to the returning base ball club, henry jackson did not appear in any of the excited groups that accompanied the players from the depot to their club-rooms. the hilarity of the day was somewhat dampened by the fact that one of the nine was a traitor, and that he must be disciplined, if the charge were proven against him. the evidence shown to the boys on their arrival was tolerably conclusive, but it was needful, as they thought, to secure an admission from either ben or henry that there had been collusion between them. burton's father, a worthy and honest miller, sought out captain hiram, and, with much grief, told him that ben had written to him from chicago, saying that he was going to indiana on unexpected business, and that he would not be in catalpa for some weeks to come. this, to the old gentleman, who had heard the flying reports to his son's discredit, was a suspicious circumstance. he did not like to believe that benjamin had done anything wrong, he said, but he was "afeard," yes, he was "afeard." judge howell sent for hank jackson, and that young man, although at first disposed to be stubborn, finally broke down before the majesterial bearing of the judge and told all that was needful to convict himself and ben of having combined to make money by betting on the game between the calumets and the catalpas. ben, he said, had suggested the trick, agreeing to "throw the game," if hank, and any other confederate whom he might select, would get the bets secured in catalpa. henry also thought that ben had arranged to have a similar scheme at the same time played in sandy key, where he had a boon companion. the story of the despatches was now clearly unravelled. ben had sent a despatch to henry jackson directly after leaving the chicago lodgings of the club, on the morning of the second day; subsequently, he had remembered that his friend in sandy key might be utilized as a fellow conspirator, and, just before the game was called, he had hurried off a despatch to him, also. inquiries subsequently developed the fact that this was exactly what had been done. while henry was undergoing an examination in judge howell's private office, the nine were in consultation. presently, the door opened and the judge and his unwilling prisoner appeared. "henry has decided to make a clean breast of this unhappy business, captain porter," said the judge. "speak up like a man, henry, and tell the gentlemen what you have told me." with downcast eyes and a sullen manner, hank fumbled with his cap, and mumbled his story, but without omitting anything relevant to the case. he was heard in silence, although "the lily," whose eyes glared vengefully at the culprit, with difficulty restrained himself. and when the door closed behind the judge and the criminal, the ungentle william gave a roar of rage that astonished first, and then set the club off into fits of laughter, in spite of the solemnity of the occasion. "well, what is the result of your deliberations, mr. boyne?" asked a brisk and somewhat seedy young man, as the boys came down from their club-room. pulling out a note book and moistening a pencil at his lip, as he spoke, he continued, "shocking case of depravity on the part of young burton. quite a small sensation, on my word. small, small for a big city, but really sensational for catalpa, you know. ha! ha!" and the young gentleman laughed at his little sally. "great powers!" was larry's exclamation. "you are not going to print anything about this disgraceful business in _the leaf_, are you?" "why, certainly, mr. boyne. i have a lovely article written up. we only want the action of the club to round it off, give it completeness as it were, and there you are." "oh, that would be very bad!" cried larry. "i don't mind your saying in the paper that mr. burton has been obliged to leave the club, and that we have supplied his place by placing mr. albert heaton at short stop, mr. william sprague being unable to play, on account of having sprained his thumb while practicing with the club. but don't let us disgrace the town and the club by making public ben burton's treachery!" a new light seemed to dawn on the reporter's mind, and he sucked his pencil reflectively. finally, he brightened up and said, "well, you must go and see mr. downey. he was reckoning that we would have a first-class story out of this. i have no authority in the premises. i am only an humble scribbler, a mere local-items, so to speak. but a word from you to the editor-in-chief, mr. boyne, will have its effect. yes, it will have its effect. but that is a lovely story spoiled, mr. boyne." mr. downey, when sought in the office of _the leaf_, was deeply chagrined to learn that the members of the base ball club were unwilling that anything should appear in next morning's paper regarding the unfortunate affair in which ben burton was involved. news was news, he said, and, what was more, news was very scarce at this season of the year. harvesting was not wholly completed. no shooting matches had been yet arranged, and there was a frightful dullness throughout the county. his hated rival, _the dean county banner_, would be almost certain to get hold of the affair, and, as _the banner_ was a semi-weekly, instead of a daily, like _the leaf_, he would have time to work it up into that dime novel sensation to which _the banner_ was so addicted. and the editor of _the leaf_ curled his lip with fine contempt for his rival. but the arguments of the young men overwhelmed the generous mind of the editor, who, on condition that similar persuasion should be brought to bear on the editor of _the banner_, consigned to the waste-basket, but with a pang, the highly-seasoned narrative which his reporter had prepared. the substitution of albert heaton for the derelict ben burton was not effected without a struggle. his mother, firm in her conviction that base ball was not an aristocratic game, held out against the arguments of her husband and her son, until judge howell, accidentally meeting her on the street, one day, craftily won her over by informing her that he wished that he had a son big enough to play base ball. he was sure that the honor and the glory of defeating the crack base ball club of the state would now fall to the catalpa nine. it would be a great day for catalpa when this happened. the good lady surrendered. what judge howell thought and said seemed to her like law and gospel, social and moral. albert joyfully received consent to play with the nine--"just for this once." chapter xvii. a famous victory. it was a great day for base ball when the far-famed calumet club came to catalpa to play the home nine. the visitors arrived by the evening train and were met at the station by the greater part of the catalpa club, who escorted their friends to the hotel in which quarters had been engaged. to say that the strangers were objects of curiosity to the youths and lassies of the town would only faintly describe the enthusiasm with which they were received by the people of catalpa. the morrow was to witness the final game of the struggle, already made sufficiently notable by the narrowness of the margin left for the two contestants, and by the notoriety given to it by the treachery of ben burton, now town-talk, but (thanks to the discretion of the players) not known outside of catalpa. so high ran the excitement that there were many sleepless youngsters in catalpa, that night, although the seasoned veterans who were the actors in the drama slept as soundly as though the next day would not dawn, big with the fate of rival base ball clubs. tom selby, as his father reported, arose at frequent intervals through the night, looked out on the cloudless sky across which the harvest moon was riding, and went back to his bed with a deep-drawn sigh of satisfaction at the prospect of another fine day for the great match. it was a beautiful day that lighted up the valley of stone river; and the mellow october sun flooded the scene with splendor, when the crowds began to flow towards the agricultural fair grounds, now re-furbished with great care, and decorated with every available bit of bunting in the place. an enormous throng greeted the sight of the players as they entered the enclosure and made their way directly to the officers' old rooms, now set apart for the use of the members of the two nines. special trains had been run on the two railroads entering the town, and from the country round about came long lines of farm-wagons filled with rustic belles and beaux, stalwart young fellows from the rural districts, elder people from outlying villages, and small boys who had heard from afar the news of the great event that was about to happen, and had trudged into town from distant homes, carrying their frugal luncheons with them--all bound to see the sport. there was judge howell's carriage, you may be sure, with the judge, his pretty daughter, and his prim sister, eager for the sight, even miss anstress grimly admitting, as if under great mental pressure, that she did hope that the catalpas would beat and so have done with what she thought a long and very unnecessary contest for the championship of the state. there, too, was old rough and ready, alert and spry as a lad of nineteen, making himself very busy trimming the flags, inspecting the grounds, and running of errands for the players, conscious that but for him the game could not go on. there was a great and tumultuous cheer when the two nines, clad in their uniforms, finally emerged from the unpainted little buildings near the judges' stand in which they had made ready for the game. hank jackson, with what some thought was unparalleled impudence, under the circumstances, but which may have been prompted by a spasm of repentance, stood up on his seat and proposed "three rousing cheers for the catalpa nine" as that famous organization filed into the diamond field. whereupon, mr. heaton, fixing his fond paternal eye on his son, now wearing the uniform of the home club, waved his tall hat and asked for three cheers for the visitors, and these were given with a will. "ah!" sighed alice, as the catalpas lost the toss and went to the bat at the direction of their antagonists, "that is a bad sign; but i have made up my mind not to notice any more signs, good, bad, or indifferent." "a sensible conclusion, child," said the aunt. "i have heard that base ball players are as superstitious as sailors, and that is one reason why i think that the game must be debasing to the morals of the players." alice laughed loud and long at this, and even the judge relaxed his face into a smile as he heard the sage observation of the elderly lady before him. "pay attention, alice," said her friend ida, "there goes that handsome larry to the bat!" but it was needless to direct attention to the player. every eye was fixed on the favorite as he lifted his bat jauntily and took his position with a knowing smile to sam morse, the calumets' pitcher, as if in recognition of their former contests. but larry, and sam morrison, who succeeded him, failed to hit the ball safely. and neddie ellis, who came next to the bat, secured his base only by an error on the part of captain ayres, at first base. there was then a chance for the catalpas to score, but this was destroyed by charlie king's going out on a fly. equally unsuccessful were the calumets, who now came to the bat with high hopes. darius ayres hit a fly to john brubaker, in the right field, and that vigorous young man neatly captured the ball amid the plaudits of his fellow townsmen, who were plainly glad of the least occasion for hilarity. sam morse was retired at first base, and john handy hit a sky-scraper to neddie ellis, ending the first inning without a run. again both clubs, watching each other with rigid scrutiny, failed to score a run. each of the nines played a model fielding game and the result was that not a player reached first base in safety. for the catalpas, hart stirling struck out; john brubaker hit a slow ball to jamie kennedy who fielded him out at first base, and hiram porter went out on a fly to james mcwilliams. the calumets were retired with equal precision and celerity, rob peabody being thrown out at first base by albert heaton, tom shoff meeting his fate at the same point at the hands of hart stirling, while glenn otto failed to hit the ball, although he made three mighty strokes at it. the third inning began without a run to the credit of either club, and it ended in like manner. the catalpas went to work with a will that promised to achieve something for their success, but they were forced to yield to the strong fielding game played by the visitors. al heaton made his first appearance at the bat, and a little rustle of applause ran around the crowded seats as he stepped lightly to his position. he had been "a little shaky," as he expressed it confidentially to his friend larry, but the welcome he received from the spectators gave him a bracing of the muscles, and he hit a hard ball to the right field, where it was captured neatly by rob peabody. "the lily" next tried his best to hit the ball, but he could not send it out of the diamond, and, as deputy sheriff wheeler remarked, "he died at first base." larry boyne fared no better than his predecessors, as he hit up a very easy fly which fell to the lot of shoff. it was the work of a few minutes to dispose of the calumets. jamie kennedy struck out; charlie webb was retired at first base, after hitting a hot ball to hart stirling, and mcwilliams went down before the deceptive curves of the catalpas' pitcher. "three innings and not a run yet!" was the exclamation of miss ida boardman. "why, both clubs seem to be watching each other as a cat would watch a mouse! i wonder if either will score a run in this game? if they don't, i shall feel as if my time was wasted, shan't you, alice?" but miss alice, with a demure glance at her aunt, who beheld the field with a listless manner, declared that the playing was simply splendid, and she pitied anybody who could not appreciate the wonderful fielding of the two clubs. she wished victory for the home nine; but she could not withhold her generous praise for the fine playing of the visitors. when sam morrison went to the bat for the catalpas, there was on his face a look of determination that indicated mischief, as his admirers said among themselves. "the lily" said, "it is high time that something was done, and we must be the first to send a man across the plate." sam hit a difficult grounder to handy, who allowed the base runner to reach the first bag in safety, by making a poor throw to ayres, after accomplishing a first-rate stop, at third base. neddie ellis made his first base hit of the game, and this advanced morrison to third base. the next two strikers, charlie king and hart stirling, threw a gloom over the spirits of the catalpas and their allies sitting in rapt silence in the benches around, by going out at first base. as john brubaker, the redoubtable, handled his bat in this inning, the attention of the spectators was fixed on him when he took his position. the eyes of sam morrison and neddie ellis were also riveted on john; the former was on third base, and neddie had succeeded in reaching the second bag in safety. anxiously did they wait to be sent around homewards. john hit a ball over the head of tom shoff which secured him two bases and his club the same number of runs, as morrison and neddie finished the circuit of the bases on this timely hit of the right fielder of the home nine. a great roar of applause went up from the assemblage, and the moisture gathered in the eyes of some of the more impressionable of the fair ones among the spectators. it was an auspicious moment for the catalpas. the spirits of the on-lookers were slightly dampened, however, by captain hiram's being put out, which ended this half of the inning. nor was the scoring of runs to be confined to one club. the calumets, in their half of the inning, also "broke the ice," as rob peabody expressed it to shoff. captain darius hit the first ball pitched and it yielded him a base hit. sam morse struck up an easy fly which fell before the skillful fielding of sam morrison. next to the bat came john handy, who imitated the example of john brubaker, sending home his captain on a two-base hit. rob peabody took his base on called balls, but was put out by a neat double play. tom shoff hit a ball to al heaton who threw it to stirling, who put out peabody and then threw it to first base in time to head off thomas; and the fourth inning was closed with the catalpas two to one for their competitors. whereat there was a thundering round of applause from the partial spectators. inspired by this token of their success, the sons of catalpa went cheerily to the bat and began what proved to be a fruitless attempt to increase the lead of their club. albert heaton, their first striker, made a base hit and reached second base on a bad throw by charlie webb, but he was left there, as "the lily," larry boyne, and sam morrison were all retired at first base. here the calumets played a first-rate game and ran the bases in fine style, taking advantage of two errors committed by their opponents, which allowed them to score the single run needed to put them on even terms. glenn otto, the first striker, went out on a fly to larry boyne. the next man to the bat was jamie kennedy, who hit a line ball to sam morrison, who fumbled it and allowed the base runner to reach the first bag safely. kennedy then succeeded in reaching the second base by a passed ball, and was sent across the home plate by charlie webb, who struck the ball for a base hit. mcwilliams went out on a foul fly to "the lily," and darius ayres ended the inning, being fielded out at first base. in the sixth inning, the catalpas once more took the lead. neddie ellis led off with a base hit and was followed by charlie king, who secured his base by an error on the part of glenn otto. hart stirling went out on a fly to rob peabody and was followed at the bat by john brubaker, who hit safely and so sent in neddie ellis amidst the cheers of the excited spectators, now fairly alive with enthusiasm. hiram porter was thrown out at first base, and al heaton hit a long fly to mcwilliams, which the latter deftly captured, and the crowd, apparently anxious to seem impartial, loudly applauded the catch. the calumets failed to tally one in their half of this inning. sam morrison made a base hit and peabody went to first on a trifling error by captain porter, but handy, shoff and glenn otto were retired in quick succession, the first-named at first base and the other two on high flies to the out-fielders. once more the catalpas added to their score, the glory of making a home run falling this time to "the lily." coming to the square, he swung his ashen bat over his shoulder, and selecting a "drop ball," he hit with a will and with all his might, and the sphere flew far over the center fielder's head, giving the gratified catcher of the home nine the first and only home run of the game. before the ball could be returned to the diamond, van orman had cleared the circuit of the bases, and, as he seated himself breathlessly on the players' bench, he was greeted with a hearty round of cheers from the excited throng. cries of "good for 'the lily' of catalpa!" burst from the multitude, and ida boardman waved her scarf at the bashful william, who detected the compliment from his post on the opposite side of the amphitheater. "get up, bill, and show yourself proud!" cried neddie ellis. "you have won an encore." at this, bill heaved up his burly form, doffed his cap and grimly bowed to the spectators, who cheered him more wildly than ever. but larry, who now took his bat to the square, was the cynosure of all eyes. somehow, the confidence of the great assembly was with him always, even as their affection seemed lavished on peachy-cheeked neddie ellis. but larry failed to win the plaudits that would have readily followed the least pretext for a burst of applause. he made a single hit, but did not score a run, as sam morrison, neddie ellis and charlie king were rapidly retired, one after another. in this inning, the calumets succeeded in keeping themselves within one run of their opponents. jamie kennedy made a two-base hit, and, after charlie webb and james mcwilliams were retired at first base, they scored a run which was achieved by captain darius ayres making a base hit. sam morrison ended the inning by going out on a "liner" to larry boyne. the score now stood four to three in favor of the catalpas, and as "the lily" sagely remarked, "it's anybody's game." the home club tried every possible maneuver to increase their lead; but all was in vain. the contest was now drawing to a close, and the least bit of luck falling into the hands of the visiting nine would carry them so far ahead that defeat would be inevitable for the catalpa club. hart stirling, john brubaker, and hiram porter, the first three strikers for the home club, went out very quickly in the order named. then the calumets came to the bat with high hopes of securing at least the one run needed to bring them up to an even score with their adversaries. but they, too, were doomed to disappointment. john handy, rob peabody, and tom shoff were put out in "one-two-three order," so skillful was the fielding and so accurate the throwing of larry boyne, hart stirling, and al heaton. "the last inning! the last inning!" cried miss alice, gleefully clapping her hands, "and the catalpas are first at the bat with a lead of one to their credit! oh, i do hope that albert will make a run! i know he will! look at him where he stands! isn't he handsome, aunt anstress?" miss anstress howell turned her cool glance in the direction of the diamond field, and looking at albert, said that she was not sure whether a young man could be called good-looking in those singularly ill-fitting and peculiar clothes that ball-players wore; but she was interested in the game, as a whole, she said, without any special interest in the players as individuals. she took in the performance without any thought for the men who carried it forward. "you are a kind of overseeing providence, anstress?" said the judge. while they were talking, a murmur, only a murmur, of conversation swept around the crowded enclosure, and everybody seemed to be saying to his neighbor that this was the conclusive and crucial moment in the struggle. all eyes were intent on al heaton, and even grown men held their breath, as, with close tension of every nerve, they watched the movements of the players in the field. tom selby, attended by his faithful satellite, mike costigan, who had a holiday, gazed with admiring eyes at his demi-god, albert heaton, and so still was the air, now soft and warm and dimmed by the lustrous october haze, that one might have heard a leaf drop, as bill van orman eloquently expressed it, afterwards. albert patiently waited for a good ball, and when he saw one come, at last, he sent the sphere out of the reach of glenn otto and placed a base hit to his credit. next came "the lily" who hit the very first ball pitched, for two bases, and, with a volley of ah-h-h-s following him, sent in al heaton to the home plate. larry came next in order, and pretty alice howell felt a quickening of her pulse and her color glowing as she saw the resolute and sturdy figure of the favorite of the club shouldering his bat and striding to position. larry made a safe hit to the right field, sending in "the lily," and securing his own base. sam morrison was put out at first while larry shot to second base. then neddie ellis went out on a fly to rob peabody, and charlie king ended the inning for the catalpas, by striking out, leaving larry on third base, to which he had stolen meanwhile. the catalpas now had a lead of three, and the calumets came to the bat with lugubrious faces. "but i have seen sicker children than this get well," was captain ayres's philosophical remark, as glenn otto went to the bat for the visiting club. the catalpas went to the field with an elation which they could hardly conceal, and with a tolerably firm belief in their victory. they handled the ball with a dexterity almost unexampled, even for them, and speedily put a damper on any hopes that the calumets might have cherished. glenn otto went out on a fly to john brubaker. jamie kennedy was thrown out at first base by hart stirling, and charlie webb ended the game by hitting a hot ball to larry boyne who made a lightning throw to first base, before any of the spectators could see what had become of the ball, so swift and agile were his motions. a great cheer burst forth from the multitude. the umpire superfluously cried "game" in the midst of a deafening uproar, and, as the two captains advanced towards each other to clasp hands, the catalpas, relieving their pent-up enthusiasm with a wild yell, swooped down upon larry boyne, whose brilliant play had terminated the game, and, seizing him bodily, carried him above their heads, shouting "hurrah for the 'curly-headed cat!'" as they swung around and round the diamond field. men and boys whooped and shouted, women waved handkerchiefs and parasols, and numberless small boys shrilly added to the din. truly it was a great day for catalpa. for a moment, alice could not trust herself to speak. and when, with unsteady voice, she responded to her father's delighted comments, he looked at her with surprise and said, "why, alice, my child, i believe you are crying!" "for joy, papa," was all she said. just then, the lads, still carrying larry, with flushed face and sparkling eyes, his curly hair ruffled by his unwonted treatment, surged towards the judge's carriage. alice extended her hand, and their eyes met with one swift glance of unspeakable elation. the judge looked on with benignant approbation, an unusual lump rising in his throat as he regarded with unaffected admiration the young athlete who had carried off the honors of the day. [illustration: "hurrah for the curly-headed cat!"--page 200.] "you are to be congratulated very heartily, mr. boyne," he said. "our club has won a famous victory, and it is a proud thing for you that your associates fix upon you as the noblest warrior of them all." with more cheers and congratulations, the assembly slowly dispersed, the booming of an anvil salute falling on their ears as the men, women and children of catalpa descended the hill to the town. and in the records of that proud community was written this score:- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 _total._ catalpas 0 0 0 2 0 1 1 0 2= 6. calumets 0 0 0 1 1 0 1 0 0= 3. _runs earned_--catalpas, 3; calumets, 2. _base hits_- " 10; " 5. _errors_- " 3; " 4. _umpire_, mr. john e. o'neill. * * * * * all these things happened years ago. it would be difficult for any inquiring stranger to gather the threads of the narrative herein set forth. even the name of the calumet base ball club disappeared from the roll of the league, after that once-famous organization had been reconstructed, merged, and re-reconstructed. the title of the catalpa base ball club has survived time's changes, but the founders of the club are now sedate upholders of the dignity and credit of their city, with little time or inclination for athletic sports. their successors cherish with just pride the traditions of the early achievements of the club, and the titles of the original nine are carried with due respect for those who first wore them. the visitor in catalpa would note many changes in the busy western town from which the famous base ball club went forth to conquer. judge howell has left the bench; and he and his daughter alice have taken to themselves a partner, whose name appears on a signboard bearing the inscription-howell & boyne, _attorneys at law_. of a summer afternoon, when the cares of business may be laid down for a while, 'squire boyne, as he is called by his fellow-townsmen, may sometimes be found seated in the outer rim of the well-appointed amphitheater of the catalpa grounds, with other battle-scarred veterans around him, watching the mimic combat in the field below, and telling once more how our base ball club won the championship. the end. _the largest base ball and sporting goods house in america._ [illustration] a.g. spalding & bros., _manufacturers, importers, and dealers_ --in- base ball supplies and general sporting goods. [illustration: trade spalding mark official league ball adopted by the national and northwestern leagues a.g. spalding & bros. chicago. ] "spalding's league ball" enjoys the very highest reputation among the base ball players of america, as evidenced by its general use throughout the country in all championship games played under league rules. it was first adopted by the national league as the official ball of that association in 1879, and has been each successive year since that time. under the league rules, this ball must be used in every championship game played by league clubs. it is made of the very best material, in accordance with the latest league requirements, and every ball warranted to last a game of nine innings, without ripping or losing its shape. beware of cheap imitations; none genuine without our trade mark on each box and ball. "spalding's trade marked bats" are used by all the prominent professional and amateur players. they are made out of thoroughly seasoned timber, on the latest and most approved models, and are everywhere recognized as the best in the market. _complete base ball uniforms made to order._ _catchers' masks_, _catchers' gloves_; _shoes_, _plates_, _belts_, _caps_, _stockings_, _bat bags_, _bases_, _score books_, _umpire indicators_, and everything pertaining to base ball players' outfit. _complete price list of base ball supplies furnished on application._ in addition to base ball supplies we carry a _complete_ line of _guns and gun accoutrements, fishing tackle, bicycles, lawn tennis, croquet, archery, foot ball, ice and roller skates, gymnasium, theatrical, and general sporting goods_. we also supply to the trade the great base ball story, by noah brooks, esq., "our base ball club, and how it won the championship." 4to, board cover, 1.50 cloth cover, 2.25 _a book of great interest to every base ball player._ in your application for price lists please indicate kind or goods wanted. _address_, a.g. spalding & bros., 108 madison st., chicago, ill. 47 murray st., new york. [illustration: they slowly and sullenly handed over the contents of their pockets.] ----------------------------------------------------------------------- bobby blake on the school nine or the champions of the monatook lake league by frank a. warner author of "bobby blake at rockledge school," "bobby blake on a cruise," "bobby blake and his school chums," etc. illustrated by r. emmett owen publishers barse & co. new york, n. y. newark, n. j. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- copyright 1917 by barse & co. bobby blake on the school nine printed in the united states of america ----------------------------------------------------------------------- contents i flying snowballs ii a friend interferes iii the coming storm iv held up v the tramps' retreat vi heavy odds vii paying an old debt viii the cloud breaks away ix a cowardly trick x rockledge school xi tom hicksley reappears xii a new enemy xiii the monatook lake league xiv glowing hopes xv spoiling the fun xvi who was guilty? xvii on the trail xviii a hard hit xix spring practice xx the sugar camp xxi the first game xxii to the rescue xxiii the egg and the fan xxiv an undeserved punishment xxv off for a swim xxvi the scar and the limp xxvii a gleam of light xxviii tom hicksley gets a thrashing xxix a wild chase xxx winning the pennant--conclusion ----------------------------------------------------------------------- bobby blake on the school nine chapter i flying snowballs "ouch!" "that was a dandy!" "how's that for a straight shot?" "thought you could dodge it, did you?" "have a heart, fellows! i've got a ton of snow down my back already." a tumult of shouts and laughter rose into the frosty air from a group of boys, ranging in age from ten to twelve years, who were throwing and dodging snowballs near the railroad station in the little town of clinton. even the fact that four of the group were on their way back to school after the christmas holidays was not sufficient to dampen their youthful spirits, and the piles of snow heaped up back of the platform had been too tempting to resist. as though moved by a single spring they had dropped the bags they were carrying, and the next instant the air was full of flying snowballs. most of them found their mark, though a few in the excitement of the fray passed dangerously near the station windows. flushed and eager, the panting warriors advanced or retreated, until a stray missile just grazed the ear of the baggage man, who was wheeling a load of trunks along the platform. he gave a roar of protest, and the boys thought it was time to stop. but they did it reluctantly. "too bad to stop right in the middle of the fun," said bobby blake, a bright wholesome boy of about eleven years, with a frank face and merry brown eyes. "bailey's got a grouch on this morning," remarked fred martin, better known among the boys as "ginger," because of his red hair and equally fiery temper. "i never saw him any other way," put in "scat" monroe, one of the village boys, who had come down to the station to bid his friends good-bye. "i don't believe bailey ever was a boy." "oh, i guess he was--once," said bobby, with the air of one making a generous concession, "but it was so long ago that he's forgotten all about it." "perhaps you'd be grouchy too if you came near being hit," ventured betty martin, fred's sister, "especially if you weren't getting any fun out of it." betty formed one of a party of girls who bad accompanied the boys to the station to see them off. with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, these girls had stood huddled together like a flock of snowbirds, watching the friendly scuffle and giving a little squeal occasionally when a snowball came too close to them. fred looked at his sister coldly. he was very fond of betty, but as the only boy in a large family of girls, he felt it was incumbent on him to maintain the dignity of the male sex. he had pronounced ideas on the necessity of keeping girls in their place, and betty was something of a trial to him because she refused to be squelched. "of course, girls feel that way," he said loftily. "they're afraid of the least little thing. but men aren't such scare-cats." "men!" sniffed betty scornfully. "you don't call yourself a man, do you?" "well, i'm going to be some day," her brother retorted, "and that's more than you can say." this was undeniable, and fred felt that he had scored a point. betty was reduced to the defensive. "i wouldn't want to be," she rejoined rather feebly. fred cast a proud look around. "sour grapes!" he ejaculated. then, elated by his success, he sought rather imprudently to follow it up. "as for me," he declared, "i wouldn't care how hard i was hit. i'd only laugh." betty saw an opening. "you wouldn't dare let me throw one at you," she challenged, her eyes dancing. fred went into pretended convulsions. "you throw!" he jeered. "a girl throw! why! you couldn't hit the--the side of a house," he ended lamely, his invention failing. "i couldn't, eh?" cried betty, a little nettled. "well, you just stand up against that post and see if i can't." fred was somewhat startled by her prompt answer to his taunt, but it would never do to show the white feather. "all right," he responded, and took up his position, while betty stood some twenty feet away. the laughing group of boys and girls gathered around her, and bobby and scat began to make snowballs for betty. "no, you don't!" cried fred. "i know you fellows. you'll make soakers. let betty make her own snowballs." "what do you care, if you're so sure she can't hit you?" said bobby slyly. "never you mind," replied fred, ignoring the thrust. "you leave all that to betty." the boys desisted and betty made her own missiles. "how many chances do i have?" she asked. "will you give me three shots?" "three hundred if you like," replied her brother grandly. "it's all the same to me." he stiffened up sternly against the post. somewhere he had seen a picture of ajax defying the lightning, and he hoped that he looked like that. betty poised herself to throw, but at the last moment her tender heart misgave her. "i--i'm afraid i'll hurt you," she faltered. "aw, go ahead," urged "mouser" pryde, one of the four lads who were leaving for school. "aim right at his head," added "pee wee" wise, another schoolmate who was to accompany bobby and fred to rockledge. "you can't miss that red mop of his," put in scat heartlessly. "n-no," said betty, dropping her hand to her side. "i guess i don't want to." fred scented an easy victory, but made a mistake by not being satisfied to let well enough alone. "she knows she can't hit me and she's afraid to try," he gibed. the light of battle began to glow in betty's eyes, but still she stood irresolute. "i'll give you a cent if you hit me," pursued fred. "my! isn't he reckless with his money?" mocked pee wee. "he talks like a millionaire," added mouser. "a whole cent," mused bobby. fred flushed. "make it a nickel, then," he said. "and if that isn't enough, i'll give you a dime," he added, in a final burst of generosity. "have you got it?" betty asked suspiciously. she knew that fred was usually in a state of bankruptcy. "i've got it all right," retorted her brother, "and what's more i'm going to keep it, because you couldn't hit anything in a thousand years." whether it was the taunt or the dime or both, betty was spurred to action. she hesitated no longer, but picked up a snowball and threw it at the fair mark that fred presented. it went wide and fred laughed gleefully. "guess that dime stays right in my pocket," he chuckled. "never mind, betty," encouraged bobby. "you were just getting the range then. better luck next time." but the next shot also failed, and fred's mirth became uproarious. "i might just as well have made it a dollar," he mocked. but his smile suddenly faded when betty's third throw caught him right on the point of the nose. fortunately the ball was not very hard. it spread all over his face, getting into his eyes and filling his mouth, and leaving him for the moment blinded and sputtering. the girls gave little shrieks and the boys doubled up with laughter, which increased as the victim brushed away the snow and they caught sight of his startled and sheepish face. betty, in swift penitence, flew to his side. "oh, fred!" she wailed, "i hope i didn't hurt you!" to do fred justice, he was game, and after the first moment of discomfiture he tried to smile, though the attempt was not much of a success. "that's all right, betty," he said. "you're a better shot than i thought you were. here's your dime," he added, taking the coin from his pocket. "i don't want it," replied betty. "i'm sorry i won it." but fred insisted and she took it, although reluctantly. "too bad you didn't make it a dollar, fred," joked pee wee. "couldn't hit you in a thousand years, eh?" chuckled scat. "oh, cut it out, you fellows," protested fred. "i didn't dodge anyway, did i? you've got to give me credit for that." "that was pretty good work for short distance shooting," remarked bobby blake, molding a snowball. "but now watch me hit that rock on the other side of the road." "look out that you don't hit that horse," cautioned betty. but the snowball had already left bobby's hand. he had thought that it would easily clear the scraggy old horse that was jogging along drawing a sleigh. but the aim was too low, and the snowball hit the horse plump in the neck. the startled brute reared and plunged, and the driver, a big hulky boy with pale eyes and a pasty complexion, had all he could do to quiet him. he succeeded at last, and then, grasping his whip, jumped over the side of the sleigh and came running up to the boys, his face convulsed with rage. chapter ii a friend interferes "oh," gasped betty, "it's ap plunkit!" "yes," added fred, "and he's as mad as a hornet." applethwaite plunkit was the son of a farmer who lived a short distance out of town. he was older and larger than the rest of the boys gathered on the station platform, and they all disliked him thoroughly because of his mean and ugly disposition. bobby and fred had had several squabbles with him when he had attempted to bully them, but their quarrels had never yet got to the point of an actual fight. but just now, as he strode up to them, it looked as though a fight were coming. bobby was a plucky boy, and though he never went around looking for trouble, he was always willing and able to take his own part when it became necessary. but ap was a great deal bigger and heavier than he, and just now had the advantage of the whip. so that bobby's breath came a little faster as ap came nearer. but he never thought of retreating, and faced the bully with an outward calm that he was very far from feeling. "which one of you fellows hit my horse?" demanded ap, in a voice that trembled with rage. "i did," replied bobby, stepping forward a little in advance of the group. "what did you do it for?" cried ap, at the same time raising his whip. "i didn't aim at the horse," replied bobby. "i was trying to hit a rock on the other side of the road." "i don't believe it," snarled the bully. "i can't help whether you believe it or not," answered bobby. "it's the truth." "you needn't think you're going to crawl out of it that way," ap snapped back. "you hit my horse on purpose and now i'm going to hit you." he lifted his whip higher to make good his threat. bobby's fists clenched and his eyes glowed. "don't you touch me with that whip, ap plunkit," he warned, "or it will be the worse for you." "you bet it will!" cried fred, rushing forward. "you touch bobby and we'll all pitch into you." "that's what!" ejaculated mouser. "sure thing," added pee wee, who, though lazy and hard to rouse, was always loyal to his friends. for a moment it seemed as though a general scrimmage could not be avoided, and the girls gave little frightened shrieks. ap hesitated. "four against one," he muttered sarcastically. "you're a plucky lot, you are." "throw down that whip and any one of us will tackle you," cried fred hotly, his fiery temper getting the better of him. but just then a diversion came from a new quarter. a boy who was just about equal to ap in age and weight, who had a lot of freckles, a snub nose, a jolly irish face and a crop of red hair that rivaled fred's own, pushed his way through the crowd that had gathered. "it's pat moriarty," cried betty in relief. "hello, bobby! hello, fred!" called out the newcomer cheerily. "what's the rumpus here?" "it's this ap plunkit," explained bobby. "i hit his horse with a snowball by accident." "and the big coward's brought his whip over to get even," volunteered fred. "to git even is it," said pat, as his eyes fell on the bully, who was beginning to move backward. "well, i'll give him the chanst." he went over rapidly to ap. "why don't you tackle a feller of your size?" he asked scornfully. "like me, fur instance?" "you keep out of this," muttered ap uneasily. "keep out of it!" jeered pat pugnaciously. "a moriarty never keeps out of a scrap when he sees a big feller pickin' on a little one." with a sudden movement he snatched ap's whip and threw it on the ground. resentment flared up in ap's eyes. while the two antagonists stand glaring at each other, it may be well, for the benefit of those who have not followed the fortunes and adventures of bobby blake from the beginning, to give a brief outline of the preceding volumes in this series. bobby was the only child of his parents, who resided in the little inland town of clinton. although their hearts were bound up in their son, they had been sensible enough not to spoil him, and he had grown into a bright, manly boy, full of fun and frolic, and a general favorite among the boys of the town. fred martin, whose family lived only a few doors away from the blakes, was bobby's closest friend and companion. the boys were very different in temperament, and it was this very unlikeness, perhaps, which had made them chums. fred had a hot temper which was constantly getting him into scrapes, and bobby, who was much cooler and more self-controlled, was kept busy a good deal of the time in getting his friend out of trouble. they seldom had any differences between themselves and were almost constantly together. mr. blake was once suddenly called to south america on business, and it was arranged that mrs. blake should go with him. what to do with bobby during their absence gave them a good many anxious moments. they finally decided to send him to rockledge school, of which they had heard excellent reports, and to bobby's great delight, mr. martin consented to let fred go with him. the school opened a new world for the boys. they had to study hard, but a lot of fun was mixed in with the work and they had many exciting adventures. they formed warm friendships, but there were two or three bullies in the school who tried to make their lives burdensome. how they finally defeated these petty tyrants and came out on top is told in the first volume of the series, entitled: "bobby blake at rockledge school; or, winning the medal of honor." the steamer on which mr. blake and his wife had sailed was lost at sea, and for a time it was feared that all on board had gone down with her. bobby was heart-broken; so when news came later that his parents had been rescued his joy can be imagined. the end of the spring term was near, and bobby and fred accepted the invitation of one of their schoolmates, perry (nicknamed "pee wee") wise, to spend part of the summer vacation on the coast, where perry's father had a summer home. there they had a splendid time. their most stirring adventure involved the search for a missing boat. this is described in the second volume of the series, entitled: "bobby blake at bass cove; or, the hunt for the motor boat _gem_." they would have stayed longer at this delightful place, had it not been for a message brought to bobby by an old sea captain who was a friend of mr. blake. he told bobby that his parents were on their way home but would stop for a while at porto rico, where they wanted bobby to join them. bobby was wild to see his parents again, and his joy was increased when mr. martin said that he would go too and take fred along. they expected adventure, but got more than they bargained for, and the story of how they were cast away and finally picked up by the very ship on which bobby's father and mother were sailing is told in the third volume of the series, entitled: "bobby blake on a cruise; or, the castaways of volcano island." once more at home, the two boys were preparing to go back to rockledge for the fall term, when they suddenly came into possession of a pocketbook containing a large sum of money. a strange series of happenings led them at last to the owner. in the meantime, their school life was full of action, culminating in a lively football game where bobby and fred helped to defeat belden school, their chief rival. how well they played their part is shown in the fourth volume of the series, entitled: "bobby blake and his school chums; or, the rivals of rockledge." the uncle of "mouser" pryde, one of bobby's particular friends at school, owned a shooting lodge up in the big woods, and he invited mouser to ask some of his friends up there to spend part of the christmas holidays. bobby and fred were members of the party, and they had a glorious time, skating, snowshoeing, fishing through the ice and hunting. in turn, they were themselves hunted by a big bear and had a narrow escape. incidentally they were fortunate enough to rescue and bring back to his right mind a demented hunter who proved to be pat moriarty's father. how they did this and won the everlasting gratitude of the red-headed irish boy is described in the fifth volume of the series, entitled: "bobby blake at snowtop camp; or, winter holidays in the big woods." pat and ap seemed to be trying to outstare each other, and the rest waited in breathless silence during this silent duel of eyes. but ap's eyes were the first to fall before the blaze in pat's. "i'll get even with that bobby blake yet," he mumbled, stooping to pick up his whip. "well, the next time don't bring along your whip to help you out," replied bobby. "an' when you feel like lookin' for trouble, i can find it for you," added pat. "you'll be rememberin', ap plunkit, that i licked you once when you gave a hot penny to a monkey, an' i can do it again." it was evident that ap did remember perfectly well the fact which pat referred to, for he did not seem to want to stay any longer in the irish lad's vicinity. he picked up his whip, went over to the wagon and climbed in. then he took out his spite by giving his nag a vicious slash and drove away. but first he doubled up his fist and shook it at the boys, a gesture which they answered with a derisive shout of laughter. "i think that ap plunkit is just horrid," declared betty, with a stamp of her little foot. "i don't blame him for feeling a little sore," said bobby, "especially before he knew i didn't do it on purpose. but i guess he has a grudge against me anyway." "he was just looking for an excuse to make trouble," put in fred, "and it was just like him to bring his whip along. he never has played fair yet." "he's got a yaller streak in him, i'm thinkin'," chuckled pat, a broad smile covering his jolly face. "i just couldn't help buttin' in when i seen him a swingin' of that whip." "you always stand up for your friends, don't you, pat?" said mouser admiringly. "sure thing," grinned pat. "especially when they're the best friends a feller ever had. i'll never forget what bobby and fred have done for me an' my folks." "oh, that was nothing," put in bobby hastily. "nothin'!" exclaimed pat. "it was just everything, an' there isn't a day goes by in our house but what we're talkin' about it." "how did you happen to be johnny-on-the-spot this morning?" asked bobby, anxious to change the conversation. "i just was doin' an errand at the grocery store when i heard some one say that you boys were goin' off to school this mornin'," answered pat, "an' i dropped everything an' came down here on a dead run to say good-bye and wish you slathers of luck. i guess me mother will be after wonderin' what's keepin' me, an' she a waitin' fur the butter an' sugar," he added, with a grin, "but she won't care when i tell her what the reason was." "i wish you were going along with us, pat," said bobby, who was genuinely fond of the good-hearted irish boy. "yes," drawled pee wee. "we've got a couple of fellows up at rockledge that i'd like to see you handle just as you faced down ap this morning." "if there's any kind of a shindig, i'd sure like to be in the thick of it," laughed pat. "but i'll trust you boys not to let them fellers do any crowin' over you." "right you are," put in mouser. "there aren't any of 'em that can make bobby and fred lie down when they get their dander up." "oh, dear," sighed betty, as the toot of the train's whistle was heard up the track. "here it comes. i just hate to have to say good-bye to you boys." "never mind, betty," cried bobby cheerily. "it won't be so very long and you'll hear from us every once in a while. and maybe we'll be able to come home for a few days at easter." there was a scurrying about as the boys got their hand-baggage together and brushed the snow from their clothes. the train had now come in sight, and a minute later with a great rattle and clamor and hissing of steam it drew up to the platform. "all aboard!" shouted mouser, and the four boys scrambled up the steps, pee wee as usual bringing up the rear. they rushed up the aisle and were lucky enough to find two vacant seats next to each other. they turned over the back of one of them, so that two of them could sit facing the others, and tucked away their belongings in the racks and under the seats. then they threw up the windows so as to have a last word with those they were leaving behind. the girls had their handkerchiefs out ready to wave a good-bye, and betty was applying hers furtively to one of her eyes. "i hope your nose isn't hurting you, fred," she questioned, the mischief glinting out in spite of the tears. "not a bit of it," answered fred hastily, as though the subject was not to his liking. "and you're sure you don't need the ten cents?" "need nothing," declared fred, with the magnificent gesture of one to whom money was a trifle. "i've got plenty with me." betty drew back a little, and scat and pat came along and grasped the four hands that were thrust out to meet theirs. "good luck, fellows," said scat. "i hope you'll get on the baseball nine this spring and lay it all over the teams you play against." "we're going to do our best," bobby replied. "good-bye, boys!" called out pat. "i sure am sorry to have you goin'. it won't seem like the same old place when you ain't here no more." "good-bye, pat!" the four shouted in chorus. "if you have any mix-up with ap while we're gone, be sure to let us know," laughed bobby. "there won't be any mix-up," put in fred. "not if ap sees pat first, there won't." "ap will crawfish all right," confirmed mouser. "he's a wonder at backing out," added pee wee. the bell of the engine began to clang and the train started slowly out of the station. the little party left behind ran alongside until they reached the end of the platform, shouting and waving. the travelers, with their heads far out of the windows, waved and called in return until they were out of sight and hearing. "betty's a bully girl, isn't she, fred?" remarked bobby, as they settled back in their seats. "you're a lucky fellow. i wish i had a sister like her." "ye-e-s," assented fred, rather hesitatingly. "betty's a brick. that is," he added hastily, "as far as any girl can be. but don't be wishing too hard for sisters, bobby," he went on darkly. "girls aren't all they're cracked up to be." "especially when they know how to throw," put in bobby, with a roguish glint in his eyes. fred pretended to think this remark unworthy of an answer, but he rubbed his nose reflectively. chapter iii the coming storm for several minutes the boys were the least bit quiet and subdued. there is always something sobering in going away from home and leaving relatives and friends behind, especially when the parting is going to last for many months, and the warm-hearted farewells of the group at the station were still ringing in the boy's ears. but it is not in boy nature to remain quiet long, and their irrepressible spirits soon asserted themselves and caused the young travelers to bubble over with fun and merriment. besides, pee wee and mouser had said good-bye to their parents the day before in their own homes, and had been stopping over night with their school chums in clinton. their depression was but for the moment and was over the thought of leaving behind so much fun and good will as they had found at their chums' home town, and they helped bobby and fred to forget their feeling of homesickness. there were not many other passengers on the train that morning, so that the boys had plenty of room and could give vent to their feelings without causing annoyance to others. they snatched each other's caps and threw them in the aisles or under the seats, indulged in good-natured scuffling, sang bits of the rockledge songs and cut up "high jinks" generally. fred and mouser were seized by a longing for a drink of water at the same moment, and they had a race to see who would get to the cooler first. fred won and got first drink while mouser waited for his turn. but mouser got even by knocking fred's elbow so that half the water was spilled over the front of his coat. "quit, i tell you, mouser," remonstrated fred, half choking from the effort to drink and talk at the same time. but mouser kept on, until suddenly fred saw a chance to get back at him. "what does it say there?" he asked, pointing to some words engraved on the lower part of the cooler. "i can't quite make the letters out from here." mouser innocently bent over, and fred, taking advantage of his stooping position, tipped his glass and sent a stream of water down his victim's neck. there was a startled howl from mouser as the cold water trickled down his spine. he straightened up with a jerk and chased fred down the aisle, while bobby and pee wee went into whoops of laughter at his discomfiture. "that's no way to drink water, mouser," chaffed bobby as soon as he could speak. "you want to use your mouth instead of taking in through the pores." "oh, dry up," ejaculated mouser, making frantic efforts to stuff his handkerchief down his back. "we're dry enough already," chuckled pee wee. "seems to me it's you that needs drying up." "you will jog my elbow, eh?" jeered fred, who was delighted at the success of his stratagem. "my turn will come," grunted mouser. "it's a long worm that has no turning," he added, getting mixed up in his proverbs. again the boys shouted and mouser himself, although he tried to keep up his dignity, ended by joining in the merriment. in the scramble for seats when they had first boarded the train, bobby and fred had had the luck to get the seat that faced forward. mouser and pee wee had to ride backward and naturally after a while they objected. "you fellows have all the best of it," grumbled pee wee. "that's all right," retorted fred. "that's as it should be. nothing's too good for bobby and me. the best people ought to have the best of everything." "sure thing," bobby backed him up. "the common people ought to be satisfied with what they can get. you fellows ought to be glad that we let you travel with us at all." "those fellows just hate themselves, don't they?" mouser appealed to his seat mate. "aren't they the modest little flowers?" agreed pee wee. "what do you say to rushing them and firing them out?" suggested mouser. "oh, don't do that," cried fred in mock alarm. "pee wee might fall on one of us, and then there'd be nothing left but a grease spot." "might as well have a ton of brick on top of you," confirmed bobby. "i'll tell you what," grinned pee wee. "we'll draw straws for it and the fellows that get the two longest straws get the best seats." "that would be all right and i'd be glad to do it," said fred with an air of candor. "only there aren't any straws handy. so we'll have to let things stay as they are." "you don't get out of it that way, you old fox," cried mouser. "here's an old letter and we'll make strips of paper take the place of the straws." "all right," agreed fred, driven into the open. "give me the letter and i'll make the strips and you fellows can draw." "will you play fair?" asked mouser suspiciously. fred put on an air of offended virtue. "do you think i'm a crook?" he asked. "i don't know," retorted mouser in a most unflattering way. "a fellow that will pour water down my back when i'm trying to do him a favor will do anything." fred looked at him sadly as though lamenting his lack of faith, but proceeded briskly to tear the strips. the boys drew and bobby had the luck to retain his seat, but fred had to exchange with mouser. "it's a shame to have to sit with pee wee," said fred as he squeezed in beside the fat boy. "he takes up two-thirds of the seat." "the conductor ought to charge him double fare," grinned mouser. pee wee only smiled lazily. "look at him," jeered bobby. "he looks just like the cat that's swallowed the canary." "it would take more than that to make pee wee happy," put in fred. "a canary would be a mighty slim meal for him." "you'd think so if you'd seen how he piled into the buckwheat cakes this morning," chuckled bobby. "honestly, fellows, i thought that meena would have heart failure trying to cook them fast enough." "i noticed that you did your part all right," laughed pee wee. "i had all i could do to get my share of the maple syrup." "buckwheats and maple syrup!" groaned mouser. "say, fellows! stop talking about them or you'll make me so hungry i'll have to bite the woodwork." "we can do better than that," said fred. "here comes the train boy. let's get some candy and peanuts." the boys bought lavishly and munched away contentedly. "look at the way the snow's coming down!" exclaimed fred, gazing out of the window. "it is for a fact," agreed bobby. "looks as though it had settled in for a regular storm," commented mouser. "maybe it will be a blizzard," suggested pee wee. as a matter of fact, it appeared to be that already. the snow was falling heavily and shutting out the view so that the boys could scarcely see the telegraph poles at the side of the track. a fierce wind was blowing, and in many places the fence rails were almost covered where the snow had drifted. "hope we won't have any trouble in getting to rockledge," remarked fred rather apprehensively. "not so bad as that i guess," said bobby. "there's one place though, a little further on, where the track runs through a gulch and that may be pretty well filled up if the storm keeps on." "i wonder if there's anything to eat on the train if we should get snowbound," ventured pee wee. "trust pee wee to think of his stomach the first thing," gibed fred. "there isn't any dining car on the train," said mouser. "and we're still a good way from the station where it usually stops for lunch." "we're all right anyway as long as the candy and peanuts hold out," laughed bobby. "yes," mourned pee wee, "but there isn't much nourishment in them when a fellow's really hungry." the storm continued without abatement, and the few passengers that got on at the way stations looked like so many polar bears as they shook the clinging flakes from their clothes and shoes. "oh well, what do we care," concluded pee wee, settling back in his seat. "there's no use borrowing trouble. it always comes soon enough if it comes at all." "we ought to be used to snow by this time," remarked mouser. "after what we went through up in the big woods this doesn't seem anything at all." "listen to the north pole explorer," mocked fred. "you'd think, to hear him talk, that he'd been up with cook or peary." "well, i've got it all over those fellows in one way," maintained mouser. "i'll bet they never had a snowslide come down and cover the shack they were living in." "that was a close shave all right," said bobby a little soberly, as he thought of what had been almost a tragedy during their recent holiday at snowtop camp. "i thought once we were never going to get out of that scrape alive." "it was almost as bad when we were chased by the bear," put in fred. "we did some good little running that day all right. i thought my breath would never come back." "and the running wouldn't have done us any good if it hadn't been for good old don," added mouser. "how that old dog did stand up to the bear." "he got some fierce old digs from the bear's claws while he was doing it," said bobby. "he got over them all right," affirmed mouser. "i got a letter from my uncle a couple of days ago, and he says that don is as good as he ever was." the train for some time past had been going more and more slowly. suddenly it came to a halt, although there was no station in sight. it backed up for perhaps three hundred feet, put on all steam and again rushed forward only to come to an abrupt stop with a jerk that almost threw the boys out of their seats. they looked at each other in consternation. chapter iv held up once more, as though unwilling to admit that it was conquered, the train backed up and then made a forward dash. but the result was the same. the snorting monster seemed to give up the struggle, and stood puffing and wheezing, with the steam hissing and great volumes of smoke rising from the stack. "we're blocked," cried bobby. "it must be that we've got to the gulch," observed fred. "a pretty kettle of fish," grumbled pee wee. "we're up against it for fair, i guess," admitted mouser. "but let's get out and see how bad the trouble is." the boys joined the procession of passengers going down the aisle and jumped off the steps of the car into a pile of snow beside the track that came up to their knees. pee wee, who as usual was last, lost his balance as he sprang, and went head over heels into a drift. his laughing comrades helped him to his feet. "wallowing like a porpoise," grinned fred. "you went into that snow as if you liked it," chuckled bobby. "lots of sympathy from you boobs," grumbled pee wee, as he brushed the snow from his face and hair. "lots of that in the dictionary," sang out mouser. "but come ahead, fellows, and see what's doing." the others waded after mouser until they stood abreast of the locomotive. it was a scene of wintry desolation that lay stretched before their eyes. as far as they could see, they could make out little but the white blanket of snow, above which the trees tossed their black and leafless branches. paths and fences were blotted out, and except for the thin column of smoke that rose from a farmhouse half a mile away, they might have been in an uninhabited world of white. "looks like snowtop, sure enough," muttered mouser, as he looked around. the conductor and the engineer, together with the trainmen, had gathered in a little group near the engine, and the boys edged closer in order to hear what they were saying. "it's no use," the grizzled old engineer was remarking. "the jig's up as far as seventy-three is concerned. i tried to get the old girl to buck the drifts, but she couldn't do it." the boys thought it was no wonder that seventy-three had gone on strike, as they noted that her cowcatcher was buried while the drift rose higher than her stack. "it's too bad," rejoined the conductor, shaking his head in a perplexed fashion. "i've been worrying about the gulch ever since it came on to snow so hard. it wouldn't have mattered so much if it hadn't been for the wind. that's slacked up some now, but the damage is done already." "what are you going to do, boss?" asked one of the trainmen. "you'll have to go back to the last station and wire up to the junction for them to send the snow-plough down and clear the track," responded the conductor. "get a hustle on now and ask them to send it along in a hurry." the trainman started back at as fast a pace as the snow permitted, and the engineer climbed back into his cab to get out of the wind while waiting for help. the conductor started back for the smoking car, and as he went past, bobby ventured to speak to him. "how long do you think we'll have to wait here?" he inquired. "no telling, sonny," the conductor answered. "perhaps a couple of hours, maybe longer. it all depends on how soon they can get that snow-plough down to us." he passed on and mouser gave a low whistle. "scubbity-_yow_!" cried fred, giving vent to his favorite exclamation. "two long hours in this neck of the woods!" "and nothing to eat in sight," groaned pee wee. "i wish i'd let meena put up that lunch for us this morning," said bobby regretfully. "my mother wanted me to bring one along, but i was in a hurry and counted on getting something to eat at the railroad lunch station." "what are we going to do?" moaned pee wee. "fill up on snowballs," suggested mouser heartlessly. pee wee glared at him. "i'm almost as bad as pee wee," said fred. "i feel as empty as though i hadn't had anything to eat for a week. i could eat the bark off a tree." "i tell you what, fellows," suggested bobby, who was usually the leader when it came to action; "what do you say to going over to that farmhouse and trying to buy something to eat? i don't think they'd let us go away hungry." they followed the direction of his pointing finger, and new hope sprang up in them. "but it's an awful long way off," objected pee wee, whose fear of exertion was only second to his love of eating. "have you got another stone bruise on your foot?" asked mouser sarcastically. this was a standing joke among the boys. whenever pee wee hung back from a walk or a run, he usually put forth the excuse of a stone bruise that made him lame for the time. "no, i haven't any stone bruise," pee wee rapped back at him, "but how do you know i didn't bark my shins when i had that tumble a few minutes ago?" he put on a pained look which might have deceived those who did not know him so well. but the steady stare of his comrades was too much for him to stand without wilting, and he had to join rather sheepishly in the laugh that followed. "you stay here then, pee wee, while we go over and get something to eat," suggested fred. "we'll ask the farmer to bring you over something on a gold tray. he'll be glad to do it." "oh, cut it out," grinned pee wee. "go ahead and i'll follow." "foxy boy, isn't he?" chuckled fred. "he wants us to break out the path so that it will be easier for him." "i'd rather have pee wee go ahead," remarked mouser. "he'd be better than any snow plough." with chaff and laughter they started out, bobby leading the way and the rest following in single file. they had pulled their caps down over their ears and buttoned their coats tightly about their necks. luckily for them the wind had moderated, although the snow still kept falling, but more lightly than before. they did not do much talking, for they needed all their breath to make their way through the drifts. as they had no path to guide them, they made straight across the fields, bumping every now and then into a fence that they had to climb. they were pretty well winded and panting hard when at last they reached the fence that bounded the spacious dooryard in front of the farmhouse. a big black dog came bounding down to the gate barking ferociously. the boys took comfort from the fact that the fence was high and that the dog was too big and heavy to leap over it. "he's glad to see us--i don't think," said fred. "seems to have a sweet disposition," muttered pee wee. "let mouser get to talking to him," suggested bobby. "he'll tame him down in no time." mouser, somewhat flattered, stepped forward. he had gained his nickname because he had a number of mice which he had taught to do all sorts of clever tricks. his fondness extended to all animals, and he had the remarkable power over them with which some people are gifted. no matter how savage or frightened they might be, they seemed to yield to his charm. it did not fail him now. he muttered some words soothingly to the dog, whose barking grew feebler. soon it stopped altogether, and in another minute or two the brute was wagging his tail and poking his muzzle through the rails of the fence for mouser to pat him. it was almost uncanny, and the boys held their breath as they watched the transformation. "it's all right now," said mouser, lifting the latch of the gate. "come along, fellows." "gee whiz!" exclaimed bobby. "how do you do it?" "you ought to be with a circus," said fred in undisguised admiration. "you'd make a dandy lion tamer." mouser was elated at the tribute, but accepted it modestly enough, and led the way up to the house, the dog prancing along with them in the most friendly manner. as they reached the door and were about to knock, it was opened, and a motherly looking woman appeared on the threshold. there was an expression of anxiety on her face. "down, tiger, down," she cried. then as she saw the evident pleasure of the brute in the boys' company, her worried expression changed to one of surprise. "mercy on us!" she exclaimed. "i was afraid the dog would eat you up. he's awfully savage, but we keep him on account of there being so many tramps around. i was upstairs when i heard him barking, and i hurried down as fast as i could, for i was sure he'd bite you if you came inside the gate." "oh, tiger's a good friend of mine, aren't you, tiger?" laughed mouser, as he stooped to caress the dog. tiger licked his hand. "well, i never saw anything like it," said their hostess. "i just can't understand it. but here i am keeping you standing outside when you must be half perished with the cold," she went on with quick sympathy. "come right inside and get warm before you say another word." she led the way into a bright, cheerful sitting room, where there was a big wood fire blazing on the hearth. she bustled around and saw that they were comfortably seated before the fire. then bobby explained their errand. "i suppose we're sort of tramps ourselves," he said with the winning smile that always gained for him instant liking. "but we were on the train and it got stalled over there in the gulch on account of the snow. we hadn't brought any lunch with us and we thought we'd come over here and see if we could buy something to eat." "you poor starved boys!" she exclaimed with as ready a sympathy as though she had been the mother of them all. "of course you can have all you want to eat. it's too early for dinner yet, as mr. wilson--that's my husband--went to town this morning and will be a little late in getting back. but i'll get up something for you right away. you just sit here and get warmed through and i'll have it on the table in a jiffy." "don't go to too much trouble," put in bobby. "anything will do." she was off at once, and they heard the cheerful clatter of pans and dishes in the adjoining kitchen. the boys stretched out luxuriously before the fire and looked at each other in silent ecstasy. "talk about luck," murmured mouser. "all we want to eat," repeated pee wee. "she didn't know you when she said that," chaffed fred. "i don't believe there's enough in the house to fill that contract." "pee wee will have to go some to get ahead of me," chimed in bobby. a savory odor was soon wafted in from the kitchen. pee wee sat bolt upright and sniffed. "say, fellows! do you smell that?" he asked. "if i'm dreaming, don't wake me up." "it's no dream," mouser assured him. "it's something a good sight more real than that." before long the door opened to reveal the smiling face of mrs. wilson. "all ready, boys," she announced cheerily. "come right along." chapter v the tramps' retreat the boys needed no second invitation. even pee wee shook off his usual laziness. with a single impulse they sprang from their chairs and trooped out into the dining room. it seemed to the hungry boys as though nothing had ever looked so good as the meal that their hostess had provided for them. there was a huge dish of bacon and eggs, plates piled high with snowy, puffy biscuit, which, as mrs. wilson told them, she had "knocked together" in a hurry, smoking hot from the oven, a great platter of fried potatoes, and, to crown the feast, mince and apple and pumpkin pies whose flaky crusts seemed to fairly beg to be eaten. a simultaneous "ah-h" came from the boys, as they looked at the store of good things set before them, and the way they plunged into the meal was the sincerest tribute that could be paid to the cookery of their hostess. it brought a glow of pleasure into her kindly eyes and a happy flush to her cheeks. she fluttered about them like a hen over her chicks, renewing the dishes, pressing them to take more--a thing which was wholly unnecessary--and joining in their jokes and laughter. it is safe to say that a merrier meal had not been enjoyed in that old farmhouse for many a day. but even a meal like that had to come to an end at last, and it was with a sigh of perfect satisfaction that the boys finally sat back in their chairs and looked about at the complete wreck they had made of the viands. "looks as if a whirlwind had passed this way," remarked mouser. "i never enjoyed a meal so much," said pee wee. "well, you're certainly a judge," laughed fred. "when you say a meal's the limit you know what you're talking about. and this time i agree with you." "i'm glad you liked things," put in mrs. wilson. "it does me good to see the way you boys eat." "i'm afraid you wouldn't make much money if you had us as steady boarders," smiled bobby. "come right back to the living room and get yourselves warm as toast before you start out again in this wind," urged their hostess. "we'd like to ever so much," replied bobby. "but i guess we'd better be getting along. perhaps that snow plough will get down sooner than we thought, and everything's been so good here that i'm afraid perhaps we've stayed too long already." they wrapped themselves up warmly, and then bobby as spokesman turned to their hostess. "how much do we owe you?" he asked, taking out his pocketbook, while the others prepared to do the same. "you don't owe me a cent!" declared mrs. wilson with emphasis. "oh, but yes," rejoined bobby, somewhat startled. "we couldn't think of letting you go to all that trouble and expense without paying for it." "i won't take a penny, bless your hearts," mrs. wilson repeated. "it's been a real joy to have you here. i haven't any children of my own, and the old place gets a bit lonesome at times. i haven't had such a good time for years as i've had this morning, seeing you eat so hearty and listening to your fun. i feel that i owe you a good deal more than you do me." she was firm in her determination, although the boys pressed the matter as far as they could without offending her. so they were forced at last to yield to her wishes and return the money to their pockets. it was with the warmest thanks that they left their kind-hearted hostess and went down the steps, tiger accompanying them to the gate. he seemed to want to go further and whined softly when mouser patted him good-bye. "isn't she a prince?" said pee wee admiringly, as they waved their hands in farewell. "a princess you mean," corrected mouser. "have it your own way," retorted pee wee. "whichever name's the best, she's that." they were in a high state of elation as they ploughed their way across the snowy fields. they were blissfully conscious of being, as mouser put it, "full to the chin," and little else was needed at their age to make their happiness complete. but they were sharply awakened by the sound of a whistle. "that must be our train," cried fred in alarm. "that's what it is," assented bobby, quickening his pace. "we stayed a long time at the table, and the snow-plough must have come along sooner than they thought it would. hurry, fellows, hurry!" and he tried to break into a run. the others followed his example, but the snow was too deep for that. it clung about their feet and legs until they felt that they were moving in a nightmare. "she's going, fellows!" shouted mouser in despair, as a stream of smoke began to stretch out behind the moving train. "and all our bags and things are on board!" wailed fred. "now we're in a pretty mess," gasped pee wee, slumping down in the snow. there was no use in hurrying now, and they looked blankly at each other as they came to a full stop. "scubbity-_yow_!" howled fred as the only way to relieve his feelings. "well, i'll be jiggered!" exclaimed mouser. pee wee was too tired out from his exertion to say anything, and bobby, too, kept silent, though for a different reason. he was busy thinking of the best way to get out of the tangle. "there's no use in worrying about our baggage, fellows," he said at last. "probably the conductor will take good care of that. and we may be able to send a telegram from some place telling the conductor to put our things off at rockledge and leave them in care of the station agent there. what we've got to worry about is ourselves. we can't stay here, and we've got to find some way to get another train as soon as we can. have any of you fellows got a time table?" "i had one," replied mouser, "but it's in my bag on the train." none of the others had one and bobby came to a quick decision. "there's no other way," he announced. "we'll have to go back and ask mrs. wilson. she'll know all about the trains and what's the best station for us to go to." they trudged back rather forlornly and explained their plight to mrs. wilson, who was full of sympathy. "i'd like to have you stay here all night," she volunteered, "and mr. wilson will take you over to the station in a rig to-morrow morning." they thanked her heartily, but explained that this was out of the question. they would be missed from the train, telegrams would be flying back and forth and their parents would be anxious and excited. they must get to some place where they could either telegraph or, better yet, get a train that would land them in rockledge that afternoon or evening. "i'll tell you what to do," she suggested, as a thought struck her. "you can't get a train on this line you've been traveling on until very late to-night. but there's another road that crosses this at a junction about two miles from here and connects with the main line that goes on to rockledge. there's an afternoon train on that line that you'll have plenty of time to make, and it will land you in rockledge before night. there's a telegraph office there too, and you can send any messages you like before you board the train." "that's just the very thing," cried bobby with enthusiasm. "just what the doctor ordered," chuckled mouser. she gave them very careful directions for finding the station, and as there was none too much time and the walking was bound to be slow they set out at once, after thanking their friend for having come a second time to their relief. their path led for the most part through a wood and they passed no other houses on their way. even in summer it was evident that the locality was wild and deserted. now with the snow over everything it was especially desolate. "you might almost think you were up in the big woods," commented mouser. "that's what," agreed fred. "it would be a dandy place for train robbers and that kind of fellows." "i'd hate to be wandering around here at night," remarked pee wee, who was panting with the exertion of keeping up with the others. "it would give one a sort of creepy feeling, like being in a cemetery," assented bobby. suddenly fred uttered an exclamation. "there's a little house right over in that hollow," he cried, pointing to the right. "more like a hut or a shack than a regular house, seems to me," grunted mouser. "i don't believe there's any one living there," commented pee wee. "yes, there must be," declared bobby. "i can see the light of a fire shining through the window." the hut in question was a dilapidated structure of only one story that stood in a little hollow just off the road. it was in the last stages of decay and looked as though a strong wind would blow it to pieces. there were no fences nor barn nor any wagon or farm implement in sight. yet that some one lived in the crazy shack was evident, as bobby had said, by the red light that came flickeringly through the only window that the cabin possessed. "let's stop there for a minute and get warm," suggested fred. "then, too, we can make sure that we're still on the right road to the station." "what's the use?" cautioned bobby. "we got left once to-day by stopping too long." "it will only take a minute," urged fred. as the others also wanted to stop, and bobby did not wish to insist too much, they all went down into the hollow together. the snow of course deadened their footsteps, so that whoever was in the cabin had no notice of their approach. fred, who was in advance, rapped on the door. there was silence for a moment and then the door swung open and a rough looking man appeared on the sill. "what do you want?" he asked gruffly. "we wanted to ask directions about the road," said fred, a little dismayed by the fellow's surly manner. the man looked them over for a moment, noticed that they were well dressed and hesitated no longer. "come in," he said briefly, and stood aside for them to pass. chapter vi heavy odds although feeling rather uneasy because of the man's rough manner, the boys hardly saw what they could do but accept the invitation, and they went inside. the next moment they wished they had not. there were two other men within the hut besides the one who had opened the door. they were seated at a bare pine table, and on the table there was a bottle of liquor. there seemed to be no other furniture in the miserable room, except a rusty wood stove, which was at white heat, two or three stools and a pile of hay in the corner, which evidently served as a bed. the heat inside was stifling, and the room was rank with the fumes of liquor. the unshaven faces of the men were flushed, their eyes red and bleared, and a greasy pack of cards told of their occupation when they had been interrupted. "tramps," whispered bobby to fred, who was nearest. "let's get out of this." "you bet," returned fred, as he made a motion toward the door. but the man who had let them in now stood with his back against the closed door, looking at them with an ugly grin on his face, a face which was made still more repellant by a livid scar up near the temple. "what do these young buckos want here?" asked one of the men at the table, rising and coming toward them. as he did so, bobby noticed that he limped a trifle. "we stopped in for a minute to ask if we were on the right road to the station," said bobby in a tone which he tried to render as careless as possible. "you did, eh?" said the man. "well, just wait a minute and i'll tell you." he and his companion approached their comrade at the door, and for a few moments there was a whispered conversation. then the man with the scar, who seemed to be the leader of the gang, turned to bobby. "you're on the right road all right," he said. "thank you," returned bobby. "then i guess we'll be getting on." the man laughed at this. "guess again, young feller," said one of them. "what's your hurry?" asked the lame man. "we don't often have such nice young kids drop in to keep us company," sneered the man with the scar. "take off your hats and stay awhile." the boys' hearts sank. they no longer had any doubts of the evil intentions of the men who held them virtually prisoners. they had fallen into a den of thieves. "we're going now," declared bobby, in a last desperate attempt to bluff the matter through, "and if you try to stop us it will be the worse for you." the men laughed uproariously. "a fine young turkey cock he is!" croaked one of them. "we'll have to cut his comb for him." "you'll get your own cut first," shouted fred, who was blazing with anger. "don't forget that there are policemen and jails for just such fellows as you are." "shut up, redhead," commanded the scar-faced man, adding insult to injury. then his jocular manner passed and was replaced by a wicked snarl. "hand over what money you've got in your pockets," he commanded, "and turn your pockets inside out. do it quick too, or we'll skin you alive." there was no mistaking the menace in his tone. he was in deadly earnest and his eyes shone like those of a beast of prey. there was nothing to do but to obey. his victims were trapped and helpless. they were only eleven year old boys, and were no match physically even for one such burly ruffian. against three, resistance would have been ridiculous. boiling with inward rage, they slowly and sullenly handed over the contents of their pockets. none of them had any great amount of money--only a few dollars for spending allowance. but taken altogether it made quite a respectable sum, over which the robbers gloated with evident satisfaction. probably their chief calculation was the amount of liquor it would buy for their spree. but even with this the thieves were not content. bobby's silver watch, a scarf pin of mouser's, fred's seal ring and pee wee's gold sleeve buttons went to swell the pile. they even carried their meanness so far as to rob the lads of their railroad tickets. then when they found that there was nothing else worth the plucking, the leader opened the door. "now beat it," he growled, "and thank your lucky stars that we didn't swipe your clothes." half blinded with wrath, the crestfallen boys climbed out of the hollow and into the road which they had left in such high spirits a few minutes before. they had been stripped clean. if their outer clothing had fitted any of the rascals they would have probably lost that too. they were utterly forlorn and downhearted. if they had lost their possessions after a hot resistance against those who were anyway near their age and size, there would at least have been the exhilaration of the fight. but even that poor compensation was denied them. the odds had been too overwhelming even to think of a struggle. at first they could not even speak to each other. when they attempted to find words they were so mad that they could only splutter. "the skunks!" fred managed to get out at last. "the low down brutes," growled mouser. "every cent gone," groaned pee wee. "and those sleeve buttons were a christmas gift from my mother." "and that silver watch was one my father gave me on my last birthday," muttered bobby thickly. "if they'd only left us our railroad tickets!" mourned fred. "that was the dirtiest trick of all," put in mouser. "you can understand why they took the money and jewelry. but they probably don't have any idea in the world of using the tickets." "likely enough by this time they've torn them up and thrown them into the fire," pee wee conjectured. "don't speak the word, 'fire,'" said bobby. "if we hadn't seen the light of it through the window, we wouldn't have gone in there at all." "it was all my fault," moaned fred. "what a fool stunt it was of me to want to stop there anyway." bobby could easily have said, "i told you so," but that was not bobby's way. "it wasn't anybody's fault," he said. "it was just our hard luck. we might have done it a thousand times and found only decent people there each time." "lucky i gave that dime to betty this morning anyway," grunted fred. "that's one thing the thieves didn't get." the remark struck the boys as so comical that they broke into laughter. it was the one thing needed to relieve the tension. it cleared the air and all felt better. "talk about looking on the bright side of things," chuckled pee wee. "you're a wonder as a little cheerer-up," commented mouser. "that's looking at the doughnut instead of seeing only the hole in the doughnut," laughed bobby. after all they were alive and unharmed. the thieves might have beaten them up or tied them in the cabin while they made their escape. "things might have been a great deal worse," said bobby cheerfully, putting their thoughts into words. "the money didn't amount to so much after all, and our folks will send us more. and we may be able to have the tramps arrested and get back our other things. we'll telegraph just as soon as we get to--" but here he stopped short in dismay. "we haven't even money enough to pay for the message!" he exclaimed. "perhaps the station man will trust us," suggested fred. "i think there's a way of sending messages so that the folks who get them pay on the other end," said pee wee hopefully. none of the boys were very clear on this point, but it offered a ray of cheer. "we won't need to send more than one message anyway," said practical bobby as they trudged along. "some of our folks might be away and there might be some delay in getting to them. but i know that my father is at home and i'll just ask him to send on enough money for the bunch of us. then you fellows can square it up with me afterwards." they had reached the outskirts of a village now and the walking had become easier. they quickened their pace and soon came in sight of the station. "there it is!" cried fred, and the boys broke into a run. chapter vii paying an old debt as bobby's watch had been the only one in the party, the boys had not been able to keep track of the time during the latter part of their journey, and they were a little fearful that they might be late for their train. they were relieved therefore to learn they were in plenty of time. the train was not regularly due for half an hour, and owing to the snowstorm it would probably be an hour or more behind time. the station agent at roseville, as the town was named, had charge of the telegraph office as well. he was a kindly man and listened with the greatest sympathy to the boys' story. his indignation at the robbers was hot, and he promised to put the constable on their trail at once. "it's a beastly outrage," he stormed. "that old deserted shack has been too handy for fellows of that kind. they make it a regular hang-out. we'll clean out the gang and burn the place to the ground. i've got to stay here now until after the train leaves, but as soon as it's gone, i'll get busy." he assured them that he would send on the telegram to be paid for at the other end, and the boys, possessing themselves of some blanks, withdrew to a quiet corner to prepare the message. it proved to be a matter requiring some thought, and several blanks were cast aside before it suited them. "you see," said bobby, as he sat frowning over his stub of a pencil, "i don't want to scare the folks to death by telling them we've been robbed. they'd think that perhaps we'd been hurt besides and were keeping it quiet so as not to worry 'em. we can write 'em a letter afterward and tell 'em all about it." the final outcome of their combined efforts stated the matter with sufficient clearness: lost money and tickets. all safe and sound. please telegraph twenty dollars to me, care station agent, roseville. will explain in letter. bobby. this suited them all, though fred suggested that they might save by cutting out the "please." he was voted down however, and the telegram was handed through the office window and put on the wire at once. this being attended to, there was nothing to do but to wait. then a new worry assailed them. "how long do you think it will be before we can get an answer?" asked mouser. "not very long," replied bobby confidently. "the message must be in clinton this very minute," chimed in pee wee. "yes, but that's the least part of it," remarked fred. "it will have to be carried up to your house from the station and i've heard my father say that claxton isn't as quick about those things as he ought to be. sometimes he gets bailey to deliver for him, and you know what an old slow-poke he is." "and even when it gets to the house your father may be downtown and your mother may be out sleigh riding or visiting or something," observed mouser gloomily. "and then too, it will take some time for your father to get down to the telegraph office and send the money," was pee wee's contribution. "oh, stop your croaking, you fellows," cried bobby. "i'm sure everything will be all right." but, just the same, their doleful suggestions made him a little uneasy, and he fidgeted about as he watched the hands of the station clock. "there's another thing," observed mouser, returning to the charge. "suppose now--just suppose--that the money doesn't get to us before the train starts, what are we going to do?" "then we'll be stuck," admitted bobby. "and we'll have to do a whole lot more telegraphing to rockledge telling them that we can't get there till to-morrow. but even if the money is late, it's sure to come. we can pay for our meals and lodging over night and won't have to go to the poorhouse." "lucky we got such a dandy feed at mrs. wilson's anyway," remarked pee wee. "that will keep us going until the money comes." "it was mighty good of her to give us such a meal and not charge a cent for it," said mouser. "free meals for five hungry boys," murmured fred. "five!" exclaimed pee wee in surprise. "why, there were only four of us." "yes," replied fred, "but you counted for two." pee wee made a rush toward him, but fred dodged adroitly. just then, mouser, who was looking out of the station window, gave a sudden exclamation. "look here, fellows," he cried. "see who's coming!" they crowded together, looking over his shoulder. "why, it's tommy stone!" ejaculated bobby. "he must be going back to belden school," added fred. "and that's his father with him, i guess," put in pee wee. tommy stone was a boy who had played quite a part in the lives of bobby and fred a few months before. he had run away from home to go out west to "fight indians." he had taken his father's pocketbook with him, intending to use only enough to pay his fare and send the rest back. unluckily for the young indian fighter--or rather luckily, as it turned out--he lost the pocketbook out of the car window. bobby and fred were standing by the side of the track as the train went thundering past, and the wallet fell almost at their feet. they picked it up and were wildly excited when they found that it contained no less than four hundred dollars. the boys had dreams of unlimited ice-cream and soda water as the result of their find. still they and their parents made earnest effort to find the owner, but as the days passed by and no claimant appeared it looked as though the money would become the boys' property. late in the fall, bobby and fred rescued a small boy from the clutches of some larger boys who were amusing themselves by tormenting him. the boy turned out to be tommy stone. he had been brought back after his runaway and sent to belden school, which was not far from rockledge. tommy had heard that the boys had found a pocketbook and suspected that it was the one that he had lost. he made a clean breast of it, and the money was restored to its rightful owner. mr. stone wanted to reward the boys handsomely, but their parents would not permit them to accept a money reward, and mr. stone compromised by sending them the material for a royal feast at rockledge. as for tommy, he had an interview with his father, the nature of which can be guessed at by tommy's statement afterward that he could not sit down for a week unless he had pillows under him. "he doesn't look like an indian killer," laughed mouser. "not so that you could notice it," chuckled pee wee. "i don't see any scalps at his belt," grinned fred. tommy caught sight of the boys as he entered the station, and ran forward to meet them with exclamations of pleasure and surprise. mr. stone looked curiously at the group but said nothing, and went over to the agent's window to buy his son's ticket. "what in the world are you fellows doing here?" cried tommy. "we're just as much surprised to see you as you are to see us," replied bobby, with a smile. "on your way to belden?" inquired fred. "yep," answered tommy, making a wry face, "and i'm not any too glad, either. i've never liked that school. the big fellows are all the time taking it out on the little ones." "you ought to get your father to let you come to rockledge," suggested bobby. "then you'd be going to a real school," remarked fred, who felt to the full the traditional rivalry between rockledge and its chief rival. "not but what we've got some bullies of our own," put in pee wee. "bill bronson and jack jinks, for instance," observed mouser. "i'd like first rate to change," admitted tommy, "and perhaps next year i can. but my father has all his arrangements made now, and i'll have to stick it out at belden for the rest of this term." "is that your father over there?" asked bobby. "yes." "looks as though he had a good right arm," said fred slyly. "i'll bet he's practiced with it out in the woodshed," put in pee wee. "what's the price of strap oil, tommy?" inquired mouser. tommy winced a little at the chaffing. it was evidently a painful subject. bobby came to his rescue. "oh, cut it out, fellows," he remonstrated. "we all make mistakes sometimes." tommy flashed him a grateful look. "yes," he agreed. "but you can bet that i'm not going to make the same mistake twice." "that's the way to talk," rejoined bobby heartily. mr. stone had completed his purchase and now strolled over to the group. he had never seen the boys before, as the return of the pocketbook had been made by mr. blake. "some young friends of yours, tommy?" he asked, with a genial smile. "yes, sir," tommy answered. "they go to rockledge school, right on the other side of the lake from belden." he introduced the boys by name, and mr. stone pricked up his ears as he heard the names, "blake" and "martin." "what!" he exclaimed. "can this be the bobby blake and fred martin who found my pocketbook and sent it back to me?" "that's who they are," replied tommy, flushing. mr. stone took the boys' hands in both of his and wrung them warmly. "well this is a bit of luck," he said heartily. "i can't tell you boys how glad i am to see you. i've often wanted to lay eyes on the boys who could find four hundred dollars and never rest till they got the money back to the owner." "oh, that was nothing," answered bobby, who always felt embarrassed when any one praised him. "it was the only thing to do," added fred, his face getting almost as red as his hair. "all the same, there are lots of boys who would never have said a word about it," persisted mr. stone. "i've always felt sorry that your folks wouldn't let me show my gratitude by making you boys a present of something that would have been worth while." "you did give us the stuff for a dandy spread." "some spread that was too, fellows," put in pee wee. "i was in on that and it was just scrumptious." "trust pee wee to remember spreads if he never remembers anything else," laughed mouser. mr. stone's eyes twinkled as he took in pee wee's generous proportions. "well, i'm glad if you enjoyed it," he smiled. "but tell me now how you boys find yourselves here. i thought you traveled by the road that runs through clinton." "so we do," replied bobby, and started to relate the occurrences of the morning. "i see," said mr. stone, interrupting before bobby had got very far into his story. "and then you found out you could get a train on this road and tramped over here. well, you won't have long to wait now, for the train will be along in a few minutes." "but that isn't all," put in fred. "no?" queried mr. stone. "what else is there?" "we were robbed on the way," answered fred. mr. stone gasped and tommy showed symptoms of great excitement. robbed! it was almost as good as indians. chapter viii the cloud breaks away mr. stone sank down into a seat. "robbed!" he repeated. "now tell me just what you mean." in simple words the boys told how they had been held up and despoiled by the tramps. mr. stone could hardly restrain his rage. "it's the most atrocious and cowardly thing i've heard of for a long time," he ejaculated. "to think of those scoundrels robbing you of everything you had, even your railroad tickets! they ought to be drawn and quartered." the boys were rather hazy as to what drawing and quartering involved, but they heartily agreed with him. "i'll have to get busy at once!" mr. stone exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "there isn't a minute to lose. those rascals will know that the officers will be after them as soon as you tell your story and they'll be planning to clear out. they may have started already, for all we know. i'll get the constable and some other men after them and i'll go along to do all i can to put the thieves in jail. "but first," he went on, "i'll have to fix up you boys. the train will be along in a few minutes. i'll get your tickets for you and give you plenty of money besides to get on with." "i've already telegraphed for money and i'm expecting it every minute," put in bobby. "that's all right, but we can't take chances on that. it may not come in time for you to catch the train. i'll look after the telegram if it comes after you leave, and see that it's sent on to you." "of course our folks will make this all right with you," said fred who, like bobby himself, hated to be under any money obligation. "that's understood," assented mr. stone. "i'll send them a bill." but from the whimsical droop at the corner of his mouth it was evident that if the boys' fathers waited for a bill from mr. stone they would wait a long time. he hurried over to the window of the agent's office and bought four additional tickets for rockledge. "take these and distribute them among the other boys," he said, as he handed them to bobby. "and here's some money to get on with until you hear from your folks," he added, thrusting a number of bills in his hand. "it's awfully good of you, mr. stone," replied bobby, as he put them in his pocket. "i don't know how to thank you enough. i'll keep careful account and see that you get it back to the last cent." "don't worry about that," rejoined mr. stone. "i'm only paying back an old debt, and even at that i still owe you a lot. now you boys go right ahead and forget all your troubles. i'll take full charge of the answer to your telegram and see that it gets to you all right. "i'd like to stay with you until the train leaves," he went on, "but as i said before, every minute is precious now if we want to have any chance to nab those villains who robbed you. i'll hustle up the constable and i'll let you know later how we come out." he gave tommy a kiss and a hug, waved good-bye to the others in a gesture that included them all, and went out of the door. through the window they could see him going briskly up the village street in a walk that was almost a run. the boys, left alone, looked gleefully at each other. "scubbity-_yow_!" shouted fred, as he threw his cap to the ceiling. "all our troubles are over now," exulted pee wee. "isn't he a brick?" demanded bobby gratefully. "reminds me of the bread cast upon the waters that our minister was talking about last sunday," remarked mouser. "he said it would come back to you after many days, and by ginger i believe it now." "it's more than bread," gloated pee wee. "it's cake." "if pee wee says it's cake, it _is_ cake," mocked fred. "there's nobody knows more than he does about things to eat." they were now all as full of good spirits as they had formerly been full of misery. they had found that their cloud had a silver lining. in fact there was not a cloud any longer. it had broken away entirely. their satisfaction was still greater when, a few minutes later, they saw two sleighs sweep past the station and take the direction that led toward the cabin in the woods. there were three determined-looking men in each sleigh, and among them they recognized the stalwart figure of mr. stone. "they're after them already," cried fred joyfully. "gee whiz, tommy! your father is some hustler." "he sure is," assented tommy proudly. "here's hoping that they catch the thieves!" exclaimed mouser. "wouldn't it be bully!" cried bobby. "i sure am crazy to get back my watch." "and my scarf pin." "and my sleeve buttons." "and my seal ring." the boys watched the sleighs intently until they were drawn out of sight. "what do you suppose they'll do to the thieves if they catch them?" wondered bobby. "i don't know," said mouser, whose notions of legal procedure were woefully indistinct. "hang them, maybe." "not so bad as that," objected pee wee. "but i'll bet they get a good long term in jail." "perhaps they'll be drawn and quartered, as mr. stone said they ought to be," said fred hopefully. "what do you suppose that means anyway, fellows?" "i'm not sure," answered bobby, "but i guess it means to be cut up into quarters." "they can cut them up into eighths for all i care," rejoined fred vindictively. "especially that fellow who called me red-head." "well, what if he did?" said pee wee mischievously. "he only told the truth, didn't he?" "what difference does that make?" flared up fred, who was rather sensitive on the subject. "you wouldn't like to be called a pig because you're as fat as one, would you?" "here, fellows, cut out your scrapping," soothed bobby. "let's agree that pee wee's as thin as a rail and fred's hair is as black as ink," suggested mouser. "then we'll all be happy." in the general laugh that followed, the rumpled feathers were smoothed and all differences forgotten. a moment later the whistle of the train was heard in the distance. "here she comes!" cried mouser. "i'm sorry that telegram hasn't come yet," murmured bobby regretfully. "guess old bailey's rheumatism made him slow in getting up to the house," suggested fred. "well, don't let's worry," observed pee wee, who was always ready to shunt his responsibilities to the shoulders of somebody else. "mr. stone will look after that." the boys boarded the train and sank back into their seats with a sigh of relief. their troubles were over. they had been under a strain that would have been trying even to those much older than these eleven-year-old boys. "i never thought i'd be cheering for going back to school," remarked fred. "but i'm ready to do it now. all together, fellows: "hurrah for rockledge!" they shouted it with a will. chapter ix a cowardly trick "we seem to have this car almost all to ourselves," remarked mouser, looking around. "we ought to call it the rockledge special," laughed pee wee. "perhaps tommy might object to that," said bobby. "go as far as you like," grinned tommy. the travel was indeed very light on that particular day. there were only six or eight people scattered through the car. this was due in part to the snowstorm. nobody would do much traveling on such a day unless it was absolutely necessary. half-way down the car, and on the other side of the aisle, a very old man was seated. he was evidently traveling alone. his hair was gray and scanty and his face was seamed with wrinkles. it was clear that he was very tired, and every once in a while his head would drop on his breast in a doze from which he would awake with a start at any sudden jar of the train. "it's too bad that such an old man should have to be going on a journey all alone," remarked bobby with quick sympathy. "yes," agreed fred. "he must be awful old. he looks as if he was as much as eighty." "he's a grand army man too," observed mouser. "you can see that from the hat he has there up in the rack." "he may be going to visit some of his children," suggested pee wee. "more likely he's going to the old soldiers' home," conjectured bobby. "you know there is one a little way the other side of rockledge." "i'll bet he could tell some mighty good stories about the war," said fred. "i'd like to see all that he has seen," mused bobby. "or do all that he has done," added mouser. "it must be great to have been in a big war like that." "maybe he was at gettysburg," guessed pee wee. "or marched with grant or sherman," chimed in fred. their youthful imaginations quickened as they recalled the exciting scenes in which the veteran might have played a part, and they had a deep respect for him now as he sat there in his old age and weakness. "i'd almost like to go up and get him to talking," ventured fred. "we might get him started on the war. it's all very well to read about it, but there's nothing like hearing from one who has been through it." "i don't think i would if i were you," objected bobby. "he's probably too tired to do much talking and would rather be left alone." "there's another fellow going up to him now," replied fred, "and i'll bet he'll get some good stories out of him." he indicated a large overgrown boy who seemed to be about fourteen years old. up to now, he had been seated on the other side of the aisle from the veteran. but now he had risen and gone over in his direction. but instead of slipping into the seat beside him, as the boys had expected, he sat down in the seat directly behind him. "guess again, fred," laughed pee wee good-naturedly. "everybody's hunches go wrong sometimes," answered fred defensively. "what's the fellow up to anyway?" asked mouser, with a sudden stirring of curiosity. the newcomer seemed to have a long feather in his hand such as is commonly used in feather dusters. while the old man's head drooped in a doze, the boy reached over and tickled the back of the old man's neck with the tip of the feather. the veteran reached up his hand fretfully as though to brush away a fly that was annoying him. the boy drew back and snickered audibly. the boys looked at each other indignantly. "what do you think of that?" demanded mouser. "queer sense of fun some people have," snorted pee wee. "he's a cheap skate," declared fred angrily. "he ought to have a thrashing," exclaimed bobby. several times the scene was repeated, and the would-be joker was in high glee at the success of his trick. at last the old man gave up the attempt to sleep, and straightened up wearily in his seat. the joker looked around the car as though seeking for applause, but the silly grin on his face stiffened into a scowl as he met only contemptuous glances. but his delicate sense of humor was not yet exhausted. the old man rose from his seat to go to the back of the car to get a drink of water. as he passed the fellow's seat, the latter reached out the tip of his foot. the veteran tripped against it, stumbled and had all he could do to keep from falling by clutching the back of a seat. this was the last straw and the boys were furious. by a common impulse they sprang out of their seats and went quickly down the aisle to where the fellow was sitting. "you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" snapped bobby. "you're too mean to live!" blazed out fred. "a fellow that'll torment an old man like that ought to be tarred and feathered," blurted mouser. "and ridden on a rail," finished pee wee. the fellow looked at them with surprise that was mingled with alarm as he noted their wrathful faces. he jumped up and stood with his back toward the window. now that they saw him at closer range, their first impression of him was confirmed. he was strong and muscular, but the strength of his body was belied by the weakness of his face. it was a thoroughly mean face, pallid and unhealthy looking, with a loose mouth and shifty eyes that dropped when you looked straight into them. "what's the matter with you boobs?" he demanded, in a voice that he tried to make threatening. "you'd better mind your own business. who asked you to butt in?" "we didn't need any asking," replied bobby. "we saw what you did to that old man. you seemed to think it was funny, but we think it's mean and sneaking." "and you've got to stop it," put in fred. "it will be the worse for you if you don't," added mouser. "i'll do just exactly what i want to do," was the ugly reply, "and i'd like to see you buttinskis stop me." "we'll stop you quick enough," said bobby, "and the first thing we're going to do is to make you change your seat." "oh, you own the car, do you? i've paid my fare on this train and i'll sit anywhere i want to. any one would think you were president of the road to hear you talk." "we'll do something besides talk in a minute," mouser came back at him. "what'll you do?" jeered the bully, though his voice now was getting unsteady as he saw that the boys were in earnest. fred leaned forward, snatched the fellow's cap from his head and threw it in a seat some distance away. "follow your hat and you'll find your seat," he cried. the fellow started forward in a rage, but just then the conductor came into the car. he came forward briskly. "here, none of this!" he exclaimed. "you boys mustn't do any scrapping on this train. get back in your seats now, all of you, and behave yourselves." the boys slowly obeyed, although fred, whose fighting blood was up, had to be urged along a little by the others. "no sense in not minding the conductor," counseled bobby. "we've carried our point and that's enough." they had indeed carried their point, for the fellow, having regained his cap, slumped down in the seat where fred had thrown it, and for the rest of the trip the old man was left in peace. nor did the bully try to get even for his discomfiture. but if looks could kill, the boys would surely have been withered up by the angry glances he shot at them from time to time. "he's a sweet specimen, isn't he?" chuckled mouser. "a nice thing to have around the house," commented pee wee. "he'd brighten it up on rainy days," laughed bobby. "a cute little cut-up, all right," affirmed fred. "i'd hate to have him at rockledge," said mouser. "perhaps he's going there, for all we know," pee wee suggested. "i hope not!" exclaimed fred. "bronson and jinks are about all we can stand as it is." "wouldn't bronson and jinks be glad to have him there?" said bobby. "they'd be as thick as peas in a pod in less than no time." but further comment was cut short by the brake man throwing open the door and shouting: "all out for rockledge!" chapter x rockledge school the boys reached instinctively for their bags. then they remembered that they had none, and looked at each other with a sheepish grin on their faces. "nothing doing in that line," mourned fred. "i wonder if we'll find them in the station." they stepped off the platform into a crowd of their schoolmates, who had come down to welcome them. there they were, shouting and laughing and all talking at once--billy bassett, jimmy ailshine, "sparrow" bangs, howell purdy and a host of others. they fairly mobbed the newcomers and were for dragging them off at once to the trolley car that ran to the school. but the boys explained that they first had to look after their missing baggage and they all trooped into the station. "haven't we got a lot to tell you fellows!" exclaimed mouser. "you just wait till you hear it all!" "caught in a snowslide," volunteered pee wee. "held up by tramps," declared fred. "robbed of all we had," added bobby. these tantalizing bits of information only served to whet the appetite for more. their friends crowded around them open-eyed, and questions shot out at them like bullets from guns. the boys suddenly found themselves exalted to the rank of heroes. but they bore their honors meekly enough, although they were almost bursting with the feeling of their importance. they were delighted to find their missing bags and suit-cases waiting for them. the conductor had known the station their tickets called for, and had left the articles in the care of the rockledge station agent. there was a telegram too from mr. blake to bobby. he had wired the money to roseville and mr. stone had seen to it that it was sent on to bobby at rockledge. mr. blake's telegram was a lengthy one and full of anxiety. in it he told bobby to wire at once on his arrival at rockledge, which bobby promptly did. mr. stone had sent a separate telegram also on his own account. he stated briefly that the robbers had not yet been caught, but that the police were busily hunting for them and hoped to get them soon. "well," sighed bobby, as he folded up the telegram, "i suppose all we can do is to watch and wait." "wait for the watch you mean," laughed mouser. "now don't start anything like that," grinned fred. "you'll start billy bassett going if you do, and i can see that he's got a lot of conundrums all ready to fire off at us." "who's that talking about me?" laughed billy, coming forward. "let him say it to my face." "ginger thought you'd be springing something on us," replied pee wee, "and we were getting ready to duck." billy looked aggrieved. "you fellows don't know a good riddle when you hear one," he remarked scornfully. "how do you know?" countered mouser. "you never give us a chance to try. spring a real good one and see how quick we'll tumble." billy looked dubious but took a chance. "well, take this one, then," he said. "what is it that happens twice in a moment, once in a minute, and not once in a thousand years." the boys put on their thinking caps, but the problem was beyond them, and billy strutted around with a triumphant look upon his face. "don't seem to be any too much brains in this crowd," he said, in a superior way. "give us time," pleaded mouser. "maybe it's because it's so bad and not because it's so good that we can't guess it," conjectured fred. "take all the time you want," said billy patronizingly, "but i guessed it as soon as i heard it." as they had no evidence to the contrary, they had to take billy's word for this. they pondered it for several minutes, but no answer was forthcoming. "nobody home," taunted billy. "you're a bunch of dead ones for fair." "i'll give it up," said mouser. "let's have it, billy," surrendered fred. "i'll be the goat," said bobby. "what's the answer?" "the letter m," crowed billy. disgust and discomfiture sat on the boys' faces. "rotten," groaned pee wee. "the worst i ever heard," grunted fred. "wish i had a gun," remarked mouser. "it's a mighty good one," defended billy. "but what's the use in giving you fellows something to chew over. it's like casting diamonds before swine." "you mean pearls," corrected mouser. "well, i may be mistaken about the diamonds," billy came back at them, "but i'm dead sure about the swine." the laugh that followed told billy that he had made a hit, and he swelled up like a pouter pigeon. "i've got another good one," he volunteered, "a regular peach. why is--" but here the boys fell on billy in a body and he was forced to hold his "peach" in reserve for another time. bobby by this time had finished all he had to do in the station, and the boys gathered up their recovered suit-cases and made a bee line for the trolley. a car was coming, not a block away, and they piled aboard almost before it had come to a stop with wild clatter and hubbub. but the motorman and conductor were used to the uproar and the pranks of the rockledge boys, and what few other passengers there were smiled indulgently. rockledge was a lively little town with good stores and pleasant residence streets shaded by handsome oak trees. there were gas and electric lights, a number of churches and all the usual appurtenances of a bustling village that hoped some day to become a city. and not the least of the things in which the townspeople took pride was rockledge school. dr. raymond, the head of the school, had been fortunate in choosing its location. he had been able to secure, at a remarkably low price, a beautiful private estate, whose owner had died and whose family had moved away. there were several buildings on the grounds and these he had remodeled and adapted to the purposes of a school, and he had built up an institution that was well and favorably known in all that section of the state. the school was select. by this is not meant that it was in the least degree snobbish. dr. raymond hated anything of that kind, and the school was run on a purely democratic basis, with every pupil on exactly the same level, whether his parents happened to be rich or poor. but the doctor was a great believer in the personal influence of teacher over pupil, and this could not be exerted so well if the classes were large. so the school was limited to fifty pupils, and this limit was never exceeded. at this figure the school was always full, and there was usually a waiting list from which any vacancy that might occur could be quickly filled. the doctor himself was a scholar of high standing, and he had surrounded himself with an efficient staff of teachers. discipline was firm without being severe, and the boys were put largely on their honor to do the right thing. there was a society called the "sword and star" to which admission could be gained only on the ground of scholarship and good behavior. bobby had won membership in this the year before and had also gained the medal of honor which was allotted each year to that pupil who, in the judgment both of his teachers and school-fellows, had stood out above all others. fred, who was more flighty and less inclined to study, and whose "red-headed" disposition was always getting him into trouble, was not yet a member of the society, but had faithfully promised himself that he would win membership in the term just beginning. a ride of only a few minutes brought them close to the school grounds and the boys prepared to get off. tommy stone was to stay on the trolley car, which ran as far as belden school. tommy had kept himself rather in the background during the trip. he happened to be the only belden boy on the car, and, owing to the intense rivalry between the two schools, a belden boy was usually as popular with the rockledge boys as poison ivy at a picnic party. but just now tommy was traveling under the protection of bobby and his party, and this saved him from the horse play he would otherwise have had to undergo. "good-bye, tommy!" said bobby, as he got ready to leave the car. "tell your father when you write to him how much obliged we are to him for all he has done for us. i'm going to write him a letter myself about it to-morrow." "oh, that's all right," said tommy. "your father would have done the same for me if i'd been in the same fix as you fellows were." "and tell the belden boys that we're going to trim 'em good and plenty when the baseball season begins," laughed mouser. "don't be too sure of that," grinned tommy in return. "but i'll tell them and they'll be all ready for you." the boys dropped off the car, and in a few minutes saw the school buildings looming up before them. "scubbity-_yow_!" cried fred, dropping his suitcase and executing a jig. "the old place certainly looks good to me." "seemed a long way off a few hours ago when we didn't have a cent to our names," remarked mouser. "looked as if we'd have to walk the ties to get here," laughed pee wee. "and think how many stone bruises you'd have got," suggested bobby. "'barked shins,' you mean," corrected mouser. "they're the latest thing in pee wee's collection." the fat boy grinned. he was too happy or perhaps too lazy to enter any protest just then. the school was beautifully located on a high bluff overlooking monatook lake, a sheet of water, nearly oval in shape. it was about ten miles long and five miles wide at its broadest part. there were several small islands scattered over the lake, and, as may be imagined, these were favorite resorts of the boys when they were permitted to visit them. a strong fence guarded the edge of the bluff for the entire length of the school grounds. a winding staircase led from the top of the bluff to the boathouse and the lake level. just now monatook was clothed in an icy mantle that shone like silver under the light of the moon which had just risen. it was a scene of wintry splendor that gladdened the heart to look upon. there were four buildings on the grounds. in the main building, which was made of brick and sandstone, the classrooms and dining-room were located. the basement had two sections, one for the kitchen and the other for the indoor gymnasium. on the upper floor were ranged the dormitories. these were two in number. there were beds for twenty boys in each one. then there were five separate sleeping rooms, each one designed for the use of two boys. a little off from the main building, but connected with it by a portico, was a roomy house in which the doctor and his family lived, together with the members of the teaching staff. besides these there were a gate-keeper's cottage, where the servants slept, and a minor building used for storage purposes. the grounds were skillfully laid out, and with their well kept lawns and shaded paths formed a very attractive campus. to supply the athletic needs of the boys there was a football field, a baseball diamond, and tennis and basketball courts. so that the boys who had the luck to be sent by their parents to rockledge school were usually convinced before they had been there long that their lines had fallen in pleasant places. "well, i suppose the first thing we'll have to do is to report to dr. raymond," said bobby. "he'll know that the school can go on all right now that we're here," grinned mouser. "i suppose we'll have to let him know that we're on deck," admitted fred, "but let's get it over in a hurry and get some grub. i'm hungry enough to eat nails." "couldn't we get something to eat first?" asked pee wee wistfully. "you ate enough at mrs. wilson's to last for a week, i should think," said bobby. "i notice that you weren't very far behind," retorted pee wee. they trooped into the doctor's office and found him busy with some papers, which he laid aside at once, however, as he stood up to greet them. he was a tall, spare man, with a clean-cut face and kindly eyes that usually had a humorous twinkle in them, although they could flash fire if he caught any of the boys doing a mean or tricky thing. he smiled cordially and shook hands with them all. "you're a little later than you expected to be, aren't you?" he asked. "i was looking for you on an earlier train." "we've had a hard time getting here," smiled bobby, and in a few words he told of the stirring adventures through which the little party had gone that day. the doctor listened intently, surprise, indignation and sympathy in his eyes. "it was an outrage!" he exclaimed, when bobby had finished, "and i will get in touch with mr. stone at once and lend him any aid i can in catching the thieves. but i am very glad and thankful that it was only a loss of money and property. those rascals might have used personal violence. i'll telephone to-morrow to a number of different towns, giving a description of the tramps and urging the authorities to be on the look-out for them. the sooner such fellows are put in jail the better." he made notes of as many points about the robbers as the boys could remember, especially of the scar of one man and the limp of the other. as to the third man, the boys were somewhat hazy. he was just "plain tramp." "and now," said the doctor, his eyes twinkling, "i suppose there's no need of asking you boys whether you are hungry." there was an eager assent on the part of the other boys and a heart-felt groan from pee wee. "of course it is long after the usual supper hour," smiled the doctor, "but go over to the dining-room, find the housekeeper and tell her i want her to give you the very best meal she knows how to get up." there was no need of a second injunction, and the boys wished the head of the school good-night and were off to hunt up the housekeeper. "isn't the doctor a brick?" ejaculated mouser. "i thought he'd keep us there half an hour or more talking about the work for the coming term and what he would expect of us." "that'll come later," said fred. "just now he knew that we were hungry." "that's what makes him such a bully sort," said bobby. "he hasn't forgotten that he was once a boy himself," he added, with a happy sigh. and this, perhaps, was as high tribute as could be paid by one of his pupils to the master of rockledge school. chapter xi tom hicksley reappears the housekeeper carried out the principal's order to the letter. and she did it with the better grace because she herself was fond of the boys. she bustled about and in a very short time, which seemed long enough, however, to the hungry boys, had a smoking hot meal on the table. the boys gathered around and pitched into the good things like so many hungry wolves, while the housekeeper watched them with a genial smile on her good-natured face. "some feed," pronounced fred, with a sigh of satisfaction, when at last they were through. "we've had a tough day in some ways," declared pee wee, "but a mighty lucky one in another. just think of the three cooks we've come up against. meena for breakfast, mrs. wilson for dinner, and mary here for supper. yum-yum!" "sounds as if you were a cannibal," commented mouser, with a grin. "oh, pee wee hasn't got to that yet," mocked fred, "but there's no telling when he will if that appetite of his holds out." "i'd hate to be out on a raft with pee wee in the middle of the ocean, if we were short of grub," chuckled mouser. "just think of the hungry looks he'd be throwing at me." "i'd like nothing better than to have pee wee along," put in bobby. "we could live off him for a month." the chaff flew back and forth for a while, and then the call of sleep began to make itself felt. bobby yawned and reached for his watch. "i wonder what time--" he began, and then stopped short in chagrin. "no use, bobby," said mouser. "the chances are that you'll never see that watch again." "maybe it's in some pawnshop by this time," was the cold comfort that fred had to offer. "no loss without some gain," chimed in pee wee. "i won't have the trouble of unfastening my sleeve buttons anyway." "that's looking on the bright side of things all right," laughed bobby. "come along, fellows, and let's get to bed." there was no dissenting voice, and they made their way upstairs to the old familiar dormitory. this was one of the brightest and most cheerful rooms in the school and not the least of its charm was that it commanded a splendid view of the lake. there was ample space for the twenty beds that the room contained. a locker stood beside each bed for the exclusive use of the occupant, and there was a chair at the head of each bed on which the regulations of the school demanded that clothing should be carefully folded and arranged each night upon retiring. most of the boys had already arrived for the beginning of the term, and the room was full of noise and the clatter of tongues. later on, a little more quiet would be insisted upon, but the regular school course was not in full swing yet and the boys were allowed a little more latitude than usual. the other occupants of the room clustered instantly about bobby and his party, who were general favorites. they had already learned almost all there was to be told about the adventures of the day, but they were keenly interested in the exploits of the party during their winter holiday in the big woods. "shiner"--the nickname that had been bestowed on jimmy ailshine--howell purdy and "sparrow" bangs, had also been on that memorable trip, but as they too had reached school but a little earlier in the day, they had been able to tell only enough of their adventures to whet the appetite for more. the newcomers were pleased at this, as they had feared that all the wind would be taken out of their sails and that the trip would be an old story when they arrived upon the scene. "sparrow says that you killed a big bear up in the woods," said sam thompson, one of the younger boys. "and to hear sparrow tell it, it must have been a twenty-foot bear at least," laughed frank durrock. "no," grinned fred. "it had only four feet, just like any other bear." "smarty!" frank shot back at him. "but it seemed like twenty feet when he reared up at us," explained bobby. "he was an old sockdolager, all right," added mouser. "i don't want to see any bear so close again," remarked pee wee. "i've seen him in my sleep once or twice since," said fred, "and i've waked up all in a sweat." "just which one of you was it that killed it?" asked sam, his eyes as big as saucers. "that's something we can't tell," answered bobby. "we all fired at it, but i guess it was gid harple, the guide, who did the trick. he was a dandy shot, all right." "gid's going to fix up the claws and teeth and send 'em down to us," said mouser. "then you can see for yourself just what a big fellow that bear was." "i heard that you had a shot at a wildcat too," put in "skeets" brody. "yes," said fred, "and that was a fool stunt too. we didn't have much chance of getting him, and that left our guns empty when we saw the bear the first time. my! but we had a run for it that day. talk about a marathon!" "how did pee wee manage to make it?" asked frank skeptically. "i can't imagine him putting on speed." "pee wee wasn't with us that time," explained bobby. "the rest of the fellows walked down to the station, but pee wee came behind in the sleigh with gid." "i had more sense than the rest of the gang," put in pee wee, with a superior air. "i hear you got a lot of muskrats by stunning them through the ice," said skeets. "how did you make out with training them, mouser?" "not very well," confessed mouser. "they're too wild. gid said i couldn't train 'em, and i guess he knew what he was talking about." the finding of pat's father in the little shack, and the story of the hunting lodge, completely buried in the big snowslide, and the great fight they had to get out alive were also subjects of which their audience could not have enough. the listeners kept clamoring for more details and still more, until in sheer self-defense the boys had to call a halt. "have a heart, fellows," said bobby. "i'm so dead tired that i can hardly keep my eyes open." "yes," added fred, "we'll have all the term to tell you about the rest of it." their hearers had to be content with this, and in a few moments more the boys had undressed and were in bed. but it is safe to say that in their dreams that night enough bears and wildcats were seen to stock a menagerie. "say, fred," was bobby's last remark that night, as he slipped between the sheets, "isn't it bully to be back in the old dormitory again? just suppose the tramps had tied us up in that old shack while they slipped out and left us there." "ugh!" shuddered fred, as he snuggled still deeper in his bed. "it gives me the cold shivers just to think of it." it was a hard thing for the boys to get out of their warm beds when the rising bell sounded the next morning. but there was no help for it, and they washed and dressed in a hurry, cheered by the thought of breakfast waiting for them. several tables were spread in the large bright dining-room. one of them was reserved for dr. raymond and his family, together with the head teachers. the boys were ranged about the others, with a junior instructor sitting at the head of each to keep order. but his duties were light, for the boys were so intent upon dispatching their food that they had little time left for mischief. each kept a wary eye on his plate, however, for special dainties had a way sometimes of vanishing mysteriously, and "eternal vigilance" was the price of pie. the morning was frosty but sunny, and after they had finished their meal, the boys lost no time in getting outdoors. there was little to be done on the first day except to gather in the classrooms for a few minutes and have their lessons assigned for the following day. "any new fellows here this term, skeets?" bobby asked, as the latter strolled with him and fred on the hard snowy path in front of the main building. "two or three came in yesterday, i heard," answered skeets, "but i've only met one of them so far. his name's tom hicksley." "what kind of fellow does he seem to be?" asked fred. "i don't care for him very much," replied skeets. "that is, judging by his looks. but you can't always tell by that. there he is now," he added, as a boy approached them. fred and bobby looked first at the newcomer and then at each other. "my! it's the fellow we squelched for teasing the old soldier on the train!" gasped bobby. chapter xii a new enemy tom hicksley had caught sight of the three boys at the same moment, and from the spiteful look that came into his small eyes it was clear that he recognized bobby and fred. the boys looked at him coldly but did not speak, and hicksley, on his part, seemed at first as though he were going to pass them without saying anything. but the events of the evening before still rankled in him, and he suddenly stopped. "so you're the butt-ins that mixed up in my affairs last night, are you?" he asked, in a tone that he tried to make sarcastic. fred flared up at once. "yes, we did," he shot out; "and we'd do it again if we saw you up to your mean tricks. you can't do anything of that kind while we're around and expect to get away with it." "hello! what's the fuss about?" asked skeets, with sudden interest. "you shut up!" commanded hicksley. "this isn't any of your funeral. i'm talking to these two boobs here." "don't tell me to shut up!" cried skeets, who had a hair trigger temper very much like fred's own. "i'll tell you anything i like," retorted hicksley, who seemed to be a master in the "gentle art of making enemies." "i'll tell you what it was, skeets," said bobby. "i don't wonder that he's so ashamed of it that he doesn't want it talked about. we saw him teasing an old soldier--a real old man, mind you--who was trying to get a little sleep. then when the old man went up the aisle to get some water, this fellow stuck out his foot and tried to trip him up. the man had all he could do to keep from falling. that was too much for us fellows and we made him stop." "he ought to have had his head knocked off," growled skeets. "it would take more than you fellows to knock my head off," returned hicksley belligerently. "you'd probably get along as well without it as with it," retorted fred. "we knocked your cap off anyway, and i notice that you changed your seat just as we told you to." "that was because the conductor came along," replied hicksley. "and it's a mighty good thing for you that he did. if he hadn't i'd have knocked you into the middle of next week." "you couldn't knock me into to-morrow, let alone the middle of next week," returned fred, who was now thoroughly aroused. "come, come, fred," said bobby soothingly. "there's no use in getting into a temper about this fellow. he isn't worth it." "i'll show you whether i'm worth it or not," cried hicksley, in a rage. "don't you think for a minute that you've heard the last of this. there were four of you fellows last night, and there are three of you now. but i'll catch each one of you alone some time, and i'll tan each one of you within an inch of your life." "you'd better try it," answered fred. "you'd be afraid to tackle a live one. all you're good for is to torment a helpless old man. you're a nice fellow, you are." the quarrel, although it was none of the boys' seeking, was growing so hot that it was perhaps just as well that mr. carrier, one of the teachers, should come walking briskly along just at that moment. he saw from their flushed faces that something unpleasant was in the wind, but thought it just as well to ignore it rather than give it importance by taking notice of it. "good morning, boys," he called cordially. "it's just about time for meeting in the main hall. i'm going over there now, and you'd better come along with me." this put an end to the threatening trouble for the time, and the boys followed along in his wake, hicksley some distance behind the other three and muttering threats under his breath. "isn't he a pippin?" said bobby, in a low voice, so that mr. carrier could not hear. "looks to me like something that the cat brought in," grumbled fred, whose rumpled feathers took some time for smoothing. "he's going around looking for trouble," observed skeets; "and that kind is sure to find it before very long." "no decent fellow will want to have anything to do with him," remarked fred. "except perhaps bill bronson and jack jinks," amended bobby. "he'll be just nuts for them." "i said _decent_ fellow," repeated fred. they soon reached the main assembly room into which the boys were streaming from all directions. dr. raymond and the rest of the teaching staff were seated on a platform in the front of the room. when the gathering had subsided into silence, the principal rose and gave the boys a little informal talk about the duties of the coming term and the spirit in which he hoped they would go about their work. he dwelt especially on the incentives offered them to become members of the "sword and star," the main society of the school, and as he mentioned the name of the society, the boys who were members jumped to their feet and gave the society yell: "one, two, three--_boom!_ boom z-z-z-ah! rockledge! rockledge! sword and star! who's on top? we sure are- _rock_-ledge!" the hearty shout brought a flush of pleasure into the doctor's cheeks and he looked around upon his charges with a face beaming with pride. he concluded his talk with an urgent invitation to each of the boys to strive for the medal of honor, the highest prize within the gift of the school, and then dismissed them to their respective classes. here the proceedings were brief. the tasks for the following day were assigned and then the boys were left to their own devices until the hours set aside that afternoon and evening for preparing their lessons. "our soft snap is nearly over," mourned fred. "from now on it will be steady work until the end of the term." "but think how much fun we'll have in between," comforted bobby. "i've got a hunch that we're going to have the bulliest time at rockledge that we've ever had yet." "what makes you think that?" asked fred pessimistically. "i said it was a hunch, didn't i?" demanded bobby. "you don't have to explain a hunch. you just have it and that's all there is to it." "i hate to think of buckling down to work again," said fred. "we had such a bully free time up in the woods that i wish it would last forever." "that's all the more reason you ought to be willing to work when the time comes," remonstrated bobby. "think of the poor fellows that never have any outings and have to work hard all the time." "i suppose you're right," conceded fred. "i don't know just what it is that makes me feel that way. it wasn't so when i got up this morning. i'll tell you just what i think it is," he said, as a sudden explanation of his mood suggested itself to him. "i'll bet it's that tom hicksley. i wanted to get a crack at him this morning when mr. carrier came along and stopped us. i'd have felt better if i'd lit out at him." "now, fred, cut out that fighting talk," said bobby impatiently. "there's nothing in it. what's the use of getting into a row that will make your folks feel bad when they hear of it and perhaps bring you up before the doctor?" "i notice that you're ready enough to fight sometimes," grumbled fred in self-defense. "you'd have pitched into ap plunkit if he'd hit you with that whip yesterday morning, and you were all worked up on the train at hicksley." "that's a very different thing from looking for trouble," said bobby stoutly. "it's all right to take your own part when people try to bully or strike you. but it's always best to keep out of a fight unless you're forced into it. there wasn't really any reason to fight tom hicksley this morning, and you know it." "perhaps if you had hair as red as mine you wouldn't find it so easy to keep your temper," said fred, falling back on an excuse he was fond of using. "maybe not," laughed bobby, "but you can make a try at it anyhow." "what's this i hear about fighting?" said frank durrock, as he came up behind them. frank was larger and older than the two boys, and a prime favorite with them. he held the post of captain of the school. this carried with it no official power, as that rested wholly with the teachers. but frank was supposed to have a general oversight, stop any disorder that went too far and in general to act as a sort of big brother to the younger boys. he was a fine athlete also, and had been captain of the football team on which bobby and fred had played the preceding fall and which had won the thanksgiving game from belden. his skill in baseball was also marked, and he was expected to play first base on the nine in the spring. "oh, fred was feeling a little sore over a row he had with hicksley this morning," explained bobby. "that new fellow?" asked durrock. "i passed him a little while ago and he was talking with bronson and jinks. they seemed to be quite chummy together." "what did i tell you?" cried fred to bobby. "i knew those fellows would get together as sure as shooting." "they're three of a kind," assented bobby. "i don't know anything about what kind of fellow he is," remarked frank, "but somebody was telling me that he was a good baseball player." the boys did not think it was worth while to tell what they knew of hicksley and so kept quiet. "he's big and husky and ought to make a good slugger," continued frank, "and we can't have too much batting strength on our nine. so if he can field as well as bat, he may be able to get a place on the team." the prospect was not at all pleasing to bobby and fred, but above everything else they were loyal to the school, and if the newcomer would be a help to the rockledge nine they were perfectly willing to forget their own feeling. "so you see, fred," continued frank, "you don't want to hold any grudge you may have against hicksley. i don't know what your scrap was about and i don't want to know, but whatever it is, forget it." "sure i will," said fred heartily. "you know how it was on the football team," went on frank. "there were fellows on that team that you didn't like--jinks, for instance--but you overlooked that feeling and played good football just the same. and we want to do the same thing on the nine. "i'm especially anxious to get up a strong nine this year," he continued, "because we're going to have some pretty nifty teams against us. belden has got two or three new fellows that they say are crackerjacks and they'll give us all we want to do to beat 'em. "then, too, we're going to have a little different scheme this season than we ever had before. while you hunters have been up in the woods shooting bears"--here he grinned--"i've been hustling around with a few others and organized a new league." "a new league!" exclaimed bobby and fred in the same breath. "a new league!" repeated skeets brody and sparrow bangs, who had come up just in time to hear the last words. "what do you mean, frank? tell us all about it." they gathered about him, their eyes glistening. chapter xiii the monatook lake league "now, now, don't all get excited," admonished frank, who, all the same, was immensely delighted with the sensation he had stirred up by his announcement. "don't keep us waiting, frank," pleaded fred, who would rather play baseball at any time than eat. "out with it, like a good fellow," chimed in bobby, whose pitching had won a game from belden the previous term. frank, with the instinct of the true story teller, waited until he had got his audience worked up to the proper pitch. then when they were on edge, he proceeded: "it's this way," he explained. "up to now we've been going on in a kind of rut. belden is about the only team we've ever played any real games with, and that hasn't given us enough practice. we've had our own scrub nine to practice with, but as a rule they've been so easy that we haven't had to work hard enough to win. the only way we can learn to hit different kinds of pitching is to come up against nines that give us a stiff fight to win." "but we have played with village nines sometimes," interrupted fred. "we played the benton team last year and beat them six to five," reminded bobby. "yes, i know," admitted frank; "but those were only single games, and there wasn't enough at stake. it didn't make much difference whether we won from them or not as long as we put it all over belden. "now, don't you see how much more exciting it would be to have several different teams, all members of one league, each one playing the other a certain number of games, each one fighting hard for every game and each team working its head off to get the pennant, which would be given to the nine that had won the most games at the end of the season?" the boys broke into a chorus of delighted exclamations. "that would be bully!" cried bobby. "it would be a regular see-saw!" exclaimed fred. "first one team would be in the lead and then the other. it would be a rattling hard fight all the way from the start of the season to the finish." "it's a corker," agreed skeets. "a pippin of a scheme," declared sparrow with emphasis. "i thought you fellows would like it," said frank, much pleased at the enthusiastic reception of his plan. "i talked it over with dr. raymond, and he said that he saw no objection to it." "the doc's a good old sport," commented fred. "and dr. raymond saw the head of the belden school and he agreed to it too," continued frank, "while the captain of the belden nine is fairly daffy over it." "how many clubs are there to be in the league?" asked bobby. "we decided that four would be enough," answered frank. "you see, we have only saturdays to play, and if we had too many clubs in the league we couldn't play enough games to really make the thing go. but with four teams, each can play three games with every other team and that would give us a pretty good line on the strength of each nine." "every team would play nine games altogether, then," figured fred. "yes, and that would take nine saturdays. allowing for some days when it might be too rainy to play that will just about cover the playing season before school closes for the summer." "who are to be the other two nines besides belden and ourselves?" asked sparrow. "we've been scouting around and have found two town nines that will be glad to go in with us," answered frank. "one is at somerset and the other at ridgefield. they're all within a few miles so that we wouldn't have to travel far to play them. the fellows are about the same age as we are, from eleven to fourteen." "what will be the name of the league?" asked skeets. "how does monatook lake league strike you?" asked frank. "both towns are right on the lake, just as rockledge and belden are." "just the thing," was the verdict of all. "some of those town boys are dandy players," said skeets. "i saw the somerset team play once and they certainly put up a fine game." "and the ridgefield boys have a pitcher who is a peach, all right," said frank. "but that's just what we're looking for. it wouldn't be any fun defeating a lot of dubs." "we'll have to look out that they don't ring in some good players from other towns to fill up weak places on their team," said fred. "of course we'll have to take a chance on that," admitted frank. "but i don't think we'll have to worry much. i know some of the boys on both teams and they seem to be pretty square fellows." "you'll have to limber up that pitching arm of yours and get it in good shape, bobby," cried fred jubilantly, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "how do you know i'll get a chance to pitch?" asked bobby modestly. "the nine isn't made up yet and won't be till we've had a chance to practice. some of the new fellows may be a good deal better than i am at pitching." "i don't believe they will be," returned skeets. "do you remember, fred, that last game when bobby pitched and we beat belden by three to two?" "you bet i do," replied fred. "and i remember that catch that bobby made in the ninth inning when he rolled over and over and yet held on to the ball. if he had let it get away from him, belden would have won sure." "i wish we could go right out on the field tomorrow!" exclaimed impatient fred, who was very much worked up over the prospect of sport that the new league opened up. "that would be rushing things for fair," laughed frank. "it would hardly do to be playing ball in overcoats and mittens," grinned skeets. "let's see," said sparrow. "this is the twenty-fifth of january. to the twenty-fifth of february is one month and to the twenty-fifth of march is another. the field ought to be in shape for playing by that time. don't you think so, frank?" "if we have a fairly early spring it ought to," said frank. "still in this climate i've seen snow on the ground sometimes in april." "february is a short month," said fred hopefully. "that will cut the time down some." "anyway we can do a whole lot of practicing indoors," said bobby. "the gymnasium is good and warm and we can rig up some kind of a cage for pitching and catching." "just as they do in colleges," said sparrow proudly. "i tell you, fellows, we're some class!" "i'll bet the town papers'll put in reports of the games," said fred, who already in imagination saw his name in print. "sure they will," agreed skeets. "they'll be glad of a chance to fill up space." this was not very flattering, and fred, who saw fame coming his way with giant strides, rather resented it. "they won't do it only for that reason," he said indignantly. "i bet there'll be some dandy games played and lots of people in the towns will come out to see them." "maybe, especially as they won't have to pay to get in," retorted skeets, who was not averse at times to stirring fred up just for the fun of seeing him roiled. "well, we can always count on big crowds when rockledge and belden play anyway," put in bobby, before fred had a chance to throw back at skeets. "we ought to get some kind of monogram sewed on our uniforms or caps to show the name of the league," said sparrow, who was quite as alive as fred was to the new dignity that was coming to them. "the letters m. l. l. would look nifty, sure enough," agreed bobby. "well there's plenty of time to think of those things before the season opens," remarked frank. "the main thing now is to get up a team that will put it all over the other fellows." "just think how it would feel to be the champions of the league," said sparrow. "and to pull up the pennant on the flagpole just back of center field," gloated fred. "rockledge wouldn't be big enough to hold us," said bobby. "that's all right, fellows," cautioned frank. "but remember all the other fellows are feeling the same way. it's easy enough to win games in our dreams, but the only ones that count are those that are won on the diamond." "we'll win them all right there too," replied fred, who already saw himself cracking out a home run with the bases full. "we'll be there with bells on from the time the season opens." "i bet we'll go all through the season without losing a game," declared sparrow, in a wild flight of fancy. "come off the perch," warned bobby. "turn over, turn over, you're on your back," said the irreverent skeets. "you'll bring bad luck on us if you talk like that," cautioned frank. "it stands to reason that we'll have to lose some games. the other fellows are no slouches, don't you forget that, and they'll be out to win just as we are." "the best teams in the big leagues lose lots of games, even to the poorest ones," said bobby. "you'll notice that the nines that win the championships don't often come through the season with much more than six hundred per cent." "just what does that mean?" asked skeets, who had never been especially strong in mathematics. bobby did a swift sum in mental arithmetic. "that means they won three games out of five," he announced. "so you see they had lots of losses before they won the pennant. we've got a swell chance of winning every game--i don't think. if we win six out of the nine, i shall be perfectly satisfied. that will give us a percentage of six hundred and sixty-seven." "bobby's right," confirmed frank. "that would be two out of every three, and the team that wins isn't likely to do any better than that. the best team in the world will sometimes be whipped by a poor one. that's what makes baseball such a bully game. lots of good luck and hard luck come into a game, and it's never settled until the last man is out in the ninth inning." "but in the long run it's the best team that wins," protested fred, still undaunted. "and the best team in the monatook lake league this year will be the team of rockledge school." chapter xiv glowing hopes the boys all laughed at fred's declaration, though they hoped ardently that it would turn out to be true. "well," conceded frank, "confidence is a good thing, especially if there is good hard work back of it. one thing is certain, and that is if any team beats rockledge it will know it's been in a fight." "i suppose larry cronk will be pitching for belden," mused fred. "i suppose so, and he's a corking good pitcher too. but bobby beat him the last time he faced him and i guess he can do it again." "trust bobby," replied fred loyally. "well, i'll have to go now," concluded frank. "i'm glad you boys think the league is going to be a good thing." "the best thing that ever happened," declared sparrow. "i'm tickled to death with it," agreed fred. "hits me awful hard," said bobby. "monatook lake league sounds mighty good to me," added skeets. "there's a lot of work to be done yet in getting it fairly started," observed frank. "we'll have to work out a schedule of dates and decide on the kind of pennant we're going to have and a bunch of things like that. but we'll have plenty of time for that, and everything will be running slick as grease by the time the season begins. and remember what i said, fred, about cutting out all hard feelings," he concluded. "i'll do it all right," answered fred. "i don't like the fellow and i never will, but i'll forget all about that when it comes to working for the good of the team." "that's the way i like to hear you talk," returned frank with a smile, as he went away. "what did frank mean by that?" asked skeets curiously. "oh, it's about that tom hicksley," fred replied. "frank has heard that he's a good ball player, and if he is, he wants him on the nine. he heard bobby and me talking of the scrap we had with him this morning, and he doesn't want trouble in the team." "maybe frank's right, at that," conceded skeets. "but i don't know that it's good dope to have a fellow like that on the nine, no matter how good a player he is. he'll be wanting to run things and perhaps break up the whole team." "we'll hope not," said bobby. "at any rate, there's no use worrying about it yet. he may not be so good a player as frank has heard he is, and may not play on the team at all." "we'll have to look over our baseball togs and see if they're in good shape," said fred. "i know the spikes on my shoes need sharpening." "and i'll have to pound that new baseball glove of mine until it's good and soft and has a big hollow in the middle," added bobby. "we mustn't overlook the least thing that's going to help us to win." "won't the clinton boys open their eyes if we can tell them when we go home for the summer vacation that we're the champions of the monatook lake league?" gloated fred. "don't count your chickens before they're hatched," laughed sparrow. "it's a long time yet before the end of the season." "it's all over but the shouting, the way i look at it," persisted fred defiantly. "don't wake him up, he is dreaming," mocked skeets. "the pennant bee is buzzing in his bonnet," laughed sparrow. for that matter, they all heard the buzzing of the same bee, and it was a very pleasant sound to them. to these four eleven-year-old boys the words "league" and "pennant" conveyed a sense of dignity and importance that they had never felt before. from that time on, baseball took up a large part of their thoughts, even though the ground was covered with snow and the lake held fast in icy fetters. the gymnasium was warm and comfortable, and though they had no regular cage and the limited space did not give much chance for batting practice the boys got in quite a lot of pitching and catching. and this was quickened by the news that came to them that belden had taken up the idea of the league with as much enthusiasm as they had, and were already predicting that they would be the victors in the coming struggle. it was said that two of the new belden boys were hard hitters and could "send the ball a mile." "but we heard something like that before the last game, and we licked them just the same," remarked fred, who expected to play short stop, the same position he had held the previous season. "belden's bark is worse than its bite," confirmed bobby. "but because they didn't come through the last time doesn't say they won't now. we'll have to be right up on our toes all the time. it isn't going to be a walkover for anybody." the study hours at rockledge were not excessive, and had been arranged with a view of giving the growing boys all the time they needed for wholesome exercise and recreation. dr. raymond knew that a well trained mind and strong body must go together in order to get the best results. and on the occasions of the big baseball and football games he was always sure to be present as a keenly interested spectator. mr. carrier, too, the second assistant on the teaching staff, had himself been an athlete in his college days, and his advice and coaching on the diamond and the gridiron were very valuable to the rockledge boys. with the lake so near at hand, there were plenty of winter sports. the smooth level of the ice, stretching away for miles in every direction, made skating a delight and offered a splendid field for hockey games. on all fine afternoons and every saturday from morning till night, the ice was alive with darting figures, and rang with the music of steel against the frozen surface and the merry laughter of the skaters as they cracked the whip or flew by in impromptu races. there was plenty of snow on the ground this year and this gave a chance for some good coasting. most of the boys had sleds, and bobby had brought along the splendid one that he had received as a christmas present. he had had considerable trouble in settling on a name. billy barry's suggestion that it be called "lightning" and betty martin's laughing idea that it ought to be called "oyster," because it "slipped down so easily," had received due consideration, but bobby had finally settled on "red arrow." this seemed to him to cover both its color and its speed. and that speed could not be questioned. it certainly shot down hill like an arrow from a how. none of the other sleds at the school could do such fetching. naturally bobby took great pride in his sled, and the runners were rubbed with emery and oil until they were as smooth as silk and shone like silver. there were several good hills in the vicinity of the school, but most of them were dangerous; one because it crossed the railroad at its base and others because cross streets, along which there was much travel, offered chances for collisions. these were therefore forbidden to the boys. on one hill, however, they were permitted to coast whenever they wanted to do so. this stretched away from the town, and there were no cross streets throughout its entire length. it was absolutely safe, and as it was very long and reasonably steep, the boys felt no special regret at not being allowed to use the other hills. for several days before lincoln's birthday the weather had been mild and there was a considerable thaw. the snow on the hill had become soft and mushy and coasting had been impossible. this interfered with the plans of the boys in bobby's dormitory, who had expected to have a big coasting carnival on the night of the holiday, when there would be a full moon. now it looked as if the ground might be bare. but on the eleventh of february there came a sudden change in the weather that gladdened the hearts of the would-be coasters. the thermometer fell rapidly until it was ten degrees below zero. the hill froze solid and was even better than it had been before, because the water from the melting snow now formed a glare of ice over the whole surface. bobby and his chums were jubilant over the change as they got together in the gymnasium after breakfast on the morning of the holiday. "isn't it just bully?" cried fred, doing a handspring. "the hill will be like glass," gloated mouser. "i'll bet we fetch further than we ever did before," exulted bobby, who could see himself scudding like the wind on his trusty red arrow. "but, gee! won't it be tough climbing up to the top again," put in pee wee, who liked well enough to ride down but hated the task of walking back. "don't worry, pee wee," chaffed fred. "we wouldn't let a hard-working fellow like you walk back. we'll take turns drawing you up on our sleds." "sure we will," added sparrow. "we'll just fight for the privilege." "i'd hate to have pee wee bark his shins again," laughed bobby. the boys were so engrossed in the lively give and take that none of them noticed that tom hicksley, who had been practicing on the rings and had been near enough to hear their conversation, had quietly slipped out of the gymnasium. there had been no open trouble between him and bobby and his friends since that morning when the coming of mr. carrier had stopped the quarrel. none of the boys took any special pains to avoid him but had simply left him alone. hicksley had cast sullen and angry glances at them as they passed him on the campus or in the halls, but they cared nothing for that. they did not doubt that he was nursing his grudge and would lose no chance to get back at them if he could, but they felt able to take care of themselves. as a matter of fact, hicksley had only two friends in the school. these were bill bronson and jack jinks, the two most detested boys at rockledge. they were of the same type as hicksley, mean and tyrannical. they were two of the largest pupils and took advantage of their size to make themselves thoroughly disliked by the other boys. they had "cottoned" to hicksley at once, recognizing him as a kindred spirit, and the three were almost constantly together. bronson and jinks belonged to neither of the dormitories, but occupied one of the smaller rooms together. to this room hicksley went straight from the gymnasium and rapped on the door. chapter xv spoiling the fun there was a scurrying within the room and hicksley heard the sound of a window being hastily thrown up. then after a long pause the door was slowly opened. "oh, it's you, is it?" said bronson in a tone of relief. "sure it is," replied hicksley tersely. "who did you think it was? what's the matter with you fellows anyway. any one might think i was a cop, from the time you took to open the door." "worse than that," grinned bronson. "i thought you might be dr. raymond or one of the teachers. we were smoking. now you've made us throw away two perfectly good cigarettes and freeze ourselves by opening the window to get the smoke out of the room. shut the window again, jack. it's only tom." "well, i'm not going to tell on you," replied hicksley. "that is," he added with a grin, "if you've got another cigarette left for me." it was strictly against the rules to smoke, but in the opinion of these worthless fellows rules were made only to be broken, and all three were soon puffing away, after making sure that the door was securely locked. bronson was a tall, thin boy, with straw-colored hair. jinks was shorter, but very stocky. a squint that made his small eyes look smaller still gave him a most unprepossessing appearance. "well, what's up?" asked bronson, seeing from hicksley's manner that he had something to propose. "i've just heard something that gave me an idea of how to get even with that bobby blake and the bunch of boobs he goes with," replied hicksley. "hope it's a good idea," said bronson. "anything that will down those fellows you can count me in on." "same here!" ejaculated jinks. "i never had any use for any of that crowd." "let's have it, tom," broke in bronson impatiently. "don't keep us waiting." "they're planning to have a big coasting time to-night," explained hicksley. "i heard them talking about it when i was down in the gymnasium just now. and while i was listening i thought of a way to queer the whole thing." this sounded promising, and the interest on the faces of the others grew intense. "what is it?" they asked in the same breath, leaning forward eagerly. hicksley lowered his voice a trifle and rapidly outlined the plan that had come to him. he was fully satisfied with its reception, for both of his hearers roared with delight. "it's just bully!" cried bronson. "best thing i've heard since hector was a pup!" ejaculated jinks. "that'll put a spoke in their wheel all right," gloated hicksley. "won't they feel sore?" "they'll be frothing at the mouth." "we'll have to be hiding somewhere near by where we can see the whole thing," said bronson. "i wouldn't miss it for a hundred dollars," chuckled jinks. "they'll sing small for a long time after that," grinned hicksley. "but now if you think the plan is all right, we'll have to figure out just how to go about it. it'll be a lot of hard work, and i don't want to do it myself. i don't suppose you fellows want to muss yourselves up either." "i'll tell you what!" exclaimed bronson. "do you know who dago joe is?" "he's that italian fellow down town who goes about doing odd jobs, isn't he?" queried hicksley. "that's the one," bronson assented. "well, what about him?" asked hicksley. "just this," bronson answered. "he's just the fellow for this job. he's got a hand cart, and that will make it easy for him. then, too, a dollar will look as big to him as a meeting house. but even if he charges more than that we can all chip in and it won't make very much for any of us." "i wouldn't care if it cost us a dollar apiece," said jinks. "it would be worth it." they talked for a few minutes longer, and then decided that rather than let hicksley do it alone they would all go down together to see dago joe. but to their surprise, joe was at first inclined to balk at the proposition. he was poor and had a large family to support and he needed every dollar he could get, but he seemed to fear that the plan that the bullies suggested might get him into trouble. "i donta know," he said, shrugging his shoulders and extending the palms of his hands. "perhaps people nota like it. maybe i be arrest." "nonsense, joe," said bronson. "there isn't a chance in the world that anybody will get on to who did it. it will be after dark anyway. be a sport and take a chance." "we'll make it two dollars," said jinks. "it's easy money and you'd be a fool not to take it." joe still had some qualms, but when the boys raised the price to three dollars his scruples vanished. "you can get the stuff down near the roundhouse," suggested jinks. "there's always plenty of it there." joe wanted his three dollars at once, but they compromised by paying him half down with a promise of the other half when the work was done. "now for the big blowout," chuckled jinks, as they wended their way back to the school. "it'll be a scream," gloated bronson. "a perfect riot," added hicksley, who was in high feather, now that his scheme seemed in a fair way of going through. as for dago joe, he was a busy man for the rest of the day and for some time after darkness fell. there was an unusually good supper that night in honor of the holiday, and the boys did it full justice. but they would have lingered still longer at the table, if they had not been impatient to get out on the hill for their carnival of coasting. the wind had died down, but the air was keen and brought a frosty glow to their eyes and cheeks as they made their way to the hill, drawing their sleds behind them by ropes that hung over their shoulders. "we'll make a new record to-night," said bobby jubilantly. "i shouldn't wonder if we fetched as far as the bridge; and we've never done that yet." "if we don't do it to-night we never shall," replied fred, as they came to the hill. "it doesn't seem as if the sleds could ever stop when they get started on ice like this," exulted mouser. "i'll tell you what let's do," suggested sparrow. "the hill's wide enough to hold six sleds going down at the same time. there's just about seventeen or eighteen of us here. let's start out in a bunch of six at a time and go the whole length. then, after that, we can have the separate races." "that's all right," agreed fred. "the trouble is that each fellow will want to go off in the first six." "we'll soon settle that," replied sparrow. "we'll draw lots and then nobody will have any kick coming." this proposal was greeted with acclamation, and amid a great deal of chaff and laughter the lots were drawn. the lucky ones happened to be fred, bobby, mouser, sparrow, skeets and pee wee. "we'll let pee wee go in the middle," laughed fred, "and we'd better take care to keep close to the side of the road. he'll need more room than any of the rest of us." "i'd hate to have him plunk into me," grinned bobby. "it would be a case for the doctor, for sure." "for the undertaker, more likely," chuckled mouser. "you fellows think you're smart, don't you?" grunted pee wee. "all the same i bet i'll fetch farther than any of you." "hear who's talking," jibed sparrow. "we'll leave you so far behind you won't be able to see us with a telescope." they ranged their sleds side by side and lay upon them flat on their stomachs, holding firmly on the sides in front in order steer correctly. "are you all ready?" asked howell purdy, who had been chosen to give the word. "ready," they answered. "then go!" shouted howell. the six sleds shot forward with a rush. chapter xvi who was guilty? for the first third of the distance, the ice was as smooth as quicksilver, with never a lump or hummock to mar the surface. the sleds flew down the frozen surface, gaining a velocity that took the boys' breath away and almost frightened them. then suddenly there was a jar, a chorus of shouts, and they were thrown headlong over the fronts of their sleds, landing in a confused heap of limbs and bodies, while the sleds relieved of their burdens swirled around aimlessly for a time and finally came to a stop. a yell of consternation and alarm came from the mass, as the boys tried to struggle to their feet. those who had been left at the top of the hill, hearing the yells and knowing that some accident had happened, came slipping and scrambling down to the scene of the disaster. they helped the half stunned victims to their feet, and for a time there was a wild hullabaloo of questions and answers as they tried to solve the mystery. fortunately none of them was badly hurt, though at the rate they were going it might very easily have turned out to be a tragedy. most of the boys had rubbed pieces of skin off their arms and legs, and fred had a cut in his scalp from which the blood was flowing. "what did it?" shouted howell. "i don't know," replied bobby hesitatingly. his head was going round like a top. "m-must have hit a tree trunk or something like that," stammered sparrow. "that isn't it," replied howell, looking around him. "there isn't anything of that kind in sight as far as i can see. just wait a minute till i get sam thompson's flashlight." luckily sam had it with him and promptly handed it over. howell flashed it about him and gave a shout. "it's ashes!" he cried. "the whole hill's littered with 'em." "ashes?" came a chorus of surprised questions. "that's what it is," declared howell emphatically. "there are heaps and heaps of 'em. i'll bet they reach clear down to the bottom of the hill." he went down further and confirmed what he had said. he had no trouble in walking, for he could not have slipped if he had wanted to. the whole lower surface of the hill was strewn with ashes that spoiled the coasting for that night utterly, and promised to ruin it for many days to come. a wave of wrath and fierce indignation swept over the boys as they heard howell's report. "who could have done it?" was the question that came to the lips of all. "could it have been the town council?" suggested skeets. "they might have done it to keep the horses from slipping." "they never did anything like that before," objected sparrow. "and if they were the ones, they would have made a clean job of it and gone right up to the top of the hill," said mouser. "but you fellows will notice that it was perfectly clear for a long part of the way down." "mouser is right," declared bobby. "somebody did this just to spoil our fun." "and they wanted us to be fooled and get started down so that we'd get a tumble when we came to the ashes," added fred. "that's why they left it smooth at the top." "some of us might have been killed," groaned skeets, gingerly soothing an injured knee. "and it's only a bit of luck that we weren't," growled fred. "my shins are barked for fair," moaned pee wee, "and that's no joke this time either." "whoever did it was a low-down skunk," burst out howell angrily. "he might have been a murderer," added skeets. "i'd like to have my hands on him for a minute," declared fred. "well, our fun is over for this night anyway," said bobby sadly. "and for a whole lot of other nights," put in pee wee. "those ashes will get ground in and there's no sweeping 'em off." "we'll have to wait for another snow storm before we can do any more coasting," wailed sparrow. it was a sorely disgruntled band of boys who gathered up their sleds and limped slowly to the top of the hill. one of the sleds was smashed and all had been more or less scratched and bruised. once at the top, they squatted down on their sleds and held a council of war. "now, fellows," said bobby, "we've got to get to the bottom of this thing somehow. the ashes didn't come there of themselves. somebody put them there, and whoever it was knew that we were out for a grand coasting bee to-night. so it must have been some fellow in the school." "i hate to think that there's any fellow at rockledge who could do such a dirty trick," remarked howell. "if we can find out who it was we ought to tell doctor raymond about it and have the fellow sent away from school." "no," objected bobby. "this is our affair and we oughtn't to bring the teachers into it at all." "the question is who could have done it," put in skeets. "whoever did it is mean enough to steal sheep," growled fred. "or take the pennies from a dead man's eyes," added mouser. "i can figure out just three fellows in the school who could do a thing like that," said howell. "bill bronson." "jack jinks." "tom hicksley." the answers came from as many different lips, and the readiness with which they were accepted was not at all flattering to the boys who bore the names. "it may have been one of those three or all three together," said bobby, coming nearer to the mark than he knew. "that reminds me," cried fred suddenly. "tom hicksley was practicing on the flying rings when we were talking this thing over in the gymnasium this morning." "that's so," chimed in mouser. "and i remember now that he seemed to stop all of a sudden and slip away. i didn't think anything about it then, but i remember it plainly now." "he owes some of us a grudge for what happened on the train," remarked pee wee. "and he said then he'd get even with us," observed fred. "there's one thing we fellows have forgotten," said skeets. "whoever did this would want to be hiding around and see what happened. we ought to hunt them out and pay them up." this seemed likely enough and the boys looked eagerly about them. "doesn't seem to be any place up here where they could hide without our seeing them," remarked mouser. "no, but there's a lot of bushes at the side of the road half way down the hill," put in sparrow. "let's go down there." they went down in a body. there was no one there, but as they got to the other side of the bushes they could faintly make out three figures retreating in the distance. they were too far away to be recognized and they had too long a start to make it worth while pursuing them, but from their general size and build the boys had little doubt as to who they were. "what did i tell you?" cried fred. "i knew that they were the only ones who could do a thing like that." "it seems that the whole bunch of them are in it," remarked mouser. "i'll bet that hicksley went straight to them and cooked this up when he left the gym this morning," conjectured sparrow. "that makes something else we owe those fellows," growled skeets. "we owed them enough without that," said howell. "the big bullies have tried to pester the life out of us ever since we've been at rockledge." "our turn will come," replied bobby with conviction. "but now, fellows, we might as well hustle back to the dormitory. there's no use of staying here any longer." they made their way back to the school with very different feelings from those they had when they left it. "a holiday spoiled," grumbled mouser. "and there's only two more holidays this month," observed sparrow. "two!" exclaimed bobby. "there's only one more and that's washington's birthday." "how about st. valentine's day?" objected sparrow. "that's only two days from now." "oh, that's only a fake holiday," replied fred. "lessons will go on just the same." "i don't care whether it's a fake holiday or a real one," answered sparrow. "i'm going to get a lot of fun out of it just the same." chapter xvii on the trail the school chums sat up late in the dormitory that night, nursing their bruises, and by the time they had got through applying arnica and other lotions, the place smelled like a hospital. how they could bring the trick home to those who had played it was a problem that was too much for them at the present. they felt sure that the bullies would deny it if taxed with it, and there was no way of actually proving it, no matter how sure they might feel in their own minds. the matter could of course have been carried to the authorities of the school, and there is no doubt that they would have looked upon it very gravely because of the serious accident that might have resulted from it. but their code of schoolboy ethics was to keep the teachers out of such things and fight it out among themselves. they felt reasonably sure that sometime or other they would get even, and they bided their time. it was a very lame and sore lot of boys who dragged themselves out of bed when the rising hell rang on the following morning. "scubbity-_yow_!" exclaimed fred. "i feel as though i'd been in a railroad smash-up." "i'm one big ache all over," groaned pee wee. "one _big_ ache is right," grinned mouser. "you couldn't be a little one if you tried." "my joints creak like a wooden doll's, every time i go to move," complained sparrow. "i bet i'll go to pieces on the stairs and have to be shoveled up in bits," prophesied skeets. "we'll each keep a part to remember you by," laughed bobby. "quit your groaning, you fellows, and let's go down to the table. you'll feel better when you get filled up." the filling up process was carried out with neatness and despatch, and when it was over the boys were inclined to look on life in a more cheerful way. "we can't do anything this morning on account of lessons," remarked bobby. "but as soon as they're over this afternoon, let's make a break for that hill and see what we can find out." "and see how hicksley and his pals act in the classrooms," suggested skeets. "that may give us a tip to go by." "i don't count much on that," said mouser. "they'll be on their guard and won't want to give themselves away." to a certain extent this proved true. there was no attempt on the part of the bullies to gloat over the victims of their trick. but the boys surprised furtive grins and winks that passed between the three when they thought no one was looking, and this confirmed their suspicions that now were almost certainties. "they did it all right," pronounced fred. "i'm sure of it from the way i saw them grinning at each other. but they'll laugh on the other side of their mouths before long." as soon as the boys were free from their duties, they went with all speed to the scene of their misadventure. and again they lamented, when they saw by daylight how thoroughly the hill was spoiled for coasting. "there must be bushels and bushels of ashes!" exclaimed mouser, as his eyes roamed over the lower half of the hill. "it beats me how they managed to get it all here," observed skeets. "it must have been brought a long way," commented sparrow. "there's no place round here they could have got them from." "they couldn't have carried all that stuff themselves," said bobby thoughtfully. "it would have been an awful job," added howell, "and those fellows don't like work well enough for that." "they might have hired a man with a horse and wagon," suggested skeets. "if that's so, there must be some tracks in the snow," returned bobby. "scatter out, fellows, and see if you can find any marks of hoofs or wheels." they followed his directions, and in a moment there was a cry from sparrow. "here're the marks of wheels," he called. "but i don't see any horse tracks." there, indeed, were the clearly defined print of wheels leading in a roundabout way toward the town. as they looked a little more closely they could see too where a man's feet had broken at places through the crust of snow. "it must have been a hand cart," said bobby, "and you can see that it held ashes from the bits that lie along its tracks. that's what they brought it in and you can bet on it." "there aren't many hand carts in town," observed fred reflectively. "how many do you fellows remember seeing?" "the laundryman has one," replied howell, "and the paper man has another. those are the only ones i know of, except that shaky thing of dago joe's." "he's the fellow!" cried fred excitedly. "none of the others would lend their carts for anything like that." "let's follow up the tracks and see where they lead to," suggested sparrow. this was detective work to their liking and even pee wee made no objections to the tramp over the snow. their satisfaction was increased when they found that the tracks led straight to the roundhouse. here there were great piles of ashes that had been dropped from the fire boxes of the locomotives when they were being shifted or put up for the night. it was quite clear that here was the place where the hand cart had been filled. but their elation received a sudden check when they prepared to trace the wheel prints to the shabby shack in town where joe lived with his numerous brood. for now they were in the outskirts of the town, where wagons were coming and going all the time, and the tracks they had been following were lost in a multitude of others. they looked at each other a little sheepishly. "stung!" muttered fred. "bum detectives we are," grinned sparrow. "we're up a tree now for sure," declared sparrow. "all this walk for nothing," growled pee wee. "we do seem to be stumped," admitted bobby. "what do you say to going to joe and asking him right up and down whether he did it or not?" "swell chance we'd have of getting anything out of him," commented mouser. "he'd lie about it sure," declared sparrow. "i suppose likely he would," agreed bobby. "but we might be able to tell something by the way he acts. it won't do any harm to try anyhow." they found dago joe pottering about some work in the small yard in front of his shack. but joe had seen them coming and his uneasy conscience had taken alarm. if he had had time, he would have slipped inside the house and had his wife or one of the children deny that he was at home. but it was too late for that, and he took refuge in the assumed ignorance that had served him many times before. he greeted them with a genial smile that showed his mouthful of white teeth which was the only personal attraction he possessed. "goota day," he said blandly. "how are you, joe?" said bobby, as spokesman for the party. "been pretty busy?" joe's mouth drooped. "not do nottin much," he answered. "beesness bad, ver' bad." "carry any loads of ashes lately?" bobby went on. joe looked puzzled. then a light came into his face. "hash?" he said delightedly. "me likea hash. tasta good. bambino like it too." "not hash, but ashes," returned bobby, joining in the laugh of the rest of the boys. "you know, ashes--what falls out of the stove, wood ashes, coal ashes." joe's face resembled that of a graven image. "no unnerstan," he said, shrugging his shoulders with an air of perplexity. in the face of his determination, the boys saw that it was of no use to prolong the conversation. "you're a good actor, joe," said bobby, half vexed, half amused, as the boys turned to go. joe showed his teeth again in an engaging smile that embraced all the party and waved them a cordial good-bye. "how sweetly the old rascal smiles at us!" grinned mouser. "laughs at us, you mean," snorted fred. "he's tickled to death inside to think of the way he's got the best of us." "i bet if we asked him if he'd like to have us give him five dollars, he'd understand, all right," laughed sparrow. "he couldn't grab the money too quick," agreed skeets. "well, we haven't wasted our afternoon anyway," bobby summed up. "we've found out how the ashes were taken there, and we feel dead certain in our own minds that joe did it. we know, of course, that he didn't do it of his own accord. somebody hired him to do it. now if we could only find some one who saw hicksley and joe talking together, it would help some." "but that wouldn't prove anything," objected sparrow. "they might be talking about the weather." "or about hash," interjected pee wee. "hash seems to stick in your crop," grinned skeets. "i wish some of it were sticking there right now," answered pee wee, "especially if it were like the hash that meena makes." "by the way, fellows," chimed in fred, "it must be close to supper time this very minute. let's beat it." they started off on a run. "the one that gets there last is a chinaman," skeets flung back over his shoulder. pee wee was the chinaman. chapter xviii a hard hit the next morning the boys woke to the realization that it was st. valentine's day. there were valentines in their mail, valentines that had been slipped slyly into their pockets, valentines that had found their way under their pillows. some of them were the grotesque "comics" that were on sale in the village stationery store, while others were mere scrawls adorned with so-called pictures, and had been made by the boys themselves with pen and pencil. there was not much art about them, but there was a good deal of fun, and that was all the boys were looking for. most of them were based on nicknames that the boys carried or on some event in their lives that was known to the rest. mouser, for instance, was pictured with his own face on the body of a mouse who was creeping toward a cage in which a big piece of cheese was temptingly displayed. skeets was buzzing about as a big mosquito, over the bald head of a fat man, who was getting ready to crash him as soon as he should settle down. fred's red head had been drawn in red ink, and above his flaming mop one boy was holding a frying pan and another was breaking eggs to cook an omelet. the boys had learned from fred of the time when bobby had coasted down the trent street hill and gone head over heels into the drift. bobby's head could not be seen but his two heels were waving wildly in the air and on one of them was the word "bobby" and on the other "blake." of course pee wee had not been overlooked. he was shown as a big fat boy, and each of his knees had a dog's head on it. the dogs were barking furiously. this was supposed to indicate his "barked" shins. because billy bassett was always asking questions with his conundrums, he was shown as a great big question mark with the word "guess" underneath. sparrow bangs sat on a branch with a flock of birds, singing with all his might, while in the bushes a hunter was taking careful aim and getting ready to fire. under most of the pictures there were verses that brought forth shrieks of laughter--usually from all, but sometimes from all but the recipient. as a rule, it was pure fun without any sting in it, though fred pointed out that the hair in the picture was a good deal redder than that which really waved over his freckled forehead. pee wee too was sure that he was not anyway near so big as the human mountain that his picture showed him to be. there was plenty of chaff and laughter as the boys pored over the valentines, and they would have gladly spent more time discussing them. but as fred had said, valentine's day was only a "fake" holiday, and the hard-hearted teachers insisted on lessons and recitations. so the pictures were hastily thrust into pockets until they had more time to look at them and the boys trooped over to the classrooms. several times through the morning's work, they noticed that tom hicksley shot furious glances at them and this aroused their curiosity. "his royal highness seems mighty sore about something this morning," fred whispered to bobby. "got out of bed the wrong foot first maybe," replied bobby. "i hope he's got something to feel sore about," snapped fred. what that something was they learned after the lessons were over, and they stood chattering with their friends, a little way off from the main building. hicksley came up to them, accompanied by bronson and jinks. there was an ugly look in the bully's eyes and he held a folded sheet of paper in his hand. "which one of you boobs sent me this valentine?" he asked threateningly. "how do you know that any of us did?" replied bobby in yankee fashion, answering a question by asking one. "i know that some of you did, because you butted in on me before," replied hicksley. "when was that?" asked fred aggravatingly. "you know well enough," growled hicksley, who was not any too anxious to recall his bully-ragging of the old soldier. "oh, yes, i remember," put in mouser, as though he had just thought of it. "you remember, fellows, how hicksley reached out his foot and tried to trip the old man up." "i didn't," cried hicksley untruthfully. "he fell over it by accident." "and i suppose it was an accident that you kept at him with the feather so that he couldn't get any sleep?" retorted fred. "that's neither here nor there," snarled hicksley, dodging the matter. "what i want to know is which one of you sent this valentine?" "what are you going to do if you find out?" asked bobby innocently. "i'm going to give him a trimming that he'll remember," growled hicksley. bronson and jinks ranged up alongside of him as though to assure him of their support, and it looked as if trouble were coming. "give it to him good and plenty, tom," said bronson. "the whole bunch of them need a licking," added jinks. "it will take more than you to give it to us," blazed out fred defiantly. the bullies were much larger and stronger than any of the boys opposed to them. on the other hand, the smaller boys had a larger number, so that if a tussle did come, the forces would be about equal. "what is this valentine you're making all this fuss about?" demanded bobby. "here it is," cried hicksley furiously, thrusting it forward. "and i'm going to make the fellow that sent it pay for it." the boys crowded round and looked at it curiously, at the same time keeping wary eyes on the bullies. the picture was fairly well done, and had evidently taken a great deal of work and time on the part of the one who had made it. it represented a boy taking a dead mouse from a blind kitten. the boy was grinning, and the kitten was pawing wildly about, trying to get back its mouse. to make sure there could be no mistake, the kitten had a card around its neck bearing the words, "i am blind," and under the figure of the boy was scrawled the name, "tom hicksley." the boys roared with laughter, and hicksley's temper rose to the boiling point. "own up now, which one of you did it," he demanded fiercely. "whoever did it knew you pretty well, tom hicksley," said fred. "what do you suppose the picture means?" inquired mouser, as though he could not quite make it out. "i think it means that the fellow who would take a dead mouse from a blind kitten is about as mean as they make them," put in sparrow. "mean enough to torment a poor old soldier, i shouldn't wonder," added shiner, pouring oil on the flames. "are you going to tell me who did it?" snarled hicksley once more, snatching back the valentine, which he now regretted having shown, and doubling up his fist. "i would have done it if i'd thought of it," fred came back at him. hicksley sprang forward, followed by bronson and jinks. the boys stood their ground and there was a wild mix-up. in a moment they were all down in the snow in a flying tangle of arms and legs. there was no telling how the tussle would have terminated, though hicksley was getting his face well washed with snow that the boys were cramming into his mouth and eyes, when a shout arose: "cheese it, fellows, there's a teacher coming!" the combatants scrambled to their feet and scurried in all directions, and when mr. leith, the head teacher, arrived on the spot, there was no one to be seen. bobby and his friends found themselves, red, panting and uproariously happy, in their dormitory, where they flung their books upon their beds and fairly danced about with glee. "i jammed so much snow in tom hicksley's mouth that i bet he'll taste it for a month," chortled fred. "they tackled the wrong bunch that time," gurgled mouser. "they thought we'd run," chuckled bobby. "wasn't that a dandy valentine?" demanded skeets. "what a fool he was to show it," grinned pee wee. "now it'll go all over the school." "who do you suppose sent it?" wondered shiner. "i'd give a dollar to know," declared fred. "all right," grinned sparrow, holding out his hand. "pass over the dollar." "you?" cried the other boys in chorus. chapter xix spring practice "i'm the fellow who did it," admitted sparrow modestly. "sparrow, old scout, you're a wonder!" cried mouser, clapping him on the back. "it hit him right where he lived," chuckled skeets. "that pays him up for scattering ashes on the hill," grinned fred. "he'll never hear the last of it as long as he stays in school," said shiner. "every once in a while a dead mouse will turn up on his desk and make him hopping mad." "he'll never be much madder than he was this morning," put in skeets. "his eyes were fairly snapping." "bronson and jinks got theirs, too," said pee wee. "i guess they'll think twice before they pick on the other fellows again." "they've been rather quiet since the goat tumbled them over at our last initiation," laughed bobby, referring to an incident of the previous term, "but since hicksley came they've been getting ugly again. i guess what they got this morning will hold them for a while." as a matter of fact, the bullies did seem to be somewhat dashed by the stout resistance that the smaller boys had put up and they did not refer to the valentine again. they were only too willing to have it forgotten, and tom hicksley ground his teeth more than once at not having kept it to himself. spring was now at hand, coming this year a little earlier than usual. the snow disappeared from the ground, the ice vanished from the lake, and the soft winds that blew up from the south turned the thoughts of the boys to track games and baseball. fred and bobby had done a good deal of practicing in the gymnasium and were in prime condition. but actual practice on the diamond was the real thing they wanted, and they were delighted when the ground had dried out enough to play in the open air. frank durrock had been busy for a month past, getting all the details perfected for the entrance of rockledge into the monatook lake league. but now everything was ready and he could devote himself to picking the members of the team. this proved to be no easy matter. an unusually large number of good players were at rockledge, and the struggle for places on the nine was interesting and exciting. it seemed that bobby should play in the pitcher's box and fred at short stop. they had both done exceedingly well at those positions the previous spring and fall. but there was a new boy, willis by name, who had been a good short stop on his home nine before he had come to the school, and it seemed to be a toss up between him and fred as to who could do better in the position. bobby, too, had rivalry to face in the person of tom hicksley. on the first day that they actually had field practice, hicksley came out on the ball ground in an old uniform that proclaimed that he had once been a member of the "eagles" of cresskill, his native town. frank knew that he had been a pitcher, and so he put him in the box and had him toss up some balls for the rest of the team in batting practice. and hicksley did exceedingly well. whatever his defects in character, he certainly knew how to pitch. he had a good outcurve, a fair incurve and a high fast ball that bobby himself generously declared to be a "peach." hicksley's height and strength, too, were greater than bobby's, which was not to be wondered at when it was considered that he was three years older. but he was inclined to be a little wild, and his control was not as good as bobby's. but what made his work of special interest to frank was that he pitched with his left hand. most of the pitchers in the new league were right-handed, and the boys were used to hitting that kind of pitching. frank felt that with a left-handed pitcher he would have the other fellows all at sea when it came to "lining them out," and for that reason he watched hicksley with the closest attention. "he puts them over all right," conceded bobby, as he watched hicksley winging them over the plate. "yes," said fred, "when he gets them over at all. but lots of them don't even cut the corners. he'll give too many bases on balls." "and a base on balls is as good for the fellow that gets it as a base hit," commented mouser. "his arm seems to be all right, but we don't know how he'll act when he gets in a pinch," said skeets dubiously. "that's what makes bobby so strong as a pitcher," said shiner. "no matter how tight a hole he finds himself in, he's cool as an iceberg." "that's so," remarked pee wee, who was too fat and too slow to play himself, but was an ardent rooter for the home team. "i've never seen bobby get rattled yet." "that's because there isn't a bit of yellow in him," said fred, throwing his arm affectionately about his chum's shoulder. "and i'll bet that hicksley has a yellow streak in him a yard wide," snapped sparrow. "oh he may not be that way when it comes to baseball," remonstrated bobby who always tried to be fair. "at any rate he ought to have a chance to show what he can do before we make up our minds about him. you fellows know that i don't like him a bit more than you do, but that doesn't say he may not be a good baseball player." jinks was not on the nine, but bronson, who was a good batter and a fair fielder, was expected to play center field. they were both delighted at the showing that their crony was making and were loud in their applause. their praise was so extravagant in fact that it was clear that they did it to depreciate bobby. "you're the best pitcher we ever had at rockledge, tom," cried bronson, casting a side glance at bobby to make sure that he heard. "you lay over them all," crowed jinks. "there's no one else can hold a candle to you." "here, cut that out, you fellows," called frank durrock sharply. "blake has proved what he can do and i don't want any talk like that. he won both of the last games he pitched against belden, and any one who can do better than he did will have to be going some." "you bet they will," cried fred loyally, and there was a round of hand clapping from the other boys, with most of whom bobby was a prime favorite. frank's hearty defense put bobby on his mettle, and when his turn came to put the balls over, he did so with a snap and skill that delighted his friends. the practice all around was sharp and spirited, and frank was greatly encouraged as he saw how well the team took hold. but it would not do to play too long on the first day, and after an hour or so, he called a halt. "we want to keep an eye on those fellows, bobby," remarked fred a little uneasily as they were going toward the school. "they're going to crowd you out if they can." "let them try," replied bobby. "i'm going to try my best to hold up my end with hicksley and beat him if i can. but if he can prove that he's a better pitcher than i am, i won't kick if i have to play second fiddle. i'd be willing to do anything to help rockledge win." chapter xx the sugar camp an untimely snow storm that was wholly unlooked for by the boys dismayed them by putting a stop to their practice for the time being. but the snow, though heavy, did not last long, and began to melt rapidly under the rays of the sun. "see how the water is running down those trees," remarked shiner, looking out of the window one friday morning. "that isn't water, boy," said sparrow. "that's sap. the trees are bursting with it just now." "by the way, fellows," put in skeets, "have you ever been to a maple sugar camp when the sap was running?" most of them had not and skeets went on to explain. "it's the best fun ever," he said; "and now's just the time to see it running full blast when the snow is melting and the air is warm. on a day like this the sap comes down in bucketfuls. and you can see just how they collect it, and how they boil it down until it's a thick syrup, and the way that hot maple sugar does taste--yum yum!" and here he closed his eyes in blissful recollection. "sounds mighty good to me," said pee wee, with whom the memory of meena and her breakfast of buckwheat cakes and maple syrup still lingered. "you can take out the hot sugar in big spoons and let it cool on a pan of snow," continued skeets, drawing out the details as he saw that his friends' mouths were watering in anticipation, "and when you get the first taste of it you never want to stop eating." "i wonder if there's a sugar camp anywhere around here," said pee wee with great animation. "i know of one that's about three miles away," said sparrow. "what do you say to our making up a party and going out there to-morrow if doc raymond will let us go out of bounds?" there was a general chorus of gleeful assent. "what we ought to do," said skeets, "is to have a couple of fellows go out there to-day and make arrangements. we want to take up a collection and fix it up with the farmer's wife to have hot biscuits and other things ready for us. i tell you what, fellows, hot biscuits and fresh butter and hot thick maple sugar just out of the boiler--" "don't say another word," cried pee wee frantically, "or i'll never, never be able to wait till to-morrow." they took stock of their resources and collected several dollars between them, enough they thought to cover the expense. bobby and fred were appointed as a committee of two to go out to the camp that afternoon so that everything would be in readiness on the morrow. dr. raymond's permission was readily obtained, and the chums set out on their three mile walk. they had no trouble in finding the camp and the farmer's wife, a bright, cheery person, was very ready to entertain the party and promised to have an abundant lunch provided for them. the boys would have dearly liked to inspect the camp, but they had promised their chums that they would not do so until all could see it together, and they kept loyally to their word. no finer day could have been selected for that particular outing than the one that dawned the next morning. the air was mild and the sun shining brightly. the only drawback was the walking, as the roads were full of mud in some places and melting slush in others, but as they were all warmly shod that made little difference. pee wee groaned occasionally as he lagged along in the rear, but they had no fear of his dropping out. it would have taken a good deal more than a three-mile walk to keep pee wee away from that sugar camp after skeets's description. "there it is," cried fred at last, pointing to a big grove of trees in the rear of a farmhouse. pee wee sniffed the air. "seems to me i can smell the sugar cooking from here," he said joyously. they left the road now, took a short cut across the fields and soon entered the grove of maples. it was an extensive grove, containing several hundred of the stately trees. into each one of these that had reached their full growth a hole had been made, a spigot driven in, and a bright tin pail suspended from each spigot. into these pails the sap was falling with a musical drip so that a tinkling murmur ran through the grove as though some one were gently touching the strings of a zither. an old horse attached to a low sled was shambling slowly along through the woodland paths, stopping at each tree. the driver would empty the pail into one of several large cans that the sled contained, replace the pail and go on to the next. "seems almost a shame to tap those splendid trees," murmured mouser. "it's almost like bleeding them to death." "doesn't do them a bit of harm," explained skeets cheerfully. "the farmers take good care not to drain out more sap than the tree can spare." when the sled had made its round, the boys followed it to the shed where the sap was boiled down into sugar. here they saw an enormous caldron with a roaring fire underneath. into this caldron the sap was poured, and here its transformation began. a delicious odor arose that made the nostrils of the boys dilate hungrily. every little while, the man who was supervising the boiling drew out a huge ladleful to see how thick it was getting. at a certain stage he turned to the boys with a grin. "each one of you take one of those pans," he directed, pointing to a bright row of dairy tins which the housewife had made ready. "fill them up with snow and pack the snow down hard." in a twinkling the boys were ready. then, as each held up his pan, the man poured a big ladle of the hot syrup on the snow. the rich golden brown against the whiteness of the snow would have delighted the soul of an artist. but these lads were not artists, only hungry boys, and their only concern was to get the sugar cool enough to eat. pee wee in fact burned his lips and tongue by starting too soon, but he soon forgot a trifle like that, and in a moment more he and the others were eating as if they had never tasted anything so good in all their lives. "hot biscuits coming, boys," smiled the farmer. "better leave some room." "let them come," mumbled mouser with his mouth full of sugar. "none of them will go away again." and they made good this prophecy when a little later they were called into the farmhouse, where a table was spread, heaped high with fluffy biscuits just from the oven. on these the boys spread butter and then piled them up with the delicious syrup. there were other things on the table too, pickles and pies and cakes, but to these the boys paid slight attention. they could have those any day, but to-day maple sugar was king. when at length they were through, they all acknowledged to having eaten more than was good for them. "we'll have to use a derrick to get pee wee on his feet," laughed bobby. "and borrow the horse and sled to take him back to school," said sparrow. but it was not quite so bad as that, though after they started back the other boys had to moderate their gait in order not to leave pee wee too far behind. "hurry up, pee wee," admonished skeets. "you're slow as molasses." "slow as maple syrup when it's cooling," amended sparrow. "well, fellows, this has sure been a bully trip," remarked shiner, summing up the sentiments of all. "this is the end of a perfect day," fred chanted gayly, lifting up his voice in song. chapter xxi the first game notwithstanding fred's jubilant song, the day was not yet ended. as the boys approached the school, they saw a figure in the road a little way ahead that seemed familiar to them. they quickened their pace, quickly overtaking dago joe. "hello, joe," came from many voices at once. joe flashed them a smile, showing his fine, white teeth. "hello," he answered genially. "wonder if he's as fond of hash as ever," fred remarked in a low voice to mouser. "what are you doing up this way, joe?" asked bobby. "looking for any one?" inquired sparrow. but joe was wary and refused to be drawn out. "can't get that old fox to give himself away," muttered skeets. just then tom hicksley approached, accompanied by bronson and jinks. they caught sight of joe at the same time that he saw them, and tried to retreat. bronson and jinks succeeded, but joe was too quick for hicksley, and hurrying forward laid his hand on his arm, while he jabbered away excitedly. "ha ha!" exclaimed fred in a tragic way. "i see it all now." "he's boning hicksley for something," guessed sparrow. "money, i'll bet," ventured shiner. "i shouldn't wonder if it's on account of that job he did for those fellows, hauling those ashes," said bobby. "wasn't it luck that we happened along just at this minute?" chuckled mouser delightedly. as joe and hicksley were right in the path that led up to the school, the boys sauntered along carelessly until they were nearly abreast of them. for a man who understood so little english, joe was talking at a great rate. "i wanta ze mon," the boys heard him say. "i tell you i haven't got it with me just now," hicksley responded in an undertone, trying to quiet the man and keep the boys from hearing. "i wanta ze mon now," repeated joe doggedly. "oh, give the man his money, hicksley," broke in sparrow suddenly. "he needs it to buy hash with," said the irrepressible fred. "let's take up a collection to help out," suggested skeets sarcastically. "you fellows shut up," cried hicksley, turning on them fiercely. "we know how he earned it," returned bobby undauntedly. "you don't know anything of the kind," snarled the bully, but his eyes wavered as they met bobby's fixed upon them. "it was pretty hard work carting ashes all that way to spoil our coast," went on bobby. "you'd better pony up, hicksley." "i don't know what you're talking about," growled hicksley. but as he did not like the way the boys were gathering around him, he put his hand in his pocket, drew out the dollar and a half that he had promised to pay when the work should be finished and which he had ever since been trying to cheat joe out of, and slunk away, glad to escape the contempt that he felt in the eyes and manner of the boys. "caught with the goods!" cried fred jubilantly, throwing his cap into the air. "couldn't have been nicer if we'd planned it ourselves," exulted sparrow. "well, now that we're sure that he did it, what are we going to do about it?" asked skeets. "oh, i guess there's nothing to be done," said bobby slowly. "if it wasn't that he's likely to be on the baseball team we might make it hot for him. not with the teachers of course, but among ourselves. but we want rockledge to win the championship, and it won't help any to have trouble with any boy on the nine. besides, he's had a good deal of punishment just in the last few minutes. i never saw a fellow look as cheap as he did when he faded away just now." "i guess you're right, bobby," assented sparrow. "but all the same he wouldn't let up on you if he had you in a fix." the next day they all felt rather logy after their feast of the day before, and pee wee, who had a severe stomach ache, did not get up at all. fortunately it was sunday, and the day of rest helped to get them in shape again before their school duties began on monday morning. from that time on the weather was all that the boys could ask, and every hour the ball players could spare was spent in practice on the diamond. gradually, under the coaching of mr. carrier, their athletic instructor, ably assisted by frank durrock, the nine was getting into good form. fred, at short stop, was thought to be a shade better than willis, and he was slated to play in the first game. as to the pitchers, while there was no doubt that they would be bobby and hicksley, it was by no means certain which of them would twirl in the opening game, which was to be with the somerset nine on the rockledge grounds. each was doing well, and each had some points that the other did not possess. hicksley, the older of the two, had more muscular strength, and could whip the ball over with more speed than bobby. but bobby was a better general, a quicker thinker, and he had a control of his curves that was far better than his rival's. "one thing is certain," said mr. carrier, in one of his conferences with frank. "we're better fixed in the box than we ever were before. it's hard to choose between them, though, take all things together, i think blake is the better pitcher of the two." "yes," agreed frank. "i feel a little safer myself with bobby in there than i do with hicksley. hicksley has lots of speed but he's liable to go up with a bang. but i've never yet seen bobby get rattled." the long expected day arrived at last, and all rockledge turned out to see the game. the stand was full, and dr. raymond himself, with most of the teachers, sat in a little space that had been railed off and decorated with the rockledge colors. the somerset nine, made up of strong, sturdy looking boys, had come over with a large number of rooters from their town. they were full of confidence, and they went through their preliminary practice with a snap and a vim that showed they were good players. frank had watched them as they batted out flies, and noted that several of them were left-handed batters. he held an anxious conference with mr. carrier, and then came over to bobby who was warming up. "i had expected to have you pitch to-day, bobby," he said; "but i've just been noticing that those fellows have two or three left-handed batters. now you know as well as i do that for that kind it's best to have left-handed pitching. they can't hit it so easily." "sure," replied bobby. "and so i think i'll have to put in hicksley," continued frank. "that's all right," said bobby heartily, "and i'll be rooting my head off for him to win." "you're a brick, bobby!" exclaimed frank. "i was sure you'd understand." when the umpire cried: "play ball!" there was a buzz of surprise among the spectators, when, instead of bobby, it was tom hicksley who picked up the ball and faced the batter. chapter xxii to the rescue hicksley started off in good shape. the first man up went out on a foul that sparrow caught after a long run. the second batter, who was left-handed, could do nothing with the ball at all and went out on strikes. the third man connected and shot a sharp grounder which fred picked up neatly and threw in plenty of time to durrock at first. the side was out, and hearty applause greeted hicksley as he came in to the bench, bobby joining in as heartily as any of the others. "that was a dandy start!" cried bronson. "keep it up, tom!" exclaimed jinks, encouragingly. "they can't touch you." rockledge was more fortunate in its half of the inning. frank, who led off in the batting order, had two halls and one strike called on him, but on his second attempt he sent the ball on a line between center and right for three bases. he was tempted to try to stretch it to a home run, but bobby, who was coaching, saw that the ball would get there before him and held him at third. the next batter fouled out, but mouser, who followed him, sent a neat single to left on which frank scored easily. barry went out on strikes, and mouser was left on the bag when spentz died on a weak dribbler to the box. but rockledge was one run to the good and had shown that they were in a batting humor, so that their rooters in the stand were jubilant at the promising beginning. the next two innings went by without a score for either side. hicksley was still pitching well, and the opposing pitcher had tightened up considerably. in the fourth, somerset broke the ice. the first man up laid down a bunt that hicksley picked up, but threw wild to durrock, and the batter reached second before the ball was recovered. a neat sacrifice put him on third, from which he scored on a long fly to right, which spentz gobbled after a long run, but could not return to the plate in time to catch the man running in from third after the out. no further damage was done as fred and durrock disposed of the batter, but the score was tied, and it was somerset's turn to cheer. but rockledge got the run right back again in the fifth, and added one for good measure. fred smashing out a rattling two-bagger to left. he stole third on the first ball pitched. two infield flies followed, and it began to look as though fred's hit had gone for nothing. then mouser brought the stand yelling to its feet by a clean home run, following fred over the plate and making the score three to one. his comrades gathered around him, pawing and mauling him exultantly. "that's what you call hitting it a mile!" cried bobby. "a lallapaloozer!" shouted fred, doing a war dance. "a peach!" "a pippin!" "you're all there, mouser!" yelled pee wee. mouser grinned appreciatively at the medley of shouts that greeted him, and then retired to the bench, where he sat panting and happy. radford, the somerset pitcher, pulled himself together and retired the next man on strikes, and somerset came in for its turn at the bat. "go for 'em now, fellows!" shouted their supporters. "eat 'em up!" "get right after 'em!" "the game's young yet." but hicksley, encouraged by the two-run lead his team had handed him, was still more than they could solve, and again they went out into the field runless. the rockledge boys also had a goose egg for their portion in their half, but this did not worry them much. the game was two thirds over, and at that stage a lead of two runs looked mighty good to them. but in the seventh inning their confidence began to give way to anxiety. hicksley began well by retiring the first man on strikes. but then he began to lose control. two batters in succession were given their bases on balls. a fine pickup of fred's disposed of the next batter at first, each of the others advancing a base on the play. there was only one other to be put out and end the inning without a run being recorded. but the next batter landed square on the ball, which whizzed like a bullet between first and second, and in a jiffy two runs came over the plate, tying the score. the batter reached second on the play and then imprudently tried to make third. a quick throw to sparrow caught him ten feet from the bag and the side was out. hicksley came in shaking and with a strained look in his face. the rockledge rooters yelled encouragement to him, but he paid no attention to them and sat moping sullenly on the bench. frank and mr. carrier had a hurried consultation, and then the former came over to bobby. "you'd better get out there at one side and warm up," he directed him. bobby did as ordered. "what are you going to do?" demanded hicksley in a surly tone. "take me out and put that fellow in?" "not yet," answered frank soothingly. "you've had a bad inning, but that can happen to any one. perhaps you'll be all right after a rest. we'll see how you start out the next inning." the somerset boys, with their chances brightened, had taken a mighty brace, and rockledge went out in one, two, three order. hicksley took up his position in the box with an air of confidence that frank felt was assumed. still, the first ball he pitched cut the plate for a strike. the next two were balls. then followed another strike and a third ball, making the count three and two. with both batter and pitcher "in the hole," the next was a hall and the batter capered happily down to first. durrock walked over to hicksley. "how about it, hicksley?" he asked. "let me alone," growled hicksley. the next batter connected for a clean single, advancing his mate to second. hicksley now was plainly cracking, and when he issued another "pass," filling the bases, frank motioned him to retire and beckoned bobby to the box. hicksley glared at bobby as the latter came forward. "sorry, hicksley," said bobby regretfully, as he reached out for the ball. "you pitched a dandy game for the first six innings." "yes, you're sorry a lot," snarled hicksley. "you're tickled to death at the chance to show me up." instead of handing the ball to bobby, he threw it angrily on the ground and slouched away to the bench. bobby's eyes flashed, but he controlled himself, quietly picked up the ball and took his position in the box. it was no time now to get angry when he needed above all things to keep cool. it was a trying position for so young a player. the bases were full with no one out, and the somerset rooters were yelling at the top of their lungs, trying to rattle him. a clean hit would bring in at least one run, probably two. even a long fly to the outfield would probably enable the man on third to score. "go to it, bobby, old boy!" called fred from short. "you can hold them!" encouraged mouser. "we're all behind you, bobby!" sang out sparrow. bobby sized up the batter and wound up for the first pitch. chapter xxiii the egg and the fan the ball whizzed over the plate, cutting an outside corner for a strike. the rockledge rooters regarded this as a good omen and greeted it with wild shouts. they all had a warm spot in their hearts for bobby, and they had been disgusted at the unsportsmanlike way in which hicksley had left the box. the next ball was a high fast one, at which the batter refused to bite. bobby had seen out of the corner of his eye that the occupant of the third bag was taking too big a lead. as the ball came back to him from the catcher, he suddenly turned and shot it to third. the runner tried frantically to get back, but sparrow had the ball on him like a flash. "you're out!" shouted the umpire. "scubbity-_yow_!" yelled fred. "that was nice work, bobby." this relieved the pressure somewhat, and the crowd breathed more freely. but the danger was still threatening, and the batter was the captain of the somerset team and one of its best hitters. he fouled off the next two. on his third attempt, he chopped a bounder to mouser at second, who made a clever stop and threw him out at first, while the runners each advanced a base. "two down," cried sparrow from third. "you're getting them, bobby. keep it up." bobby now put on all steam. there was only one more inning after this one, and he did not need to save his arm. he sent two outcurves in succession. each went for a strike. then when the batter was set for another of the same kind, bobby outguessed him with a straight fast one, and the ball plunked into the catcher's mitt for an out. there was a chorus of cheers from the rockledge rooters as bobby drew off his glove and came in to the bench. "that's what you call getting out of a hole," cried one. "the bases full and nobody out and yet they couldn't score," shouted another. "we'll give you a run this time, bobby, and all you'll need to do then will be to hold them down in the ninth," prophesied frank, as he selected his bat. he started in to make his words good by cracking out a single on the second ball pitched. a sacrifice bunt to the right of the pitcher's box advanced him to second. the next batter went out on an infield fly that held frank anchored to the bag. barry was given his base on balls. then spentz walloped a corker to left, on which frank scored and barry reached third. a moment later a quick throw caught him napping and the side was out. "we're in the lead now, bobby," exulted fred, as rockledge took the field. "put the kibosh on them just once more and we're all right." "make this inning short and sweet, old scout!" sang out mouser. and short and sweet was what bobby made it. he was on his mettle, and put every bit of control he had upon the ball. despite the frantic efforts of the somerset coachers to rattle him, he kept perfectly cool. victory was too close now for him to let it go. the first batter up knocked a high foul to sparrow, who held it tight. the next sent a weak bounder to frank, which he tossed to bobby, who had run over to cover the bag. then bobby shattered the last hope of somerset by striking out the last man on three pitched balls. the rockledge rooters, wild with delight, rushed down from the stands and gathered about their favorites, who were grinning happily. they had played a good game and deserved to win, but bobby, because of his gallant stand when the team had its back against the wall, came in naturally for the lion's share of the applause. "that was some sweet pitching all right." "you had them standing on their heads." "your nerve was right with you." "wait till he tackles belden. he'll show them a thing or two." "i'm glad we pulled through all right," said bobby modestly. "all the boys put up a dandy game. and don't forget that hicksley held them down splendidly in the first part of the game." "that's so," conceded mouser. "but when it came to the pinch he cracked." "he couldn't stand the gaff," put in sparrow. "any pitcher will get knocked out of the box sometimes," argued bobby. "then, too, he had been pitching six hard innings and was tired. i was fresh when i went in and only had two innings to pitch." hicksley had left the bench as soon as the last man was out. he could not bear to wait to see the praise that he knew would be showered on his rival. he had been joined by jinks and bronson, and the three were now slouching grumpily toward the school buildings. "doesn't seem as if they were tickled to death because rockledge won," commented fred, as he looked at the group. "well, the rest of us are, anyway," cried sparrow. "we've made a mighty good start, taking the first game." "i can see the pennant flying from that pole already," jubilated skeets, pointing to the flagstaff back of center field. "you've got dandy eyesight, skeets," laughed bobby. "we've got a long way to go yet." "one swallow doesn't make a summer," cautioned frank, who, while he was as pleased as the rest, did not want his team to be too confident. "and if the ridgefield nine is as good as the somersets, we'll have our work cut out for us," remarked mouser. "those fellows gave us all we wanted to do to win." "they put up a bully fight," agreed shiner. doctor raymond came down among the boys to congratulate them on the victory they had won for the school, and mr. carrier was even more enthusiastic over the success of his charges. "you've made a fine start, boys, and i'm proud of you," he told them. "now, don't let down a bit, but keep it right up to the finish of the season." "we will." "trust us." "we've only begun to fight." "that's the right spirit," said mr. carrier, smiling. "and now to make you feel better, i'm going to tell you that i've just received a telegram that ridgefield whipped belden this afternoon by seven to three." a tremendous shout arose at this. they had counted on belden as the rival from whom they had the most to fear, and they were immensely pleased to learn that it had begun the season with a defeat. it was a jubilant throng of boys that made their way toward the school buildings that afternoon. they knew that a rocky road lay ahead of them, but a good deal depended upon the start, and it was a great thing to know that they had the lead on the other fellows. "hicksley acted like a game sport this afternoon when he threw the ball down in the box instead of handing it to you," remarked fred, with whom the incident rankled. "oh, well," said bobby, "you must make some allowance for him. it was natural that he should feel sore." "that isn't the point," persisted fred. "a thoroughbred might have felt sore, but he wouldn't have shown it. i tell you, bobby, you want to look out for that fellow. if you could have seen the way he looked at you while you were pitching." "looks don't hurt," bobby flung back carelessly. but a few days later an incident occurred which showed that hicksley was willing to go much further than looks in his hatred of his rival. it was one of those unseasonably warm days that sometimes come in the spring. recitations were being held in the classroom of mr. leith, the head teacher, and in order to make the air cooler the electric fan had been set going. the seats of hicksley, bronson and jinks were just behind those of bobby and fred, and were in the rear of the room. the lessons were proceeding as usual, when suddenly there was a crash, and something wet and sticky and evil smelling was scattered over the room. almost all the boys got some of it, and a large yellow splash showed against the immaculate white shirt of mr. leith himself. somebody had thrown an egg into the electric fan! and it was a very old egg, as was proved by the vile odor which spread through the classroom. chapter xxiv an undeserved punishment the whirling fan, going at tremendous speed, had scattered the contents of the egg far and wide, and hardly any one had escaped. for a moment there was a stunned silence. then a roar of laughter broke from the boys. to them it seemed a capital joke. but mr. leith did not laugh. his black eyes snapped and his face was pale with anger. "who did that?" he asked, as he took out his handkerchief and wiped the smear from the bosom of his shirt. naturally there was no answer. the laughter died out, and everything became as silent as the grave. "such conduct is subversive of all discipline," went on mr. leith in his stilted way and trying to get control of his voice. "if the boy who did that will confess, i will take that into account in the punishment i shall lay upon him. but no matter how long it takes, i am determined to find the culprit." still no answer. "well," said mr. leith after waiting a moment, "i see that i shall have to question each one of you separately." he called them up one by one, beginning at the front of the room, and each one denied knowing anything about it, bobby among the rest. then he came last to hicksley. "i didn't do it," said hicksley; "but--" then he stopped, as though he had gone further than he intended. "but what?" queried the teacher sharply. "nothing," mumbled hicksley, in apparent confusion. "you were going to say something else," said mr. leith, "and i insist on knowing what it was." hicksley kept silent. he wanted to give the impression that if he told anything it would have to be dragged out of him against his will. "you had better tell me what you were going to say," snapped the teacher severely, "or it will be the worse for you." "i don't want to tell on anybody," said hicksley. "oh, then you know who threw it," said mr. leith, brisking up like a hound on the trail. "yes," replied hicksley. "who was it?" "i don't want to tell." "who was it, i say?" thundered mr. leith in exasperation. "blake," blurted out hicksley, as though he did not want to say it but had to yield to force. bobby was thunderstruck, and for a minute the room seemed to be whirling around him. "it isn't true," he cried, recovering himself. "it's a--a whopper!" shouted fred fiercely. "i was sitting right beside bobby, and he didn't throw it." "keep quiet, martin," commanded mr. leith. "blake, come here." bobby went forward and stood in front of the desk. "why did you do a thing like that?" asked mr. leith. "i didn't do it," replied bobby stoutly. "i was as surprised as any one else when it happened." mr. leith beckoned to fred. "you say that blake didn't throw it," he said. "were you looking at him at the time?" "n-no, sir," fred had to confess, "i was looking at the blackboard. but i know i'd have noticed it if he had made any motion. besides," he added in his attempt to help his friend, "if bobby had been going to do anything of that kind he'd have told me beforehand." "that isn't proof," remarked the teacher; "especially when hicksley says that he actually saw him do it. do you still stick to that, hicksley?" "yes sir," answered hicksley, who was scared now at the tempest he had raised but had gone too far to back out. but he carefully avoided meeting the blazing eyes of bobby. "go to your seats," mr. leith ordered. they obeyed, and as hicksley sank down between bronson and jinks, he whispered in a panic: "don't forget that you fellows have got to stand by me." mr. leith reflected for a moment. "did any one else see blake throw the egg?" he asked at length. hicksley nudged his cronies and both raised their hands. "i did," came from both at once. bobby half rose from his seat and fred clenched his fists. "it's not so!" exclaimed bobby. "the low-down skunks!" ejaculated fred. mr. leith quieted them with a gesture. he was a good man, and he tried to be just. but he had been sorely tried by this breach of discipline, and his dignity had received a severe shock. he could not forget the glaring yellow smear on his shirt front, and he felt that he had been made a laughing stock before his class. he had always liked bobby, who had stood high in his lessons and whose behavior in class had always been good. yet it was possible that an impish spirit of mischief had suddenly taken possession of him, and that on the impulse of the moment he might have taken refuge in denial. and there was the positive testimony of three witnesses that they had actually seen bobby throw the egg. to be sure, he knew something of the character of those witnesses, and against any one of them he would have been inclined to take bobby's word in preference. but he knew nothing of the grudge the bullies held against bobby, and to a man of his upright character it was inconceivable that three of them should make such a charge if it were not true. he pondered the matter for several minutes, while the class waited breathlessly. "i shall look into this matter further," he finally announced; "but for the present, blake, and until the affair is cleared up, you are not to take part in track sports or play on the baseball team." chapter xxv off for a swim bobby sat as if stunned. there was bitter revolt in his heart against the injustice of it all. and, in addition, he felt as though he would like to get at hicksley and thrash him well. but for the moment he was helpless. the evidence was against him, and he was too proud to make any further protest or appeal to mr. leith. to the rest of the boys, the sentence came like a clap of thunder. they were fond of bobby and believed he was telling the truth. they would have been sorry to see him punished for any reason. but it was not only the fact of the punishment, but the nature of it, that filled them with consternation. bobby blake off the ball team! where would rockledge be now in the race for the pennant of the monatook lake league? the lessons proceeded, but the class might as well have been dismissed at once, for only one thought filled the minds of all. and when at last the gong rang, there was a rush for bobby on the campus, and a buzzing arose that resembled a hive of angry bees. it was well for the bullies that, sitting on the rear seats, they had slipped out of the door quickly and disappeared. they would surely have come to grief in the present excited condition of the boys. fred slammed his books so violently on the ground that he broke the strap that held them. "just wait!" he stormed, "just wait! i'll pitch into that tom hicksley the minute i see him, big as he is." "it would have been bad enough of him to tell, even if bobby had done it," growled mouser. "he ought to have his head knocked off," raged skeets. "swell chance now we'll have of winning the pennant," groaned shiner. "not a chinaman's chance," mourned pee wee. "i can see us coming in as tail-enders," prophesied sparrow. "was such a dirty trick ever heard of?" wailed billy bassett, appealing to high heaven, as though even in his grief he was asking the answer to a riddle. bobby had had time now to get a grip on himself, and although his heart was hot within him, he was outwardly the coolest of them all. "tom hicksley will pay for this all right," he declared. "some time the truth will come out and i hope it will be soon. i haven't any doubt of course that he did it himself. then he got cold feet when he saw how angry mr. leith was and fibbed out of it." "of course, he'd fib out of it!" exclaimed fred. "nobody who knows tom hicksley would expect him to do anything else. but why did he put it on you?" "because he's sore at me, i suppose," bobby answered. "he's always hated me since that afternoon on the train." "yes, but he's just as sore at the rest of us who butted in, as he calls it," persisted fred. "it's something more than that, bobby. it's because you saved the game when he had almost lost it." "he's never forgiven you for that," agreed mouser. "well, whatever his reason was, i'm the goat all right," said bobby, in a feeble attempt to put the best face on the matter. "it isn't only you, but it's rockledge that's the goat," amended sparrow. "we'll be licked out of our boots." "you fellows will have to play all the harder," said bobby. "mr. leith may change his mind when he comes to think it over. i have a hunch that hicksley isn't going to get away with such a whopper as that." "i'd like to have him by the throat and choke the truth out of him," snapped fred wrathfully. "it would be a pretty big job to get any truth out of that fellow," grunted mouser. "what did the old weather want to go and get so hot for all of a sudden?" burst out pee wee. "if it hadn't been for that, the fan wouldn't have been going and the whole thing wouldn't have happened." this kick against nature struck the boys as comical, and the laugh that followed cleared the air somewhat and relieved their excited feelings. but for the rest of the day and evening, there was but one topic that held the attention of any of them. bobby felt blue and depressed. he would rather have had any other penalty put on him than to be ordered not to play on the team. the very sight of his glove and uniform made him miserable. it would have been bad enough, even if he had been guilty of that special bit of mischief. but then he would have "taken his medicine" with as good grace as possible. but it made him raging angry to feel that he had been made the victim of a contemptible plot by such a fellow as tom hicksley. what made it still more exasperating was the fact that he did not see any way to get at the real truth. hicksley had been on the rear row of seats, and his only companions were bronson and jinks, who were just as bad as himself. no one but they had seen the egg thrown, if, as bobby felt sure, hicksley had thrown it. and now that they had put it on bobby, they had to stand by the falsehood. one was as deep in the mud as the others were in the mire, and there was not a chance in the world of their confessing. it hurt bobby, too, to know that he rested under a cloud in the eyes of mr. leith, who had practically told him that afternoon that he did not believe him. he was a truthful boy and it came hard to have his word questioned. all the next morning he was gloomy and downhearted. in the afternoon, fred, like the loyal friend he was, tried to get his mind off his troubles by suggesting that they go swimming. "don't let's go to the lake this time," said fred. "let's go to beekman's pond up in the woods. there's a dandy place there for diving." it was a little early in the season yet for a swim, but the warm weather, which still continued, made the prospect an agreeable one. so, shortly after dinner, having received permission to go out of bounds, bobby and fred with half a dozen of the other boys started out for the pond. "say, fellows," asked billy as they trudged along, "what's the dif--" "there goes the human question mark again," interrupted mouser. "he's not to blame, he was born that way," said skeets with large toleration. "honestly, billy," chaffed fred, "i don't believe you can say a single sentence that isn't a question." "can't i?" said billy, a little nettled. "there! what did i tell you?" said fred, trapping him neatly. the boys roared, and even billy grinned. "well," he said, "i might as well have the game as the name. what's the difference--" "stop him, somebody," cried sparrow, wringing his hands in pretended agony. billy looked at him scornfully. "oh, let him get it out," said bobby resignedly. "go ahead, billy." "shoot," said fred. "what's the difference," asked billy, "between a fisherman and a lazy scholar?" "ask pee wee," replied skeets. "he ought to know." "pee wee isn't a fisherman," objected mouser. "who said he was?" retorted skeets. "if you're hinting that i'm a lazy scholar," remarked pee wee, "all i've got to say is that i'll never be lonesome among you boobs." "stop your chinning," said billy, "and answer my question." "one catches fish and the other catches a licking," ventured fred. "each one sometimes finds himself in deep water," guessed skeets. "no," said billy. "they're not so bad, but neither one's the real answer." finally the boys gave it up. "one baits his hooks and the other hates his books," chirped billy. a groan went up from the sufferers. "i think that's a pippin," remarked billy proudly; "but i've got another one that's better still. why is a--" "sic the dog on him!" ejaculated mouser. "what's the use of letting him live?" asked fred. "he seems to be human, but is he?" queried sparrow. as beekman's pond came in sight just then, they broke into a run, and billy had to save his masterpiece for another time. they found a secluded spot, and with a whoop and a shout were out of their clothes in a hurry. then with a shiver each took the plunge into the clear waters of the pond. chapter xxvi the scar and the limp the chums came up shuddering, with hair plastered over their faces and the water streaming from their shoulders. "ugh," sputtered fred, "the water's as cold as ice!" "a polar bear would like it," chattered skeets. "turn on the hot water faucet, jeems," laughed bobby. "we'll be all right in a minute or two," remarked sparrow. they swam around, racing and diving like so many young porpoises, and in a little while the blood returned to their chilled surfaces, making them perfectly comfortable again. "reminds you something of plunkit's creek, doesn't it, fred?" said bobby. "yes," agreed fred, "only this is a good deal longer and wider than that." "then, too, we haven't got ap here, watching us from the bank and getting ready to set his dog on us," grinned mouser. "we don't owe ap anything," laughed bobby. "we paid him all up that day we made him walk the plank." "do you remember how he looked when he struck the water?" chuckled pee wee. "i wonder if he and pat have met each other since we came away," said bobby, as he recalled the scene at the railway station on the morning they left clinton. "ap had better keep his whip handy," observed fred. "that wouldn't help him much," returned bobby. "pat would take it away from him and wade into him." they had been in and out of the water for perhaps an hour, when bobby, who had swum down to where the shore curved a little, suddenly turned and swam back again as fast as he could. "come along with me, fellows," he cried, "and don't make any more noise than you can help." the others followed him wonderingly until they reached the bend. then, while they hid behind some grasses, bobby pointed to two men who were lounging under a tree a short distance away. they were smoking stubby pipes as they lay at their ease. their faces were rough and unshaven and their clothing dirty and ragged. "don't see much to get excited about," remarked shiner disappointedly. "just a couple of tramps." "they're more than that to us," replied bobby. "they're the very tramps who robbed us in that old hut." the boys were on edge in an instant. just then one of the men rose, stretched himself lazily and took a few steps toward the tree. as he did so, the boys saw that he had a perceptible limp. "and the other one has a scar on his face," whispered bobby excitedly. "you can see it if you look close." they looked more closely, and fred in his eagerness rose a little too high. his red head caught the eye of the man with the scar, and he uttered a startled exclamation. "now you've, done it," whispered mouser disgustedly. "why didn't you keep that red mop of yours out of sight?" "hurry, fellows," urged bobby. "we've got to catch those fellows before they can get away. whip on your clothes and let's get back after them." the boys swam back as fast as possible and rushed up on the bank. "who put a knot in the leg of my pants?" came in a howl from fred as he struggled desperately to unfasten the knot. "i'd like to catch the fellow who tied my socks together," growled mouser. "and here's one of my shoes floating in the water," wailed skeets. they had to pay the penalty now of the tricks they had played on one another, and they felt as though they were in a nightmare as they tried frantically to get into their clothes. "they'll get away sure," groaned bobby. "hustle, fellows, hustle! come along just as you are if you can't do any better." he led the way, and the rest came stumbling after him in all conditions of dress and undress. mouser had stuffed his stockings in his pocket, skeets carried his wet shoes in his hands, while fred, with one leg in his trousers, held up the rest of the garment in his hand and made what speed he could. but when they reached the tree under which the tramps had been sitting, they found no one. the birds had flown. they may possibly have recognized fred's red head as that of one of their victims, or they may have thought that he was one of a company, including men, who might ask them curious and troublesome questions. at any rate they had quickly gotten out of sight. the boys searched about everywhere in that part of the woods, but fruitlessly. pee wee fell into a small excavation, this time barking his shins in reality. but he had no other injury except to his feelings, and his comrades hauled him out without much trouble. "well," said fred at last, "there doesn't seem any more reason for hurry, and i guess i'll get my pants on." "and i'll put on my shoes," said skeets, suiting the action to the word. "this stubble has hurt my feet something fierce." mouser's socks also took their rightful place, and the boys began to feel more like human beings. "what would you have done anyway, bobby, if you'd found them under the tree?" asked mouser. "i don't know exactly," answered bobby frankly. "of course, we couldn't tackle grown men. but we could have kept them in sight until we met some farmers and had them nabbed. or one of us could have gone back to rockledge and got the constable. but we know that they're hanging round in this neighborhood now, and we'll tell the constable about it and he'll telephone to all the towns near by to be on the lookout for them." "i sure would like to get back my ring," said fred longingly. "those sleeve buttons would look mighty good to me," chimed in pee wee. "i could use my scarf pin too," added mouser. "i don't _much_ expect to see my watch again," said bobby, "but there's a _chance_ of finding where they pawned 'em if we can get those fellows arrested." "there were only two of 'em," mused fred. "i wonder where the other one was." "round at some farmhouse begging for grub maybe," suggested skeets. "or in jail perhaps," guessed sparrow. "if he isn't, he ought to be." "he'll get there sooner or later," said fred, "and so will the rest of the bunch." the boys hurried back to town and put the matter in the hands of the constable, who promised that he would do all in his power to catch the thieves. but the days passed into weeks with the tramps still at liberty, and the chances of the boys ever getting back the stolen articles became more and more unlikely. but this did not hold such a place in their thoughts as the race for the championship of the monatook lake league, which kept getting hotter and hotter as the various teams tried their strength against each other. it was a case of nip and tuck. first one team and then the other would forge to the front. by the time the first five games had been played not a single team could be said to be out of it. but what grieved the rockledge boys was that their bitter rival, belden, although it started the season with a defeat at the hands of ridgefield, had made a strong rally and was now in front with a total of four victories and one lost game. somerset and ridgefield were tied for second place, while rockledge--rockledge, which had so proudly counted on the pennant--was _last_! chapter xxvii a gleam of light there was no trouble at all in finding out the reason why rockledge was the tail-ender. the batting and fielding of the team was all that could be asked for. both in offense and defense they had the edge on their rivals. the weakness lay in the pitcher's box. it was not that hicksley did not work hard. he had a double reason now for pitching at the top of his speed, for he not only wanted to win the glory to himself, but he wanted to show that the absence of bobby did not weaken the team. but the trouble with him was that, as a rule, he could not last for the full nine innings. he would go along like a house afire for the first half of the game. then about the fifth or sixth inning, he would begin to falter, and in some one of the remaining innings would "go up with a bang." at such times there was no one to come to the rescue, as in the first game that bobby had pulled out of the fire. spentz, the right fielder, who knew a little about twirling, had replaced him once but had not been able to undo the damage. in the game with ridgefield, hicksley had managed to last long enough to win by one run, and in the second game with somerset had pitched fairly well, though he lost. but ridgefield had come back with an easy victory, and belden had fairly smothered him under a shower of hits to every part of the field. so that the outlook was very blue for rockledge, and the boys fairly squirmed under the crowing of the belden fellows whenever they met them on the trolley or in the town. "if we only had bobby in the box, we'd be going along at the head of the procession," groaned fred. "that yellow streak of hicksley's comes out in almost every game," growled sparrow. "he can't stand the gaff when it comes to a pinch," assented skeets gloomily. "a fellow who would lie as he did about bobby doesn't deserve to have any luck," grunted pee wee. "he's a hoodoo," agreed shiner. "but what are we going to do?" he asked despairingly. "we haven't anybody else to take his place, now that bobby is out of it." things were at this stage, when bobby and fred, who had been on a trip to town, were caught on their return in a terrific thunder storm. they were lucky enough to find refuge in a culvert under the railroad, and there they waited till the storm had spent its fury. it was one of the worst storms they ever remembered, and peal after peal of thunder shook the earth, while streaks of jagged lightning shot across the sky. "scubbity-_yow_!" exclaimed fred, after one particularly violent clap of thunder, followed by a blinding flash. "i'll bet that hit around here somewhere." "i wouldn't like to be near anything it hit," replied bobby. the rain came down in torrents for some time longer, but at last the storm abated, rifts of blue sky appeared in the clouds, and the boys started off toward the school. they were taking a short cut through the woods, when they were startled at seeing a great tree, that had been split from top to base, lying across the path. "jiminy christmas!" exclaimed bobby. "this is what the lightning hit that time." "it made a clean job of it," cried fred. "but listen," he added, as muffled sounds came from the great tangle of branches. "what's making that noise?" "it's somebody in there!" ejaculated bobby, as he peered through the green welter of boughs and branches. "quick, fred, let's get in there." with much difficulty, they forced their way through the tangle of foliage, until they were able to see two dim figures crouching in the center of the mass. their surprise was great and became still greater, when they recognized them as two of the smaller of the rockledge boys, charlie white and jimmy thacker. they were confused by their fright, and were whimpering. they gave only broken and stammering replies to the questions of their rescuers, who had a good deal of work in getting them out from the boughs that held them down. they were finally pulled out to the open air. they were more frightened than hurt, although they had a number of scratches and bruises where the branches had swept against them in their fall. "how did you boys manage to be caught in there?" queried bobby and fred in one breath. "we were standing under a tree while it was raining," answered charlie, who was not quite as upset as his companion, "when this other tree was hit and fell over. we tried to run, but the branches caught us before we could get away." "i thought sure we were going to get killed!" whimpered jimmy. "don't you fellows know that you ought never to stand under a tree in a thunderstorm?" demanded fred. "we know it now," returned charlie; "and you can be sure we'll never do it again." "are you much hurt?" asked bobby anxiously. "i guess not," answered charlie, "but we've got lots of scratches." "let's see if you can walk all right," ordered bobby. they made the attempt, and although they were wobbly and uncertain on their legs, all were relieved to find that no bones had been broken. "you'll be all right as soon as you get over your scare," pronounced fred. "it was mighty lucky for us that you two boys came along," said jimmy gratefully. "yes," added charlie. "we were held down by those heavy branches, and i don't see how we would have got out by ourselves." "after this, charlie," said jimmy, looking at his companion, "we ought to tell bobby all we know about the fellow who threw that egg into the electric fan." their hearers started as though they had been shot. "who was it?" cried fred excitedly. "out with it!" commanded bobby. chapter xxviii tom hicksley gets a thrashing the boys looked for a moment as though they almost regretted having let the cat out of the bag. "come along, now," urged bobby eagerly. "let's have the whole story," cried fred. "it--it was tom hicksley," jimmy stammered. "i knew it," cried fred jubilantly. "do you know that, or are you only guessing?" asked bobby, wild with anxiety. "we _saw_ him do it," returned charlie, who saw now that the only thing left was to tell the whole story. "we were going along the hall to mr. carrier's classroom that afternoon," put in jimmy, "and the door into your room was open because the day was so warm. we peeped in as we went by, and we saw hicksley take the egg out of his pocket and throw it into the electric fan." "and why didn't you tell about it before?" asked fred. "'cause we were afraid that hicksley would lick us if we did," confessed jimmy. "he's so much bigger than we are, and he jumped on us once for nothing at all," added charlie in self-defense. "that's all right," said bobby, who was perfectly willing to excuse them, now that he saw he was going to be cleared. "we all know that he's a big bully and always picking on the little fellows." "you come right along with me," said fred, in a masterful way. "you keep out of this, bobby. i'll have this thing fixed up in a jiffy." bobby was perfectly satisfied to leave the settlement of the matter in the hands of his loyal friend, and he went on to the dormitory, while fred headed the little procession that a few minutes after marched into the office of mr. leith. what went on there was shown the following morning after mr. leith had called his class to order. "blake," he said, clearing his throat, "come up here." bobby went up and stood in front of the desk. "blake," went on mr. leith, "i did a great injustice to you a few weeks ago, and i want to apologize to you before the whole class. i have found out the real culprit. i know the name of the boy who threw the egg into the electric fan." there was a buzz of wild excitement in the class, and hicksley, together with his two cronies, flushed red and grew pale in turn. "that will do, blake," mr. leith went on. "you may go to your seat." bobby retired, murmuring something, he did not know what. "hicksley, come here," commanded the teacher. "and you, bronson, and jinks, come along." the three of them, with shuffling steps and hang-dog looks, walked slowly up the aisle. "hicksley," said mr. leith severely, "you said at the time this thing happened that you actually saw blake throw the egg. i do not want to condemn you without your being heard, and i am going to give you this chance to tell the truth. are you willing to stand by your statement, or do you wish to take it back?" hicksley hesitated for a moment and then decided to bluff it out. "i did see him," he muttered doggedly. "martin," directed mr. leith. "step to the door and tell white and thacker to come in." fred did as ordered and returned, bringing the two small boys with him. "tell me now, boys, what you told me yesterday," the teacher commanded. they looked fearfully at hicksley and his companions, who shot threatening glances at them. but they went ahead and related what they had seen on the afternoon in question. the simple story bore the mark of truth on its face and carried conviction. mr. leith dismissed them and turned to the three in front of him. "what have you to say to this?" he demanded. they kept silent, with their heads lowered, and after a moment the teacher continued: "i am not going to say anything more just now to add to the shame you must be feeling. you are all to report to doctor raymond in his study at three o'clock this afternoon. that is all for the present." they stumbled back to their seats, avoiding the contemptuous looks of their schoolmates. and that afternoon at the hour named they had the interview they dreaded with the head of the school. that interview was short, but quite long enough to make their faces blanch and their hearts quake. if hicksley had been guilty simply of denying the act as having been done by him, that would have been bad enough, but the punishment would have been lighter. but to try deliberately to put it on another was unforgivable. hicksley was dismissed from the school and bronson and jinks were suspended for the remainder of the term. hicksley, boiling with rage, went to his room to pack. on his way down to summon the expressman, he met bobby coming alone up the stairs. hicksley saw his opportunity and plunged heavily into bobby, sending him stumbling backwards down the stairs almost to the lower landing. had it not been for a wild clutch at the banister, bobby would have fallen flat on his back. all his fighting blood awoke at this unprovoked assault. it was the last straw. he had been under great restraint for the past few weeks while the injustice done him had rankled sorely. he clenched his fists, and as the bully reached the landing he received a blow that drove his head back and chased the malicious grin from his face. in a moment the two boys were fighting, hammer and tongs. hicksley was the larger but bobby was strong and as quick as a young wildcat. besides, he had no "yellow streak" in him. chapter xxix a wild chase not five minutes had elapsed before hicksley was lying on the floor of the hall, holding his hand to his eyes and nose. "get up!" bobby commanded. hicksley did nothing but grunt. "have you had enough?" asked bobby. "enough," mumbled the bully, all the fight taken out of him. he slunk away, while the boys, who had crowded out into the hall at the sound of combat and had viewed with rapture the defeat of the bully, gathered about bobby, who, except for a bruise on his forehead, showed no sign of the battle. "bully for you, bobby!" crowed mouser. "scubbity-_yow_!" howled fred in delight. "that was a peach of a scrap." "he got all that was coming to him," exulted sparrow. "hicksley couldn't lick a postage stamp!" exclaimed skeets gleefully. "he must have learned to fight by mail," grinned shiner. "a mighty good job you made of it, bobby," commended billy bassett. "i wasn't looking for trouble," explained bobby, "but when he butted into me and knocked me down the stairs, i couldn't help pitching into him." for the rest of that day and evening little else was thought of or spoken of but the "trimming" that bobby had given to the bully. but apart from the satisfaction of having hicksley get what he so richly deserved, a still greater joy was in the hearts of all. bobby blake was back again on the team! "now," cried fred, expressing the hope and belief of all, "you'll see rockledge begin to climb." and rockledge did climb with a vengeance. the very next saturday with bobby in the box and pitching gilt-edged ball they walked all over belden, not only beating their chief rival but doing it to the score of seven to nothing. the whole team played behind their pitcher as though they were inspired with new life. and from that time on, the beldenites drew into their shell and did not do so much crowing when they met the rockledge boys in the town. but bobby and his comrades knew that they still had a heavy task before them, if they were to win the pennant of the monatook lake league. belden had now won four games and lost two. rockledge was even in gains and losses, having won three and lost three. if there had been many more games to play, rockledge would have felt much more confident, for she was now traveling faster than her rival. but the end of the season was coming fearfully close, and there were only three more games to play. "belden is the one we've got to beat," declared frank. "we've got the indian sign, i think, on somerset and ridgefield." as far as ridgefield was concerned, this seemed true, for rockledge won the game by four to two, his mates handing bobby a lead in the first inning that he was able to keep throughout the game. but as belden also won on the same day from somerset, though after a harder battle, the rockledge boys were still "trailing" the school across the lake. the excitement now was reaching fever pitch, and it broke all bounds the following saturday, when belden came a cropper with ridgefield, being "nosed out" in the ninth by a sudden rally on the part of their opponents, while rockledge won handily from somerset in a free batting game by ten runs to six. "hurrah!" yelled mouser, "we're tied with belden now." "bobby has pulled us up in dandy shape," declared frank. "you're a wonder, bobby, old scout." "just keep it up for one more game, bobby," pleaded sparrow. "scubbity-_yow_!" shouted fred. "i'll bet old belden is shaking in its boots." somerset and ridgefield had played good ball in spots, but now they were out of the race. belden and rockledge had each won five and lost three, and the game that was to be played between them on the following saturday would wind up the season and decide which of the teams was to win the pennant of the monatook lake league. it was almost impossible for the boys to keep their minds on their lessons, but as there were only ten days remaining in the school term this did not matter to the same degree as it would have done earlier in the year. but an incident occurred on the monday following the game with somerset that gave a new slant to their thoughts, and for a few hours drove even thoughts of the pennant from the minds of bobby and his friends. shiner had been invited to go for an automobile ride by a friend of his family, who was staying for a few days at rockledge. he came rushing into the dormitory with his eyes bulging. "say, fellows!" he gasped, "if you want to catch those tramps of yours, come along with me." "what do you mean?" his chums asked in chorus, as they made a wild grab for their hats. "i've seen them," panted shiner. "but come along and i'll tell you. hustle!" the boys rushed downstairs to find an automobile waiting. beside mr. wharton, the owner, they recognized the constable. "tumble in," said mr. wharton, smiling, and a half dozen boys swarmed into the automobile. "you see," explained shiner, "we passed three tramps about two miles from here, and i saw that two of them were the ones we saw the day we were swimming. i told mr. wharton and we put on speed, picked up the constable and hurried up for you, so that you could go along and identify them." mr. wharton had started the car the moment the boys were inside, and it was skimming along like a bird. it went so fast that the boys had to hold on to their caps, and although they were all chattering with might and main, the wind made it almost impossible for one to hear what the others were saying. in a very few minutes they saw three figures on the lonely country road ahead. the one in the center had a limp that was familiar. the tramps heard the coming car, and at first stood aside to let it pass. but as it slowed up on approaching them, they took alarm, climbed over a fence and started across the fields toward a piece of woodland a little way off. their pursuers leaped from the car and gave chase. the lithe limbs of the boys gave them an advantage over their heavier companions, and they were soon on the heels of the tramps, who turned snarling and faced them. "keep off or i'll club the life out of you," shouted one, whom they recognized as the man with the scar. "no you won't," cried bobby, defiantly. "we want the things you stole from us," sang out fred. "jail for yours!" mouser shouted. they circled round the men, thus holding them in check, and in another moment mr. wharton and the constable had come up and each grabbed one of the men by the collar. at the sight of the constable's star, the other quickly wilted. the officer slipped handcuffs on them all and pushed them into the ear, while the boys crowded in as best they could, two of them standing on the running-board. in triumph, they went back to town and the men were placed in jail. first they were searched, and, greatly to the boys' delight, pawn tickets were found that accounted for all the articles that had been stolen from them. the money of course was gone, but the boys cared little for that, as long as they were sure that they could get back their cherished personal possessions. "we're some demon thief catchers, all right," chuckled mouser. "he would call me red-head, would he?" grinned fred, referring to the scar-faced tramp. "it means good luck for us, fellows," declared bobby. "now, i'm _sure_ we're going to down belden." chapter xxx winning the pennant--conclusion belden had its own idea as to who was to be "downed," and almost the whole school went to rockledge with colors flying on the great day that was to decide who should carry off the flag of the monatook lake league. as the teams had each played a game on the other's grounds, it had been left to the toss of a coin as to where the deciding game should take place, and rockledge had won. this was a good omen in itself, and the rockledge boys were chock-full of confidence, as they slipped into their baseball suits in the gymnasium before going on the field. "we've just _got_ to win to-day, fred," remarked bobby. "it would never do to lose with all our folks in the stand looking on." "you bet we'll win," replied fred emphatically. "if we don't, i'll hunt up some hole, slip in and pull the hole in after me." mr. and mrs. blake had come down on this last day. fred's father and mother were also present, accompanied by betty. and to give the boys a pleasant surprise they had brought scat monroe and pat moriarty along with them. the weather had been a little threatening in the morning, but about noon it cleared beautifully. a great crowd was present, for all the towns near monatook lake had become interested in the pennant fight, and people came in droves to see the deciding game. bobby and fred went up in the stand for a little chat with their friends and families before the game began. "oh, i'm so glad it's such a beautiful day!" exclaimed betty gleefully. "i was so afraid the rain would come down this morning." "you wouldn't expect the rain to go up, would you?" asked her brother airily. "smarty!" said betty, and she made a little face at him. "fred had better behave himself or we'll say 'snowball' to him, won't we, betty?" laughed bobby. "i'm rooting for you boys to win to-day," remarked pat, his freckled face wreathed with smiles. "we're going to fight like the mischief to do it," returned bobby. "put the whitewash brush on them," said scat. "perhaps that's asking a little too much," grinned fred. "we'll be satisfied with the big end of the score." their parents smiled on them fondly and urged them to do their best to win for rockledge, and the boys went down on the field with their hearts full of determination. but it was evident from the moment the first ball went over the plate that it would be no easy task for either side to win. each team was screwed to the highest pitch and full of determination and enthusiasm. bobby started out like a winner. his arm had never felt better, and he whipped the ball over the plate at a speed that delighted the spectators--always excepting the belden rooters--but that made frank durrock a little anxious. "easy there, bobby," he counseled from first base, when the first batter had gone out on strikes. "the game's young yet, and you've a long way to go." bobby realized the wisdom of this, and made the next batter pop up an infield fly to mouser at second. then he mixed in a slow one that seemed easy enough to hit as it came floating up to the plate, but which resulted in an easy roller to the box which bobby had plenty of time to throw to first. "that's what you call a change of pace, old scout," congratulated sparrow, as the nine came in from the field amid a general clapping of hands at the promising beginning. but bobby was not to carry off the pitching honors of the game without a struggle. larry cronk, the belden pitcher, was in splendid form, and he had had the benefit of being coached by his brother, who was a student at yale and a member of the varsity team. the result of this training was shown in a new "hop" ball that larry sprung on them for the first time. it came singing over the plate with a jump on it just before it reached the batter that at first puzzled the rockledge boys completely. two of them struck out and the third was an easy victim on a foul. now it was belden's turn to howl. and howl they did. "bobby's got his work cut out for him to-day," remarked sparrow to skeets, as they went out into the field. "that's just the time bobby's at his best," returned skeets confidently. "bobby's got that fadeaway of his when it comes to the pinch," added mouser, "and i'll back that against larry's hop any time." bobby was not daunted by this showing on the part of his opponent. but he knew that he must not slow down for a second. he must put brains in his work as well as muscle, must study and outguess the batters and give them just what they did not want. so he worked with exceeding care, mixing up his curves and his fast and slow balls so skillfully that in the first four innings only two hits were made off him, and one of them a scratch, and no one got as far as second base. and in doing this he nursed his strength, so that he felt almost as strong and fresh as at the beginning. "talk about a fox," chuckled fred, "he isn't in it with bobby." larry, too, had kept any one from denting the home plate, but he was so exultant over the success of his new delivery that he relied upon it almost entirely. and by and by the rockledge boys began to find him more easily than they did at first. they had not yet made more than one clean hit, but the bat was beginning to meet the ball more solidly and it was only a matter of a little time before they would be lining out base hits, unless larry changed his style and mixed in his other curves. "we'll straighten them out in the next inning, see if we don't," remarked spentz confidently. and so they did. spentz himself led off with a crashing three-bagger to right. fred brought him home with a sizzling single and stole second on the next ball pitched. larry tightened up then, and although a clever sacrifice bunt put fred on third, he was left there, as the next two batters went out on strikes. belden's half had been scoreless, so that the end of the fifth inning found rockledge in the lead by one to none. and in such a close game as this promised to be, that one run looked as big as a mountain. but by the time belden's sixth inning was over, the rockledge rooters were in a panic. the trouble began when frank durrock, old reliable frank, muffed an easy fly that ordinarily he would have "eaten up." not only did he drop the ball, but he let it get so far away from him that the batter took a chance of making second. frank, in his haste to catch him, threw the ball over mouser's head into left field, and before it could be recovered, the runner had made the circuit of the bases. the error seemed to demoralize the whole team. sparrow booted a grounder, and by the time he had got through fumbling, it was too late to throw to first. spentz, in right, dropped a high fly and then threw wildly to head off the runner, who was legging it for third. the ball went ten feet over sparrow's head and both boys scored, making the count three to one in favor of the visitors. rockledge had a bad case of "rattles." bobby walked down to first as though he wanted to talk to frank, but really to give his mates time to recover. "play ball!" shouted the belden rooters. bobby took his time in returning, and even when he was back in the box found a shoe lace that needed tying. not until he was fully ready did he straighten up. he put on all speed now and disposed of the next batters in order, two on high fouls and one on strikes. he did not want to let any balls go far out, in the present nervous conditions of his mates. as for them, they were full of rage and self-reproach. "three runs without a single hit!" groaned frank. "never mind, fellows!" cried bobby cheerily. "go right in now and get them back again. knock the cover off the ball." but this was more easily said than done. once in that inning and again in the seventh and eighth, they got men on the bases, but they could not bring them in. in the eighth inning a rattling double play brought groans from the rockledge rooters, as they saw a promising rally nipped in the bud. bobby had been mowing the belden boys down almost as fast as they came to the plate. he had brought out his fadeaway now and mixed it in so well with the others that the batters never had a chance. his mates had recovered their nerve and were backing him up splendidly. nevertheless the fact still faced them that their rivals were two runs ahead. in the ninth inning, after disposing of belden, rockledge went in to do or die. yells of encouragement came from their partisans as they made their last stand. "go to it, boys!" "you can beat them yet!" "never say die!" "rockledge! rockledge! rockledge!" but the shouts turned to groans, when willis, who was playing center field in place of bronson, put up a skyscraper which cronk gobbled up without moving in his tracks. barry sent a hot grounder to short which was fielded cleverly and sent to first ahead of the batter. there was a movement in the stand, as the spectators got ready to leave. but they stopped short when spentz sent a screaming hit to center for a clean single. frank followed with a grasser between short and second that gave him first and sent spentz to third. larry faltered and gave fred his base on balls. the bases were full when bobby came to the bat. larry eyed him narrowly and wound a fast one about his neck, at which bobby refused to bite. the next was right in the groove, and bobby caught it square on the end of his bat and sent it whistling over the head of the first baseman. it rolled clear to the right field fence, and before it could be recovered, the rockledge runners had gone round the bases like so many jack rabbits, and had jumped on the home plate, while bobby pulled up at second. the game was over, the game was won and the rockledge boys were the champions of the monatook lake league! bobby's comrades rushed upon him, mauling and pounding him; the shouting crowd swooped out from the stand and surrounded him. "champions!" "champions!" "champions!" they yelled, until their throats were husky and their lungs were sore. it was a long time before bobby could get through the crowd to where his visitors awaited him. there betty cried one minute and laughed the next, in her happy excitement. mrs. blake's eyes, too, were moist as she hugged her boy, and mr. blake cleared his throat as he put his hand on bobby and told him he was proud of him. fred, too, came in for his share of well-earned praise and the boys were happy beyond words. and scat and pat were almost as delighted as though they had won the game themselves. finally, when matters were somewhat quieted down, some one asked the boys about their plans for the summer vacation. how full that summer proved to be of stirring and exciting adventure will be told in the next volume of this series. but just now all their thoughts were of the present. their school term was over. there had been some unpleasant features, but in the main their experiences had been happy ones. "we did it, bobby!" exclaimed fred joyfully, for perhaps the twentieth time. "we got there," agreed bobby; "but it was a mighty hard fight." "that's what makes it all the more worth winning," fred declared. "yes," said bobby, "i guess the things that come easy aren't worth much. that's what makes us feel so good about being champions. for there wasn't anything easy about winning the pennant of the monatook lake league." the end ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the bobby blake series by frank a. warner books for boys from eight to twelve years old [illustration: "bobby blake at rockledge school" book cover] true stories of life at a modern american boarding school. bobby attends this institution of learning with his particular chum and the boys have no end of good times. the tales of outdoor life, especially the exciting times they have when engaged in sports against rival schools, are written in a manner so true, so realistic, that the reader, too, is bound to share with these boys their thrills and pleasures. 1 bobby blake at rockledge school. 2 bobby blake at bass cove. 3 bobby blake on a cruise. 4 bobby blake and his school chums. 5 bobby blake at snowtop camp. 6 bobby blake on the school nine. 7 bobby blake on a ranch. 8 bobby blake on an auto tour. 9 bobby blake on the school eleven. 10 bobby blake on a plantation. 11 bobby blake in the frozen north. 12 bobby blake on mystery mountain. publishers barse & co. new york, n. y. newark, n. j. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- the boy scout life series published with the approval of the boy scouts of america [illustration: "the boy scout fire fighters" book cover] in the boys' world of story books, none better than those about boy scouts arrest and grip attention. in a most alluring way, the stories in the boy scout life series tell of the glorious good times and wonderful adventures of boy scouts. all the books were written by authors possessed of an intimate knowledge of this greatest of all movements organized for the welfare of boys, and are published with the approval of the national headquarters of the boy scouts of america. the chief scout librarian, mr. f. k. mathiews, writes concerning them: "it is a bully bunch of books. i hope you will sell 100,000 copies of each one, for these stories are the sort that will help instead of hurt our movement." the boy scout fire fighters--crump the boy scouts of the lighthouse troop--mcclane the boy scout trail blazers--cheley the boy scout treasure hunters--lerrigo boy scouts afloat--walden boy scouts courageous--mathiews boy scouts to the rescue--lerrigo boy scouts on the trail--garth the boy scouts in africa--corcoran the boy scouts of round table patrol--lerrigo publishers barse & co. new york, n. y. newark, n. j. you know me al ring w. lardner you know me al _a busher's letters_ by ring w. lardner [illustration] new york george h. doran company copyright, 1916, by george h. doran company printed in the united states of america copyright, 1914, by the curtis publishing company contents chapter page i a busher's letters home 9 ii the busher comes back 45 iii the busher's honeymoon 83 iv a new busher breaks in 122 v the busher's kid 166 vi the busher beats it hence 208 you know me al you know me al chapter i a busher's letters home _terre haute, indiana, september 6._ friend al: well, al old pal i suppose you seen in the paper where i been sold to the white sox. believe me al it comes as a surprise to me and i bet it did to all you good old pals down home. you could of knocked me over with a feather when the old man come up to me and says jack i've sold you to the chicago americans. i didn't have no idea that anything like that was coming off. for five minutes i was just dum and couldn't say a word. he says we aren't getting what you are worth but i want you to go up to that big league and show those birds that there is a central league on the map. he says go and pitch the ball you been pitching down here and there won't be nothing to it. he says all you need is the nerve and walsh or no one else won't have nothing on you. so i says i would do the best i could and i thanked him for the treatment i got in terre haute. they always was good to me here and though i did more than my share i always felt that my work was appresiated. we are finishing second and i done most of it. i can't help but be proud of my first year's record in professional baseball and you know i am not boasting when i say that al. well al it will seem funny to be up there in the big show when i never was really in a big city before. but i guess i seen enough of life not to be scared of the high buildings eh al? i will just give them what i got and if they don't like it they can send me back to the old central and i will be perfectly satisfied. i didn't know anybody was looking me over, but one of the boys told me that jack doyle the white sox scout was down here looking at me when grand rapids was here. i beat them twice in that serious. you know grand rapids never had a chance with me when i was right. i shut them out in the first game and they got one run in the second on account of flynn misjuging that fly ball. anyway doyle liked my work and he wired comiskey to buy me. comiskey come back with an offer and they excepted it. i don't know how much they got but anyway i am sold to the big league and believe me al i will make good. well al i will be home in a few days and we will have some of the good old times. regards to all the boys and tell them i am still their pal and not all swelled up over this big league business. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, december 14._ old pal: well al i have not got much to tell you. as you know comiskey wrote me that if i was up in chi this month to drop in and see him. so i got here thursday morning and went to his office in the afternoon. his office is out to the ball park and believe me its some park and some office. i went in and asked for comiskey and a young fellow says he is not here now but can i do anything for you? i told him who i am and says i had an engagement to see comiskey. he says the boss is out of town hunting and did i have to see him personally? i says i wanted to see about signing a contract. he told me i could sign as well with him as comiskey and he took me into another office. he says what salary did you think you ought to get? and i says i wouldn't think of playing ball in the big league for less than three thousand dollars per annum. he laughed and says you don't want much. you better stick round town till the boss comes back. so here i am and it is costing me a dollar a day to stay at the hotel on cottage grove avenue and that don't include my meals. i generally eat at some of the cafes round the hotel but i had supper downtown last night and it cost me fifty-five cents. if comiskey don't come back soon i won't have no more money left. speaking of money i won't sign no contract unless i get the salary you and i talked of, three thousand dollars. you know what i was getting in terre haute, a hundred and fifty a month, and i know it's going to cost me a lot more to live here. i made inquiries round here and find i can get board and room for eight dollars a week but i will be out of town half the time and will have to pay for my room when i am away or look up a new one when i come back. then i will have to buy cloths to wear on the road in places like new york. when comiskey comes back i will name him three thousand dollars as my lowest figure and i guess he will come through when he sees i am in ernest. i heard that walsh was getting twice as much as that. the papers says comiskey will be back here sometime to-morrow. he has been hunting with the president of the league so he ought to feel pretty good. but i don't care how he feels. i am going to get a contract for three thousand and if he don't want to give it to me he can do the other thing. you know me al. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, december 16._ dear friend al: well i will be home in a couple of days now but i wanted to write you and let you know how i come out with comiskey. i signed my contract yesterday afternoon. he is a great old fellow al and no wonder everybody likes him. he says young man will you have a drink? but i was to smart and wouldn't take nothing. he says you was with terre haute? i says yes i was. he says doyle tells me you were pretty wild. i says oh no i got good control. he says well do you want to sign? i says yes if i get my figure. he asks what is my figure and i says three thousand dollars per annum. he says don't you want the office furniture too? then he says i thought you was a young ball-player and i didn't know you wanted to buy my park. we kidded each other back and forth like that a while and then he says you better go out and get the air and come back when you feel better. i says i feel o.k. now and i want to sign a contract because i have got to get back to bedford. then he calls the secretary and tells him to make out my contract. he give it to me and it calls for two hundred and fifty a month. he says you know we always have a city serious here in the fall where a fellow picks up a good bunch of money. i hadn't thought of that so i signed up. my yearly salary will be fifteen hundred dollars besides what the city serious brings me. and that is only for the first year. i will demand three thousand or four thousand dollars next year. i would of started home on the evening train but i ordered a suit of cloths from a tailor over on cottage grove and it won't be done till to-morrow. it's going to cost me twenty bucks but it ought to last a long time. regards to frank and the bunch. your pal, jack. _paso robles, california, march 2._ old pal al: well al we been in this little berg now a couple of days and its bright and warm all the time just like june. seems funny to have it so warm this early in march but i guess this california climate is all they said about it and then some. it would take me a week to tell you about our trip out here. we came on a special train de lukes and it was some train. every place we stopped there was crowds down to the station to see us go through and all the people looked me over like i was a actor or something. i guess my hight and shoulders attracted their attention. well al we finally got to oakland which is across part of the ocean from frisco. we will be back there later on for practice games. we stayed in oakland a few hours and then took a train for here. it was another night in a sleeper and believe me i was tired of sleepers before we got here. i have road one night at a time but this was four straight nights. you know al i am not built right for a sleeping car birth. the hotel here is a great big place and got good eats. we got in at breakfast time and i made a b line for the dining room. kid gleason who is a kind of asst. manager to callahan come in and sat down with me. he says leave something for the rest of the boys because they will be just as hungry as you. he says ain't you afraid you will cut your throat with that knife. he says there ain't no extra charge for using the forks. he says you shouldn't ought to eat so much because you're overweight now. i says you may think i am fat, but it's all solid bone and muscle. he says yes i suppose it's all solid bone from the neck up. i guess he thought i would get sore but i will let them kid me now because they will take off their hats to me when they see me work. manager callahan called us all to his room after breakfast and give us a lecture. he says there would be no work for us the first day but that we must all take a long walk over the hills. he also says we must not take the training trip as a joke. then the colored trainer give us our suits and i went to my room and tried mine on. i ain't a bad looking guy in the white sox uniform al. i will have my picture taken and send you boys some. my roommate is allen a lefthander from the coast league. he don't look nothing like a pitcher but you can't never tell about them dam left handers. well i didn't go on the long walk because i was tired out. walsh stayed at the hotel too and when he seen me he says why didn't you go with the bunch? i says i was too tired. he says well when callahan comes back you better keep out of sight or tell him you are sick. i says i don't care nothing for callahan. he says no but callahan is crazy about you. he says you better obey orders and you will git along better. i guess walsh thinks i am some rube. when the bunch come back callahan never said a word to me but gleason come up and says where was you? i told him i was too tired to go walking. he says well i will borrow a wheelbarrow some place and push you round. he says do you sit down when you pitch? i let him kid me because he has not saw my stuff yet. next morning half the bunch mostly vetrans went to the ball park which isn't no better than the one we got at home. most of them was vetrans as i say but i was in the bunch. that makes things look pretty good for me don't it al? we tossed the ball round and hit fungos and run round and then callahan asks scott and russell and i to warm up easy and pitch a few to the batters. it was warm and i felt pretty good so i warmed up pretty good. scott pitched to them first and kept laying them right over with nothing on them. i don't believe a man gets any batting practice that way. so i went in and after i lobbed a few over i cut loose my fast one. lord was to bat and he ducked out of the way and then throwed his bat to the bench. callahan says what's the matter harry? lord says i forgot to pay up my life insurance. he says i ain't ready for walter johnson's july stuff. well al i will make them think i am walter johnson before i get through with them. but callahan come out to me and says what are you trying to do kill somebody? he says save your smoke because you're going to need it later on. he says go easy with the boys at first or i won't have no batters. but he was laughing and i guess he was pleased to see the stuff i had. there is a dance in the hotel to-night and i am up in my room writing this in my underwear while i get my suit pressed. i got it all mussed up coming out here. i don't know what shoes to wear. i asked gleason and he says wear your baseball shoes and if any of the girls gets fresh with you spike them. i guess he was kidding me. write and tell me all the news about home. yours truly, jack. _paso robles, california, march 7._ friend al: i showed them something out there to-day al. we had a game between two teams. one team was made up of most of the regulars and the other was made up of recruts. i pitched three innings for the recruts and shut the old birds out. i held them to one hit and that was a ground ball that the recrut shortstop johnson ought to of ate up. i struck collins out and he is one of the best batters in the bunch. i used my fast ball most of the while but showed them a few spitters and they missed them a foot. i guess i must of got walsh's goat with my spitter because him and i walked back to the hotel together and he talked like he was kind of jealous. he says you will have to learn to cover up your spitter. he says i could stand a mile away and tell when you was going to throw it. he says some of these days i will learn you how to cover it up. i guess al i know how to cover it up all right without walsh learning me. i always sit at the same table in the dining room along with gleason and collins and bodie and fournier and allen the young lefthander i told you about. i feel sorry for him because he never says a word. to-night at supper bodie says how did i look to-day kid? gleason says just like you always do in the spring. you looked like a cow. gleason seems to have the whole bunch scared of him and they let him say anything he wants to. i let him kid me to but i ain't scared of him. collins then says to me you got some fast ball there boy. i says i was not as fast to-day as i am when i am right. he says well then i don't want to hit against you when you are right. then gleason says to collins cut that stuff out. then he says to me don't believe what he tells you boy. if the pitchers in this league weren't no faster than you i would still be playing ball and i would be the best hitter in the country. after supper gleason went out on the porch with me. he says boy you have got a little stuff but you have got a lot to learn. he says you field your position like a wash woman and you don't hold the runners up. he says when chase was on second base to-day he got such a lead on you that the little catcher couldn't of shot him out at third with a rifle. i says they all thought i fielded my position all right in the central league. he says well if you think you do it all right you better go back to the central league where you are appresiated. i says you can't send me back there because you could not get waivers. he says who would claim you? i says st. louis and boston and new york. you know al what smith told me this winter. gleason says well if you're not willing to learn st. louis and boston and new york can have you and the first time you pitch against us we will steal fifty bases. then he quit kidding and asked me to go to the field with him early to-morrow morning and he would learn me some things. i don't think he can learn me nothing but i promised i would go with him. there is a little blonde kid in the hotel here who took a shine to me at the dance the other night but i am going to leave the skirts alone. she is real society and a swell dresser and she wants my picture. regards to all the boys. your friend, jack. p.s. the boys thought they would be smart to-night and put something over on me. a boy brought me a telegram and i opened it and it said you are sold to jackson in the cotton states league. for just a minute they had me going but then i happened to think that jackson is in michigan and there's no cotton states league round there. _paso robles, california, march 9._ dear friend al: you have no doubt read the good news in the papers before this reaches you. i have been picked to go to frisco with the first team. we play practice games up there about two weeks while the second club plays in los angeles. poor allen had to go with the second club. there's two other recrut pitchers with our part of the team but my name was first on the list so it looks like i had made good. i knowed they would like my stuff when they seen it. we leave here to-night. you got the first team's address so you will know where to send my mail. callahan goes with us and gleason goes with the second club. him and i have got to be pretty good pals and i wish he was going with us even if he don't let me eat like i want to. he told me this morning to remember all he had learned me and to keep working hard. he didn't learn me nothing i didn't know before but i let him think so. the little blonde don't like to see me leave here. she lives in detroit and i may see her when i go there. she wants me to write but i guess i better not give her no encouragement. well al i will write you a long letter from frisco. yours truly, jack. _oakland, california, march 19._ dear old pal: they have gave me plenty of work here all right. i have pitched four times but have not went over five innings yet. i worked against oakland two times and against frisco two times and only three runs have been scored off me. they should only ought to of had one but bodie misjuged a easy fly ball in frisco and weaver made a wild peg in oakland that let in a run. i am not using much but my fast ball but i have got a world of speed and they can't foul me when i am right. i whiffed eight men in five innings in frisco yesterday and could of did better than that if i had of cut loose. manager callahan is a funny guy and i don't understand him sometimes. i can't figure out if he is kidding or in ernest. we road back to oakland on the ferry together after yesterday's game and he says don't you never throw a slow ball? i says i don't need no slow ball with my spitter and my fast one. he says no of course you don't need it but if i was you i would get one of the boys to learn it to me. he says and you better watch the way the boys fields their positions and holds up the runners. he says to see you work a man might think they had a rule in the central league forbidding a pitcher from leaving the box or looking toward first base. i told him the central didn't have no rule like that. he says and i noticed you taking your wind up when what's his name was on second base there to-day. i says yes i got more stuff when i wind up. he says of course you have but if you wind up like that with cobb on base he will steal your watch and chain. i says maybe cobb can't get on base when i work against him. he says that's right and maybe san francisco bay is made of grapejuice. then he walks away from me. he give one of the youngsters a awful bawling out for something he done in the game at supper last night. if he ever talks to me like he done to him i will take a punch at him. you know me al. i come over to frisco last night with some of the boys and we took in the sights. frisco is some live town al. we went all through china town and the barbers' coast. seen lots of swell dames but they was all painted up. they have beer out here that they call steam beer. i had a few glasses of it and it made me logey. a glass of that terre haute beer would go pretty good right now. we leave here for los angeles in a few days and i will write you from there. this is some country al and i would love to play ball round here. your pal, jack. p.s.--i got a letter from the little blonde and i suppose i got to answer it. _los angeles, california, march 26._ friend al: only four more days of sunny california and then we start back east. we got exhibition games in yuma and el paso, texas, and oklahoma city and then we stop over in st. joe, missouri, for three days before we go home. you know al we open the season in cleveland and we won't be in chi no more than just passing through. we don't play there till april eighteenth and i guess i will work in that serious all right against detroit. then i will be glad to have you and the boys come up and watch me as you suggested in your last letter. i got another letter from the little blonde. she has went back to detroit but she give me her address and telephone number and believe me al i am going to look her up when we get there the twenty-ninth of april. she is a stenographer and was out here with her uncle and aunt. i had a run in with kelly last night and it looked like i would have to take a wallop at him but the other boys seperated us. he is a bush outfielder from the new england league. we was playing poker. you know the boys plays poker a good deal but this was the first time i got in. i was having pretty good luck and was about four bucks to the good and i was thinking of quitting because i was tired and sleepy. then kelly opened the pot for fifty cents and i stayed. i had three sevens. no one else stayed. kelly stood pat and i drawed two cards. and i catched my fourth seven. he bet fifty cents but i felt pretty safe even if he did have a pat hand. so i called him. i took the money and told them i was through. lord and some of the boys laughed but kelly got nasty and begun to pan me for quitting and for the way i played. i says well i won the pot didn't i? he says yes and he called me something. i says i got a notion to take a punch at you. he says oh you have have you? and i come back at him. i says yes i have have i? i would of busted his jaw if they hadn't stopped me. you know me al. i worked here two times once against los angeles and once against venice. i went the full nine innings both times and venice beat me four to two. i could of beat them easy with any kind of support. i walked a couple of guys in the forth and chase drops a throw and collins lets a fly ball get away from him. at that i would of shut them out if i had wanted to cut loose. after the game callahan says you didn't look so good in there to-day. i says i didn't cut loose. he says well you been working pretty near three weeks now and you ought to be in shape to cut loose. i says oh i am in shape all right. he says well don't work no harder than you have to or you might get hurt and then the league would blow up. i don't know if he was kidding me or not but i guess he thinks pretty well of me because he works me lots oftener than walsh or scott or benz. i will try to write you from yuma, texas, but we don't stay there only a day and i may not have time for a long letter. yours truly, jack. _yuma, arizona, april 1._ dear old al: just a line to let you know we are on our way back east. this place is in arizona and it sure is sandy. they haven't got no regular ball club here and we play a pick-up team this afternoon. callahan told me i would have to work. he says i am using you because we want to get through early and i know you can beat them quick. that is the first time he has said anything like that and i guess he is wiseing up that i got the goods. we was talking about the athaletics this morning and callahan says none of you fellows pitch right to baker. i was talking to lord and scott afterward and i say to scott how do you pitch to baker? he says i use my fadeaway. i says how do you throw it? he says just like you throw a fast ball to anybody else. i says why do you call it a fadeaway then? he says because when i throw it to baker it fades away over the fence. this place is full of indians and i wish you could see them al. they don't look nothing like the indians we seen in that show last summer. your old pal, jack. _oklahoma city, april 4._ friend al: coming out of amarillo last night i and lord and weaver was sitting at a table in the dining car with a old lady. none of us were talking to her but she looked me over pretty careful and seemed to kind of like my looks. finally she says are you boys with some football club? lord nor weaver didn't say nothing so i thought it was up to me and i says no mam this is the chicago white sox ball club. she says i knew you were athaletes. i says yes i guess you could spot us for athaletes. she says yes indeed and specially you. you certainly look healthy. i says you ought to see me stripped. i didn't see nothing funny about that but i thought lord and weaver would die laughing. lord had to get up and leave the table and he told everybody what i said. all the boys wanted me to play poker on the way here but i told them i didn't feel good. i know enough to quit when i am ahead al. callahan and i sat down to breakfast all alone this morning. he says boy why don't you get to work? i says what do you mean? ain't i working? he says you ain't improving none. you have got the stuff to make a good pitcher but you don't go after bunts and you don't cover first base and you don't watch the baserunners. he made me kind of sore talking that way and i says oh i guess i can get along all right. he says well i am going to put it up to you. i am going to start you over in st. joe day after to-morrow and i want you to show me something. i want you to cut loose with all you've got and i want you to get round the infield a little and show them you aren't tied in that box. i says oh i can field my position if i want to. he says well you better want to or i will have to ship you back to the sticks. then he got up and left. he didn't scare me none al. they won't ship me to no sticks after the way i showed on this trip and even if they did they couldn't get no waivers on me. some of the boys have begun to call me four sevens but it don't bother me none. yours truly, jack. _st. joe, missouri, april 7._ friend al: it rained yesterday so i worked to-day instead and st. joe done well to get three hits. they couldn't of scored if we had played all week. i give a couple of passes but i catched a guy flatfooted off of first base and i come up with a couple of bunts and throwed guys out. when the game was over callahan says that's the way i like to see you work. you looked better to-day than you looked on the whole trip. just once you wound up with a man on but otherwise you was all o.k. so i guess my job is cinched al and i won't have to go to new york or st. louis. i would rather be in chi anyway because it is near home. i wouldn't care though if they traded me to detroit. i hear from violet right along and she says she can't hardly wait till i come to detroit. she says she is strong for the tigers but she will pull for me when i work against them. she is nuts over me and i guess she has saw lots of guys to. i sent her a stickpin from oklahoma city but i can't spend no more dough on her till after our first payday the fifteenth of the month. i had thirty bucks on me when i left home and i only got about ten left including the five spot i won in the poker game. i have to tip the waiters about thirty cents a day and i seen about twenty picture shows on the coast besides getting my cloths pressed a couple of times. we leave here to-morrow night and arrive in chi the next morning. the second club joins us there and then that night we go to cleveland to open up. i asked one of the reporters if he knowed who was going to pitch the opening game and he says it would be scott or walsh but i guess he don't know much about it. these reporters travel all round the country with the team all season and send in telegrams about the game every night. i ain't seen no chi papers so i don't know what they been saying about me. but i should worry eh al? some of them are pretty nice fellows and some of them got the swell head. they hang round with the old fellows and play poker most of the time. will write you from cleveland. you will see in the paper if i pitch the opening game. your old pal, jack. _cleveland, ohio, april 10._ old friend al: well al we are all set to open the season this afternoon. i have just ate breakfast and i am sitting in the lobby of the hotel. i eat at a little lunch counter about a block from here and i saved seventy cents on breakfast. you see al they give us a dollar a meal and if we don't want to spend that much all right. our rooms at the hotel are paid for. the cleveland papers says walsh or scott will work for us this afternoon. i asked callahan if there was any chance of me getting into the first game and he says i hope not. i don't know what he meant but he may surprise these reporters and let me pitch. i will beat them al. lajoie and jackson is supposed to be great batters but the bigger they are the harder they fall. the second team joined us yesterday in chi and we practiced a little. poor allen was left in chi last night with four others of the recrut pitchers. looks pretty good for me eh al? i only seen gleason for a few minutes on the train last night. he says, well you ain't took off much weight. you're hog fat. i says oh i ain't fat. i didn't need to take off no weight. he says one good thing about it the club don't have to engage no birth for you because you spend all your time in the dining car. we kidded along like that a while and then the trainer rubbed my arm and i went to bed. well al i just got time to have my suit pressed before noon. yours truly, jack. _cleveland, ohio, april 11._ friend al: well al i suppose you know by this time that i did not pitch and that we got licked. scott was in there and he didn't have nothing. when they had us beat four to one in the eight inning callahan told me to go out and warm up and he put a batter in for scott in our ninth. but cleveland didn't have to play their ninth so i got no chance to work. but it looks like he means to start me in one of the games here. we got three more to play. maybe i will pitch this afternoon. i got a postcard from violet. she says beat them naps. i will give them a battle al if i get a chance. glad to hear you boys have fixed it up to come to chi during the detroit serious. i will ask callahan when he is going to pitch me and let you know. thanks al for the papers. your friend, jack. _st. louis, missouri, april 15._ friend al: well al i guess i showed them. i only worked one inning but i guess them browns is glad i wasn't in there no longer than that. they had us beat seven to one in the sixth and callahan pulls benz out. i honestly felt sorry for him but he didn't have nothing, not a thing. they was hitting him so hard i thought they would score a hundred runs. a righthander name bumgardner was pitching for them and he didn't look to have nothing either but we ain't got much of a batting team al. i could hit better than some of them regulars. anyway callahan called benz to the bench and sent for me. i was down in the corner warming up with kuhn. i wasn't warmed up good but you know i got the nerve al and i run right out there like i meant business. there was a man on second and nobody out when i come in. i didn't know who was up there but i found out afterward it was shotten. he's the center-fielder. i was cold and i walked him. then i got warmed up good and i made johnston look like a boob. i give him three fast balls and he let two of them go by and missed the other one. i would of handed him a spitter but schalk kept signing for fast ones and he knows more about them batters than me. anyway i whiffed johnston. then up come williams and i tried to make him hit at a couple of bad ones. i was in the hole with two balls and nothing and come right across the heart with my fast one. i wish you could of saw the hop on it. williams hit it right straight up and lord was camped under it. then up come pratt the best hitter on their club. you know what i done to him don't you al? i give him one spitter and another he didn't strike at that was a ball. then i come back with two fast ones and mister pratt was a dead baby. and you notice they didn't steal no bases neither. in our half of the seventh inning weaver and schalk got on and i was going up there with a stick when callahan calls me back and sends easterly up. i don't know what kind of managing you call that. i hit good on the training trip and he must of knew they had no chance to score off me in the innings they had left while they were liable to murder his other pitchers. i come back to the bench pretty hot and i says you're making a mistake. he says if comiskey had wanted you to manage this team he would of hired you. then easterly pops out and i says now i guess you're sorry you didn't let me hit. that sent him right up in the air and he bawled me awful. honest al i would of cracked him right in the jaw if we hadn't been right out where everybody could of saw us. well he sent cicotte in to finish and they didn't score no more and we didn't neither. i road down in the car with gleason. he says boy you shouldn't ought to talk like that to cal. some day he will lose his temper and bust you one. i says he won't never bust me. i says he didn't have no right to talk like that to me. gleason says i suppose you think he's going to laugh and smile when we lost four out of the first five games. he says wait till to-night and then go up to him and let him know you are sorry you sassed him. i says i didn't sass him and i ain't sorry. so after supper i seen callahan sitting in the lobby and i went over and sit down by him. i says when are you going to let me work? he says i wouldn't never let you work only my pitchers are all shot to pieces. then i told him about you boys coming up from bedford to watch me during the detroit serious and he says well i will start you in the second game against detroit. he says but i wouldn't if i had any pitchers. he says a girl could get out there and pitch better than some of them have been doing. so you see al i am going to pitch on the nineteenth. i hope you guys can be up there and i will show you something. i know i can beat them tigers and i will have to do it even if they are violet's team. i notice that new york and boston got trimmed to-day so i suppose they wish comiskey would ask for waivers on me. no chance al. your old pal, jack. p.s.--we play eleven games in chi and then go to detroit. so i will see the little girl on the twenty-ninth. oh you violet. _chicago, illinois, april 19._ dear old pal: well al it's just as well you couldn't come. they beat me and i am writing you this so as you will know the truth about the game and not get a bum steer from what you read in the papers. i had a sore arm when i was warming up and callahan should never ought to of sent me in there. and schalk kept signing for my fast ball and i kept giving it to him because i thought he ought to know something about the batters. weaver and lord and all of them kept kicking them round the infield and collins and bodie couldn't catch nothing. callahan ought never to of left me in there when he seen how sore my arm was. why, i couldn't of threw hard enough to break a pain of glass my arm was so sore. they sure did run wild on the bases. cobb stole four and bush and crawford and veach about two apiece. schalk didn't even make a peg half the time. i guess he was trying to throw me down. the score was sixteen to two when callahan finally took me out in the eighth and i don't know how many more they got. i kept telling him to take me out when i seen how bad i was but he wouldn't do it. they started bunting in the fifth and lord and chase just stood there and didn't give me no help at all. i was all o.k. till i had the first two men out in the first inning. then crawford come up. i wanted to give him a spitter but schalk signs me for the fast one and i give it to him. the ball didn't hop much and crawford happened to catch it just right. at that collins ought to of catched the ball. crawford made three bases and up come cobb. it was the first time i ever seen him. he hollered at me right off the reel. he says you better walk me you busher. i says i will walk you back to the bench. schalk signs for a spitter and i gives it to him and cobb misses it. then instead of signing for another one schalk asks for a fast one and i shook my head no but he signed for it again and yells put something on it. so i throwed a fast one and cobb hits it right over second base. i don't know what weaver was doing but he never made a move for the ball. crawford scored and cobb was on first base. first thing i knowed he had stole second while i held the ball. callahan yells wake up out there and i says why don't your catcher tell me when they are going to steal. schalk says get in there and pitch and shut your mouth. then i got mad and walked veach and moriarty but before i walked moriarty cobb and veach pulled a double steal on schalk. gainor lifts a fly and lord drops it and two more come in. then stanage walks and i whiffs their pitcher. i come in to the bench and callahan says are your friends from bedford up here? i was pretty sore and i says why don't you get a catcher? he says we don't need no catcher when you're pitching because you can't get nothing past their bats. then he says you better leave your uniform in here when you go out next inning or cobb will steal it off your back. i says my arm is sore. he says use your other one and you'll do just as good. gleason says who do you want to warm up? callahan says nobody. he says cobb is going to lead the league in batting and basestealing anyway so we might as well give him a good start. i was mad enough to punch his jaw but the boys winked at me not to do nothing. well i got some support in the next inning and nobody got on. between innings i says well i guess i look better now don't i? callahan says yes but you wouldn't look so good if collins hadn't jumped up on the fence and catched that one off crawford. that's all the encouragement i got al. cobb come up again to start the third and when schalk signs me for a fast one i shakes my head. then schalk says all right pitch anything you want to. i pitched a spitter and cobb bunts it right at me. i would of threw him out a block but i stubbed my toe in a rough place and fell down. this is the roughest ground i ever seen al. veach bunts and for a wonder lord throws him out. cobb goes to second and honest al i forgot all about him being there and first thing i knowed he had stole third. then moriarty hits a fly ball to bodie and cobb scores though bodie ought to of threw him out twenty feet. they batted all round in the forth inning and scored four or five more. crawford got the luckiest three-base hit i ever see. he popped one way up in the air and the wind blowed it against the fence. the wind is something fierce here al. at that collins ought to of got under it. i was looking at the bench all the time expecting callahan to call me in but he kept hollering go on and pitch. your friends wants to see you pitch. well al i don't know how they got the rest of their runs but they had more luck than any team i ever seen. and all the time jennings was on the coaching line yelling like a indian. some day al i'm going to punch his jaw. after veach had hit one in the eight callahan calls me to the bench and says you're through for the day. i says it's about time you found out my arm was sore. he says i ain't worrying about your arm but i'm afraid some of our outfielders will run their legs off and some of them poor infielders will get killed. he says the reporters just sent me a message saying they had run out of paper. then he says i wish some of the other clubs had pitchers like you so we could hit once in a while. he says go in the clubhouse and get your arm rubbed off. that's the only way i can get jennings sore he says. well al that's about all there was to it. it will take two or three stamps to send this but i want you to know the truth about it. the way my arm was i ought never to of went in there. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, april 25._ friend al: just a line to let you know i am still on earth. my arm feels pretty good again and i guess maybe i will work at detroit. violet writes that she can't hardly wait to see me. looks like i got a regular girl now al. we go up there the twenty-ninth and maybe i won't be glad to see her. i hope she will be out to the game the day i pitch. i will pitch the way i want to next time and them tigers won't have such a picnic. i suppose you seen what the chicago reporters said about that game. i will punch a couple of their jaws when i see them. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, april 29._ dear old al: well al it's all over. the club went to detroit last night and i didn't go along. callahan told me to report to comiskey this morning and i went up to the office at ten o'clock. he give me my pay to date and broke the news. i am sold to frisco. i asked him how they got waivers on me and he says oh there was no trouble about that because they all heard how you tamed the tigers. then he patted me on the back and says go out there and work hard boy and maybe you'll get another chance some day. i was kind of choked up so i walked out of the office. i ain't had no fair deal al and i ain't going to no frisco. i will quit the game first and take that job charley offered me at the billiard hall. i expect to be in bedford in a couple of days. i have got to pack up first and settle with my landlady about my room here which i engaged for all season thinking i would be treated square. i am going to rest and lay round home a while and try to forget this rotten game. tell the boys about it al and tell them i never would of got let out if i hadn't worked with a sore arm. i feel sorry for that little girl up in detroit al. she expected me there to-day. your old pal, jack. p.s. i suppose you seen where that lucky lefthander allen shut out cleveland with two hits yesterday. the lucky stiff. chapter ii the busher comes back. _san francisco, california, may 13._ friend al: i suppose you and the rest of the boys in bedford will be supprised to learn that i am out here, because i remember telling you when i was sold to san francisco by the white sox that not under no circumstances would i report here. i was pretty mad when comiskey give me my release, because i didn't think i had been given a fair show by callahan. i don't think so yet al and i never will but bill sullivan the old white sox catcher talked to me and told me not to pull no boner by refuseing to go where they sent me. he says you're only hurting yourself. he says you must remember that this was your first time up in the big show and very few men no matter how much stuff they got can expect to make good right off the reel. he says all you need is experience and pitching out in the coast league will be just the thing for you. so i went in and asked comiskey for my transportation and he says that's right boy go out there and work hard and maybe i will want you back. i told him i hoped so but i don't hope nothing of the kind al. i am going to see if i can't get detroit to buy me, because i would rather live in detroit than anywheres else. the little girl who got stuck on me this spring lives there. i guess i told you about her al. her name is violet and she is some queen. and then if i got with the tigers i wouldn't never have to pitch against cobb and crawford, though i believe i could show both of them up if i was right. they ain't got much of a ball club here and hardly any good pitchers outside of me. but i don't care. i will win some games if they give me any support and i will get back in the big league and show them birds something. you know me, al. your pal, jack. _los angeles, california, may 20._ al: well old pal i don't suppose you can find much news of this league in the papers at home so you may not know that i have been standing this league on their heads. i pitched against oakland up home and shut them out with two hits. i made them look like suckers al. they hadn't never saw no speed like mine and they was scared to death the minute i cut loose. i could of pitched the last six innings with my foot and trimmed them they was so scared. well we come down here for a serious and i worked the second game. they got four hits and one run, and i just give them the one run. their shortstop johnson was on the training trip with the white sox and of course i knowed him pretty well. so i eased up in the last inning and let him hit one. if i had of wanted to let myself out he couldn't of hit me with a board. so i am going along good and howard our manager says he is going to use me regular. he's a pretty nice manager and not a bit sarkastic like some of them big leaguers. i am fielding my position good and watching the baserunners to. thank goodness al they ain't no cobbs in this league and a man ain't scared of haveing his uniform stole off his back. but listen al i don't want to be bought by detroit no more. it is all off between violet and i. she wasn't the sort of girl i suspected. she is just like them all al. no heart. i wrote her a letter from chicago telling her i was sold to san francisco and she wrote back a postcard saying something about not haveing no time to waste on bushers. what do you know about that al? calling me a busher. i will show them. she wasn't no good al and i figure i am well rid of her. good riddance is rubbish as they say. i will let you know how i get along and if i hear anything about being sold or drafted. yours truly, jack. _san francisco, california, july 20._ friend al: you will forgive me for not writeing to you oftener when you hear the news i got for you. old pal i am engaged to be married. her name is hazel carney and she is some queen, al--a great big stropping girl that must weigh one hundred and sixty lbs. she is out to every game and she got stuck on me from watching me work. then she writes a note to me and makes a date and i meet her down on market street one night. we go to a nickel show together and have some time. since then we been together pretty near every evening except when i was away on the road. night before last she asked me if i was married and i tells her no and she says a big handsome man like i ought not to have no trouble finding a wife. i tells her i ain't never looked for one and she says well you wouldn't have to look very far. i asked her if she was married and she said no but she wouldn't mind it. she likes her beer pretty well and her and i had several and i guess i was feeling pretty good. anyway i guess i asked her if she wouldn't marry me and she says it was o.k. i ain't a bit sorry al because she is some doll and will make them all sit up back home. she wanted to get married right away but i said no wait till the season is over and maybe i will have more dough. she asked me what i was getting and i told her two hundred dollars a month. she says she didn't think i was getting enough and i don't neither but i will get the money when i get up in the big show again. anyway we are going to get married this fall and then i will bring her home and show her to you. she wants to live in chi or new york but i guess she will like bedford o.k. when she gets acquainted. i have made good here all right al. up to a week ago sunday i had won eleven straight. i have lost a couple since then, but one day i wasn't feeling good and the other time they kicked it away behind me. i had a run in with howard after portland had beat me. he says keep on running round with that skirt and you won't never win another game. he says go to bed nights and keep in shape or i will take your money. i told him to mind his own business and then he walked away from me. i guess he was scared i was going to smash him. no manager ain't going to bluff me al. so i went to bed early last night and didn't keep my date with the kid. she was pretty sore about it but business before plesure al. don't tell the boys nothing about me being engaged. i want to surprise them. your pal, jack. _sacramento, california, august 16._ friend al: well al i got the supprise of my life last night. howard called me up after i got to my room and tells me i am going back to the white sox. come to find out, when they sold me out here they kept a option on me and yesterday they exercised it. he told me i would have to report at once. so i packed up as quick as i could and then went down to say good-by to the kid. she was all broke up and wanted to go along with me but i told her i didn't have enough dough to get married. she said she would come anyway and we could get married in chi but i told her she better wait. she cried all over my sleeve. she sure is gone on me al and i couldn't help feeling sorry for her but i promised to send for her in october and then everything will be all o.k. she asked me how much i was going to get in the big league and i told her i would get a lot more money than out here because i wouldn't play if i didn't. you know me al. i come over here to sacramento with the club this morning and i am leaveing to-night for chi. i will get there next tuesday and i guess callahan will work me right away because he must of seen his mistake in letting me go by now. i will show them al. i looked up the skedule and i seen where we play in detroit the fifth and sixth of september. i hope they will let me pitch there al. violet goes to the games and i will make her sorry she give me that kind of treatment. and i will make them tigers sorry they kidded me last spring. i ain't afraid of cobb or none of them now, al. your pal, jack. _chicago_, _illinois, august 27._ al: well old pal i guess i busted in right. did you notice what i done to them athaletics, the best ball club in the country? i bet violet wishes she hadn't called me no busher. i got here last tuesday and set up in the stand and watched the game that afternoon. washington was playing here and johnson pitched. i was anxious to watch him because i had heard so much about him. honest al he ain't as fast as me. he shut them out, but they never was much of a hitting club. i went to the clubhouse after the game and shook hands with the bunch. kid gleason the assistant manager seemed pretty glad to see me and he says well have you learned something? i says yes i guess i have. he says did you see the game this afternoon? i says i had and he asked me what i thought of johnson. i says i don't think so much of him. he says well i guess you ain't learned nothing then. he says what was the matter with johnson's work? i says he ain't got nothing but a fast ball. then he says yes and rockefeller ain't got nothing but a hundred million bucks. well i asked callahan if he was going to give me a chance to work and he says he was. but i sat on the bench a couple of days and he didn't ask me to do nothing. finally i asked him why not and he says i am saving you to work against a good club, the athaletics. well the athaletics come and i guess you know by this time what i done to them. and i had to work against bender at that but i ain't afraid of none of them now al. baker didn't hit one hard all afternoon and i didn't have no trouble with collins neither. i let them down with five blows all though the papers give them seven. them reporters here don't no more about scoreing than some old woman. they give barry a hit on a fly ball that bodie ought to of eat up, only he stumbled or something and they handed oldring a two base hit on a ball that weaver had to duck to get out of the way from. but i don't care nothing about reporters. i beat them athaletics and beat them good, five to one. gleason slapped me on the back after the game and says well you learned something after all. rub some arnicky on your head to keep the swelling down and you may be a real pitcher yet. i says i ain't got no swell head. he says no. if i hated myself like you do i would be a moveing picture actor. well i asked callahan would he let me pitch up to detroit and he says sure. he says do you want to get revenge on them? i says, yes i did. he says well you have certainly got some comeing. he says i never seen no man get worse treatment than them tigers give you last spring. i says well they won't do it this time because i will know how to pitch to them. he says how are you going to pitch to cobb? i says i am going to feed him on my slow one. he says well cobb had ought to make a good meal off of that. then we quit jokeing and he says you have improved a hole lot and i am going to work you right along regular and if you can stand the gaff i may be able to use you in the city serious. you know al the white sox plays a city serious every fall with the cubs and the players makes quite a lot of money. the winners gets about eight hundred dollars a peace and the losers about five hundred. we will be the winners if i have anything to say about it. i am tickled to death at the chance of working in detroit and i can't hardly wait till we get there. watch my smoke al. your pal, jack. p.s. i am going over to allen's flat to play cards a while to-night. allen is the lefthander that was on the training trip with us. he ain't got a thing, al, and i don't see how he gets by. he is married and his wife's sister is visiting them. she wants to meet me but it won't do her much good. i seen her out to the game to-day and she ain't much for looks. _detroit, mich., september 6._ friend al: i got a hole lot to write but i ain't got much time because we are going over to cleveland on the boat at ten p.m. i made them tigers like it al just like i said i would. and what do you think, al, violet called me up after the game and wanted to see me but i will tell you about the game first. they got one hit off of me and cobb made it a scratch single that he beat out. if he hadn't of been so dam fast i would of had a no hit game. at that weaver could of threw him out if he had of started after the ball in time. crawford didn't get nothing like a hit and i whiffed him once. i give two walks both of them to bush but he is such a little guy that you can't pitch to him. when i was warming up before the game callahan was standing beside me and pretty soon jennings come over. jennings says you ain't going to pitch that bird are you? and callahan said yes he was. then jennings says i wish you wouldn't because my boys is all tired out and can't run the bases. callahan says they won't get no chance to-day. no, says jennings i suppose not. i suppose he will walk them all and they won't have to run. callahan says he won't give no bases on balls, he says. but you better tell your gang that he is liable to bean them and they better stay away from the plate. jennings says he won't never hurt my boys by beaning them. then i cut in. nor you neither, i says. callahan laughs at that so i guess i must of pulled a pretty good one. jennings didn't have no comeback so he walks away. then cobb come over and asked if i was going to work. callahan told him yes. cobb says how many innings? callahan says all the way. then cobb says be a good fellow cal and take him out early. i am lame and can't run. i butts in then and said don't worry, cobb. you won't have to run because we have got a catcher who can hold them third strikes. callahan laughed again and says to me you sure did learn something out on that coast. well i walked bush right off the real and they all begun to holler on the detroit bench there he goes again. vitt come up and jennings yells leave your bat in the bag osker. he can't get them over. but i got them over for that bird all o.k. and he pops out trying to bunt. and then i whiffed crawford. he starts off with a foul that had me scared for a minute because it was pretty close to the foul line and it went clear out of the park. but he missed a spitter a foot and then i supprised them al. i give him a slow ball and i honestly had to laugh to see him lunge for it. i bet he must of strained himself. he throwed his bat way like he was mad and i guess he was. cobb came pranceing up like he always does and yells give me that slow one boy. so i says all right. but i fooled him. instead of giveing him a slow one like i said i was going i handed him a spitter. he hit it all right but it was a line drive right in chase's hands. he says pretty lucky boy but i will get you next time. i come right back at him. i says yes you will. well al i had them going like that all through. about the sixth inning callahan yells from the bench to jennings what do you think of him now? and jennings didn't say nothing. what could he of said? cobb makes their one hit in the eighth. he never would of made it if schalk had of let me throw him spitters instead of fast ones. at that weaver ought to of threw him out. anyway they didn't score and we made a monkey out of dubuque, or whatever his name is. well al i got back to the hotel and snuck down the street a ways and had a couple of beers before supper. so i come to the supper table late and walsh tells me they had been several phone calls for me. i go down to the desk and they tell me to call up a certain number. so i called up and they charged me a nickel for it. a girl's voice answers the phone and i says was they some one there that wanted to talk to jack keefe? she says you bet they is. she says don't you know me, jack? this is violet. well, you could of knocked me down with a peace of bread. i says what do you want? she says why i want to see you. i says well you can't see me. she says why what's the matter, jack? what have i did that you should be sore at me? i says i guess you know all right. you called me a busher. she says why i didn't do nothing of the kind. i says yes you did on that postcard. she says i didn't write you no postcard. then we argued along for a while and she swore up and down that she didn't write me no postcard or call me no busher. i says well then why didn't you write me a letter when i was in frisco? she says she had lost my address. well al i don't know if she was telling me the truth or not but may be she didn't write that postcard after all. she was crying over the telephone so i says well it is too late for i and you to get together because i am engaged to be married. then she screamed and i hang up the receiver. she must of called back two or three times because they was calling my name round the hotel but i wouldn't go near the phone. you know me al. well when i hang up and went back to finish my supper the dining room was locked. so i had to go out and buy myself a sandwich. they soaked me fifteen cents for a sandwich and a cup of coffee so with the nickel for the phone i am out twenty cents altogether for nothing. but then i would of had to tip the waiter in the hotel a dime. well al i must close and catch the boat. i expect a letter from hazel in cleveland and maybe violet will write to me too. she is stuck on me all right al. i can see that. and i don't believe she could of wrote that postcard after all. yours truly, jack. _boston, massachusetts, september 12._ old pal: well al i got a letter from hazel in cleveland and she is comeing to chi in october for the city serious. she asked me to send her a hundred dollars for her fare and to buy some cloths with. i sent her thirty dollars for the fare and told her she could wait till she got to chi to buy her cloths. she said she would give me the money back as soon as she seen me but she is a little short now because one of her girl friends borrowed fifty off of her. i guess she must be pretty soft-hearted al. i hope you and bertha can come up for the wedding because i would like to have you stand up with me. i all so got a letter from violet and they was blots all over it like she had been crying. she swore she did not write that postcard and said she would die if i didn't believe her. she wants to know who the lucky girl is who i am engaged to be married to. i believe her al when she says she did not write that postcard but it is too late now. i will let you know the date of my wedding as soon as i find out. i guess you seen what i done in cleveland and here. allen was going awful bad in cleveland and i relieved him in the eighth when we had a lead of two runs. i put them out in one-two-three order in the eighth but had hard work in the ninth due to rotten support. i walked johnston and chapman and turner sacrificed them ahead. jackson come up then and i had two strikes on him. i could of whiffed him but schalk makes me give him a fast one when i wanted to give him a slow one. he hit it to berger and johnston ought to of been threw out at the plate but berger fumbles and then has to make the play at first base. he got jackson all o.k. but they was only one run behind then and chapman was on third base. lajoie was up next and callahan sends out word for me to walk him. i thought that was rotten manageing because lajoie or no one else can hit me when i want to cut loose. so after i give him two bad balls i tried to slip over a strike on him but the lucky stiff hit it on a line to weaver. anyway the game was over and i felt pretty good. but callahan don't appresiate good work al. he give me a call in the clubhouse and said if i ever disobeyed his orders again he would suspend me without no pay and lick me too. honest al it was all i could do to keep from wrapping his jaw but gleason winks at me not to do nothing. i worked the second game here and give them three hits two of which was bunts that lord ought to of eat up. i got better support in frisco than i been getting here al. but i don't care. the boston bunch couldn't of hit me with a shovvel and we beat them two to nothing. i worked against wood at that. they call him smoky joe and they say he has got a lot of speed. boston is some town, al, and i wish you and bertha could come here sometime. i went down to the wharf this morning and seen them unload the fish. they must of been a million of them but i didn't have time to count them. every one of them was five or six times as big as a blue gill. violet asked me what would be my address in new york city so i am dropping her a postcard to let her know all though i don't know what good it will do her. i certainly won't start no correspondents with her now that i am engaged to be married. yours truly, jack. _new york, new york, september 16._ friend al: i opened the serious here and beat them easy but i know you must of saw about it in the chi papers. at that they don't give me no fair show in the chi papers. one of the boys bought one here and i seen in it where i was lucky to win that game in cleveland. if i knowed which one of them reporters wrote that i would punch his jaw. al i told you boston was some town but this is the real one. i never seen nothing like it and i been going some since we got here. i walked down broadway the main street last night and i run into a couple of the ball players and they took me to what they call the garden but it ain't like the gardens at home because this one is indoors. we sat down to a table and had several drinks. pretty soon one of the boys asked me if i was broke and i says no, why? he says you better get some lubricateing oil and loosen up. i don't know what he meant but pretty soon when we had had a lot of drinks the waiter brings a check and hands it to me. it was for one dollar. i says oh i ain't paying for all of them. the waiter says this is just for that last drink. i thought the other boys would make a holler but they didn't say nothing. so i give him a dollar bill and even then he didn't act satisfied so i asked him what he was waiting for and he said oh nothing, kind of sassy. i was going to bust him but the boys give me the sign to shut up and not to say nothing. i excused myself pretty soon because i wanted to get some air. i give my check for my hat to a boy and he brought my hat and i started going and he says haven't you forgot something? i guess he must of thought i was wearing a overcoat. then i went down the main street again and some man stopped me and asked me did i want to go to the show. he said he had a ticket. i asked him what show and he said the follies. i never heard of it but i told him i would go if he had a ticket to spare. he says i will spare you this one for three dollars. i says you must take me for some boob. he says no i wouldn't insult no boob. so i walks on but if he had of insulted me i would of busted him. i went back to the hotel then and run into kid gleason. he asked me to take a walk with him so out i go again. we went to the corner and he bought me a beer. he don't drink nothing but pop himself. the two drinks was only ten cents so i says this is the place for me. he says where have you been? and i told him about paying one dollar for three drinks. he says i see i will have to take charge of you. don't go round with them ball players no more. when you want to go out and see the sights come to me and i will stear you. so to-night he is going to stear me. i will write to you from philadelphia. your pal, jack. _philadelphia, pa., september 19._ friend al: they won't be no game here to-day because it is raining. we all been loafing round the hotel all day and i am glad of it because i got all tired out over in new york city. i and kid gleason went round together the last couple of nights over there and he wouldn't let me spend no money. i seen a lot of girls that i would of liked to of got acquainted with but he wouldn't even let me answer them when they spoke to me. we run in to a couple of peaches last night and they had us spotted too. one of them says i'll bet you're a couple of ball players. but kid says you lose your bet. i am a bellhop and the big rube with me is nothing but a pitcher. one of them says what are you trying to do kid somebody? he says go home and get some soap and remove your disguise from your face. i didn't think he ought to talk like that to them and i called him about it and said maybe they was lonesome and it wouldn't hurt none if we treated them to a soda or something. but he says lonesome. if i don't get you away from here they will steal everything you got. they won't even leave you your fast ball. so we left them and he took me to a picture show. it was some california pictures and they made me think of hazel so when i got back to the hotel i sent her three postcards. gleason made me go to my room at ten o'clock both nights but i was pretty tired anyway because he had walked me all over town. i guess we must of saw twenty shows. he says i would take you to the grand opera only it would be throwing money away because we can hear ed walsh for nothing. walsh has got some voice al a loud high tenor. to-morrow is sunday and we have a double header monday on account of the rain to-day. i thought sure i would get another chance to beat the athaletics and i asked callahan if he was going to pitch me here but he said he thought he would save me to work against johnson in washington. so you see al he must figure i am about the best he has got. i'll beat him al if they get a couple of runs behind me. yours truly, jack. p.s. they was a letter here from violet and it pretty near made me feel like crying. i wish they was two of me so both them girls could be happy. _washington, d.c., september 22._ dear old al: well al here i am in the capital of the old united states. we got in last night and i been walking round town all morning. but i didn't tire myself out because i am going to pitch against johnson this afternoon. this is the prettiest town i ever seen but i believe they is more colored people here than they is in evansville or chi. i seen the white house and the monumunt. they say that bill sullivan and gabby st. once catched a baseball that was threw off of the top of the monumunt but i bet they couldn't catch it if i throwed it. i was in to breakfast this morning with gleason and bodie and weaver and fournier. gleason says i'm supprised that you ain't sick in bed to-day. i says why? he says most of our pitchers gets sick when cal tells them they are going to work against johnson. he says here's these other fellows all feeling pretty sick this morning and they ain't even pitchers. all they have to do is hit against him but it looks like as if cal would have to send substitutes in for them. bodie is complaining of a sore arm which he must of strained drawing to two card flushes. fournier and weaver have strained their legs doing the tango dance. nothing could cure them except to hear that big walter had got throwed out of his machine and wouldn't be able to pitch against us in this serious. i says i feel o.k. and i ain't afraid to pitch against johnson and i ain't afraid to hit against him neither. then weaver says have you ever saw him work? yes, i says, i seen him in chi. then weaver says well if you have saw him work and ain't afraid to hit against him i'll bet you would go down to wall street and holler hurrah for roosevelt. i says no i wouldn't do that but i ain't afraid of no pitcher and what is more if you get me a couple of runs i'll beat him. then fournier says oh we will get you a couple of runs all right. he says that's just as easy as catching whales with a angleworm. well al i must close and go in and get some lunch. my arm feels great and they will have to go some to beat me johnson or no johnson. your pal, jack. _washington, d.c., september 22._ friend al: well i guess you know by this time that they didn't get no two runs for me, only one, but i beat him just the same. i beat him one to nothing and callahan was so pleased that he give me a ticket to the theater. i just got back from there and it is pretty late and i already have wrote you one letter to-day but i am going to sit up and tell you about it. it was cloudy before the game started and when i was warming up i made the remark to callahan that the dark day ought to make my speed good. he says yes and of course it will handicap johnson. while washington was takeing their practice their two coachers schaefer and altrock got out on the infield and cut up and i pretty near busted laughing at them. they certainly is funny al. callahan asked me what was i laughing at and i told him and he says that's the first time i ever seen a pitcher laugh when he was going to work against johnson. he says griffith is a pretty good fellow to give us something to laugh at before he shoots that guy at us. i warmed up good and told schalk not to ask me for my spitter much because my fast one looked faster than i ever seen it. he says it won't make much difference what you pitch to-day. i says oh, yes, it will because callahan thinks enough of me to work me against johnson and i want to show him he didn't make no mistake. then gleason says no he didn't make no mistake. wasteing cicotte or scotty would of been a mistake in this game. well, johnson whiffs weaver and chase and makes lord pop out in the first inning. i walked their first guy but i didn't give milan nothing to bunt and finally he flied out. and then i whiffed the next two. on the bench callahan says that's the way, boy. keep that up and we got a chance. johnson had fanned four of us when i come up with two out in the third inning and he whiffed me to. i fouled one though that if i had ever got a good hold of i would of knocked out of the park. in the first seven innings we didn't have a hit off of him. they had got five or six lucky ones off of me and i had walked two or three, but i cut loose with all i had when they was men on and they couldn't do nothing with me. the only reason i walked so many was because my fast one was jumping so. honest al it was so fast that evans the umpire couldn't see it half the time and he called a lot of balls that was right over the heart. well i come up in the eighth with two out and the score still nothing and nothing. i had whiffed the second time as well as the first but it was account of evans missing one on me. the eighth started with shanks muffing a fly ball off of bodie. it was way out by the fence so he got two bases on it and he went to third while they was throwing berger out. then schalk whiffed. callahan says go up and try to meet one jack. it might as well be you as anybody else. but your old pal didn't whiff this time al. he gets two strikes on me with fast ones and then i passed up two bad ones. i took my healthy at the next one and slapped it over first base. i guess i could of made two bases on it but i didn't want to tire myself out. anyway bodie scored and i had them beat. and my hit was the only one we got off of him so i guess he is a pretty good pitcher after all al. they filled up the bases on me with one out in the ninth but it was pretty dark then and i made mcbride and their catcher look like suckers with my speed. i felt so good after the game that i drunk one of them pink cocktails. i don't know what their name is. and then i sent a postcard to poor little violet. i don't care nothing about her but it don't hurt me none to try and cheer her up once in a while. we leave here thursday night for home and they had ought to be two or three letters there for me from hazel because i haven't heard from her lately. she must of lost my road addresses. your pal, jack. p.s. i forgot to tell you what callahan said after the game. he said i was a real pitcher now and he is going to use me in the city serious. if he does al we will beat them cubs sure. _chicago, illinois, september 27._ friend al: they wasn't no letter here at all from hazel and i guess she must of been sick. or maybe she didn't think it was worth while writeing as long as she is comeing next week. i want to ask you to do me a favor al and that is to see if you can find me a house down there. i will want to move in with mrs. keefe, don't that sound funny al? sometime in the week of october twelfth. old man cutting's house or that yellow house across from you would be o.k. i would rather have the yellow one so as to be near you. find out how much rent they want al and if it is not no more than twelve dollars a month get it for me. we will buy our furniture here in chi when hazel comes. we have a couple of days off now al and then we play st. louis two games here. then detroit comes to finish the season the third and fourth of october. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 3._ dear old al: thanks al for getting the house. the one-year lease is o.k. you and bertha and me and hazel can have all sorts of good times together. i guess the walk needs repairs but i can fix that up when i come. we can stay at the hotel when we first get there. i wish you could of came up for the city serious al but anyway i want you and bertha to be sure and come up for our wedding. i will let you know the date as soon as hazel gets here. the serious starts tuesday and this town is wild over it. the cubs finished second in their league and we was fifth in ours but that don't scare me none. we would of finished right on top if i had of been here all season. callahan pitched one of the bushers against detroit this afternoon and they beat him bad. callahan is saveing up scott and allen and russell and cicotte and i for the big show. walsh isn't in no shape and neither is benz. it looks like i would have a good deal to do because most of them others can't work no more than once in four days and allen ain't no good at all. we have a day to rest after to-morrow's game with the tigers and then we go at them cubs. your pal, jack. p.s. i have got it figured that hazel is fixing to surprise me by dropping in on me because i haven't heard nothing yet. _chicago, illinois, october 7._ friend al: well al you know by this time that they beat me to-day and tied up the serious. but i have still got plenty of time al and i will get them before it is over. my arm wasn't feeling good al and my fast ball didn't hop like it had ought to. but it was the rotten support i got that beat me. that lucky stiff zimmerman was the only guy that got a real hit off of me and he must of shut his eyes and throwed his bat because the ball he hit was a foot over his head. and if they hadn't been makeing all them errors behind me they wouldn't of been nobody on bases when zimmerman got that lucky scratch. the serious now stands one and one al and it is a cinch we will beat them even if they are a bunch of lucky stiffs. they has been great big crowds at both games and it looks like as if we should ought to get over eight hundred dollars a peace if we win and we will win sure because i will beat them three straight if necessary. but al i have got bigger news than that for you and i am the happyest man in the world. i told you i had not heard from hazel for a long time. to-night when i got back to my room they was a letter waiting for me from her. al she is married. maybe you don't know why that makes me happy but i will tell you. she is married to kid levy the middle weight. i guess my thirty dollars is gone because in her letter she called me a cheap skate and she inclosed one one-cent stamp and two twos and said she was paying me for the glass of beer i once bought her. i bought her more than that al but i won't make no holler. she all so said not for me to never come near her or her husband would bust my jaw. i ain't afraid of him or no one else al but they ain't no danger of me ever bothering them. she was no good and i was sorry the minute i agreed to marry her. but i was going to tell you why i am happy or maybe you can guess. now i can make violet my wife and she's got hazel beat forty ways. she ain't nowheres near as big as hazel but she's classier al and she will make me a good wife. she ain't never asked me for no money. i wrote her a letter the minute i got the good news and told her to come on over here at once at my expense. we will be married right after the serious is over and i want you and bertha to be sure and stand up with us. i will wire you at my own expence the exact date. it all seems like a dream now about violet and i haveing our misunderstanding al and i don't see how i ever could of accused her of sending me that postcard. you and bertha will be just as crazy about her as i am when you see her al. just think al i will be married inside of a week and to the only girl i ever could of been happy with instead of the woman i never really cared for except as a passing fancy. my happyness would be complete al if i had not of let that woman steal thirty dollars off of me. your happy pal, jack. p.s. hazel probibly would of insisted on us takeing a trip to niagara falls or somewheres but i know violet will be perfectly satisfied if i take her right down to bedford. oh you little yellow house. _chicago, illinois, october 9._ friend al: well al we have got them beat three games to one now and will wind up the serious to-morrow sure. callahan sent me in to save poor allen yesterday and i stopped them dead. but i don't care now al. i have lost all interest in the game and i don't care if callahan pitches me to-morrow or not. my heart is just about broke al and i wouldn't be able to do myself justice feeling the way i do. i have lost violet al and just when i was figureing on being the happyest man in the world. we will get the big money but it won't do me no good. they can keep my share because i won't have no little girl to spend it on. her answer to my letter was waiting for me at home to-night. she is engaged to be married to joe hill the big lefthander jennings got from providence. honest al i don't see how he gets by. he ain't got no more curve ball than a rabbit and his fast one floats up there like a big balloon. he beat us the last game of the regular season here but it was because callahan had a lot of bushers in the game. i wish i had knew then that he was stealing my girl and i would of made callahan pitch me against him. and when he come up to bat i would of beaned him. but i don't suppose you could hurt him by hitting him in the head. the big stiff. their wedding ain't going to come off till next summer and by that time he will be pitching in the southwestern texas league for about fifty dollars a month. violet wrote that she wished me all the luck and happyness in the world but it is too late for me to be happy al and i don't care what kind of luck i have now. al you will have to get rid of that lease for me. fix it up the best way you can. tell the old man i have changed my plans. i don't know just yet what i will do but maybe i will go to australia with mike donlin's team. if i do i won't care if the boat goes down or not. i don't believe i will even come back to bedford this winter. it would drive me wild to go past that little house every day and think how happy i might of been. maybe i will pitch to-morrow al and if i do the serious will be over to-morrow night. i can beat them cubs if i get any kind of decent support. but i don't care now al. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 12._ al: your letter received. if the old man won't call it off i guess i will have to try and rent the house to some one else. do you know of any couple that wants one al? it looks like i would have to come down there myself and fix things up someway. he is just mean enough to stick me with the house on my hands when i won't have no use for it. they beat us the day before yesterday as you probibly know and it rained yesterday and to-day. the papers says it will be all o.k. to-morrow and callahan tells me i am going to work. the cub pitchers was all shot to peaces and the bad weather is just nuts for them because it will give cheney a good rest. but i will beat him al if they don't kick it away behind me. i must close because i promised allen the little lefthander that i would come over to his flat and play cards a while to-night and i must wash up and change my collar. allen's wife's sister is visiting them again and i would give anything not to have to go over there. i am through with girls and don't want nothing to do with them. i guess it is maybe a good thing it rained to-day because i dreamt about violet last night and went out and got a couple of high balls before breakfast this morning. i hadn't never drank nothing before breakfast before and it made me kind of sick. but i am all o.k. now. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 13._ dear old al: the serious is all over al. we are the champions and i done it. i may be home the day after to-morrow or i may not come for a couple of days. i want to see comiskey before i leave and fix up about my contract for next year. i won't sign for no less than five thousand and if he hands me a contract for less than that i will leave the white sox flat on their back. i have got over fourteen hundred dollars now al with the city serious money which was $814.30 and i don't have to worry. them reporters will have to give me a square deal this time al. i had everything and the cubs done well to score a run. i whiffed zimmerman three times. some of the boys say he ain't no hitter but he is a hitter and a good one al only he could not touch the stuff i got. the umps give them their run because in the fourth inning i had leach flatfooted off of second base and weaver tagged him o.k. but the umps wouldn't call it. then schulte the lucky stiff happened to get a hold of one and pulled it past first base. i guess chase must of been asleep. anyway they scored but i don't care because we piled up six runs on cheney and i drove in one of them myself with one of the prettiest singles you ever see. it was a spitter and i hit it like a shot. if i had hit it square it would of went out of the park. comiskey ought to feel pretty good about me winning and i guess he will give me a contract for anything i want. he will have to or i will go to the federal league. we are all invited to a show to-night and i am going with allen and his wife and her sister florence. she is o.k. al and i guess she thinks the same about me. she must because she was out to the game to-day and seen me hand it to them. she maybe ain't as pretty as violet and hazel but as they say beauty isn't only so deep. well al tell the boys i will be with them soon. i have gave up the idea of going to australia because i would have to buy a evening full-dress suit and they tell me they cost pretty near fifty dollars. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 14._ friend al: never mind about that lease. i want the house after all al and i have got the supprise of your life for you. when i come home to bedford i will bring my wife with me. i and florence fixed things all up after the show last night and we are going to be married to-morrow morning. i am a busy man to-day al because i have got to get the license and look round for furniture. and i have also got to buy some new cloths but they are haveing a sale on cottage grove avenue at clark's store and i know one of the clerks there. i am the happyest man in the world al. you and bertha and i and florence will have all kinds of good times together this winter because i know bertha and florence will like each other. florence looks something like bertha at that. i am glad i didn't get tied up with violet or hazel even if they was a little bit prettier than florence. florence knows a lot about baseball for a girl and you would be supprised to hear her talk. she says i am the best pitcher in the league and she has saw them all. she all so says i am the best looking ball player she ever seen but you know how girls will kid a guy al. you will like her o.k. i fell for her the first time i seen her. your old pal, jack. p.s. i signed up for next year. comiskey slapped me on the back when i went in to see him and told me i would be a star next year if i took good care of myself. i guess i am a star without waiting for next year al. my contract calls for twenty-eight hundred a year which is a thousand more than i was getting. and it is pretty near a cinch that i will be in on the world serious money next season. p.s. i certainly am relieved about that lease. it would of been fierce to of had that place on my hands all winter and not getting any use out of it. everything is all o.k. now. oh you little yellow house. chapter iii the busher's honeymoon _chicago, illinois, october 17._ friend al: well al it looks as if i would not be writeing so much to you now that i am a married man. yes al i and florrie was married the day before yesterday just like i told you we was going to be and al i am the happyest man in the world though i have spent $30 in the last 3 days incluseive. you was wise al to get married in bedford where not nothing is nearly half so dear. my expenses was as follows: license $ 2.00 preist 3.50 haircut and shave .35 shine .05 carfair .45 new suit 14.50 show tickets 3.00 flowers .50 candy .30 hotel 4.50 tobacco both kinds .25 you see al it costs a hole lot of money to get married here. the sum of what i have wrote down is $29.40 but as i told you i have spent $30 and i do not know what i have did with that other $0.60. my new brother-in-law allen told me i should ought to give the preist $5 and i thought it should be about $2 the same as the license so i split the difference and give him $3.50. i never seen him before and probily won't never see him again so why should i give him anything at all when it is his business to marry couples? but i like to do the right thing. you know me al. i thought we would be in bedford by this time but florrie wants to say here a few more days because she says she wants to be with her sister. allen and his wife is thinking about takeing a flat for the winter instead of going down to waco texas where they live. i don't see no sense in that when it costs so much to live here but it is none of my business if they want to throw their money away. but i am glad i got a wife with some sense though she kicked because i did not get no room with a bath which would cost me $2 a day instead of $1.50. i says i guess the clubhouse is still open yet and if i want a bath i can go over there and take the shower. she says yes and i suppose i can go and jump in the lake. but she would not do that al because the lake here is cold at this time of the year. when i told you about my expenses i did not include in it the meals because we would be eating them if i was getting married or not getting married only i have to pay for six meals a day now instead of three and i didn't used to eat no lunch in the playing season except once in a while when i knowed i was not going to work that afternoon. i had a meal ticket which had not quite ran out over to a resturunt on indiana ave and we eat there for the first day except at night when i took allen and his wife to the show with us and then he took us to a chop suye resturunt. i guess you have not never had no chop suye al and i am here to tell you you have not missed nothing but when allen was going to buy the supper what could i say? i could not say nothing. well yesterday and to-day we been eating at a resturunt on cottage grove ave near the hotel and at the resturunt on indiana that i had the meal ticket at only i do not like to buy no new meal ticket when i am not going to be round here no more than a few days. well al i guess the meals has cost me all together about $1.50 and i have eat very little myself. florrie always wants desert ice cream or something and that runs up into money faster than regular stuff like stake and ham and eggs. well al florrie says it is time for me to keep my promise and take her to the moveing pictures which is $0.20 more because the one she likes round here costs a dime apeace. so i must close for this time and will see you soon. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 22_. al: just a note al to tell you why i have not yet came to bedford yet where i expected i would be long before this time. allen and his wife have took a furnished flat for the winter and allen's wife wants florrie to stay here untill they get settled. meentime it is costing me a hole lot of money at the hotel and for meals besides i am paying $10 a month rent for the house you got for me and what good am i getting out of it? but florrie wants to help her sister and what can i say? though i did make her promise she would not stay no longer than next saturday at least. so i guess al we will be home on the evening train saturday and then may be i can save some money. i know al that you and bertha will like florrie when you get acquainted with her spesially bertha though florrie dresses pretty swell and spends a hole lot of time fusing with her face and her hair. she says to me to-night who are you writeing to and i told her al blanchard who i have told you about a good many times. she says i bet you are writeing to some girl and acted like as though she was kind of jealous. so i thought i would tease her a little and i says i don't know no girls except you and violet and hazel. who is violet and hazel? she says. i kind of laughed and says oh i guess i better not tell you and then she says i guess you will tell me. that made me kind of mad because no girl can't tell me what to do. she says are you going to tell me? and i says no. then she says if you don't tell me i will go over to marie's that is her sister allen's wife and stay all night. i says go on and she went downstairs but i guess she probily went to get a soda because she has some money of her own that i give her. this was about two hours ago and she is probily down in the hotel lobby now trying to scare me by makeing me believe she has went to her sister's. but she can't fool me al and i am now going out to mail this letter and get a beer. i won't never tell her about violet and hazel if she is going to act like that. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 24._ friend al: i guess i told you al that we would be home saturday evening. i have changed my mind. allen and his wife has a spair bedroom and wants us to come there and stay a week or two. it won't cost nothing except they will probily want to go out to the moveing pictures nights and we will probily have to go along with them and i am a man al that wants to pay his share and not be cheap. i and florrie had our first quarrle the other night. i guess i told you the start of it but i don't remember. i made some crack about violet and hazel just to tease florrie and she wanted to know who they was and i would not tell her. so she gets sore and goes over to marie's to stay all night. i was just kidding al and was willing to tell her about them two poor girls whatever she wanted to know except that i don't like to brag about girls being stuck on me. so i goes over to marie's after her and tells her all about them except that i turned them down cold at the last minute to marry her because i did not want her to get all swelled up. she made me sware that i did not never care nothing about them and that was easy because it was the truth. so she come back to the hotel with me just like i knowed she would when i ordered her to. they must not be no mistake about who is the boss in my house. some men lets their wife run all over them but i am not that kind. you know me al. i must get busy and pack my suitcase if i am going to move over to allen's. i sent three collars and a shirt to the laundrey this morning so even if we go over there to-night i will have to take another trip back this way in a day or two. i won't mind al because they sell my kind of beer down to the corner and i never seen it sold nowheres else in chi. you know the kind it is, eh al? i wish i was lifting a few with you to-night. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 28._ dear old al: florrie and marie has went downtown shopping because florrie thinks she has got to have a new dress though she has got two changes of cloths now and i don't know what she can do with another one. i hope she don't find none to suit her though it would not hurt none if she got something for next spring at a reduckshon. i guess she must think i am charles a. comiskey or somebody. allen has went to a colledge football game. one of the reporters give him a pass. i don't see nothing in football except a lot of scrapping between little slobs that i could lick the whole bunch of them so i did not care to go. the reporter is one of the guys that travled round with our club all summer. he called up and said he hadn't only the one pass but he was not hurting my feelings none because i would not go to no rotten football game if they payed me. the flat across the hall from this here one is for rent furnished. they want $40 a month for it and i guess they think they must be lots of suckers running round loose. marie was talking about it and says why don't you and florrie take it and then we can be right together all winter long and have some big times? florrie says it would be all right with me. what about it jack? i says what do you think i am? i don't have to live in no high price flat when i got a home in bedford where they ain't no people trying to hold everybody up all the time. so they did not say no more about it when they seen i was in ernest. nobody cannot tell me where i am going to live sister-in-law or no sister-in-law. if i was to rent the rotten old flat i would be paying $50 a month rent includeing the house down in bedford. fine chance al. well al i am lonesome and thirsty so more later. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, november 2._ friend al: well al i got some big news for you. i am not comeing to bedford this winter after all except to make a visit which i guess will be round xmas. i changed my mind about that flat across the hall from the allens and decided to take it after all. the people who was in it and owns the furniture says they would let us have it till the 1 of may if we would pay $42.50 a month which is only $2.50 a month more than they would of let us have it for for a short time. so you see we got a bargain because it is all furnished and everything and we won't have to blow no money on furniture besides the club goes to california the middle of febuery so florrie would not have no place to stay while i am away. the allens only subleased their flat from some other people till the 2 of febuery and when i and allen goes west marie can come over and stay with florrie so you see it is best all round. if we should of boughten furniture it would cost us in the neighborhood of $100 even without no piano and they is a piano in this here flat which makes it nice because florrie plays pretty good with one hand and we can have lots of good times at home without it costing us nothing except just the bear liveing expenses. i consider myself lucky to of found out about this before it was too late and somebody else had of gotten the tip. now al old pal i want to ask a great favor of you al. i all ready have payed one month rent $10 on the house in bedford and i want you to see the old man and see if he won't call off that lease. why should i be paying $10 a month rent down there and $42.50 up here when the house down there is not no good to me because i am liveing up here all winter? see al? tell him i will gladly give him another month rent to call off the lease but don't tell him that if you don't have to. i want to be fare with him. if you will do this favor for me, al, i won't never forget it. give my kindest to bertha and tell her i am sorry i and florrie won't see her right away but you see how it is al. yours, jack. _chicago, illinois, november 30._ friend al: i have not wrote for a long time have i al but i have been very busy. they was not enough furniture in the flat and we have been buying some more. they was enough for some people maybe but i and florrie is the kind that won't have nothing but the best. the furniture them people had in the liveing room was oak but they had a bookcase bilt in in the flat that was mohoggeny and florrie would not stand for no joke combination like that so she moved the oak chairs and table in to the spair bedroom and we went downtown to buy some mohoggeny. but it costs too much al and we was feeling pretty bad about it when we seen some sir cashion walnut that was prettier even than the mohoggeny and not near so expensive. it is not no real sir cashion walnut but it is just as good and we got it reasonable. then we got some mission chairs for the dining room because the old ones was just straw and was no good and we got a big lether couch for $9 that somebody can sleep on if we get to much company. i hope you and bertha can come up for the holidays and see how comfertible we are fixed. that is all the new furniture we have boughten but florrie set her heart on some old rose drapes and a red table lamp that is the biggest you ever seen al and i did not have the heart to say no. the hole thing cost me in the neighborhood of $110 which is very little for what we got and then it will always be ourn even when we move away from this flat though we will have to leave the furniture that belongs to the other people but their part of it is not no good anyway. i guess i told you al how much money i had when the season ended. it was $1400 all told includeing the city serious money. well al i got in the neighborhood of $800 left because i give $200 to florrie to send down to texas to her other sister who had a bad egg for a husband that managed a club in the texas oklahoma league and this was the money she had to pay to get the divorce. i am glad al that i was lucky enough to marry happy and get a good girl for my wife that has got some sense and besides if i have got $800 left i should not worry as they say. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, december 7._ dear old al: no i was in ernest al when i says that i wanted you and bertha to come up here for the holidays. i know i told you that i might come to bedford for the holidays but that is all off. i have gave up the idea of comeing to bedford for the holidays and i want you to be sure and come up here for the holidays and i will show you a good time. i would love to have bertha come to and she can come if she wants to only florrie don't know if she would have a good time or not and thinks maybe she would rather stay in bedford and you come alone. but be sure and have bertha come if she wants to come but maybe she would not injoy it. you know best al. i don't think the old man give me no square deal on that lease but if he wants to stick me all right. i am grateful to you al for trying to fix it up but maybe you could of did better if you had of went at it in a different way. i am not finding no fault with my old pal though. don't think that. when i have a pal i am the man to stick to him threw thick and thin. if the old man is going to hold me to that lease i guess i will have to stand it and i guess i won't starv to death for no $10 a month because i am going to get $2800 next year besides the city serious money and maybe we will get into the world serious too. i know we will if callahan will pitch me every 3d day like i wanted him to last season. but if you had of approached the old man in a different way maybe you could of fixed it up. i wish you would try it again al if it is not no trouble. we had allen and his wife here for thanksgiveing dinner and the dinner cost me better than $5. i thought we had enough to eat to last a week but about six o'clock at night florrie and marie said they was hungry and we went downtown and had dinner all over again and i payed for it and it cost me $5 more. allen was all ready to pay for it when florrie said no this day's treat is on us so i had to pay for it but i don't see why she did not wait and let me do the talking. i was going to pay for it any way. be sure and come and visit us for the holidays al and of coarse if bertha wants to come bring her along. we will be glad to see you both. i won't never go back on a friend and pal. you know me al. your old pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, december 20._ friend al: i don't see what can be the matter with bertha because you know al we would not care how she dressed and would not make no kick if she come up here in a night gown. she did not have no license to say we was to swell for her because we did not never think of nothing like that. i wish you would talk to her again al and tell her she need not get sore on me and that both her and you is welcome at my house any time i ask you to come. see if you can't make her change her mind al because i feel like as if she must of took offense at something i may of wrote you. i am sorry you and her are not comeing but i suppose you know best. only we was getting all ready for you and florrie said only the other day that she wished the holidays was over but that was before she knowed you was not comeing. i hope you can come al. well al i guess there is not no use talking to the old man no more. you have did the best you could but i wish i could of came down there and talked to him. i will pay him his rotten old $10 a month and the next time i come to bedford and meet him on the street i will bust his jaw. i know he is a old man al but i don't like to see nobody get the best of me and i am sorry i ever asked him to let me off. some of them old skinflints has no heart al but why should i fight with a old man over chicken feed like $10? florrie says a star pitcher like i should not ought never to scrap about little things and i guess she is right al so i will pay the old man his $10 a month if i have to. florrie says she is jealous of me writeing to you so much and she says she would like to meet this great old pal of mine. i would like to have her meet you to al and i would like to have you change your mind and come and visit us and i am sorry you can't come al. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, december 27._ old pal: i guess all these lefthanders is alike though i thought this allen had some sense. i thought he was different from the most and was not no rummy but they are all alike al and they are all lucky that somebody don't hit them over the head with a ax and kill them but i guess at that you could not hurt no lefthanders by hitting them over the head. we was all down on state st. the day before xmas and the girls was all tired out and ready to go home but allen says no i guess we better stick down a while because now the crowds is out and it will be fun to watch them. so we walked up and down state st. about a hour longer and finally we come in front of a big jewlry store window and in it was a swell dimond ring that was marked $100. it was a ladies' ring so marie says to allen why don't you buy that for me? and allen says do you really want it? and she says she did. so we tells the girls to wait and we goes over to a salloon where allen has got a friend and gets a check cashed and we come back and he bought the ring. then florrie looks like as though she was getting all ready to cry and i asked her what was the matter and she says i had not boughten her no ring not even when we was engaged. so i and allen goes back to the salloon and i gets a check cashed and we come back and bought another ring but i did not think the ring allen had boughten was worth no $100 so i gets one for $75. now al you know i am not makeing no kick on spending a little money for a present for my own wife but i had allready boughten her a rist watch for $15 and a rist watch was just what she had wanted. i was willing to give her the ring if she had not of wanted the rist watch more than the ring but when i give her the ring i kept the rist watch and did not tell her nothing about it. well i come downtown alone the day after xmas and they would not take the rist watch back in the store where i got it. so i am going to give it to her for a new year's present and i guess that will make allen feel like a dirty doose. but i guess you cannot hurt no lefthander's feelings at that. they are all alike. but allen has not got nothing but a dinky curve ball and a fast ball that looks like my slow one. if comiskey was not good hearted he would of sold him long ago. i sent you and bertha a cut glass dish al which was the best i could get for the money and it was pretty high pricet at that. we was glad to get the pretty pincushions from you and bertha and florrie says to tell you that we are well supplied with pincushions now because the ones you sent makes a even half dozen. thanks al for remembering us and thank bertha too though i guess you paid for them. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, januery 3._ old pal: al i been pretty sick ever since new year's eve. we had a table at 1 of the swell resturunts downtown and i never seen so much wine drank in my life. i would rather of had beer but they would not sell us none so i found out that they was a certain kind that you can get for $1 a bottle and it is just as good as the kind that has got all them fancy names but this lefthander starts ordering some other kind about 11 oclock and it was $5 a bottle and the girls both says they liked it better. i could not see a hole lot of difference myself and i would of gave $0.20 for a big stine of my kind of beer. you know me al. well al you know they is not nobody that can drink more than your old pal and i was all o.k. at one oclock but i seen the girls was getting kind of sleepy so i says we better go home. then marie says oh, shut up and don't be no quiter. i says you better shut up yourself and not be telling me to shut up, and she says what will you do if i don't shut up? and i says i would bust her in the jaw. but you know al i would not think of busting no girl. then florrie says you better not start nothing because you had to much to drink or you would not be talking about busting girls in the jaw. then i says i don't care if it is a girl i bust or a lefthander. i did not mean nothing at all al but marie says i had insulted allen and he gets up and slaps my face. well al i am not going to stand that from nobody not even if he is my brother-in-law and a lefthander that has not got enough speed to brake a pain of glass. so i give him a good beating and the waiters butts in and puts us all out for fighting and i and florrie comes home in a taxi and allen and his wife don't get in till about 5 oclock so i guess she must of had to of took him to a doctor to get fixed up. i been in bed ever since till just this morning kind of sick to my stumach. i guess i must of eat something that did not agree with me. allen come over after breakfast this morning and asked me was i all right so i guess he is not sore over the beating i give him or else he wants to make friends because he has saw that i am a bad guy to monkey with. florrie tells me a little while ago that she paid the hole bill at the resturunt with my money because allen was broke so you see what kind of a cheap skate he is al and some day i am going to bust his jaw. she won't tell me how much the bill was and i won't ask her to no more because we had a good time outside of the fight and what do i care if we spent a little money? yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, januery 20._ friend al: allen and his wife have gave up the flat across the hall from us and come over to live with us because we got a spair bedroom and why should they not have the bennifit of it? but it is pretty hard for the girls to have to cook and do the work when they is four of us so i have a hired girl who does it all for $7 a week. it is great stuff al because now we can go round as we please and don't have to wait for no dishes to be washed or nothing. we generally almost always has dinner downtown in the evening so it is pretty soft for the girl too. she don't generally have no more than one meal to get because we generally run round downtown till late and don't get up till about noon. that sounds funny don't it al, when i used to get up at 5 every morning down home. well al i can tell you something else that may sound funny and that is that i lost my taste for beer. i don't seem to care for it no more and i found i can stand allmost as many drinks of other stuff as i could of beer. i guess al they is not nobody ever lived can drink more and stand up better under it than me. i make the girls and allen quit every night. i only got just time to write you this short note because florrie and marie is giving a big party to-night and i and allen have got to beat it out of the house and stay out of the way till they get things ready. it is marie's berthday and she says she is 22 but say al if she is 22 kid gleason is 30. well al the girls says we must blow so i will run out and mail this letter. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, januery 31._ al: allen is going to take marie with him on the training trip to california and of course florrie has been at me to take her along. i told her postivly that she can't go. i can't afford no stunt like that but still i am up against it to know what to do with her while we are on the trip because marie won't be here to stay with her. i don't like to leave her here all alone but they is nothing to it al i can't afford to take her along. she says i don't see why you can't take me if allen takes marie. and i says that stuff is all o.k. for allen because him and marie has been grafting off of us all winter. and then she gets mad and tells me i should not ought to say her sister was no grafter. i did not mean nothing like that al but you don't never know when a woman is going to take offense. if our furniture was down in bedford everything would be all o.k. because i could leave her there and i would feel all o.k. because i would know that you and bertha would see that she was getting along o.k. but they would not be no sense in sending her down to a house that has not no furniture in it. i wish i knowed somewheres where she could visit al. i would be willing to pay her bord even. well al enough for this time. your old pal, jack. chicago, illinois, febuery 4. friend al: you are a real old pal al and i certainly am greatful to you for the invatation. i have not told florrie about it yet but i am sure she will be tickled to death and it is certainly kind of you old pal. i did not never dream of nothing like that. i note what you say al about not excepting no bord but i think it would be better and i would feel better if you would take something say about $2 a week. i know bertha will like florrie and that they will get along o.k. together because florrie can learn her how to make her cloths look good and fix her hair and fix up her face. i feel like as if you had took a big load off of me al and i won't never forget it. if you don't think i should pay no bord for florrie all right. suit yourself about that old pal. we are leaveing here the 20 of febuery and if you don't mind i will bring florrie down to you about the 18. i would like to see the old bunch again and spesially you and bertha. yours, jack. p.s. we will only be away till april 14 and that is just a nice visit. i wish we did not have no flat on our hands. _chicago, illinois, febuery 9._ old pal: i want to thank you for asking florrie to come down there and visit you al but i find she can't get away. i did not know she had no engagements but she says she may go down to her folks in texas and she don't want to say that she will come to visit you when it is so indefanate. so thank you just the same al and thank bertha too. florrie is still at me to take her along to california but honest al i can't do it. i am right down to my last $50 and i have not payed no rent for this month. i owe the hired girl 2 weeks' salery and both i and florrie needs some new cloths. florrie has just came in since i started writeing this letter and we have been talking some more about california and she says maybe if i would ask comiskey he would take her along as the club's guest. i had not never thought of that al and maybe he would because he is a pretty good scout and i guess i will go and see him about it. the league has its skedule meeting here to-morrow and may be i can see him down to the hotel where they meet at. i am so worried al that i can't write no more but i will tell you how i come out with comiskey. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, febuery 11._ friend al: i am up against it right al and i don't know where i am going to head in at. i went down to the hotel where the league was holding its skedule meeting at and i seen comiskey and got some money off of the club but i owe all the money i got off of them and i am still wondering what to do about florrie. comiskey was busy in the meeting when i went down there and they was not no chance to see him for a while so i and allen and some of the boys hung round and had a few drinks and fanned. this here joe hill the busher that detroit has got that violet is hooked up to was round the hotel. i don't know what for but i felt like busting his jaw only the boys told me i had better not do nothing because i might kill him and any way he probily won't be in the league much longer. well finally comiskey got threw the meeting and i seen him and he says hello young man what can i do for you? and i says i would like to get $100 advance money. he says have you been takeing care of yourself down in bedford? and i told him i had been liveing here all winter and it did not seem to make no hit with him though i don't see what business it is of hisn where i live. so i says i had been takeing good care of myself. and i have al. you know that. so he says i should come to the ball park the next day which is to-day and he would have the secretary take care of me but i says i could not wait and so he give me $100 out of his pocket and says he would have it charged against my salery. i was just going to brace him about the california trip when he got away and went back to the meeting. well al i hung round with the bunch waiting for him to get threw again and we had some more drinks and finally comiskey was threw again and i braced him in the lobby and asked him if it was all right to take my wife along to california. he says sure they would be glad to have her along. and then i says would the club pay her fair? he says i guess you must of spent that $100 buying some nerve. he says have you not got no sisters that would like to go along to? he says does your wife insist on the drawing room or will she take a lower birth? he says is my special train good enough for her? then he turns away from me and i guess some of the boys must of heard the stuff he pulled because they was laughing when he went away but i did not see nothing to laugh at. but i guess he ment that i would have to pay her fair if she goes along and that is out of the question al. i am up against it and i don't know where i am going to head in at. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, febuery 12._ dear old al: i guess everything will be all o.k. now at least i am hopeing it will. when i told florrie about how i come out with comiskey she bawled her head off and i thought for a while i was going to have to call a doctor or something but pretty soon she cut it out and we sat there a while without saying nothing. then she says if you could get your salery razed a couple of hundred dollars a year would you borrow the money ahead somewheres and take me along to california? i says yes i would if i could get a couple hundred dollars more salery but how could i do that when i had signed a contract for $2800 last fall allready? she says don't you think you are worth more than $2800? and i says yes of coarse i was worth more than $2800. she says well if you will go and talk the right way to comiskey i believe he will give you $3000 but you must be sure you go at it the right way and don't go and ball it all up. well we argude about it a while because i don't want to hold nobody up al but finally i says i would. it would not be holding nobody up anyway because i am worth $3000 to the club if i am worth a nichol. the papers is all saying that the club has got a good chance to win the pennant this year and talking about the pitching staff and i guess they would not be no pitching staff much if it was not for i and one or two others--about one other i guess. so it looks like as if everything will be all o.k. now al. i am going to the office over to the park to see him the first thing in the morning and i am pretty sure that i will get what i am after because if i do not he will see that i am going to quit and then he will see what he is up against and not let me get away. i will let you know how i come out. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, febuery 14._ friend al: al old pal i have got a big supprise for you. i am going to the federal league. i had a run in with comiskey yesterday and i guess i told him a thing or 2. i guess he would of been glad to sign me at my own figure before i got threw but i was so mad i would not give him no chance to offer me another contract. i got out to the park at 9 oclock yesterday morning and it was a hour before he showed up and then he kept me waiting another hour so i was pretty sore when i finally went in to see him. he says well young man what can i do for you? i says i come to see about my contract. he says do you want to sign up for next year all ready? i says no i am talking about this year. he says i thought i and you talked business last fall. and i says yes but now i think i am worth more money and i want to sign a contract for $3000. he says if you behave yourself and work good this year i will see that you are took care of. but i says that won't do because i have got to be sure i am going to get $3000. then he says i am not sure you are going to get anything. i says what do you mean? and he says i have gave you a very fare contract and if you don't want to live up to it that is your own business. so i give him a awful call al and told him i would jump to the federal league. he says oh, i would not do that if i was you. they are haveing a hard enough time as it is. so i says something back to him and he did not say nothing to me and i beat it out of the office. i have not told florrie about the federal league business yet as i am going to give her a big supprise. i bet they will take her along with me on the training trip and pay her fair but even if they don't i should not worry because i will make them give me a contract for $4000 a year and then i can afford to take her with me on all the trips. i will go down and see tinker to-morrow morning and i will write you to-morrow night al how much salery they are going to give me. but i won't sign for no less than $4000. you know me al. yours, jack. _chicago, illinois, febuery 15._ old pal: it is pretty near midnight al but i been to bed a couple of times and i can't get no sleep. i am worried to death al and i don't know where i am going to head in at. maybe i will go out and buy a gun al and end it all and i guess it would be better for everybody. but i cannot do that al because i have not got the money to buy a gun with. i went down to see tinker about signing up with the federal league and he was busy in the office when i come in. pretty soon buck perry the pitcher that was with boston last year come out and seen me and as tinker was still busy we went out and had a drink together. buck shows me a contract for $5000 a year and tinker had allso gave him a $500 bonus. so pretty soon i went up to the office and pretty soon tinker seen me and called me into his private office and asked what did i want. i says i was ready to jump for $4000 and a bonus. he says i thought you was signed up with the white sox. i says yes i was but i was not satisfied. he says that does not make no difference to me if you are satisfied or not. you ought to of came to me before you signed a contract. i says i did not know enough but i know better now. he says well it is to late now. we cannot have nothing to do with you because you have went and signed a contract with the white sox. i argude with him a while and asked him to come out and have a drink so we could talk it over but he said he was busy so they was nothing for me to do but blow. so i am not going to the federal league al and i will not go with the white sox because i have got a raw deal. comiskey will be sorry for what he done when his team starts the season and is up against it for good pitchers and then he will probily be willing to give me anything i ask for but that don't do me no good now al. i am way in debt and no chance to get no money from nobody. i wish i had of stayed with terre haute al and never saw this league. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, febuery 17._ friend al: al don't never let nobody tell you that these here lefthanders is right. this allen my own brother-in-law who married sisters has been grafting and spongeing on me all winter al. look what he done to me now al. you know how hard i been up against it for money and i know he has got plenty of it because i seen it on him. well al i was scared to tell florrie i was cleaned out and so i went to allen yesterday and says i had to have $100 right away because i owed the rent and owed the hired girl's salery and could not even pay no grocery bill. and he says no he could not let me have none because he has got to save all his money to take his wife on the trip to california. and here he has been liveing on me all winter and maybe i could of took my wife to california if i had not of spent all my money takeing care of this no good lefthander and his wife. and al honest he has not got a thing and ought not to be in the league. he gets by with a dinky curve ball and has not got no more smoke than a rabbit or something. well al i felt like busting him in the jaw but then i thought no i might kill him and then i would have marie and florrie both to take care of and god knows one of them is enough besides paying his funeral expenses. so i walked away from him without takeing a crack at him and went into the other room where florrie and marie was at. i says to marie i says marie i wish you would go in the other room a minute because i want to talk to florrie. so marie beats it into the other room and then i tells florrie all about what comiskey and the federal league done to me. she bawled something awful and then she says i was no good and she wished she had not never married me. i says i wisht it too and then she says do you mean that and starts to cry. i told her i was sorry i says that because they is not no use fusing with girls al specially when they is your wife. she says no california trip for me and then she says what are you going to do? and i says i did not know. she says well if i was a man i would do something. so then i got mad and i says i will do something. so i went down to the corner salloon and started in to get good and drunk but i could not do it al because i did not have the money. well old pal i am going to ask you a big favor and it is this i want you to send me $100 al for just a few days till i can get on my feet. i do not know when i can pay it back al but i guess you know the money is good and i know you have got it. who would not have it when they live in bedford? and besides i let you take $20 in june 4 years ago al and you give it back but i would not have said nothing to you if you had of kept it. let me hear from you right away old pal. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, febuery 19._ al: i am certainly greatful to you al for the $100 which come just a little while ago. i will pay the rent with it and part of the grocery bill and i guess the hired girl will have to wait a while for hern but she is sure to get it because i don't never forget my debts. i have changed my mind about the white sox and i am going to go on the trip and take florrie along because i don't think it would not be right to leave her here alone in chi when her sister and all of us is going. i am going over to the ball park and up in the office pretty soon to see about it. i will tell comiskey i changed my mind and he will be glad to get me back because the club has not got no chance to finish nowheres without me. but i won't go on no trip or give the club my services without them giveing me some more advance money so as i can take florrie along with me because al i would not go without her. maybe comiskey will make my salery $3000 like i wanted him to when he sees i am willing to be a good fellow and go along with him and when he knows that the federal league would of gladly gave me $4000 if i had not of signed no contract with the white sox. i think i will ask him for $200 advance money al and if i get it may be i can send part of your $100 back to you but i know you cannot be in no hurry al though you says you wanted it back as soon as possible. you could not be very hard up al because it don't cost near so much to live in bedford as it does up here. anyway i will let you know how i come out with comiskey and i will write you as soon as i get out to paso robles if i don't get no time to write you before i leave. your pal, jack. p.s. i have took good care of myself all winter al and i guess i ought to have a great season. p.s. florrie is tickled to death about going along and her and i will have some time together out there on the coast if i can get some money somewheres. _chicago, illinois, febuery 21._ friend al: i have not got the heart to write this letter to you al. i am up here in my $42.50 a month flat and the club has went to california and florrie has went too. i am flat broke al and all i am asking you is to send me enough money to pay my fair to bedford and they and all their leagues can go to hell al. i was out to the ball park early yesterday morning and some of the boys was there all ready fanning and kidding each other. they tried to kid me to when i come in but i guess i give them as good as they give me. i was not in no mind for kidding al because i was there on business and i wanted to see comiskey and get it done with. well the secretary come in finally and i went up to him and says i wanted to see comiskey right away. he says the boss was busy and what did i want to see him about and i says i wanted to get some advance money because i was going to take my wife on the trip. he says this would be a fine time to be telling us about it even if you was going on the trip. and i says what do you mean? and he says you are not going on no trip with us because we have got wavers on you and you are sold to milwaukee. honest al i thought he was kidding at first and i was waiting for him to laugh but he did not laugh and finally i says what do you mean? and he says cannot you understand no english? you are sold to milwaukee. then i says i want to see the boss. he says it won't do you no good to see the boss and he is to busy to see you. i says i want to get some money. and he says you cannot get no money from this club and all you get is your fair to milwaukee. i says i am not going to no milwaukee anyway and he says i should not worry about that. suit yourself. well al i told some of the boys about it and they was pretty sore and says i ought to bust the secretary in the jaw and i was going to do it when i thought no i better not because he is a little guy and i might kill him. i looked all over for kid gleason but he was not nowheres round and they told me he would not get into town till late in the afternoon. if i could of saw him al he would of fixed me all up. i asked 3 or 4 of the boys for some money but they says they was all broke. but i have not told you the worst of it yet al. when i come back to the flat allen and marie and florrie was busy packing up and they asked me how i come out. i told them and allen just stood there stareing like a big rummy but marie and florrie both begin to cry and i almost felt like as if i would like to cry to only i am not no baby al. well al i told florrie she might just is well quit packing and make up her mind that she was not going nowheres till i got money enough to go to bedford where i belong. she kept right on crying and it got so i could not stand it no more so i went out to get a drink because i still had just about a dollar left yet. it was about 2 oclock when i left the flat and pretty near 5 when i come back because i had ran in to some fans that knowed who i was and would not let me get away and besides i did not want to see no more of allen and marie till they was out of the house and on their way. but when i come in al they was nobody there. they was not nothing there except the furniture and a few of my things scattered round. i sit down for a few minutes because i guess i must of had to much to drink but finally i seen a note on the table addressed to me and i seen it was florrie's writeing. i do not remember just what was there in the note al because i tore it up the minute i read it but it was something about i could not support no wife and allen had gave her enough money to go back to texas and she was going on the 6 oclock train and it would not do me no good to try and stop her. well al they was not no danger of me trying to stop her. she was not no good al and i wisht i had not of never saw either she or her sister or my brother-in-law. for a minute i thought i would follow allen and his wife down to the deepo where the special train was to pull out of and wait till i see him and punch his jaw but i seen that would not get me nothing. so here i am all alone al and i will have to stay here till you send me the money to come home. you better send me $25 because i have got a few little debts i should ought to pay before i leave town. i am not going to milwaukee al because i did not get no decent deal and nobody cannot make no sucker out of me. please hurry up with the $25 al old friend because i am sick and tired of chi and want to get back there with my old pal. yours, jack. p.s. al i wish i had of took poor little violet when she was so stuck on me. chapter iv a new busher breaks in _chicago, illinois, march 2._ friend al: al that peace in the paper was all o.k. and the right dope just like you said. i seen president johnson the president of the league to-day and he told me the peace in the papers was the right dope and comiskey did not have no right to sell me to milwaukee because the detroit club had never gave no wavers on me. he says the detroit club was late in fileing their claim and comiskey must of tooken it for granted that they was going to wave but president johnson was pretty sore about it at that and says comiskey did not have no right to sell me till he was positive that they was not no team that wanted me. it will probily cost comiskey some money for acting like he done and not paying no attention to the rules and i would not be supprised if president johnson had him throwed out of the league. well i asked president johnson should i report at once to the detroit club down south and he says no you better wait till you hear from comiskey and i says what has comiskey got to do with it now? and he says comiskey will own you till he sells you to detroit or somewheres else. so i will have to go out to the ball park to-morrow and see is they any mail for me there because i probily will get a letter from comiskey telling me i am sold to detroit. if i had of thought at the time i would of knew that detroit never would give no wavers on me after the way i showed cobb and crawford up last fall and i might of knew too that detroit is in the market for good pitchers because they got a rotten pitching staff but they won't have no rotten staff when i get with them. if necessary i will pitch every other day for jennings and if i do we will win the pennant sure because detroit has got a club that can get 2 or 3 runs every day and all as i need to win most of my games is 1 run. i can't hardly wait till jennings works me against the white sox and what i will do to them will be a plenty. it don't take no pitching to beat them anyway and when they get up against a pitcher like i they might as well leave their bats in the bag for all the good their bats will do them. i guess cobb and crawford will be glad to have me on the detroit club because then they won't never have to hit against me except in practice and i won't pitch my best in practice because they will be teammates of mine and i don't never like to show none of my teammates up. at that though i don't suppose jennings will let me do much pitching in practice because when he gets a hold of a good pitcher he won't want me to take no chances of throwing my arm away in practice. al just think how funny it will be to have me pitching for the tigers in the same town where violet lives and pitching on the same club with her husband. it will not be so funny for violet and her husband though because when she has a chance to see me work regular she will find out what a mistake she made takeing that lefthander instead of a man that has got some future and soon will be makeing 5 or $6000 a year because i won't sign with detroit for no less than $5000 at most. of coarse i could of had her if i had of wanted to but still and all it will make her feel pretty sick to see me winning games for detroit while her husband is batting fungos and getting splinters in his unie from slideing up and down the bench. as for her husband the first time he opens his clam to me i will haul off and bust him one in the jaw but i guess he will know more than to start trouble with a man of my size and who is going to be one of their stars while he is just holding down a job because they feel sorry for him. i wish he could of got the girl i married instead of the one he got and i bet she would of drove him crazy. but i guess you can't drive a lefthander crazyer than he is to begin with. i have not heard nothing from florrie al and i don't want to hear nothing. i and her is better apart and i wish she would sew me for a bill of divorce so she could not go round claiming she is my wife and disgraceing my name. if she would consent to sew me for a bill of divorce i would gladly pay all the expenses and settle with her for any sum of money she wants say about $75.00 or $100.00 and they is no reason i should give her a nichol after the way her and her sister marie and her brother-in-law allen grafted off of me. probily i could sew her for a bill of divorce but they tell me it costs money to sew and if you just lay low and let the other side do the sewing it don't cost you a nichol. it is pretty late al and i have got to get up early to-morrow and go to the ball park and see is they any mail for me. i will let you know what i hear old pal. your old pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, march 4._ al: i am up against it again. i went out to the ball park office yesterday and they was nobody there except john somebody who is asst secretary and all the rest of them is out on the coast with the team. maybe this here john was trying to kid me but this is what he told me. first i says is they a letter here for me? and he says no. and i says i was expecting word from comiskey that i should join the detroit club and he says what makes you think you are going to detroit? i says comiskey asked wavers on me and detroit did not give no wavers. he says well that is not no sign that you are going to detroit. if comiskey can't get you out of the league he will probily keep you himself and it is a cinch he is not going to give no pitcher to detroit no matter how rotten he is. i says what do you mean? and he says you just stick round town till you hear from comiskey and i guess you will hear pretty soon because he is comeing back from the coast next saturday. i says well the only thing he can tell me is to report to detroit because i won't never pitch again for the white sox. then john gets fresh and says i suppose you will quit the game and live on your saveings and then i blowed out of the office because i was scared i would loose my temper and break something. so you see al what i am up against. i won't never pitch for the white sox again and i want to get with the detroit club but how can i if comiskey won't let me go? all i can do is stick round till next saturday and then i will see comiskey and i guess when i tell him what i think of him he will be glad to let me go to detroit or anywheres else. i will have something on him this time because i know that he did not pay no attention to the rules when he told me i was sold to milwaukee and if he tries to slip something over on me i will tell president johnson of the league all about it and then you will see where comiskey heads in at. al old pal that $25.00 you give me at the station the other day is all shot to peaces and i must ask you to let me have $25.00 more which will make $75.00 all together includeing the $25.00 you sent me before i come home. i hate to ask you this favor old pal but i know you have got the money. if i am sold to detroit i will get some advance money and pay up all my dedts incluseive. if he don't let me go to detroit i will make him come across with part of my salery for this year even if i don't pitch for him because i signed a contract and was ready to do my end of it and would of if he had not of been nasty and tried to slip something over on me. if he refuses to come across i will hire a attorney at law and he will get it all. so al you see you have got a cinch on getting back what you lone me but i guess you know that al without all this talk because you have been my old pal for a good many years and i have allways treated you square and tried to make you feel that i and you was equals and that my success was not going to make me forget my old friends. wherever i pitch this year i will insist on a salery of 5 or $6000 a year. so you see on my first pay day i will have enough to pay you up and settle the rest of my dedts but i am not going to pay no more rent for this rotten flat because they tell me if a man don't pay no rent for a while they will put him out. let them put me out. i should not worry but will go and rent my old room that i had before i met florrie and got into all this trouble. the sooner you can send me that $35.00 the better and then i will owe you $85.00 incluseive and i will write and let you know how i come out with comiskey. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, march 12._ friend al: i got another big supprise for you and this is it i am going to pitch for the white sox after all. if comiskey was not a old man i guess i would of lost my temper and beat him up but i am glad now that i kept my temper and did not loose it because i forced him to make a lot of consessions and now it looks like as though i would have a big year both pitching and money. he got back to town yesterday morning and showed up to his office in the afternoon and i was there waiting for him. he would not see me for a while but finally i acted like as though i was getting tired of waiting and i guess the secretary got scared that i would beat it out of the office and leave them all in the lerch. anyway he went in and spoke to comiskey and then come out and says the boss was ready to see me. when i went into the office where he was at he says well young man what can i do for you? and i says i want you to give me my release so as i can join the detroit club down south and get in shape. then he says what makes you think you are going to join the detroit club? because we need you here. i says then why did you try to sell me to milwaukee? but you could not because you could not get no wavers. then he says i thought i was doing you a favor by sending you to milwaukee because they make a lot of beer up there. i says what do you mean? he says you been keeping in shape all this winter by trying to drink this town dry and besides that you tried to hold me up for more money when you allready had signed a contract allready and so i was going to send you to milwaukee and learn you something and besides you tried to go with the federal league but they would not take you because they was scared to. i don't know where he found out all that stuff at al and besides he was wrong when he says i was drinking to much because they is not nobody that can drink more than me and not be effected. but i did not say nothing because i was scared i would forget myself and call him some name and he is a old man. yes i did say something. i says well i guess you found out that you could not get me out of the league and then he says don't never think i could not get you out of the league. if you think i can't send you to milwaukee i will prove it to you that i can. i says you can't because detroit won't give no wavers on me. he says detroit will give wavers on you quick enough if i ask them. then he says now you can take your choice you can stay here and pitch for me at the salery you signed up for and you can cut out the monkey business and drink water when you are thirsty or else you can go up to milwaukee and drownd yourself in one of them brewrys. which shall it be? i says how can you keep me or send me to milwaukee when detroit has allready claimed my services? he says detroit has claimed a lot of things and they have even claimed the pennant but that is not no sign they will win it. he says and besides you would not want to pitch for detroit because then you would not never have no chance to pitch against cobb and show him up. well al when he says that i knowed he appresiated what a pitcher i am even if he did try to sell me to milwaukee or he would not of made that remark about the way i can show cobb and crawford up. so i says well if you need me that bad i will pitch for you but i must have a new contract. he says oh i guess we can fix that up o.k. and he steps out in the next room a while and then he comes back with a new contract. and what do you think it was al? it was a contract for 3 years so you see i am sure of my job here for 3 years and everything is all o.k. the contract calls for the same salery a year for 3 years that i was going to get before for only 1 year which is $2800.00 a year and then i will get in on the city serious money too and the detroit club don't have no city serious and have no chance to get into the world's serious with the rotten pitching staff they got. so you see al he fixed me up good and that shows that he must think a hole lot of me or he would of sent me to detroit or maybe to milwaukee but i don't see how he could of did that without no wavers. well al i allmost forgot to tell you that he has gave me a ticket to los angeles where the 2d team are practicing at now but where the 1st team will be at in about a week. i am leaveing to-night and i guess before i go i will go down to president johnson and tell him that i am fixed up all o.k. and have not got no kick comeing so that president johnson will not fine comiskey for not paying no attention to the rules or get him fired out of the league because i guess comiskey must be all o.k. and good hearted after all. i won't pay no attention to what he says about me drinking this town dry because he is all wrong in regards to that. he must of been jokeing i guess because nobody but some boob would think he could drink this town dry but at that i guess i can hold more than anybody and not be effected. but i guess i will cut it out for a while at that because i don't want to get them sore at me after the contract they give me. i will write to you from los angeles al and let you know what the boys says when they see me and i will bet that they will be tickled to death. the rent man was round to-day but i seen him comeing and he did not find me. i am going to leave the furniture that belongs in the flat in the flat and allso the furniture i bought which don't amount to much because it was not no real sir cashion walnut and besides i don't want nothing round me to remind me of florrie because the sooner her and i forget each other the better. tell the boys about my good luck al but it is not no luck neither because it was comeing to me. yours truly, jack. _los angeles, california, march 16._ al: here i am back with the white sox again and it seems to good to be true because just like i told you they are all tickled to death to see me. kid gleason is here in charge of the 2d team and when he seen me come into the hotel he jumped up and hit me in the stumach but he acts like that whenever he feels good so i could not get sore at him though he had no right to hit me in the stumach. if he had of did it in ernest i would of walloped him in the jaw. he says well if here ain't the old lady killer. he ment al that i am strong with the girls but i am all threw with them now but he don't know nothing about the troubles i had. he says are you in shape? and i told him yes i am. he says yes you look in shape like a barrel. i says they is not no fat on me and if i am a little bit bigger than last year it is because my mussels is bigger. he says yes your stumach mussels is emense and you must of gave them plenty of exercise. wait till bodie sees you and he will want to stick round you all the time because you make him look like a broom straw or something. i let him kid me along because what is the use of getting mad at him? and besides he is all o.k. even if he is a little rough. i says to him a little work will fix me up all o.k. and he says you bet you are going to get some work because i am going to see to it myself. i says you will have to hurry because you will be going up to frisco in a few days and i am going to stay here and join the 1st club. then he says you are not going to do no such a thing. you are going right along with me. i knowed he was kidding me then because callahan would not never leave me with the 2d team no more after what i done for him last year and besides most of the stars generally allways goes with the 1st team on the training trip. well i seen all the rest of the boys that is here with the 2d team and they all acted like as if they was glad to see me and why should not they be when they know that me being here with the white sox and not with detroit means that callahan won't have to do no worrying about his pitching staff? but they is four or 5 young recrut pitchers with the team here and i bet they is not so glad to see me because what chance have they got? if i was comiskey and callahan i would not spend no money on new pitchers because with me and 1 or 2 of the other boys we got the best pitching staff in the league. and instead of spending the money for new pitching recruts i would put it all in a lump and buy ty cobb or sam crawford off of detroit or somebody else who can hit and cobb and crawford is both real hitters al even if i did make them look like suckers. who wouldn't? well al to-morrow a.m. i am going out and work a little and in the p.m. i will watch the game between we and the venice club but i won't pitch none because gleason would not dare take no chances of me hurting my arm. i will write to you in a few days from here because no matter what gleason says i am going to stick here with the 1st team because i know callahan will want me along with him for a attraction. your pal, jack. _san francisco, california, march 20._ friend al: well al here i am back in old frisco with the 2d team but i will tell you how it happened al. yesterday gleason told me to pack up and get ready to leave los angeles with him and i says no i am going to stick here and wait for the 1st team and then he says i guess i must of overlooked something in the papers because i did not see nothing about you being appointed manager of the club. i says no i am not manager but callahan is manager and he will want to keep me with him. he says i got a wire from callahan telling me to keep you with my club but of coarse if you know what callahan wants better than he knows it himself why then go ahead and stay here or go jump in the pacific ocean. then he says i know why you don't want to go with me and i says why? and he says because you know i will make you work and won't let you eat everything on the bill of fair includeing the name of the hotel at which we are stopping at. that made me sore and i was just going to call him when he says did not you marry mrs. allen's sister? and i says yes but that is not none of your business. then he says well i don't want to butt into your business but i heard you and your wife had some kind of a argument and she beat it. i says yes she give me a rotten deal. he says well then i don't see where it is going to be very pleasant for you traveling round with the 1st club because allen and his wife is both with that club and what do you want to be mixed up with them for? i says i am not scared of allen or his wife or no other old hen. so here i am al with the 2d team but it is only for a while till callahan gets sick of some of them pitchers he has got and sends for me so as he can see some real pitching. and besides i am glad to be here in frisco where i made so many friends when i was pitching here for a short time till callahan heard about my work and called me back to the big show where i belong at and nowheres else. yours truly, jack. _san francisco, california, march 25._ old pal: al i got a supprise for you. who do you think i seen last night? nobody but hazel. her name now is hazel levy because you know al she married kid levy the middle-weight and i wish he was champion of the world al because then it would not take me more than about a minute to be champion of the world myself. i have not got nothing against him though because he married her and if he had not of i probily would of married her myself but at that she could not of treated me no worse than florrie. well they was setting at a table in the cafe where her and i use to go pretty near every night. she spotted me when i first come in and sends a waiter over to ask me to come and have a drink with them. i went over because they was no use being nasty and let bygones be bygones. she interduced me to her husband and he asked me what was i drinking. then she butts in and says oh you must let mr. keefe buy the drinks because it hurts his feelings to have somebody else buy the drinks. then levy says oh he is one of these here spendrifts is he? and she says yes he don't care no more about a nichol than his right eye does. i says i guess you have got no holler comeing on the way i spend my money. i don't steal no money anyway. she says what do you mean? and i says i guess you know what i mean. how about that $30.00 that you borrowed off of me and never give it back? then her husband cuts in and says you cut that line of talk out or i will bust you. i says yes you will. and he says yes i will. well al what was the use of me starting trouble with him when he has got enough trouble right to home and besides as i say i have not got nothing against him. so i got up and blowed away from the table and i bet he was relieved when he seen i was not going to start nothing. i beat it out of there a while afterward because i was not drinking nothing and i don't have no fun setting round a place and lapping up ginger ail or something. and besides the music was rotten. al i am certainly glad i throwed hazel over because she has grew to be as big as a horse and is all painted up. i don't care nothing about them big dolls no more or about no other kind neither. i am off of them all. they can all of them die and i should not worry. well al i done my first pitching of the year this p.m. and i guess i showed them that i was in just as good a shape as some of them birds that has been working a month. i worked 4 innings against my old team the san francisco club and i give them nothing but fast ones but they sure was fast ones and you could hear them zip. charlie o'leary was trying to get out of the way of one of them and it hit his bat and went over first base for a base hit but at that fournier would of eat it up if it had of been chase playing first base instead of fournier. that was the only hit they got off of me and they ought to of been ashamed to of tooken that one. but gleason don't appresiate my work and him and i allmost come to blows at supper. i was pretty hungry and i ordered some stake and some eggs and some pie and some ice cream and some coffee and a glass of milk but gleason would not let me have the pie or the milk and would not let me eat more than 1/2 the stake. and it is a wonder i did not bust him and tell him to mind his own business. i says what right have you got to tell me what to eat? and he says you don't need nobody to tell you what to eat you need somebody to keep you from floundering yourself. i says why can't i eat what i want to when i have worked good? he says who told you you worked good and i says i did not need nobody to tell me. i know i worked good because they could not do nothing with me. he says well it is a good thing for you that they did not start bunting because if you had of went to stoop over and pick up the ball you would of busted wide open. i says why? and he says because you are hog fat and if you don't let up on the stable and fancy groceries we will have to pay 2 fairs to get you back to chi. i don't remember now what i says to him but i says something you can bet on that. you know me al. i wish al that callahan would hurry up and order me to join the 1st team. if he don't al i believe gleason will starve me to death. a little slob like him don't realize that a big man like i needs good food and plenty of it. your pal, jack. _salt lake city, utah, april 1._ al: well al we are on our way east and i am still with the 2d team and i don't understand why callahan don't order me to join the 1st team but maybe it is because he knows that i am all right and have got the stuff and he wants to keep them other guys round where he can see if they have got anything. the recrut pitchers that is along with our club have not got nothing and the scout that reckommended them must of been full of hops or something. it is not no common thing for a club to pick up a man that has got the stuff to make him a star up here and the white sox was pretty lucky to land me but i don't understand why they throw their money away on new pitchers when none of them is no good and besides who would want a better pitching staff than we got right now without no raw recruts and bushers. i worked in oakland the day before yesterday but he only let me go the 1st 4 innings. i bet them oakland birds was glad when he took me out. when i was in that league i use to just throw my glove in the box and them oakland birds was licked and honest al some of them turned white when they seen i was going to pitch the other day. i felt kind of sorry for them and i did not give them all i had so they got 5 or 6 hits and scored a couple of runs. i was not feeling very good at that and besides we got some awful excuses for a ball player on this club and the support they give me was the rottenest i ever seen gave anybody. but some of them won't be in this league more than about 10 minutes more so i should not fret as they say. we play here this afternoon and i don't believe i will work because the team they got here is not worth wasteing nobody on. they must be a lot of boobs in this town al because they tell me that some of them has got 1/2 a dozen wives or so. and what a man wants with 1 wife is a misery to me let alone a 1/2 dozen. i will probily work against denver because they got a good club and was champions of the western league last year. i will make them think they are champions of the epworth league or something. yours truly, jack. _des moines, iowa, april 10._ friend al: we got here this a.m. and this is our last stop and we will be in old chi to-morrow to open the season. the 1st team gets home to-day and i would be there with them if callahan was a real manager who knowed something about manageing because if i am going to open the season i should ought to have 1 day of rest at home so i would have all my strenth to open the season. the cleveland club will be there to open against us and callahan must know that i have got them licked any time i start against them. as soon as my name is announced to pitch the cleveland club is licked or any other club when i am right and they don't kick the game away behind me. gleason told me on the train last night that i was going to pitch here to-day but i bet by this time he has got orders from callahan to let me rest and to not give me no more work because suppose even if i did not start the game to-morrow i probily will have to finish it. gleason has been sticking round me like as if i had a million bucks or something. i can't even sit down and smoke a cigar but what he is there to knock the ashes off of it. he is o.k. and good-hearted if he is a little rough and keeps hitting me in the stumach but i wish he would leave me alone sometimes espesially at meals. he was in to breakfast with me this a.m. and after i got threw i snuck off down the street and got something to eat. that is not right because it costs me money when i have to go away from the hotel and eat and what right has he got to try and help me order my meals? because he don't know what i want and what my stumach wants. my stumach don't want to have him punching it all the time but he keeps on doing it. so that shows he don't know what is good for me. but is a old man al otherwise i would not stand for the stuff he pulls. the 1st thing i am going to do when we get to chi is i am going to a resturunt somewheres and get a good meal where gleason or no one else can't get at me. i know allready what i am going to eat and that is a big stake and a apple pie and that is not all. well al watch the papers and you will see what i done to that cleveland club and i hope lajoie and jackson is both in good shape because i don't want to pick on no cripples. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, april 16._ old pal: yesterday was the 1st pay day old pal and i know i promised to pay you what i owe you and it is $75.00 because when i asked you for $35.00 before i went west you only sent me $25.00 which makes the hole sum $75.00. well al i can't pay you now because the pay we drawed was only for 4 days and did not amount to nothing and i had to buy a meal ticket and fix up about my room rent. and then they is another thing al which i will tell you about. i come into the clubhouse the day the season opened and the 1st guy i seen was allen. i was going up to bust him but he come up and held his hand out and what was they for me to do but shake hands with him if he is going to be yellow like that? he says well jack i am glad they did not send you to milwaukee and i bet you will have a big year. i says yes i will have a big year o.k. if you don't sick another 1 of your sister-in-laws on to me. he says oh don't let they be no hard feelings about that. you know it was not no fault of mine and i bet if you was to write to florrie everything could be fixed up o.k. i says i don't want to write to no florrie but i will get a attorney at law to write to her. he says you don't even know where she is at and i says i don't care where she is at. where is she? he says she is down to her home in waco, texas, and if i was you i would write to her myself and not let no attorney at law write to her because that would get her mad and besides what do you want a attorney at law to write to her about? i says i am going to sew her for a bill of divorce. then he says on what grounds? and i says dessertion. he says you better not do no such thing or she will sew you for a bill of divorce for none support and then you will look like a cheap guy. i says i don't care what i look like. so you see al i had to send florrie $10.00 or maybe she would be mean enough to sew me for a bill of divorce on the ground of none support and that would make me look bad. well al, allen told me his wife wanted to talk to me and try and fix things up between i and florrie but i give him to understand that i would not stand for no meeting with his wife and he says well suit yourself about that but they is no reason you and i should quarrel. you see al he don't want no mix-up with me because he knows he could not get nothing but the worst of it. i will be friends with him but i won't have nothing to do with marie because if it had not of been for she and florrie i would have money in the bank besides not being in no danger of getting sewed for none support. i guess you must of read about joe benz getting married and i guess he must of got a good wife and 1 that don't bother him all the time because he pitched the opening game and shut cleveland out with 2 hits. he was pretty good al, better than i ever seen him and they was a couple of times when his fast ball was pretty near as fast as mine. i have not worked yet al and i asked callahan to-day what was the matter and he says i was waiting for you to get in shape. i says i am in shape now and i notice that when i was pitching in practice this a.m. they did not hit nothing out of the infield. he says that was because you are so spread out that they could not get nothing past you. he says the way you are now you cover more ground than the grand stand. i says is that so? and he walked away. we go out on a trip to cleveland and detroit and st. louis in a few days and maybe i will take my regular turn then because the other pitchers has been getting away lucky because most of the hitters has not got their batting eye as yet but wait till they begin hitting and then it will take a man like i to stop them. the 1st of may is our next pay day al and then i will have enough money so as i can send you the $75.00. your pal, jack. _detroit, michigan, april 28._ friend al: what do you think of a rotten manager that bawls me out and fines me $50.00 for loosing a 1 to 0 game in 10 innings when it was my 1st start this season? and no wonder i was a little wild in the 10th when i had not had no chance to work and get control. i got a good notion to quit this rotten club and jump to the federals where a man gets some kind of treatment. callahan says i throwed the game away on purpose but i did not do no such a thing al because when i throwed that ball at joe hill's head i forgot that the bases was full and besides if gleason had not of starved me to death the ball that hit him in the head would of killed him. and how could a man go to 1st base and the winning run be forced in if he was dead which he should ought to of been the lucky left handed stiff if i had of had my full strenth to put on my fast one instead of being 1/2 starved to death and weak. but i guess i better tell you how it come off. the papers will get it all wrong like they generally allways does. callahan asked me this a.m. if i thought i was hard enough to work and i was tickled to death, because i seen he was going to give me a chance. i told him sure i was in good shape and if them tigers scored a run off me he could keep me setting on the bench the rest of the summer. so he says all right i am going to start you and if you go good maybe gleason will let you eat some supper. well al when i begin warming up i happened to look up in the grand stand and who do you think i seen? nobody but violet. she smiled when she seen me but i bet she felt more like crying. well i smiled back at her because she probily would of broke down and made a seen or something if i had not of. they was not nobody warming up for detroit when i begin warming up but pretty soon i looked over to their bench and joe hill violet's husband was warming up. i says to myself well here is where i show that bird up if they got nerve enough to start him against me but probily jennings don't want to waste no real pitcher on this game which he knows we got cinched and we would of had it cinched al if they had of got a couple of runs or even 1 run for me. well, jennings come passed our bench just like he allways does and tried to pull some of his funny stuff. he says hello are you still in the league? i says yes but i come pretty near not being. i came pretty near being with detroit. i wish you could of heard gleason and callahan laugh when i pulled that one on him. he says something back but it was not no hot comeback like mine. well al if i had of had any work and my regular control i guess i would of pitched a 0 hit game because the only time they could touch me was when i had to ease up to get them over. cobb was out of the game and they told me he was sick but i guess the truth is that he knowed i was going to pitch. crawford got a couple of lucky scratch hits off of me because i got in the hole to him and had to let up. but the way that lucky left handed hill got by was something awful and if i was as lucky as him i would quit pitching and shoot craps or something. our club can't hit nothing anyway. but batting against this bird was just like hitting fungos. his curve ball broke about 1/2 a inch and you could of wrote your name and address on his fast one while it was comeing up there. he had good control but who would not when they put nothing on the ball? well al we could not get started against the lucky stiff and they could not do nothing with me even if my suport was rotten and i give a couple or 3 or 4 bases on balls but when they was men waiting to score i zipped them threw there so as they could not see them let alone hit them. every time i come to the bench between innings i looked up to where violet was setting and give her a smile and she smiled back and once i seen her clapping her hands at me after i had made moriarty pop up in the pinch. well we come along to the 10th inning, 0 and 0, and all of a sudden we got after him. bodie hits one and schalk gets 2 strikes and 2 balls and then singles. callahan tells alcock to bunt and he does it but hill sprawls all over himself like the big boob he is and the bases is full with nobody down. well gleason and callahan argude about should they send somebody up for me or let me go up there and i says let me go up there because i can murder this bird and callahan says well they is nobody out so go up and take a wallop. honest al if this guy had of had anything at all i would of hit 1 out of the park, but he did not have even a glove. and how can a man hit pitching which is not no pitching at all but just slopping them up? when i went up there i hollered to him and says stick 1 over here now you yellow stiff. and he says yes i can stick them over allright and that is where i got something on you. well al i hit a foul off of him that would of been a fare ball and broke up the game if the wind had not of been against it. then i swung and missed a curve that i don't see how i missed it. the next 1 was a yard outside and this evans calls it a strike. he has had it in for me ever since last year when he tried to get funny with me and i says something back to him that stung him. so he calls this 3d strike on me and i felt like murdering him. but what is the use? i throwed down my bat and come back to the bench and i was glad callahan and gleason was out on the coaching line or they probily would of said something to me and i would of cut loose and beat them up. well al weaver and blackburne looked like a couple of rums up there and we don't score where we ought to of had 3 or 4 runs with any kind of hitting. i would of been all o.k. in spite of that peace of rotten luck if this big hill had of walked to the bench and not said nothing like a real pitcher. but what does he do but wait out there till i start for the box and i says get on to the bench you lucky stiff or do you want me to hand you something? he says i don't want nothing more of yourn. i allready got your girl and your goat. well al what do you think of a man that would say a thing like that? and nobody but a left hander could of. if i had of had a gun i would of killed him deader than a doornail or something. he starts for the bench and i hollered at him wait till you get up to that plate and then i am going to bean you. honest al i was so mad i could not see the plate or nothing. i don't even know who it was come up to bat 1st but whoever it was i hit him in the arm and he walks to first base. the next guy bunts and chase tries to pull off 1 of them plays of hisn instead of playing safe and he don't get nobody. well i kept getting madder and madder and i walks stanage who if i had of been myself would not foul me. callahan has scotty warming up and gleason runs out from the bench and tells me i am threw but callahan says wait a minute he is going to let hill hit and this big stiff ought to be able to get him out of the way and that will give scotty a chance to get warm. gleason says you better not take a chance because the big busher is hogwild, and they kept argueing till i got sick of listening to them and i went back to the box and got ready to pitch. but when i seen this hill up there i forgot all about the ball game and i cut loose at his bean. well al my control was all o.k. this time and i catched him square on the fourhead and he dropped like as if he had been shot. but pretty soon he gets up and gives me the laugh and runs to first base. i did not know the game was over till weaver come up and pulled me off the field. but if i had not of been 1/2 starved to death and weak so as i could not put all my stuff on the ball you can bet that hill never would of ran to first base and violet would of been a widow and probily a lot better off than she is now. at that i never should ought to of tried to kill a lefthander by hitting him in the head. well al they jumped all over me in the clubhouse and i had to hold myself back or i would of gave somebody the beating of their life. callahan tells me i am fined $50.00 and suspended without no pay. i asked him what for and he says they would not be no use in telling you because you have not got no brains. i says yes i have to got some brains and he says yes but they is in your stumach. and then he says i wish we had of sent you to milwaukee and i come back at him. i says i wish you had of. well al i guess they is no chance of getting square treatment on this club and you won't be supprised if you hear of me jumping to the federals where a man is treated like a man and not like no white slave. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, may 2._ al: i have got to disappoint you again al. when i got up to get my pay yesterday they held out $150.00 on me. $50.00 of it is what i was fined for loosing a 1 to 0 10-inning game in detroit when i was so weak that i should ought never to of been sent in there and the $100.00 is the advance money that i drawed last winter and which i had forgot all about and the club would of forgot about it to if they was not so tight fisted. so you see all i get for 2 weeks' pay is about $80.00 and i sent $25.00 to florrie so she can't come no none support business on me. i am still suspended al and not drawing no pay now and i got a notion to hire a attorney at law and force them to pay my salery or else jump to the federals where a man gets good treatment. allen is still after me to come over to his flat some night and see his wife and let her talk to me about florrie but what do i want to talk about florrie for or talk about nothing to a nut left hander's wife? the detroit club is here and cobb is playing because he knows i am suspended but i wish callahan would call it off and let me work against them and i would certainly love to work against this joe hill again and i bet they would be a different story this time because i been getting something to eat since we been home and i got back most of my strenth. your old pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, may 5._ friend al: well al if you been reading the papers you will know before this letter is received what i done. before the detroit club come here joe hill had win 4 strate but he has not win no 5 strate or won't neither al because i put a crimp in his winning streek just like i knowed i would do if i got a chance when i was feeling good and had all my strenth. callahan asked me yesterday a.m. if i thought i had enough rest and i says sure because i did not need no rest in the 1st place. well, he says, i thought maybe if i layed you off a few days you would do some thinking and if you done some thinking once in a while you would be a better pitcher. well anyway i worked and i wish you could of saw them tigers trying to hit me cobb and crawford incluseive. the 1st time cobb come up weaver catched a lucky line drive off of him and the next time i eased up a little and collins run back and took a fly ball off of the fence. but the other times he come up he looked like a sucker except when he come up in the 8th and then he beat out a bunt but allmost anybody is liable to do that once in a while. crawford got a scratch hit between chase and blackburne in the 2d inning and in the 4th he was gave a three-base hit by this evans who should ought to be writeing for the papers instead of trying to umpire. the ball was 2 feet foul and i bet crawford will tell you the same thing if you ask him. but what i done to this hill was awful. i give him my curve twice when he was up there in the 3d and he missed it a foot. then i come with my fast ball right past his nose and i bet if he had not of ducked it would of drove that big horn of hisn clear up in the press box where them rotten reporters sits and smokes their hops. then when he was looking for another fast one i slopped up my slow one and he is still swinging at it yet. but the best of it was that i practally won my own game. bodie and schalk was on when i come up in the 5th and hill hollers to me and says i guess this is where i shoot one of them bean balls. i says go ahead and shoot and if you hit me in the head and i ever find it out i will write and tell your wife what happened to you. you see what i was getting at al. i was insinuateing that if he beaned me with his fast one i would not never know nothing about it if somebody did not tell me because his fast one is not fast enough to hurt nobody even if it should hit them in the head. so i says to him go ahead and shoot and if you hit me in the head and i ever find it out i will write and tell your wife what happened to you. see, al? of coarse you could not hire me to write to violet but i did not mean that part of it in ernest. well sure enough he shot at my bean and i ducked out of the way though if it had of hit me it could not of did no more than tickle. he takes 2 more shots and misses me and then jennings hollers from the bench what are you doing pitching or trying to win a cigar? so then hill sees what a monkey he is makeing out of himself and tries to get one over, but i have him 3 balls and nothing and what i done to that groover was a plenty. she went over bush's head like a bullet and got between cobb and veach and goes clear to the fence. bodie and schalk scores and i would of scored to if anybody else besides cobb had of been chaseing the ball. i got 2 bases and weaver scores me with another wallop. say, i wish i could of heard what they said to that baby on the bench. callahan was tickled to death and he says maybe i will give you back that $50.00 if you keep that stuff up. i guess i will get that $50.00 back next pay day and if i do al i will pay you the hole $75.00. well al i beat them 5 to 4 and with good support i would of held them to 1 run but what do i care as long as i beat them? i wish though that violet could of been there and saw it. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, may 29._ old pal: well al i have not wrote to you for a long while but it is not because i have forgot you and to show i have not forgot you i am incloseing the $75.00 which i owe you. it is a money order al and you can get it cashed by takeing it to joe higgins at the p.o. since i wrote to you al i been east with the club and i guess you know what i done in the east. the athaletics did not have no right to win that 1 game off of me and i will get them when they come here the week after next. i beat boston and just as good as beat new york twice because i beat them 1 game all alone and then saved the other for eddie cicotte in the 9th inning and shut out the washington club and would of did the same thing if johnson had of been working against me instead of this left handed stiff boehling. speaking of left handers allen has been going rotten and i would not be supprised if they sent him to milwaukee or frisco or somewheres. but i got bigger news than that for you al. florrie is back and we are liveing together in the spair room at allen's flat so i hope they don't send him to milwaukee or nowheres else because it is not costing us nothing for room rent and this is no more than right after the way the allens grafted off of us all last winter. i bet you will be supprised to know that i and florrie has made it up and they is a secret about it al which i can't tell you now but maybe next month i will tell you and then you will be more supprised than ever. it is about i and florrie and somebody else. but that is all i can tell you now. we got in this a.m. al and when i got to my room they was a slip of paper there telling me to call up a phone number so i called it up and it was allen's flat and marie answered the phone. and when i reckonized her voice i was going to hang up the phone but she says wait a minute somebody wants to talk with you. and then florrie come to the phone and i was going to hang up the phone again when she pulled this secret on me that i was telling you about. so it is all fixed up between us al and i wish i could tell you the secret but that will come later. i have tooken my baggage over to allen's and i am there now writeing to you while florrie is asleep. and after a while i am going out and mail this letter and get a glass of beer because i think i have got 1 comeing now on account of this secret. florrie says she is sorry for the way she treated me and she cried when she seen me. so what is the use of me being nasty al? and let bygones be bygones. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, june 16._ friend al: al i beat the athaletics 2 to 1 to-day but i am writeing to you to give you the supprise of your life. old pal i got a baby and he is a boy and we are going to name him allen which florrie thinks is after his uncle and aunt allen but which is after you old pal. and she can call him allen but i will call him al because i don't never go back on my old pals. the baby was born over to the hospital and it is going to cost me a bunch of money but i should not worry. this is the secret i was going to tell you al and i am the happyest man in the world and i bet you are most as tickled to death to hear about it as i am. the baby was born just about the time i was makeing mcinnis look like a sucker in the pinch but they did not tell me nothing about it till after the game and then they give me a phone messige in the clubhouse. i went right over there and everything was all o.k. little al is a homely little skate but i guess all babys is homely and don't have no looks till they get older and maybe he will look like florrie or i then i won't have no kick comeing. be sure and tell bertha the good news and tell her everything has came out all right except that the rent man is still after me about that flat i had last winter. and i am still paying the old man $10.00 a month for that house you got for me and which has not never done me no good. but i should not worry about money when i got a real family. do you get that al, a real family? well al i am to happy to do no more writeing to-night but i wanted you to be the 1st to get the news and i would of sent you a telegram only i did not want to scare you. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, july 2._ old pal: well old pal i just come back from st. louis this a.m. and found things in pretty fare shape. florrie and the baby is out to allen's and we will stay there till i can find another place. the dr. was out to look at the baby this a.m. and the baby was waveing his arm round in the air. and florrie asked was they something the matter with him that he kept waveing his arm. and the dr. says no he was just getting his exercise. well al i noticed that he never waved his right arm but kept waveing his left arm and i asked the dr. why was that. then the dr. says i guess he must be left handed. that made me sore and i says i guess you doctors don't know it all. and then i turned round and beat it out of the room. well al it would be just my luck to have him left handed and florrie should ought to of knew better than to name him after allen. i am going to hire another dr. and see what he has to say because they must be some way of fixing babys so as they won't be left handed. and if nessary i will cut his left arm off of him. of coarse i would not do that al. but how would i feel if a boy of mine turned out like allen and joe hill and some of them other nuts? we have a game with st. louis to-morrow and a double header on the 4th of july. i guess probily callahan will work me in one of the 4th of july games on account of the holiday crowd. your pal, jack. p.s. maybe i should ought to leave the kid left handed so as he can have some of their luck. the lucky stiffs. chapter v the busher's kid _chicago, illinois, july 31._ friend al: well al what do you think of little al now? but i guess i better tell you first what he done. maybe you won't believe what i am telling you but did you ever catch me telling you a lie? i guess you know you did not al. well we got back from the east this a.m. and i don't have to tell you we had a rotten trip and if it had not of been for me beating boston once and the athaletics two times we would of been ashamed to come home. i guess these here other pitchers thought we was haveing a vacation and when they go up in the office to-morrow to get there checks they should ought to be arrested if they take them. i would not go nowheres near comiskey if i had not of did better than them others but i can go and get my pay and feel all o.k. about it because i done something to ern it. me loseing that game in washington was a crime and callahan says so himself. this here weaver throwed it away for me and i would not be surprised if he done it from spitework because him and scott is pals and probily he did not want to see me winning all them games when scott was getting knocked out of the box. and no wonder when he has not got no stuff. i wish i knowed for sure that weaver was throwing me down and if i knowed for sure i would put him in a hospital or somewheres. but i was going to tell you what the kid done al. so here goes. we are still liveing at allen's and his wife. so i and him come home together from the train. well florrie and marie was both up and the baby was up too--that is he was not up but he was woke up. i beat it right into the room where he was at and florrie come in with me. i says hello al and what do you suppose he done. well al he did not say hello pa or nothing like that because he is not only one month old. but he smiled at me just like as if he was glad to see me and i guess maybe he was at that. i was tickled to death and i says to florrie did you see that. and she says see what. i says the baby smiled at me. then she says they is something the matter with his stumach. i says i suppose because a baby smiles that is a sign they is something the matter with his stumach and if he had the toothacke he would laugh. she says you think your smart but i am telling you that he was not smileing at all but he was makeing a face because they is something the matter with his stumach. i says i guess i know the difference if somebody is smileing or makeing a face. and she says i guess you don't know nothing about babys because you never had none before. i says how many have you had. and then she got sore and beat it out of the room. i did not care because i wanted to be in there alone with him and see would he smile at me again. and sure enough al he did. then i called allen in and when the baby seen him he begin to cry. so you see i was right and florrie was wrong. it don't take a man no time at all to get wise to these babys and it don't take them long to know if a man is there father or there uncle. when he begin to cry i chased allen out of the room and called florrie because she should ought to know by this time how to make him stop crying. but she was still sore and she says let him cry or if you know so much about babys make him stop yourself. i says maybe he is sick. and she says i was just telling you that he had a pane in his stumach or he would not of made that face that you said was smileing at you. i says do you think we should ought to call the doctor but she says no if you call the doctor every time he has the stumach acke you might just as well tell him he should bring his trunk along and stay here. she says all babys have collect and they is not no use fusing about it but come and get your breakfast. well al i did not injoy my breakfast because the baby was crying all the time and i knowed he probily wanted i should come in and visit with him. so i just eat the prunes and drunk a little coffee and did not wait for the rest of it and sure enough when i went back in our room and started talking to him he started smileing again and pretty soon he went to sleep so you see al he was smileing and not makeing no face and that was a hole lot of bunk about him haveing the collect. but i don't suppose i should ought to find fault with florrie for not knowing no better because she has not never had no babys before but still and all i should think she should ought to of learned something about them by this time or ask somebody. well al little al is woke up again and is crying and i just about got time to fix him up and get him asleep again and then i will have to go to the ball park because we got a poseponed game to play with detroit and callahan will probily want me to work though i pitched the next to the last game in new york and would of gave them a good beating except for schalk dropping that ball at the plate but i got it on these detroit babys and when my name is announced to pitch they feel like forfiting the game. i won't try for no strike out record because i want them to hit the first ball and get the game over with quick so as i can get back here and take care of little al. your pal, jack. p.s. babys is great stuff al and if i was you i would not wait no longer but would hurry up and adopt 1 somewheres. _chicago, illinois, august 15._ old pal: what do you think al. kid gleason is comeing over to the flat and look at the baby the day after to-morrow when we don't have no game skeduled but we have to practice in the a.m. because we been going so rotten. i had a hard time makeing him promise to come but he is comeing and i bet he will be glad he come when he has came. i says to him in the clubhouse do you want to see a real baby? and he says you're real enough for me boy. i says no i am talking about babys. he says oh i thought you was talking about ice cream soda or something. i says no i want you to come over to the flat to-morrow and take a look at my kid and tell me what you think of him. he says i can tell you what i think of him without takeing no look at him. i think he is out of luck. i says what do you mean out of luck. but he just laughed and would not say no more. i asked him again would he come over to the flat and look at the baby and he says he had troubles enough without that and kidded along for a while but finally he seen i was in ernest and then he says he would come if i would keep the missus out of the room while he was there because he says if she seen him she would probily be sorry she married me. he was just jokeing and i did not take no excepshun to his remarks because florrie could not never fall for him after seeing me because he is not no big stropping man like i am but a little runt and look at how old he is. but i am glad he is comeing because he will think more of me when he sees what a fine baby i got though he thinks a hole lot of me now because look what i done for the club and where would they be at if i had jumped to the federal like i once thought i would. i will tell you what he says about little al and i bet he will say he never seen no prettyer baby but even if he don't say nothing at all i will know he is kidding. the boston club comes here to-morrow and plays 4 days includeing the day after to-morrow when they is not no game. so on account of the off day maybe i will work twice against them and if i do they will wish the grounds had of burned down. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, august 17._ al: well old pal what did i tell you about what i would do to that boston club? and now al i have beat every club in the league this year because yesterday was the first time i beat the boston club this year but now i have beat all of them and most of them severel times. this should ought to of gave me a record of 16 wins and 0 defeats because the only games i lost was throwed away behind me but instead of that my record is 10 games win and 6 defeats and that don't include the games i finished up and helped the other boys win which is about 6 more alltogether but what do i care about my record al? because i am not the kind of man that is allways thinking about there record and playing for there record while i am satisfied if i give the club the best i got and if i win all o.k. and if i lose who's fault is it. not mine al. i asked callahan would he let me work against the boston club again before they go away and he says i guess i will have to because you are going better than anybody else on the club. so you see al he is beginning to appresiate my work and from now on i will pitch in my regular turn and a hole lot offtener then that and probily comiskey will see the stuff i am made from and will raise my salery next year even if he has got me signed for 3 years and for the same salery i am getting now. but all that is not what i was going to tell you al and what i was going to tell you was about gleason comeing to see the baby and what he thought about him. i sent florrie and marie downtown and says i would take care of little al and they was glad to go because florrie says she should ought to buy some new shoes though i don't see what she wants of no new shoes when she is going to be tied up in the flat for a long time yet on account of the baby and nobody cares if she wears shoes in the flat or goes round in her bear feet. but i was glad to get rid of the both of them for a while because little al acts better when they is not no women round and you can't blame him. the baby was woke up when gleason come in and i and him went right in the room where he was laying. gleason takes a look at him and says well that is a mighty fine baby and you must of boughten him. i says what do you mean? and he says i don't believe he is your own baby because he looks humaner than most babys. and i says why should not he look human. and he says why should he. then he goes to work and picks the baby right up and i was a-scared he would drop him because even i have not never picked him up though i am his father and would be a-scared of hurting him. i says here, don't pick him up and he says why not? he says are you going to leave him on that there bed the rest of his life? i says no but you don't know how to handle him. he says i have handled a hole lot bigger babys than him or else callahan would not keep me. then he starts patting the baby's head and i says here, don't do that because he has got a soft spot in his head and you might hit it. he says i thought he was your baby and i says well he is my baby and he says well then they can't be no soft spot in his head. then he lays little al down because he seen i was in ernest and as soon as he lays him down the baby begins to cry. then gleason says see he don't want me to lay him down and i says maybe he has got a pane in his stumach and he says i would not be supprised because he just took a good look at his father. but little al did not act like as if he had a pane in his stumach and he kept sticking his finger in his mouth and crying. and gleason says he acts like as if he had a toothacke. i says how could he have a toothacke when he has not got no teeth? he says that is easy. i have saw a lot of pitchers complane that there arm was sore when they did not have no arm. then he asked me what was the baby's name and i told him allen but that he was not named after my brother-in-law allen. and gleason says i should hope not. i should hope you would have better sense then to name him after a left hander. so you see al he don't like them no better then i do even if he does jolly allen and russell along and make them think they can pitch. pretty soon he says what are you going to make out of him, a ball player? i says yes i am going to make a hitter out of him so as he can join the white sox and then maybe they will get a couple of runs once in a while. he says if i was you i would let him pitch and then you won't have to give him no educasion. besides, he says, he looks now like he would divellop into a grate spitter. well i happened to look out of the window and seen florrie and marie comeing acrost indiana avenue and i told gleason about it. and you ought to of seen him run. i asked him what was his hurry and he says it was in his contract that he was not to talk to no women but i knowed he was kidding because i allready seen him talking to severel of the players' wifes when they was on trips with us and they acted like as if they thought he was a regular comeedion though they really is not nothing funny about what he says only it is easy to make women laugh when they have not got no grouch on about something. well al i am glad gleason has saw the baby and maybe he will fix it with callahan so as i won't have to go to morning practice every a.m. because i should ought to be home takeing care of little al when florrie is washing the dishs or helping marie round the house. and besides why should i wear myself all out in practice because i don't need to practice pitching and i could hit as well as the rest of the men on our club if i never seen no practice. after we get threw with boston, washington comes here and then we go to st. louis and cleveland and then come home and then go east again. and after that we are pretty near threw except the city serious. callahan is not going to work me no more after i beat boston again till it is this here johnson's turn to pitch for washington. and i hope it is not his turn to work the 1st game of the serious because then i would not have no rest between the last game against boston and the 1st game against washington. but rest or no rest i will work against this here johnson and show him up for giveing me that trimming in washington, the lucky stiff. i wish i had a team like the athaletics behind me and i would loose about 1 game every 6 years and then they would have to get all the best of it from these rotten umpires. your pal, jack. _new york, new york, september 16._ friend al: al it is not no fun running round the country no more and i wish this dam trip was over so as i could go home and see how little al is getting along because florrie has not wrote since we was in philly which was the first stop on this trip. i am a-scared they is something the matter with the little fellow or else she would of wrote but then if they was something the matter with him she would of sent me a telegram or something and let me know. so i guess they can't be nothing the matter with him. still and all i don't see why she has not wrote when she knows or should ought to know that i would be worrying about the baby. if i don't get no letter to-morrow i am going to send her a telegram and ask her what is the matter with him because i am positive she would of wrote if they was not something the matter with him. the boys has been trying to get me to go out nights and see a show or something but i have not got no heart to go to shows. and besides callahan has not gave us no pass to no show on this trip. i guess probily he is sore on account of the rotten way the club has been going but still he should ought not to be sore on me because i have win 3 out of my last 4 games and would of win the other if he had not of started me against them with only 1 day's rest and the athaletics at that, who a man should ought not to pitch against if he don't feel good. i asked allen if he had heard from marie and he says yes he did but she did not say nothing about little al except that he was keeping her awake nights balling. so maybe al if little al is balling they is something wrong with him. i am going to send florrie a telegram to-morrow--that is if i don't get no letter. if they is something the matter with him i will ask callahan to send me home and he won't want to do it neither because who else has he got that is a regular winner. but if little al is sick and callahan won't let me go home i will go home anyway. you know me al. yours truly, jack. _boston, massachusetts, september 24._ al: i bet if florrie was a man she would be a left hander. what do you think she done now al? i sent her a telegram from new york when i did not get no letter from her and she did not pay no atension to the telegram. then when we got up here i sent her another telegram and it was not more then five minutes after i sent the 2d telegram till i got a letter from her. and it said the baby was all o.k. but she had been so busy takeing care of him that she had not had no time to write. well when i got the letter i chased out to see if i could catch the boy who had took my telegram but he had went allready so i was spending $.60 for nothing. then what does florrie do but send me a telegram after she got my second telegram and tell me that little al is all o.k., which i knowed all about then because i had just got her letter. and she sent her telegram c. o. d. and i had to pay for it at this end because she had not paid for it and that was $.60 more but i bet if i had of knew what was in the telegram before i read it i would of told the boy to keep it and would not of gave him no $.60 but how did i know if little al might not of tooken sick after florrie had wrote the letter? i am going to write and ask her if she is trying to send us both to the poor house or somewheres with her telegrams. i don't care nothing about the $.60 but i like to see a woman use a little judgement though i guess that is impossable. it is my turn to work to-day and to-night we start west but we have got to stop off at cleveland on the way. i have got a nosion to ask callahan to let me go right on threw to chi if i win to-day and not stop off at no cleveland but i guess they would not be no use because i have got that cleveland club licked the minute i put on my glove. so probily callahan will want me with him though it don't make no difference if we win or lose now because we have not got no chance for the pennant. one man can't win no pennant al i don't care who he is. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 2._ friend al: well old pal i am all threw till the city serious and it is all fixed up that i am going to open the serious and pitch 3 of the games if nessary. the club has went to detroit to wind up the season and callahan did not take me along but left me here with a couple other pitchers and billy sullivan and told me all as i would have to do was go over to the park the next 3 days and warm up a little so as to keep in shape. but i don't need to be in no shape to beat them cubs al. but it is a good thing al that allen was tooken on the trip to detroit or i guess i would of killed him. he has not been going good and he has been acting and talking nasty to everybody because he can't win no games. well the 1st night we was home after the trip little al was haveing a bad night and was balling pretty hard and they could not nobody in the flat get no sleep. florrie says he was haveing the collect and i says why should he have the collect all the time when he did not drink nothing but milk? she says she guessed the milk did not agree with him and upsetted his stumach. i says well he must take after his mother if his stumach gets upsetted every time he takes a drink because if he took after his father he could drink a hole lot and not never be effected. she says you should ought to remember he has only got a little stumach and not a great big resservoire. i says well if the milk don't agree with him why don't you give him something else? she says yes i suppose i should ought to give him weeny worst or something. allen must of heard us talking because he hollered something and i did not hear what it was so i told him to say it over and he says give the little x-eyed brat poison and we would all be better off. i says you better take poison yourself because maybe a rotten pitcher like you could get by in the league where you're going when you die. then i says besides i would rather my baby was x-eyed then to have him left handed. he says it is better for him that he is x-eyed or else he might get a good look at you and then he would shoot himself. i says is that so? and he shut up. little al is not no more x-eyed than you or i are al and that was what made me sore because what right did allen have to talk like that when he knowed he was lying? well the next morning allen nor i did not speak to each other and i seen he was sorry for the way he had talked and i was willing to fix things up because what is the use of staying sore at a man that don't know no better. but all of a sudden he says when are you going to pay me what you owe me? i says what do you mean? and he says you been liveing here all summer and i been paying all the bills. i says did not you and marie ask us to come here and stay with you and it would not cost us nothing. he says yes but we did not mean it was a life sentence. you are getting more money than me and you don't never spend a nichol. all i have to do is pay the rent and buy your food and it would take a millionare or something to feed you. then he says i would not make no holler about you grafting off of me if that brat would shut up nights and give somebody a chance to sleep. i says you should ought to get all the sleep you need on the bench. besides, i says, who done the grafting all last winter and without no invatation? if he had of said another word i was going to bust him but just then marie come in and he shut up. the more i thought about what he said and him a rotten left hander that should ought to be hussling freiht the more madder i got and if he had of opened his head to me the last day or 2 before he went to detroit i guess i would of finished him. but marie stuck pretty close to the both of us when we was together and i guess she knowed they was something in the air and did not want to see her husband get the worst of it though if he was my husband and i was a woman i would push him under a st. car. but al i won't even stand for him saying that i am grafting off of him and i and florrie will get away from here and get a flat of our own as soon as the city serious is over. i would like to bring her and the kid down to bedford for the winter but she wont listen to that. i allmost forgot al to tell you to be sure and thank bertha for the little dress she made for little al. i don't know if it will fit him or not because florrie has not yet tried it on him yet and she says she is going to use it for a dishrag but i guess she is just kidding. i suppose you seen where callahan took me out of that game down to cleveland but it was not because i was not going good al but it was because callahan seen he was makeing a mistake wasteing me on that bunch who allmost any pitcher could beat. they beat us that game at that but only by one run and it was not no fault of mine because i was tooken out before they got the run that give them the game. your old pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 4._ friend al: well al the club winds up the season at detroit to-morrow and the serious starts the day after to-morrow and i will be in there giveing them a battle. i wish i did not have nobody but the cubs to pitch against all season and you bet i would have a record that would make johnson and mathewson and some of them other swell heads look like a dirty doose. i and florrie and marie has been haveing a argument about how could florrie go and see the city serious games when they is not nobody here that can take care of the baby because marie wants to go and see the games to even though they is not no more chance of callahan starting allen than a rabbit or something. florrie and marie says i should ought to hire a nurse to take care of little al and florrie got pretty sore when i told her nothing doing because in the first place i can't afford to pay no nurse a salery and in the second place i would not trust no nurse to take care of the baby because how do i know the nurse is not nothing but a grafter or a dope fiend maybe and should ought not to be left with the baby? of coarse florrie wants to see me pitch and a man can't blame her for that but i won't leave my baby with no nurse al and florrie will have to stay home and i will tell her what i done when i get there. i might of gave my consent to haveing a nurse at that if it had not of been for the baby getting so sick last night when i was takeing care of him while florrie and marie and allen was out to a show and if i had not of been home they is no telling what would of happened. it is a cinch that none of them bonehead nurses would of knew what to do. allen must of been out of his head because right after supper he says he would take the 2 girls to a show. i says all right go on and i will take care of the baby. then florrie says do you think you can take care of him all o.k.? and i says have not i tooken care of him before allready? well, she says, i will leave him with you only don't run in to him every time he cries. i says why not? and she says because it is good for him to cry. i says you have not got no heart or you would not talk that way. they all give me the laugh but i let them get away with it because i am not picking no fights with girls and why should i bust this allen when he don't know no better and has not got no baby himself. and i did not want to do nothing that would stop him takeing the girls to a show because it is time he spent a peace of money on somebody. well they all went out and i went in on the bed and played with the baby. i wish you could of saw him al because he is old enough now to do stunts and he smiled up at me and waved his arms and legs round and made a noise like as if he was trying to say pa. i did not think florrie had gave him enough covers so i rapped him up in some more and took a blanket off of the big bed and stuck it round him so as he could not kick his feet out and catch cold. i thought once or twice he was going off to sleep but all of a sudden he begin to cry and i seen they was something wrong with him. i gave him some hot water but that made him cry again and i thought maybe he was to cold yet so i took another blanket off of allen's bed and wrapped that round him but he kept on crying and trying to kick inside the blankets. and i seen then that he must have collect or something. so pretty soon i went to the phone and called up our regular dr. and it took him pretty near a hour to get there and the baby balling all the time. and when he come he says they was nothing the matter except that the baby was to hot and told me to take all them blankets off of him and then soaked me 2 dollars. i had a nosion to bust his jaw. well pretty soon he beat it and then little al begin crying again and kept getting worse and worse so finally i got a-scared and run down to the corner where another dr. is at and i brung him up to see what was the matter but he said he could not see nothing the matter but he did not charge me a cent so i thought he was not no robber like our regular doctor even if he was just as much of a boob. the baby did not cry none while he was there but the minute he had went he started crying and balling again and i seen they was not no use of fooling no longer so i looked around the house and found the medicine the doctor left for allen when he had a stumach acke once and i give the baby a little of it in a spoon but i guess he did not like the taste because he hollered like a indian and finally i could not stand it no longer so i called that second dr. back again and this time he seen that the baby was sick and asked me what i had gave it and i told him some stumach medicine and he says i was a fool and should ought not to of gave the baby nothing. but while he was talking the baby stopped crying and went off to sleep so you see what i done for him was the right thing to do and them doctors was both off of there nut. this second dr. soaked me 2 dollars the 2d time though he had not did no more than when he was there the 1st time and charged me nothing but they is all a bunch of robbers al and i would just as leave trust a policeman. right after the baby went to sleep florrie and marie and allen come home and i told florrie what had came off but instead of giveing me credit she says if you want to kill him why don't you take a ax? then allen butts in and says why don't you take a ball and throw it at him? then i got sore and i says well if i did hit him with a ball i would kill him while if you was to throw that fast ball of yours at him and hit him in the head he would think the musketoes was biteing him and brush them off. but at that, i says, you could not hit him with a ball except you was aiming at something else. i guess they was no comeback to that so him and marie went to there room. allen should ought to know better than to try and get the best of me by this time and i would shut up anyway if i was him after getting sent home from detroit with some of the rest of them when he only worked 3 innings up there and they had to take him out or play the rest of the game by electrick lights. i wish you could be here for the serious al but you would have to stay at a hotel because we have not got no spair room and it would cost you a hole lot of money. but you can watch the papers and you will see what i done. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 6._ dear old pal: probily before you get this letter you will of saw by the paper that we was licked in the first game and that i was tooken out but the papers don't know what really come off so i am going to tell you and you can see for yourself if it was my fault. i did not never have no more stuff in my life then when i was warming up and i seen the cubs looking over to our bench and shakeing there heads like they knowed they did not have no chance. o'day was going to start cheney who is there best bet and had him warming up but when he seen the smoke i had when i and schalk was warming up he changed his mind because what was the use of useing his best pitcher when i had all that stuff and it was a cinch that no club in the world could score a run off of me when i had all that stuff? so he told a couple others to warm up to and when my name was announced to pitch cheney went and set on the bench and this here lefthander pierce was announced for them. well al you will see by the paper where i sent there 1st 3 batters back to the bench to get a drink of water and all 3 of them good hitters leach and good and this here saier that hits a hole lot of home runs but would not never hit one off of me if i was o.k. well we scored a couple in our half and the boys on the bench all says now you got enough to win easy because they won't never score none off of you. and they was right to because what chance did they have if this thing that i am going to tell you about had not of happened? we goes along seven innings and only 2 of there men had got to 1st base one of them on a bad peg of weaver's and the other one i walked because this blind evans don't know a ball from a strike. we had not did no more scoreing off of pierce not because he had no stuff but because our club could not take a ball in there hands and hit it out of the infield. well al i did not tell you that before i come out to the park i kissed little al and florrie good by and marie says she was going to stay home to and keep florrie co. and they was not no reason for marie to come to the game anyway because they was not a chance in the world for allen to do nothing but hit fungos. well while i was doing all this here swell pitching and makeing them cubs look like a lot of rummys i was thinking about little al and florrie and how glad they would be when i come home and told them what i done though of coarse little al is not only a little over 3 months of age and how could he appresiate what i done? but florrie would. well al when i come in to the bench after there 1/2 of the 7th i happened to look up to the press box to see if the reporters had gave schulte a hit on that one weaver throwed away and who do you think i seen in a box right alongside of the press box? it was florrie and marie and both of them claping there hands and hollering with the rest of the bugs. well old pal i was never so supprised in my life and it just took all the heart out of me. what was they doing there and what had they did with the baby? how did i know that little al was not sick or maybe dead and balling his head off and nobody round to hear him? i tried to catch florrie's eyes but she would not look at me. i hollered her name and the bugs looked at me like as if i was crazy and i was to al. well i seen they was not no use of standing out there in front of the stand so i come into the bench and allen was setting there and i says did you know your wife and florrie was up there in the stand? he says no and i says what are they doing here? and he says what would they be doing here--mending there stockings? i felt like busting him and i guess he seen i was mad because he got up off of the bench and beat it down to the corner of the field where some of the others was getting warmed up though why should they have anybody warming up when i was going so good? well al i made up my mind that ball game or no ball game i was not going to have little al left alone no longer and i seen they was not no use of sending word to florrie to go home because they was a big crowd and it would take maybe 15 or 20 minutes for somebody to get up to where she was at. so i says to callahan you have got to take me out. he says what is the matter? is your arm gone? i says no my arm is not gone but my baby is sick and home all alone. he says where is your wife? and i says she is setting up there in the stand. then he says how do you know your baby is sick? and i says i don't know if he is sick or not but he is left home all alone. he says why don't you send your wife home? and i says i could not get word to her in time. he says well you have only got two innings to go and the way your going the game will be over in 10 minutes. i says yes and before 10 minutes is up my baby might die and are you going to take me out or not? he says get in there and pitch you yellow dog and if you don't i will take your share of the serious money away from you. by this time our part of the inning was over and i had to go out there and pitch some more because he would not take me out and he has not got no heart al. well al how could i pitch when i kept thinking maybe the baby was dying right now and maybe if i was home i could do something? and instead of paying attension to what i was doing i was thinking about little al and looking up there to where florrie and marie was setting and before i knowed what come off they had the bases full and callahan took me out. well al i run to the clubhouse and changed my cloths and beat it for home and i did not even hear what callahan and gleason says to me when i went by them but i found out after the game that scott went in and finished up and they batted him pretty hard and we was licked 3 and 2. when i got home the baby was crying but he was not all alone after all al because they was a little girl about 14 years of age there watching him and florrie had hired her to take care of him so as her and marie could go and see the game. but just think al of leaveing little al with a girl 14 years of age that did not never have no babys of her own! and what did she know about takeing care of him? nothing al. you should ought to of heard me ball florrie out when she got home and i bet she cried pretty near enough to flood the basemunt. we had it hot and heavy and the allens butted in but i soon showed them where they was at and made them shut there mouth. i had a good nosion to go out and get a hole lot of drinks and was just going to put on my hat when the doorbell rung and there was kid gleason. i thought he would be sore and probily try to ball me out and i was not going to stand for nothing but instead of balling me out he come and shook hands with me and interduced himself to florrie and asked how was little al. well we all set down and gleason says the club was depending on me to win the serious because i was in the best shape of all the pitchers. and besides the cubs could not never hit me when i was right and he was telling the truth to. so he asked me if i would stand for the club hireing a train nurse to stay with the baby the rest of the serious so as florrie could go and see her husband win the serious but i says no i would not stand for that and florrie's place was with the baby. so gleason and florrie goes out in the other room and talks a while and i guess he was persuadeing her to stay home because pretty soon they come back in the room and says it was all fixed up and i would not have to worry about little al the rest of the serious but could give the club the best i got. gleason just left here a little while ago and i won't work to-morrow al but i will work the day after and you will see what i can do when i don't have nothing to worry me. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 8._ old pal: well old pal we got them 2 games to one now and the serious is sure to be over in three more days because i can pitch 2 games in that time if nessary. i shut them out to-day and they should ought not to of had four hits but should ought to of had only 2 but bodie don't cover no ground and 2 fly balls that he should ought to of eat up fell safe. but i beat them anyway and benz beat them yesterday but why should he not beat them when the club made 6 runs for him? all they made for me was three but all i needed was one because they could not hit me with a shuvvel. when i come to the bench after the 5th inning they was a note there for me from the boy that answers the phone at the ball park and it says that somebody just called up from the flat and says the baby was asleep and getting along fine. so i felt good al and i was better then ever in the 6th. when i got home florrie and marie was both there and asked me how did the game come out because i beat allen home and i told them all about what i done and i bet florrie was proud of me but i supose marie is a little jellus because how could she help it when callahan is depending on me to win the serious and her husband is wearing out the wood on the bench? but why should she be sore when it is me that is winning the serious for them? and if it was not for me allen and all the rest of them would get about $500.00 apeace instead of the winners' share which is about $750.00 apeace. cicotte is going to work to-morrow and if he is lucky maybe he can get away with the game and that will leave me to finish up the day after to-morrow but if nessary i can go in to-morrow when they get to hitting cicotte and stop them and then come back the following day and beat them again. where would this club be at al if i had of jumped to the federal? yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 11._ friend al: we done it again al and i guess the cubs won't never want to play us again not so long as i am with the club. before you get this letter you will know what we done and who done it but probily you could of guessed that al without seeing no paper. i got 2 more of them phone messiges about the baby dureing the game and i guess that was what made me so good because i knowed then that florrie was takeing care of him but i could not help feeling sorry for florrie because she is a bug herself and it must of been pretty hard for her to stay away from the game espesially when she knowed i was going to pitch and she has been pretty good to sacrifice her own plesure for little al. cicotte was knocked out of the box the day before yesterday and then they give this here faber a good beating but i wish you could of saw what they done to allen when callahan sent him in after the game was gone allready. honest al if he had not of been my brother in law i would of felt like laughing at him because it looked like as if they would have to call the fire department to put the side out. they had bodie and collins hollering for help and with there tongue hanging out from running back to the fence. anyway the serious is all over and i won't have nothing to do but stay home and play with little al but i don't know yet where my home is going to be at because it is a cinch i won't stay with allen no longer. he has not came home since the game and i suppose he is out somewheres lapping up some beer and spending some of the winner's share of the money which he would not of had no chance to get in on if it had not of been for me. i will write and let you know my plans for the winter and i wish florrie would agree to come to bedford but nothing doing al and after her staying home and takeing care of the baby instead of watching me pitch i can't be too hard on her but must leave her have her own way about something. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 13._ al: i am all threw with florrie al and i bet when you hear about it you won't say it was not no fault of mine but no man liveing who is any kind of a man would act different from how i am acting if he had of been decieved like i been. al florrie and marie was out to all them games and was not home takeing care of the baby at all and it is not her fault that little al is not dead and that he was not killed by the nurse they hired to take care of him while they went to the games when i thought they was home takeing care of the baby. and all them phone messiges was just fakes and maybe the baby was sick all the time i was winning them games and balling his head off instead of being asleep like they said he was. allen did not never come home at all the night before last and when he come in yesterday he was a sight and i says to him where have you been? and he says i have been down to the y.m.c.a. but that is not none of your business. i says yes you look like as if you had been to the y.m.c.a. and i know where you have been and you have been out lushing beer. and he says suppose i have and what are you going to do about it? and i says nothing but you should ought to be ashamed of yourself and leaveing marie here while you was out lapping up beer. then he says did you not leave florrie home while you was getting away with them games, you lucky stiff? and i says yes but florrie had to stay home and take care of the baby but marie don't never have to stay home because where is your baby? you have not got no baby. he says i would not want no x-eyed baby like yourn. then he says so you think florrie stayed to home and took care of the baby do you? and i says what do you mean? and he says you better ask her. so when florrie come in and heard us talking she busted out crying and then i found out what they put over on me. it is a wonder al that i did not take some of that cheap furniture them allens got and bust it over there heads, allen and florrie. this is what they done al. the club give florrie $50.00 to stay home and take care of the baby and she said she would and she was to call up every so often and tell me the baby was all o.k. but this here marie told her she was a sucker so she hired a nurse for part of the $50.00 and then her and marie went to the games and beat it out quick after the games was over and come home in a taxicab and chased the nurse out before i got home. well al when i found out what they done i grabbed my hat and goes out and got some drinks and i was so mad i did not know where i was at or what come off and i did not get home till this a.m. and they was all asleep and i been asleep all day and when i woke up marie and allen was out but florrie and i have not spoke to each other and i won't never speak to her again. but i know now what i am going to do al and i am going to take little al and beat it out of here and she can sew me for a bill of divorce and i should not worry because i will have little al and i will see that he is tooken care of because i guess i can hire a nurse as well as they can and i will pick out a train nurse that knows something. maybe i and him and the nurse will come to bedford al but i don't know yet and i will write and tell you as soon as i make up my mind. did you ever hear of a man getting a rottener deal al? and after what i done in the serious too. your pal, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 17._ old pal: i and florrie has made it up al but we are threw with marie and allen and i and florrie and the baby is staying at a hotel here on cottage grove avenue the same hotel we was at when we got married only of coarse they was only the 2 of us then. and now al i want to ask you a favor and that is for you to go and see old man cutting and tell him i want to ree-new the lease on that house for another year because i and florrie has decided to spend the winter in bedford and she will want to stay there and take care of little al while i am away on trips next summer and not stay in no high-price flat up here. and may be you and bertha can help her round the house when i am not there. i will tell you how we come to fix things up al and you will see that i made her apollojize to me and after this she will do what i tell her to and won't never try to put nothing over. we was eating breakfast--i and florrie and marie. allen was still asleep yet because i guess he must of had a bad night and he was snoreing so as you could hear him in the next st. i was not saying nothing to nobody but pretty soon florrie says to marie i don't think you and allen should ought to kick on the baby crying when allen's snoreing makes more noise than a hole wagonlode of babys. and marie got sore and says i guess a man has got a right to snore in his own house and you and jack has been grafting off of us long enough. then florrie says what did allen do to help win the serious and get that $750.00? nothing but set on the bench except when they was makeing him look like a sucker the 1 inning he pitched. the trouble with you and allen is you are jellous of what jack has did and you know he will be a star up here in the big league when allen is tending bar which is what he should ought to be doing because then he could get stewed for nothing. marie says take your brat and get out of the house. and florrie says don't you worry because we would not stay here no longer if you hired us. so florrie went in her room and i followed her in and she says let's pack up and get out. then i says yes but we won't go nowheres together after what you done to me but you can go where you dam please and i and little al will go to bedford. then she says you can't take the baby because he is mine and if you was to take him i would have you arrested for kidnaping. besides, she says, what would you feed him and who would take care of him? i says i would find somebody to take care of him and i would get him food from a resturunt. she says he can't eat nothing but milk and i says well he has the collect all the time when he is eating milk and he would not be no worse off if he was eating watermelon. well, she says, if you take him i will have you arrested and sew you for a bill of divorce for dessertion. then she says jack you should not ought to find no fault with me for going to them games because when a woman has a husband that can pitch like you can do you think she wants to stay home and not see her husband pitch when a lot of other women is cheering him and makeing her feel proud because she is his wife? well al as i said right along it was pretty hard on florrie to have to stay home and i could not hardly blame her for wanting to be out there where she could see what i done so what was the use of argueing? so i told her i would think it over and then i went out and i went and seen a attorney at law and asked him could i take little al away and he says no i did not have no right to take him away from his mother and besides it would probily kill him to be tooken away from her and then he soaked me $10.00 the robber. then i went back and told florrie i would give her another chance and then her and i packed up and took little al in a taxicab over to this hotel. we are threw with the allens al and let me know right away if i can get that lease for another year because florrie has gave up and will go to bedford or anywheres else with me now. yours truly, jack. _chicago, illinois, october 20._ friend al: old pal i won't never forget your kindnus and this is to tell you that i and florrie except your kind invatation to come and stay with you till we can find a house and i guess you won't regret it none because florrie will livun things up for bertha and bertha will be crazy about the baby because you should ought to see how cute he is now al and not yet four months old. but i bet he will be talking before we know it. we are comeing on the train that leaves here at noon saturday al and the train leaves here about 12 o'clock and i don't know what time it gets to bedford but it leaves here at noon so we shall be there probily in time for supper. i wish you would ask ben smith will he have a hack down to the deepo to meet us but i won't pay no more than $.25 and i should think he should ought to be glad to take us from the deepo to your house for nothing. your pal, jack. p.s. the train we are comeing on leaves here at noon al and will probily get us there in time for a late supper and i wonder if bertha would have spair ribs and crout for supper. you know me al. chapter vi the busher beats it hence _chicago, ill., oct. 18._ friend al: i guess may be you will begin to think i dont never do what i am going to do and that i change my mind a hole lot because i wrote and told you that i and florrie and little al would be in bedford to-day and here we are in chi yet on the day when i told you we would get to bedford and i bet bertha and you and the rest of the boys will be dissapointed but al i dont feel like as if i should ought to leave the white sox in a hole and that is why i am here yet and i will tell you how it come off but in the 1st place i want to tell you that it wont make a diffrence of more then 5 or 6 or may be 7 days at least and we will be down there and see you and bertha and the rest of the boys just as soon as the n.y. giants and the white sox leaves here and starts a round the world. all so i remember i told you to fix it up so as a hack would be down to the deepo to meet us to-night and you wont get this letter in time to tell them not to send no hack so i supose the hack will be there but may be they will be some body else that gets off of the train that will want the hack and then every thing will be all o.k. but if they is not nobody else that wants the hack i will pay them 1/2 of what they was going to charge me if i had of came and road in the hack though i dont have to pay them nothing because i am not going to ride in the hack but i want to do the right thing and besides i will want a hack at the deepo when i do come so they will get a peace of money out of me any way so i dont see where they got no kick comeing even if i dont give them a nichol now. i will tell you why i am still here and you will see where i am trying to do the right thing. you knowed of coarse that the white sox and the n. y. giants was going to make a trip a round the world and they been after me for a long time to go a long with them but i says no i would not leave florrie and the kid because that would not be fare and besides i would be paying rent and grocerys for them some wheres and me not getting nothing out of it and besides i would probily be spending a hole lot of money on the trip because though the clubs pays all of our regular expences they would be a hole lot of times when i felt like blowing my self and buying some thing to send home to the mrs and to good old friends of mine like you and bertha so i turned them down and callahan acted like he was sore at me but i dont care nothing for that because i got other people to think a bout and not callahan and besides if i was to go a long the fans in the towns where we play at would want to see me work and i would have to do a hole lot of pitching which i would not be getting nothing for it and it would not count in no standing because the games is to be just for fun and what good would it do me and besides florrie says i was not under no circumstance to go and of coarse i would go if i wanted to go no matter what ever she says but all and all i turned them down and says i would stay here all winter or rather i would not stay here but in bedford. then callahan says all right but you know before we start on the trip the giants and us is going to play a game right here in chi next sunday and after what you done in the city serious the fans would be sore if they did not get no more chance to look at you so will you stay and pitch part of the game here and i says i would think it over and i come home to the hotel where we are staying at and asked florrie did she care if we did not go to bedford for an other week and she says no she did not care if we dont go for 6 years so i called callahan up and says i would stay and he says thats the boy and now the fans will have an other treat so you see al he appresiates what i done and wants to give the fans fare treatment because this town is nuts over me after what i done to them cubs but i could do it just the same to the athaletics or any body else if it would of been them in stead of the cubs. may be we will leave here the a.m. after the game that is monday and i will let you know so as you can order an other hack and tell bertha i hope she did not go to no extra trouble a bout getting ready for us and did not order no spair ribs and crout but you can eat them up if she all ready got them and may be she can order some more for us when we come but tell her it dont make no diffrence and not to go to no trouble because most anything she has is o.k. for i and florrie accept of coarse we would not want to make no meal off of sardeens or something. well al i bet them n.y. giants will wish i would of went home before they come for this here exibishun game because my arm feels grate and i will show them where they would be at if they had to play ball in our league all the time though i supose they is some pitchers in our league that they would hit good against them if they can hit at all but not me. you will see in the papers how i come out and i will write and tell you a bout it. your pal, jack. _chicago, ill., oct. 25._ old pal: i have not only got a little time but i have got some news for you and i knowed you would want to hear all a bout it so i am writeing this letter and then i am going to catch the train. i would be saying good by to little al instead of writeing this letter only florrie wont let me wake him up and he is a sleep but may be by the time i get this letter wrote he will be a wake again and i can say good by to him. i am going with the white sox and giants as far as san francisco or may be van coover where they take the boat at but i am not going a round the world with them but only just out to the coast to help them out because they is a couple of men going to join them out there and untill them men join them they will be short of men and they got a hole lot of exibishun games to play before they get out there so i am going to help them out. it all come off in the club house after the game to-day and i will tell you how it come off but 1st i want to tell you a bout the game and honest al them giants is the luckyest team in the world and it is not no wonder they keep wining the penant in that league because a club that has got there luck could win ball games with out sending no team on the field at all but staying down to the hotel. they was a big crowd out to the park so callahan says to me i did not know if i was going to pitch you or not but the crowd is out here to see you so i will have to let you work so i warmed up but i knowed the minute i throwed the 1st ball warming up that i was not right and i says to callahan i did not feel good but he says you wont need to feel good to beat this bunch because they heard a hole lot a bout you and you would have them beat if you just throwed your glove out there in the box. so i went in and tried to pitch but my arm was so lame it pretty near killed me every ball i throwed and i bet if i was some other pitchers they would not never of tried to work with my arm so sore but i am not like some of them yellow dogs and quit because i would not dissapoint the crowd or throw callahan down when he wanted me to pitch and was depending on me. you know me al. so i went in there but i did not have nothing and if them giants could of hit at all in stead of like a lot of girls they would of knock down the fence because i was not my self. at that they should not ought to of had only the 1 run off of me if weaver and them had not of begin kicking the ball a round like it was a foot ball or something. well al what with dropping fly balls and booting them a round and this in that the giants was gave 5 runs in the 1st 3 innings and they should ought to of had just the 1 run or may be not that and that ball merkle hit in to the seats i was trying to waist it and a man that is a good hitter would not never of hit at it and if i was right this here merkle could not foul me in 9 years. when i was comeing into the bench after the 3th inning this here smart alex mcgraw come passed me from the 3 base coaching line and he says are you going on the trip and i says no i am not going on no trip and he says that is to bad because if you was going we would win a hole lot of games and i give him a hot come back and he did not say nothing so i went in to the bench and callahan says them giants is not such rotten hitters is they and i says no they hit pretty good when a man has got a sore arm against them and he says why did not you tell me your arm was sore and i says i did not want to dissapoint no crowd that come out here to see me and he says well i guess you need not pitch no more because if i left you in there the crowd might begin to get tired of watching you a bout 10 oclock to-night and i says what do you mean and he did not say nothing more so i set there a while and then went to the club house. well al after the game callahan come in to the club house and i was still in there yet talking to the trainer and getting my arm rubbed and callahan says are you getting your arm in shape for next year and i says no but it give me so much pane i could not stand it and he says i bet if you was feeling good you could make them giants look like a sucker and i says you know i could make them look like a sucker and he says well why dont you come a long with us and you will get an other chance at them when you feel good and i says i would like to get an other crack at them but i could not go a way on no trip and leave the mrs and the baby and then he says he would not ask me to make the hole trip a round the world but he wisht i would go out to the coast with them because they was hard up for pitchers and he says mathewson of the giants was not only going as far as the coast so if the giants had there star pitcher that far the white sox should ought to have theren and then some of the other boys coaxed me would i go so finely i says i would think it over and i went home and seen florrie and she says how long would it be for and i says a bout 3 or 4 weeks and she says if you dont go will we start for bedford right a way and i says yes and then she says all right go a head and go but if they was any thing should happen to the baby while i was gone what would they do if i was not a round to tell them what to do and i says call a dr. in but dont call no dr. if you dont have to and besides you should ought to know by this time what to do for the baby when he got sick and she says of coarse i know a little but not as much as you do because you know it all. then i says no i dont know it all but i will tell you some things before i go and you should not ought to have no trouble so we fixed it up and her and little al is to stay here in the hotel untill i come back which will be a bout the 20 of nov. and then we will come down home and tell bertha not to get to in patient and we will get there some time. it is going to cost me $6.00 a week at the hotel for a room for she and the baby besides there meals but the babys meals dont cost nothing yet and florrie should not ought to be very hungry because we been liveing good and besides she will get all she can eat when we come to bedford and it wont cost me nothing for meals on the trip out to the coast because comiskey and mcgraw pays for that. i have not even had no time to look up where we play at but we stop off at a hole lot of places on the way and i will get a chance to make them giants look like a sucker before i get threw and mcgraw wont be so sorry i am not going to make the hole trip. you will see by the papers what i done to them before we get threw and i will write as soon as we stop some wheres long enough so as i can write and now i am going to say good by to little al if he is a wake or not a wake and wake him up and say good by to him because even if he is not only 5 months old he is old enough to think a hole lot of me and why not. i all so got to say good by to florrie and fix it up with the hotel clerk a bout she and the baby staying here a while and catch the train. you will hear from me soon old pal. your pal, jack. _st. joe, miss., oct. 29._ friend al: well al we are on our way to the coast and they is quite a party of us though it is not no real white sox and giants at all but some players from off of both clubs and then some others that is from other clubs a round the 2 leagues to fill up. we got speaker from the boston club and crawford from the detroit club and if we had them with us all the time al i would not never loose a game because one or the other of them 2 is good for a couple of runs every game and that is all i need to win my games is a couple of runs or only 1 run and i would win all my games and would not never loose a game. i did not pitch to-day and i guess the giants was glad of it because no matter what mcgraw says he must of saw from watching me sunday that i was a real pitcher though my arm was so sore i could not hardly raze it over my sholder so no wonder i did not have no stuff but at that i could of beat his gang with out no stuff if i had of had some kind of decent suport. i will pitch against them may be to-morrow or may be some day soon and my arm is all o.k. again now so i will show them up and make them wish callahan had of left me to home. some of the men has brung there wife a long and besides that there is some other men and there wife that is not no ball players but are going a long for the trip and some more will join the party out the coast before they get a bord the boat but of coarse i and mathewson will drop out of the party then because why should i or him go a round the world and throw our arms out pitching games that dont count in no standing and that we dont get no money for pitching them out side of just our bare expences. the people in the towns we played at so far has all wanted to shake hands with mathewson and i so i guess they know who is the real pitchers on these here 2 clubs no matter what them reporters says and the stars is all ways the men that the people wants to shake there hands with and make friends with them but al this here mathewson pitched to-day and honest al i dont see how he gets by and either the batters in the national league dont know nothing a bout hitting or else he is such a old man that they feel sorry for him and may be when he was a bout 10 years younger then he is may be then he had some thing and was a pretty fare pitcher but all as he does now is stick the 1st ball right over with 0 on it and pray that they dont hit it out of the park. if a pitcher like he can get by in the national league and fool them batters they is not nothing i would like better then to pitch in the national league and i bet i would not get scored on in 2 to 3 years. i heard a hole lot a bout this here fade a way that he is suposed to pitch and it is a ball that is throwed out between 2 fingers and falls in at a right hand batter and they is not no body cant hit it but if he throwed 1 of them things to-day he done it while i was a sleep and they was not no time when i was not wide a wake and looking right at him and after the game was over i says to him where is that there fade a way i heard so much a bout and he says o i did not have to use none of my regular stuff against your club and i says well you would have to use all you got if i was working against you and he says yes if you worked like you done sunday i would have to do some pitching or they would not never finish the game. then i says a bout me haveing a sore arm sunday and he says i wisht i had a sore arm like yourn and a little sence with it and was your age and i would not never loose a game so you see al he has heard a bout me and is jellus because he has not got my stuff but they cant every body expect to have the stuff that i got or 1/2 as much stuff. this smart alex mcgraw was trying to kid me to-day and says why did not i make friends with mathewson and let him learn me some thing a bout pitching and i says mathewson could not learn me nothing and he says i guess thats right and i guess they is not nobody could learn you nothing a bout nothing and if you was to stay in the league 20 years probily you would not be no better then you are now so you see he had to add mit that i am good al even if he has not saw me work when my arm was o.k. mcgraw says to me to-night he says i wisht you was going all the way and i says yes you do. i says your club would look like a sucker after i had worked against them a few times and he says may be thats right to because they would not know how to hit against a regular pitcher after that. then he says but i dont care nothing a bout that but i wisht you was going to make the hole trip so as we could have a good time. he says we got steve evans and dutch schaefer going a long and they is both of them funny but i like to be a round with boys that is funny and dont know nothing a bout it. i says well i would go a long only for my wife and baby and he says yes it would be pretty tough on your wife to have you a way that long but still and all think how glad she would be to see you when you come back again and besides them dolls acrost the ocean will be pretty sore at i and callahan if we tell them we left you to home. i says do you supose the people over there has heard a bout me and he says sure because they have wrote a lot of letters asking me to be sure and bring you and mathewson a long. then he says i guess mathewson is not going so if you was to go and him left here to home they would not be nothing to it. you could have things all your own way and probily could marry the queen of europe if you was not all ready married. he was giveing me the strate dope this time al because he did not crack a smile and i wisht i could go a long but it would not be fare to florrie but still and all did not she leave me and beat it for texas last winter and why should not i do the same thing to her only i am not that kind of a man. you know me al. we play in kansas city to-morrow and may be i will work there because it is a big town and i have got to close now and write to florrie. your old pal, jack. _abilene, texas, nov. 4._ al: well al i guess you know by this time that i have worked against them 2 times since i wrote to you last time and i beat them both times and mcgraw knows now what kind of a pitcher i am and i will tell you how i know because after the game yesterday he road down to the place we dressed at a long with me and all the way in the automobile he was after me to say i would go all the way a round the world and finely it come out that he wants i should go a long and pitch for his club and not pitch for the white sox. he says his club is up against it for pitchers because mathewson is not going and all they got left is a man named hern that is a young man and not got no experiense and wiltse that is a left hander. so he says i have talked it over with callahan and he says if i could get you to go a long it was all o.k. with him and you could pitch for us only i must not work you to hard because he is depending on you to win the penant for him next year. i says did not none of the other white sox make no holler because may be they might have to bat against me and he says yes crawford and speaker says they would not make the trip if you was a long and pitching against them but callahan showed them where it would be good for them next year because if they hit against you all winter the pitchers they hit against next year will look easy to them. he was crazy to have me go a long on the hole trip but of coarse al they is not no chance of me going on acct. of florrie and little al but you see mcgraw has cut out his trying to kid me and is treating me now like a man should ought to be treated that has did what i done. they was not no game here to-day on acct. of it raining and the people here was sore because they did not see no game but they all come a round to look at us and says they must have some speechs from the most prommerent men in the party so i and comiskey and mcgraw and callahan and mathewson and ted sullivan that i guess is putting up the money for the trip made speechs and they clapped there hands harder when i was makeing my speech then when any 1 of the others was makeing there speech. you did not know i was a speech maker did you al and i did not know it neither untill to-day but i guess they is not nothing i can do if i make up my mind and 1 of the boys says that i done just as well as dummy taylor could of. i have not heard nothing from florrie but i guess may be she is to busy takeing care of little al to write no letters and i am not worring none because she give me her word she would let me know was they some thing the matter. yours truly, jack. _san dago, cal., nov. 9._ friend al: al some times i wisht i was not married at all and if it was not for florrie and little al i would go a round the world on this here trip and i guess the boys in bedford would not be jellus if i was to go a round the world and see every thing they is to be saw and some of the boys down home has not never been no futher a way then terre haute and i dont mean you al but some of the other boys. but of coarse al when a man has got a wife and a baby they is not no chance for him to go a way on 1 of these here trips and leave them a lone so they is not no use i should even think a bout it but i cant help thinking a bout it because the boys keeps after me all the time to go. callahan was talking a bout it to me to-day and he says he knowed that if i was to pitch for the giants on the trip his club would not have no chance of wining the most of the games on the trip but still and all he wisht i would go a long because he was a scared the people over in rome and paris and africa and them other countrys would be awful sore if the 2 clubs come over there with out bringing none of there star pitchers along. he says we got speaker and crawford and doyle and thorp and some of them other real stars in all the positions accept pitcher and it will make us look bad if you and mathewson dont neither 1 of you come a long. i says what is the matter with scott and benz and this here left hander wiltse and he says they is not nothing the matter with none of them accept they is not no real stars like you and mathewson and if we cant show them forreners 1 of you 2 we will feel like as if we was cheating them. i says you would not want me to pitch my best against your club would you and he says o no i would not want you to pitch your best or get your self all wore out for next year but i would want you to let up enough so as we could make a run oncet in a while so the games would not be to 1 sided. i says well they is not no use talking a bout it because i could not leave my wife and baby and he says why dont you write and ask your wife and tell her how it is and can you go. i says no because she would make a big holler and besides of coarse i would go any way if i wanted to go with out no i yes or no from her only i am not the kind of a man that runs off and leaves his family and besides they is not nobody to leave her with because her and her sister allens wife has had a quarrle. then callahan says where is allen at now is he still in chi. i says i dont know where is he at and i dont care where he is at because i am threw with him. then callahan says i asked him would he go on the trip before the season was over but he says he could not and if i knowed where was he i would wire a telegram to him and ask him again. i says what would you want him a long for and he says because mcgraw is shy of pitchers and i says i would try and help him find 1. i says well you should ought not to have no trouble finding a man like allen to go along because his wife probily would be glad to get rid of him. then callahan says well i wisht you would get a hold of where allen is at and let me know so as i can wire him a telegram. well al i know where allen is at all o.k. but i am not going to give his adress to callahan because mcgraw has treated me all o.k. and why should i wish a man like allen on to him and besides i am not going to give allen no chance to go a round the world or no wheres else after the way he acted a bout i and florrie haveing a room in his flat and asking me to pay for it when he give me a invatation to come there and stay. well al it is to late now to cry in the sour milk but i wisht i had not never saw florrie untill next year and then i and her could get married just like we done last year only i dont know would i do it again or not but i guess i would on acct. of little al. your pal, jack. _san francisco, cal., nov. 14._ old pal: well old pal what do you know a bout me being back here in san francisco where i give the fans such a treat 2 years ago and then i was not nothing but a busher and now i am with a team that is going a round the world and are crazy to have me go a long only i cant because of my wife and baby. callahan wired a telegram to the reporters here from los angeles telling them i would pitch here and i guess they is going to be 20 or 25000 out to the park and i will give them the best i got. but what do you think florrie has did al. her and the allens has made it up there quarrle and is friends again and marie told florrie to write and tell me she was sorry we had that there argument and let by gones be by gones. well al it is all o.k. with me because i cant help not feeling sorry for allen because i dont beleive he will be in the league next year and i feel sorry for marie to because it must be pretty tough on her to see how well her sister done and what a misstake she made when she went and fell for a left hander that could not fool a blind man with his curve ball and if he was to hit a man in the head with his fast ball they would think there nose iched. in florries letter she says she thinks us and the allens could find an other flat like the 1 we had last winter and all live in it to gether in stead of going to bedford but i have wrote to her before i started writeing this letter all ready and told her that her and i is going to bedford and the allens can go where they feel like and they can go and stay on a boat on michigan lake all winter if they want to but i and florrie is comeing to bedford. down to the bottom of her letter she says allen wants to know if callahan or mcgraw is shy of pitchers and may be he would change his mind and go a long on the trip. well al i did not ask either callahan nor mcgraw nothing a bout it because i knowed they was looking for a star and not for no left hander that could not brake a pane of glass with his fast 1 so i wrote and told florrie to tell allen they was all filled up and would not have no room for no more men. it is pretty near time to go out to the ball park and i wisht you could be here al and hear them san francisco fans go crazy when they hear my name anounced to pitch. i bet they wish they had of had me here this last year. yours truly, jack. _medford, organ, nov. 16._ friend al: well al you know by this time that i did not pitch the hole game in san francisco but i was not tooken out because they was hitting me al but because my arm went back on me all of a sudden and it was the change in the clime it that done it to me and they could not hire me to try and pitch another game in san francisco. they was the biggest crowd there that i ever seen in san francisco and i guess they must of been 40000 people there and i wisht you could of heard them yell when my name was anounced to pitch. but al i would not never of went in there but for the crowd. my arm felt like a wet rag or some thing and i knowed i would not have nothing and besides the people was packed in a round the field and they had to have ground rules so when a man hit a pop fly it went in to the crowd some wheres and was a 2 bagger and all them giants could do against me was pop my fast ball up in the air and then the wind took a hold of it and dropped it in to the crowd the lucky stiffs. doyle hit 3 of them pop ups in to the crowd so when you see them 3 2 base hits oposit his name in the score you will know they was not no real 2 base hits and the infielders would of catched them had it not of been for the wind. this here doyle takes a awful wallop at a ball but if i was right and he swang at a ball the way he done in san francisco the catcher would all ready be throwing me back the ball a bout the time this here doyle was swinging at it. i can make him look like a sucker and i done it both in kansas city and bonham and if he will get up there and bat against me when i feel good and when they is not no wind blowing i will bet him a $25.00 suit of cloths that he cant foul 1 off of me. well when callahan seen how bad my arm was he says i guess i should ought to take you out and not run no chance of you getting killed in there and so i quit and faber went in to finnish it up because it dont make no diffrence if he hurts his arm or dont. but i guess mcgraw knowed my arm was sore to because he did not try and kid me like he done that day in chi because he has saw enough of me since then to know i can make his club look rotten when i am o.k. and my arm is good. on the train that night he come up and says to me well jack we catched you off your strid to-day or you would of gave us a beating and then he says what your arm needs is more work and you should ought to make the hole trip with us and then you would be in fine shape for next year but i says you cant get me to make no trip so you might is well not do no more talking a bout it and then he says well i am sorry and the girls over to paris will be sorry to but i guess he was just jokeing a bout the last part of it. well al we go to 1 more town in organ and then to washington but of coarse it is not the same washington we play at in the summer but this is the state washington and have not got no big league club and the boys gets there boat in 4 more days and i will quit them and then i will come strate back to chi and from there to bedford. your pal, jack. _portland, organ, nov. 17._ friend al: i have just wrote a long letter to florrie but i feel like as if i should ought to write to you because i wont have no more chance for a long while that is i wont have no more chance to male a letter because i will be on the pacific ocean and un less we should run passed a boat that was comeing the other way they would not be no chance of getting no letter maled. old pal i am going to make the hole trip clear a round the world and back and so i wont see you this winter after all but when i do see you al i will have a lot to tell you a bout my trip and besides i will write you a letter a bout it from every place we head in at. i guess you will be surprised a bout me changeing my mind and makeing the hole trip but they was not no way for me to get out of it and i will tell you how it all come off. while we was still in that there medford yesterday mcgraw and callahan come up to me and says was they not no chance of me changeing my mind a bout makeing the hole trip. i says no they was not. then callahan says well i dont know what we are going to do then and i says why and he says comiskey just got a letter from president wilson the president of the united states and in the letter president wilson says he had got an other letter from the king of japan who says that they would not stand for the white sox and giants comeing to japan un less they brought all there stars a long and president wilson says they would have to take there stars a long because he was a scared if they did not take there stars a long japan would get mad at the united states and start a war and then where would we be at. so comiskey wired a telegram to president wilson and says mathewson could not make the trip because he was so old but would everything be all o.k. if i was to go a long and president wilson wired a telegram back and says yes he had been talking to the priest from japan and he says yes it would be all o.k. i asked them would they show me the letter from president wilson because i thought may be they might be kiding me and they says they could not show me no letter because when comiskey got the letter he got so mad that he tore it up. well al i finely says i did not want to brake up there trip but i knowed florrie would not stand for letting me go so callahan says all right i will wire a telegram to a friend of mine in chi and have him get a hold of allen and send him out here and we will take him a long and i says it is to late for allen to get here in time and mcgraw says no they was a train that only took 2 days from chi to where ever it was the boat is going to sale from because the train come a round threw canada and it was down hill all the way. then i says well if you will wire a telegram to my wife and fix things up with her i will go a long with you but if she is going to make a holler it is all off. so we all 3 went to the telegram office to gether and we wired florrie a telegram that must of cost $2.00 but callahan and mcgraw payed for it out of there own pocket and then we waited a round a long time and the anser come back and the anser was longer than the telegram we wired and it says it would not make no diffrence to her but she did not know if the baby would make a holler but he was hollering most of the time any way so that would not make no diffrence but if she let me go it was on condishon that her and the allens could get a flat to gether and stay in chi all winter and not go to no bedford and hire a nurse to take care of the baby and if i would send her a check for the money i had in the bank so as she could put it in her name and draw it out when she need it. well i says at 1st i would not stand for nothing like that but callahan and mcgraw showed me where i was makeing a mistake not going when i could see all them diffrent countrys and tell florrie all a bout the trip when i come back and then in a year or 2 when the baby was a little older i could make an other trip and take little al and florrie a long so i finely says o.k. i would go and we wires still an other telegram to florrie and told her o.k. and then i set down and wrote her a check for 1/2 the money i got in the bank and i got $500.00 all together there so i wrote the check for 1/2 of that or $250.00 and maled it to her and if she cant get a long on that she would be a awfull spendrift because i am not only going to be a way untill march. you should ought to of heard the boys cheer when callahan tells them i am going to make the hole trip but when he tells them i am going to pitch for the giants and not for the white sox i bet crawford and speaker and them wisht i was going to stay to home but it is just like callahan says if they bat against me all winter the pitchers they bat against next season will look easy to them and you wont be supprised al if crawford and speaker hits a bout 500 next year and if they hit good you will know why it is. steve evans asked me was i all fixed up with cloths and i says no but i was going out and buy some cloths includeing a full dress suit of evening cloths and he says you dont need no full dress suit of evening cloths because you look funny enough with out them. this evans is a great kidder al and no body never gets sore at the stuff he pulls some thing like kid gleason. i wisht kid gleason was going on the trip al but i will tell him all a bout it when i come back. well al old pal i wisht you was going a long to and i bet we could have the time of our life but i will write to you right a long al and i will send bertha some post cards from the diffrent places we head in at. i will try and write you a letter on the boat and male it as soon as we get to the 1st station which is either japan or yokohama i forgot which. good by al and say good by to bertha for me and tell her how sorry i and florrie is that we cant come to bedford this winter but we will spend all the rest of the winters there and her and florrie will have a plenty of time to get acquainted. good by old pal. your pal, jack. _seattle, wash., nov. 18._ al: well al it is all off and i am not going on no trip a round the world and back and i been looking for callahan or mcgraw for the last 1/2 hour to tell them i have changed my mind and am not going to make no trip because it would not be fare to florrie and besides that i think i should ought to stay home and take care of little al and not leave him to be tooken care of by no train nurse because how do i know what would she do to him and i am not going to tell florrie nothing a bout it but i am going to take the train to-morrow night right back to chi and supprise her when i get there and i bet both her and little al will be tickled to death to see me. i supose mcgraw and callahan will be sore at me for a while but when i tell them i want to do the right thing and not give my famly no raw deal i guess they will see where i am right. we was to play 2 games here and was to play 1 of them in tacoma and the other here but it rained and so we did not play neither 1 and the people was pretty mad a bout it because i was announced to pitch and they figured probily this would be there only chance to see me in axion and they made a awful holler but comiskey says no they would not be no game because the field neither here or in tacoma was in no shape for a game and he would not take no chance of me pitching and may be slipping in the mud and straneing myself and then where would the white sox be at next season. so we been laying a round all the p.m. and i and dutch schaefer had a long talk to gether while some of the rest of the boys was out buying some cloths to take on the trip and al i bought a full dress suit of evening cloths at portland yesterday and now i owe callahan the money for them and am not going on no trip so probily i wont never get to ware them and it is just $45.00 throwed a way but i would rather throw $45.00 a way then go on a trip a round the world and leave my famly all winter. well al i and schaefer was talking to gether and he says well may be this is the last time we will ever see the good old us and i says what do you mean and he says people that gos acrost the pacific ocean most generally all ways has there ship recked and then they is not no more never heard from them. then he asked me was i a good swimmer and i says yes i had swam a good deal in the river and he says yes you have swam in the river but that is not nothing like swimming in the pacific ocean because when you swim in the pacific ocean you cant move your feet because if you move your feet the sharks comes up to the top of the water and bites at them and even if they did not bite your feet clean off there bite is poison and gives you the hiderofobeya and when you get that you start barking like a dog and the water runs in to your mouth and chokes you to death. then he says of coarse if you can swim with out useing your feet you are all o.k. but they is very few can do that and especially in the pacific ocean because they got to keep useing there hands all the time to scare the sord fish a way so when you dont dare use your feet and your hands is busy you got nothing left to swim with but your stumach mussles. then he says you should ought to get a long all o.k. because your stumach mussles should ought to be strong from the exercise they get so i guess they is not no danger from a man like you but men like wiltse and mike donlin that is not hog fat like you has not got no chance. then he says of coarse they have been times when the boats got acrost all o.k. and only a few lives lost but it dont offten happen and the time the old minneapolis club made the trip the boat went down and the only thing that was saved was the catchers protector that was full of air and could not do nothing else but flote. then he says may be you would flote to if you did not say nothing for a few days. i asked him how far would a man got to swim if some thing went wrong with the boat and he says o not far because they is a hole lot of ilands a long the way that a man could swim to but it would not do a man no good to swim to these here ilands because they dont have nothing to eat on them and a man would probily starve to death un less he happened to swim to the sandwich ilands. then he says but by the time you been out on the pacific ocean a few months you wont care if you get any thing to eat or not. i says why not and he says the pacific ocean is so ruff that not nothing can set still not even the stuff you eat. i asked him how long did it take to make the trip acrost if they was not no ship reck and he says they should ought to get acrost a long in febuery if the weather was good. i says well if we dont get there until febuery we wont have no time to train for next season and he says you wont need to do no training because this trip will take all the weight off of you and every thing else you got. then he says but you should not ought to be scared of getting sea sick because they is 1 way you can get a way from it and that is to not eat nothing at all while you are on the boat and they tell me you dont eat hardly nothing any way so you wont miss it. then he says of coarse if we should have good luck and not get in to no ship reck and not get shot by 1 of them war ships we will have a grate time when we get acrost because all the girls in europe and them places is nuts over ball players and especially stars. i asked what did he mean saying we might get shot by 1 of them war ships and he says we would have to pass by swittserland and the swittserland war ships was all the time shooting all over the ocean and of coarse they was not trying to hit no body but they was as wild as most of them left handers and how could you tell what was they going to do next. well al after i got threw talking to schaefer i run in to jack sheridan the umpire and i says i did not think i would go on no trip and i told him some of the things schaefer was telling me and sheridan says schaefer was kidding me and they was not no danger at all and of coarse al i did not believe 1/2 of what schaefer was telling me and that has not got nothing to do with me changeing my mind but i don't think it is not hardly fare for me to go a way on a trip like that and leave florrie and the baby and suppose some of them things really did happen like schaefer said though of coarse he was kidding me but if 1 of them was to happen they would not be no body left to take care of florrie and little al and i got a $1000.00 insurence policy but how do i know after i am dead if the insurence co. comes acrost and gives my famly the money. well al i will male this letter and then try again and find mcgraw and callahan and then i will look up a time table and see what train can i get to chi. i dont know yet when i will be in bedford and may be florrie has hired a flat all ready but the allens can live in it by them self and if allen says any thing a bout i paying for 1/2 of the rent i will bust his jaw. your pal, jack. _victoria, can., nov. 19._ dear old al: well old pal the boat gos to-night i am going a long and i would not be takeing no time to write this letter only i wrote to you yesterday and says i was not going and you probily would be expecting to see me blow in to bedford in a few days and besides al i got a hole lot of things to ask you to do for me if any thing happens and i want to tell you how it come a bout that i changed my mind and am going on the trip. i am glad now that i did not write florrie no letter yesterday and tell her i was not going because now i would have to write her an other letter and tell her i was going and she would be expecting to see me the day after she got the 1st letter and in stead of seeing me she would get this 2nd. letter and not me at all. i have all ready wrote her a good by letter to-day though and while i was writeing it al i all most broke down and cried and espesially when i thought a bout leaveing little al so long and may be when i see him again he wont be no baby no more or may be some thing will of happened to him or that train nurse did some thing to him or may be i wont never see him again no more because it is pretty near a cinch that some thing will either happen to i or him. i would give all most any thing i got al to be back in chi with little al and florrie and i wisht she had not of never wired that telegram telling me i could make the trip and if some thing happens to me think how she will feel when ever she thinks a bout wireing me that telegram and she will feel all most like as if she was a murder. well al after i had wrote you that letter yesterday i found callahan and mcgraw and i tell them i have changed my mind and am not going on no trip. callahan says whats the matter and i says i dont think it would be fare to my wife and baby and callahan says your wife says it would be all o.k. because i seen the telegram my self. i says yes but she dont know how dangerus the trip is and he says whos been kiding you and i says they has not no body been kiding me. i says dutch schaefer told me a hole lot of stuff but i did not believe none of it and that has not got nothing to do with it. i says i am not a scared of nothing but supose some thing should happen and then where would my wife and my baby be at. then callahan says schaefer has been giveing you a lot of hot air and they is not no more danger on this trip then they is in bed. you been in a hole lot more danger when you was pitching some of them days when you had a sore arm and you would be takeing more chances of getting killed in chi by 1 of them taxi cabs or the dog catcher then on the ocean. this here boat we are going on is the umpires of japan and it has went acrost the ocean a million times with out nothing happening and they could not nothing happen to a boat that the n.y. giants was rideing on because they is to lucky. then i says well i have made up my mind to not go on no trip and he says all right then i guess we might is well call the trip off and i says why and he says you know what president wilson says a bout japan and they wont stand for us comeing over there with out you a long and then mcgraw says yes it looks like as if the trip was off because we dont want to take no chance of starting no war between japan and the united states. then callahan says you will be in fine with comiskey if he has to call the trip off because you are a scared of getting hit by a fish. well al we talked and argude for a hour or a hour and 1/2 and some of the rest of the boys come a round and took callahan and mcgraw side and finely callahan says it looked like as if they would have to posepone the trip a few days un till he could get a hold of allen or some body and get them to take my place so finely i says i would go because i would not want to brake up no trip after they had made all there plans and some of the players wifes was all ready to go and would be dissapointed if they was not no trip. so mcgraw and callahan says thats the way to talk and so i am going al and we are leaveing to-night and may be this is the last letter you will ever get from me but if they does not nothing happen al i will write to you a lot of letters and tell you all a bout the trip but you must not be looking for no more letters for a while untill we get to japan where i can male a letter and may be its likely as not we wont never get to japan. here is the things i want to ask you to try and do al and i am not asking you to do nothing if we get threw the trip all right but if some thing happens and i should be drowned here is what i am asking you to do for me and that is to see that the insurence co. dont skin florrie out of that $1000.00 policy and see that she all so gets that other $250.00 out of the bank and find her some place down in bedford to live if she is willing to live down there because she can live there a hole lot cheaper then she can live in chi and besides i know bertha would treat her right and help her out all she could. all so al i want you and bertha to help take care of little al untill he grows up big enough to take care of him self and if he looks like as if he was going to be left handed dont let him al but make him use his right hand for every thing. well al they is 1 good thing and that is if i get drowned florrie wont have to buy no lot in no cemetary and hire no herse. well al old pal you all ways been a good friend of mine and i all ways tried to be a good friend of yourn and if they was ever any thing i done to you that was not o.k. remember by gones is by gones. i want you to all ways think of me as your best old pal. good by old pal. your old pal, jack. p.s. al if they should not nothing happen and if we was to get acrost the ocean all o.k. i am going to ask mcgraw to let me work the 1st game against the white sox in japan because i should certainly ought to be right after giveing my arm a rest and not doing nothing at all on the trip acrost and i bet if mcgraw lets me work crawford and speaker will wisht the boat had of sank. you know me al. transcribers note: original spelling and grammar has been retained. g.m. note: project gutenberg also has an html version of this file which includes the original illustration. see 41847-h.htm or 41847-h.zip: (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41847/41847-h/41847-h.htm) or (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/41847/41847-h.zip) transcriber's note: text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). [illustration: joe steadied himself, and smiled at his opponent.] baseball joe in the central league or making good as a professional pitcher by lester chadwick author of "baseball joe of the silver stars," "baseball joe at yale," "the rival pitchers," "the eight-oared victors," etc. illustrated [illustration] new york cupples & leon company * * * * * =books by lester chadwick= =the baseball joe series= =12mo. cloth. illustrated= baseball joe of the silver stars or the rivals of riverside baseball joe on the school nine or pitching for the blue banner baseball joe at yale or pitching for the college championship baseball joe in the central league or making good as a professional pitcher (_other volumes in preparation_) =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 (_other volumes in preparation_) =cupples & leon company, new york= * * * * * copyright, 1914, by cupples & leon company =baseball joe in the central league= printed in u. s. a. contents chapter page i danger 1 ii off for the south 13 iii an accusation 23 iv in training 30 v the clash 41 vi a straight throw 50 vii the girl 58 viii a parting 67 ix the first league game 74 x bitterness 84 xi old pop consoles 92 xii the queer valise 98 xiii mabel 105 xiv bad news 113 xv joe's pluck 120 xvi a slim chance 128 xvii old pop again 136 xviii in despair 144 xix a new hold 153 xx joe's triumph 161 xxi a danger signal 168 xxii victory 176 xxiii the tramp again 185 xxiv on the track 191 xxv reggie's auto 198 xxvi the tramp rendezvous 206 xxvii the slow watch 212 xxviii the race 220 xxix a diamond battle 228 xxx the pennant 237 baseball joe in the central league chapter i danger "why, here's joe!" "so soon? i didn't expect him until night." the girl who had uttered the first exclamation, and her mother whose surprise was manifested in the second, hurried to the door of the cottage, up the gravel walk to which a tall, athletic youth was then striding, swinging a heavy valise as though he enjoyed the weight of it. "hello, mother!" he called gaily. "how are you, sis?" and a moment later joe matson was alternating his marks of affection between his mother and sister. "well, it's good to be home again!" he went on, looking into the two faces which showed the pleasure felt in the presence of the lad. "mighty good to be home again!" "and we're glad to have him; aren't we, mother?" "yes, clara, of course," and mrs. matson spoke with a hesitation that her son could not help noticing. "of course we just love to have you home joe----" "there, now, mother, i know what you're going to say!" he interrupted with good-natured raillery. "you rather wish i'd stuck on there at yale, turning into a fossil, or something like that, and----" "oh, joe! of course i didn't want you to turn into a fossil," objected his mother, in shocked tones. "but i did hope that you might----" "become a sky-pilot! is that it, momsey?" and he put his arm about her slender waist. "joe matson! what a way to talk about a minister!" she cried. "the idea!" "well, mother, i meant no disrespect. a sky-pilot is an ancient and honorable calling, but not for me. so here i am. yale will have to worry along without yours truly, and i guess she'll make out fairly well. but how is everything? seen any of the fellows lately? how's father? how's the business?" the last two questions seemed to open a painful subject, for mother and daughter looked at one another as though each one was saying: "you tell him!" joe matson sensed that something disagreeable was in the air. "what is it?" he demanded, turning from his mother to his sister. "what has happened?" it was not joe's way to shrink from danger, or from a disagreeable duty. and part of his success as a baseball pitcher was due to this very fact. now he was aware that something had gone amiss since his last visit home, and he wanted to know what it was. he put his arms on his mother's shoulders--frail little shoulders they were, too--yet they had borne many heavy burdens of which joe knew nothing. what mother's shoulders have not? the lad looked into her eyes--eyes that held a hint of pain. his own were clear and bright--they snapped with life and youthful vigor. "what is it, momsey?" he asked softly. "don't be afraid to tell me. has anything happened to dad?" "oh, no, it isn't anything like that, joe," said clara quickly. "we didn't write to you about it for fear you'd worry and lose that last big game with princeton. it's only that----" "your father has lost some money!" interrupted mrs. matson, wishing to have the disagreeable truth out at once. "oh, if that's all, we can soon fix that!" cried joe, gaily, as though it was the easiest thing in the world. "just wait until i begin drawing my salary as pitcher for the pittston team in the central league, and then you'll be on easy street." "oh, but it's a great deal of money, joe!" spoke clara in rather awed tones. "well, you haven't heard what my salary is to be." "you mustn't make it so serious, clara," interposed mrs. matson. "your father hasn't exactly lost the money, joe. but he has made a number of investments that seem likely to turn out badly, and there's a chance that he'll have to lose, just as some others will." "oh, well, if there's a chance, what's the use of worrying until you have to?" asked joe, boy-like. "the chances are pretty good--or, rather, pretty bad--that the money will go," said mrs. matson with a sigh. "oh, dear! isn't it too bad, after all his hard work!" "there, there, mother!" exclaimed the lad, soothingly. "let's talk about something pleasant. i'll go down to the works soon, and see dad. just now i'm as hungry as a--well, as a ball player after he's won out in the world's series. got anything to eat in the house?" "of course!" exclaimed clara, with a laugh, "though whether it will suit your high and mightiness, after what you have been used to at college, i can't say." "oh, i'm not fussy, sis! trot out a broiled lobster or two, half a roast chicken, some oysters, a little salad and a cup of coffee and i'll try and make that do until the regular meal is ready!" they laughed at his infectious good-humor, and a look of relief showed on mrs. matson's face. but it did not altogether remove the shadow of concern that had been there since joe wrote of his decision to leave yale to take up the life of a professional baseball player. it had been a sore blow to his mother, who had hopes of seeing him enter the ministry, or at least one of the professions. and with all his light-heartedness, joe realized the shattered hopes. but, for the life of him, he could not keep on at college--a place entirely unsuited to him. but of that more later. seated at the dining-room table, the three were soon deep in a rather disjointed conversation. joe's sister and mother waited on him as only a mother and sister can serve a returned son and brother. between bites, as it were, joe asked all sorts of questions, chiefly about his father's business troubles. neither mrs. matson nor her daughter could give a very clear account of what had happened, or was in danger of happening, and the young pitcher, whose recent victory in the college championship games had made him quite famous, remarked: "i'll have to go down and see dad myself, and give him the benefit of my advice. i suppose he's at the harvester works?" "yes," answered mrs. matson. "he is there early and late. he is working on another patent, and he says if it's successful he won't mind about the bad investments. but he hasn't had much luck, so far." "i'll have to take him out to a ball game, and get the cobwebs out of his head," said joe, with a laugh. "it's a bad thing to get in a rut. just a little more bread, sis." "and so you have really left yale?" asked his mother, almost hoping something might have occurred to change her son's mind. "you are not going back, joe?" "no, i've quit, mother, sold off what belongings i didn't want to keep, and here i am." "and when are you going to begin pitching for that professional team?" asked clara, coming in with the bread. "i can't exactly say. i've got to go meet mr. gregory, the manager and the largest stockholder in the club. so far i've only dealt with mr. james mack, his assistant and scout. he picked me up and made a contract with me." "perhaps it won't go through," ventured mrs. matson, half-hopefully. "oh, i guess it will," answered joe, easily. "anyhow, i've got an advance payment, and i can hold them to their terms. i expect i'll be sent south to the training camp, where the rest of the players are. the season opens soon, and then we'll be traveling all over the circuit--mostly in the middle west." "then we won't see much of you, joe," and his sister spoke regretfully. "well, i'll have to be pretty much on the jump, sis. but i'll get home whenever i can. and if ever you get near where the pittston club is playing--that's my team, you know--" and joe pretended to swell up with pride--"why, just take a run in, and i'll get you box seats." "i'm afraid i don't care much for baseball," sighed mrs. matson. "i do!" cried clara with enthusiasm. "oh, we've had some dandy games here this spring, joe, though the best games are yet to come. the silver stars are doing fine!" "are they really?" joe asked. "and since they lost my invaluable services as a twirler? how thoughtless of them, sis!" clara laughed. "well, they miss you a lot," she pouted, "and often speak of you. maybe, if you're going to be home a few days, you could pitch a game for them." "i wouldn't dare do it, clara." "why not, i'd like to know," and her eyes showed her surprise. "because i'm a professional now, and i can't play in amateur contests--that is, it wouldn't be regular." "oh, i guess no one here would mind, joe. will you have some of these canned peaches?" "just a nibble, sis--just a nibble. i've made out pretty well. you can make as good bread as ever, momsey!" "i'm glad you like it, joe. your father thinks there's nothing like home-made bread." "that's where dad shows his good judgment. quite discriminating on dad's part, i'm sure. yes, indeed!" "oh, joe, you're so--so different!" said clara, looking at her brother sharply. "in what way, sis?" "oh, i don't know," she said, slowly. "i suppose it's--the college influence." "well, a fellow can't live at yale, even for a short time, without absorbing something different from the usual life. it's an education in itself just to go there if you never opened a book. it's a different world." "and i wish you had stayed there!" burst out mrs. matson, with sudden energy. "oh, i don't like you to be a professional ball player! it's no profession at all!" "well, call it a business then, if you like," said joe good-naturedly. "say it isn't a profession, though it is called one. as a business proposition, mother, it's one of the biggest in the world to-day. the players make more money than lots of professional men, and they don't have to work half so hard--not that i mind that." "joe matson! do you mean to tell me a ball player--even one who tosses the ball for the other man to hit at--does he make more than--than a _minister_?" demanded his mother. "i should say so, mother! why, there are very few ministers who make as much as even an ordinary player in a minor league. and as for the major leaguers--why, they could equal half a dozen preachers. mind, i'm not talking against the ministry, or any of the learned professions. i only wish i had the brains and ability to enter one. "but i haven't, and there's no use pretending i have. and, though i do say it myself, there's no use spoiling a good pitcher to make a poor minister. i'm sorry, mother, that i couldn't keep on at yale--sorry on your account, not on mine. but i just couldn't." "how--how much do you suppose you'll get a year for pitching in this central league?" asked mrs. matson, hesitatingly. "well, they're going to start me on fifteen hundred dollars a year," said joe rather proudly, "and of course i can work up from that." "fifteen hundred dollars!" cried mrs. matson. "why, that's more than a hundred dollars a month!" "a good deal more, when you figure that i don't have to do anything in the winter months, mother." "fifteen hundred dollars!" murmured clara. "why, that's more than father earned when he got married, mother. i've heard you say so--lots of times." "yes, clara. but then fifteen hundred dollars went further in those days than it does now. but, joe, i didn't think you'd get so much as that." "there's my contract, mother," and he pulled it from his pocket with a flourish. "well, of course, joe--oh! i _did_ want you to be a minister, or a lawyer, or a doctor; but since you feel you can't--well, perhaps it's all for the best, joe," and she sighed softly. "maybe it's for the best." "you'll see that it will be, mother. and now i'm going down street and see some of the boys. i suppose tom davis is around somewhere. then i'll stroll in on dad. i want to have a talk with him." "shall i unpack your valise?" asked clara. "yes. i guess i'll be home for a few days before starting in at the training camp. i'll be back to supper, anyhow," and, with a laugh he went out and down the main street of riverside, where the matsons made their home. as baseball joe walked along the thoroughfare he was greeted by many acquaintances--old and young. they were all glad to see him, for the fame of the pitcher who had won the victory for yale was shared, in a measure, by his home town. in the case of baseball players, at least, they are not "prophets without honor save in their own country." joe inquired for his old chum, tom davis, but no one seemed to have noticed him that day, and, making up his mind he would locate him later, the young pitcher turned his footsteps in the direction of the royal harvester works, where his father was employed. to reach the plant joe had to cross the railroad, and in doing this he noticed a man staggering along the tracks. the man was not a prepossessing specimen. his clothes were ragged and dirty--in short "tramp" was written all over him. "and he acts as though he were drugged, or had taken too much whiskey," said joe. "too bad! maybe he's had a lot of trouble. you can't always tell. "but i'm sure of one thing, and that is he'd better get off the track. he doesn't seem able to take care of himself. "look out there!" cried the young pitcher, with sudden energy. "look out for that freight, old man! you're walking right into danger!" a train of freight cars was backing down the rails, right upon the man who was staggering along, unheeding. the engineer blew his whistle shrilly--insistently; but still the ragged man did not get off the track. joe sprinted at his best pace, and in an instant had grasped the man by the arm. the tramp looked up with bleary, blood-shot eyes--uncomprehending--almost unseeing. "wha--wha's matter?" he asked, thickly. "matter--matter enough when you get sense enough to realize it!" said joe sharply, as he pulled him to one side, and only just in time, for a second later the freight train thundered past at hardly slackened speed in spite of the fact that the brakes had been clapped on. the man staggered at joe's sudden energy, and would have toppled over against a switch had not the young pitcher held him. chapter ii off for the south sweeping past, in the cab of the locomotive, the engineer leaned out and shook his fist at the tramp. "you ought to be locked up!" he yelled, with savage energy. then, lest he might not seem to appreciate joe's action in saving the man's life and preventing a lot of trouble for the railroad authorities, the engineer added: "much obliged to you, young fellow. you saved us a bad mess. better turn that hobo over to one of the yard detectives. he'll take care of him, all right." "no, i'll get him off the tracks and start him home, if i can," answered joe, but it is doubtful if the engineer heard. "you had a close call, old man," went on joe, as he helped the tramp to stand upright. "better get off the railroad. where do you want to go?" "hey?" "i ask you where you want to go. i'll give you a hand, if it isn't too far. it's dangerous here--for a man in your--condition." "uh! don't make no difference where i go, i reckon," replied the man, thickly. "no difference at all. i'm down and out, an' one place's good's nuther. down--an'--out!" "oh, well, maybe you can come back," said joe, as cheerfully as he could. "don't give up." "come back! huh! guess you don't know the game. fellers like me never come back. say, bo, you've got quite an arm on you," he said admiringly, as he noted the ease with which the young pitcher helped him over the tracks. the unfortunate man could hardly help himself. "you've got an arm--all right." "oh, nothing much. just from pitching. i expect." "pitching!" the man straightened up as though a lash had struck him. "pitching, did you say? in--er--in what league?" "not in any league yet, though i've signed with the central." "the central? huh! a bush league." "i left the yale 'varsity to go with them," said joe, a little nettled at the tone of the man whose life he had just saved. "oh--you pitched for yale?" there was more deference shown now. "yes, and we beat princeton." "you did? an' you pitched? say, young feller, put her there! put her--there!" the man held out an unsteady hand, which joe, more to quiet him than for any other reason, clasped firmly. "an' you beat princeton! good for you! put her there! i--er--i read about that. i can read--i got a good education. but i--er--oh, i'm a fool, that's what i am. a fool! an' to think that i once--oh, what's the use--what's the use?" the energy faded away from his voice, and he ended in a half sob. with bowed head he allowed joe to lead him across the tracks. a number of railroad men who had seen the rescue looked at the pair, but once the tramp was off the line, and out of immediate danger, they lost interest. "can i help you--do you want to go anywhere in particular?" asked joe, kindly. "what's the use of goin' anywhere in particular?" was the demand. "i've got nowhere to go. one place is as good as another when you're down--and out. out! ha! yes, out! he's out--out at first--last--out all the time! out!" "oh, quit!" exclaimed joe, sharply, for the man was fast losing his nerve, and was almost sobbing. "that's right, young feller--that's right!" came the quick retort. "i do need pullin' up. much obliged to you. i--i guess i can take care of myself now." "have you any--do you need any--money?" hesitated joe. "no--no, thank you. i've got some. not much, but enough until i can get--straightened out. i'm much obliged to you." he walked straighter now, and more upright. "be careful to keep off the tracks," warned joe. "i--i will. don't worry. much obliged," and the man walked off into the woods that adjoined the railroad. "poor old chap," mused the young pitcher, as he resumed his way to his father's shop. and while i have just a few moments i will take advantage of them to make my new readers better acquainted with joe, and his achievements, as detailed in the former books of this series. the first volume is entitled "baseball joe of the silver stars," and tells how joe began his career as a pitcher. the silver stars were made up of ball-loving lads in riverside, a new england town where joe lived with his parents and his sister clara. mr. matson was an inventor of farming machinery, and had perfected a device that brought him in substantial returns. joe, tom davis, and a number of other lads formed a team that was to represent riverside. their bitterest rivals were the resolutes of rocky ford, a neighboring town, and many hot battles of the diamond were fought. joe rapidly developed as a pitcher, and it was due to his efforts that his team made such an excellent showing. in the second book, entitled, "baseball joe on the school nine," i related what happened when our hero went to excelsior hall, a boarding institution just outside of cedarhurst. joe did not find it so easy, there, to make a showing as a pitcher. there was more competition to begin with, and he had rivals and enemies. but he did not give up, and, in spite of many difficulties, he finally occupied the mound when the annual struggle for the blue banner took place. and what a game that was! joe spent several terms at excelsior hall, and then, more in deference to his mother's wishes than because he wanted to, he went to yale. for an account of what happened there i refer my readers to the third book of the series, called "baseball joe at yale." joe had an uphill climb at the big university. mingled with the hard work, the hopes deferred and the jealousies, were, however, good times a-plenty. that is one reason why joe did not want to leave it. but he had an ambition to become a professional ball player, and he felt that he was not fitted for a college life. so when "jimmie" mack, assistant manager of the pittston team of the central league, who was out "scouting" for new and promising players, saw joe's pitching battle against princeton, he made the young collegian an offer which joe did not feel like refusing. he closed his college career abruptly, and when this story opens we find him coming back from new haven to riverside. in a day or so he expected to join the recruits at the training camp of the pittston nine, which was at montville, north carolina. as joe kept on, after his rescue of the tramp, his thoughts were busy over many subjects. chief among them was wonder as to how he would succeed in his new career. "and then i've got to learn how dad's affairs are," mused joe. "i may have to pitch in and help him." mr. matson came from his private office in the harvester works, and greeted joe warmly. "we didn't expect you home quite so soon," he said, as he clasped his son's hand. "no, i found out, after i wrote, that i was coming home, that i could get an earlier train that would save me nearly a day, so i took it. but, dad, what's this i hear about your financial troubles?" "oh, never mind about them, joe," was the evasive answer. "but i want to mind, dad. i want to help you." mr. matson went into details, with which i will not tire the reader. sufficient to say that the inventor had invested some capital in certain stocks and bonds the value of which now seemed uncertain. "and if i have to lose it--i have to, i suppose," concluded joe's father, resignedly. "now, my boy, tell me about yourself--and--baseball," and he smiled, for he knew joe's hobby. father and son talked at some length, and then, as mr. matson had about finished work for the day, the two set out for home together. on the way joe met his old chum, tom davis, and they went over again the many good times in which they had taken part. joe liked his home--he liked his home town, and his old chums, but still he wished to get into the new life that had called him. he was not sorry, therefore, when, a few days later he received a telegram from mr. mack, telling him to report at once at montville. "oh, joe!" exclaimed his mother. "do you really have to go so soon?" "i'm afraid so, momsey," he answered. "you see the league season will soon open and i want to begin at the beginning. this is my life work, and i can't lose any time." "pitching ball a life work!" sighed mrs. matson. "oh, joe! if it was only preaching--or something like that." "let the boy alone, mother," said mr. matson, with a good-humored twinkle in his eye. "we can't all be ministers, and i'd rather have a world series winner in my family than a poor lawyer or doctor. he'll do more good in society, too. good luck to you, joe." but joe was not to get away to the south as quietly as he hoped. he was importuned by his old baseball chums to pitch an exhibition game for them, but he did not think it wise, under the circumstances, so declined. but they wanted to do him honor, and, learning through tom davis--who, i may say in passing, got the secret from clara--when joe's train was to leave, many of the old members of the silver stars gathered to wish their hero godspeed. "what's the matter with baseball joe?" was the cry outside the station, whither joe had gone with his sister and mother, his father having bidden him good-bye earlier. "what's the matter with joe matson?" "_he's--all--right!_" came the staccato reply. again the demand: "who's all right?" "_baseball joe!_" "why--what--what does it mean?" asked mrs. matson in bewilderment as she sat near her son in the station, and heard the cries. "oh, it's just the boys," said joe, easily. "they're giving joe a send-off," explained clara. quite a crowd gathered as the members of the amateur nine cheered joe again and again. many other boys joined in, and the scene about the railroad depot was one of excitement. "what's going on?" asked a stranger. "joe matson's going off," was the answer. "who's joe matson?" "don't you know?" the lad looked at the man in half-contempt. "why, he pitched a winning game for yale against princeton, and now he's going to the pittstons of the central league." "oh, i see. hum. is that he?" and the man pointed to the figure of our hero, surrounded by his friends. "that's him! say, i wish he was me!" and the lad looked enviously at joe. "i--i never knew baseball was so--so popular," said mrs. matson to clara, as the shouting and cheers grew, while joe resisted an attempt on the part of the lads to carry him on their shoulders. "i guess it's as much joe as it is the game," answered clara, proudly. "three cheers for joe!" were called for, and given with a will. again came the question as to who was all right, and the usual answer followed. joe was shaking hands with two lads at once, and trying to respond to a dozen requests for letters, or passes to the league games. then came the whistle of the train, more hurried good-byes, a last kiss for his mother and sister--final cheers--shouts--calls for good wishes--and joe was on his way to the southern baseball camp. chapter iii an accusation "whew!" exclaimed joe, as he sank into a car seat and placed his valise beside him. "some doings--those!" several passengers looked at him, smiling and appreciative. they had seen and heard the parting ovation tendered to our hero, and they understood what it meant. joe waved his hand out of the window as the train sped on, and then settled back to collect his thoughts which, truth to tell, were running riot. pulling from his pocket some books on baseball, one of which contained statistics regarding the central league, joe began poring over them. he wanted to learn all he could about the organization with which he had cast his fortunes. and a few words of explanation concerning the central league may not be unappreciated by my readers. in the first place let me be perfectly frank, and state that the central league was not one of the big ones. i have not masqueraded a major league under that title. some day i hope to tell you some stories concerning one of the larger leagues, but not in this volume. and in the second place joe realized that he was not going to astonish the world by his performances in this small league. he knew it was but a "bush league," in a sense, yet he had read enough of it to know that it was composed of clean-cut clubs and players, and that it bore a good reputation. many a major league player had graduated from this same central, and joe--well, to put it modestly--had great hopes. the central league was of the middle west. it played its eight clubs over a circuit composed of eight well-known cities, which for the purposes of this story i have seen fit to designate as follows: clevefield, pittston (to which club joe had been signed), delamont, washburg, buffington, loston, manhattan and newkirk. perhaps, as the story progresses, you may recognize, more or less successfully, certain players and certain localities. with that i have nothing to do. the train sped on, stopping at various stations, but joe took little interest in the passing scenery, or in what took place in his coach. he was busy over his baseball "dope," by which i mean the statistics regarding players, their averages, and so forth. "and my name will soon be among 'em!" exulted joe. as the train was pulling out of a small station, joe looked out of the window, and, to his surprise, saw, sitting on a baggage truck, the same tramp he had saved from the freight train some days before. "hum!" mused joe. "if he's beating his way on the railroad he hasn't gotten very far," for this was not many miles from riverside. "i guess he's a sure-enough hobo, all right. too bad!" others beside joe seemed to have noticed the tramp, who, however, had not looked at our hero. one of two men in the seat back of joe spoke, and said: "i say, reynolds, see that tramp sitting there?" "you mean the one on the truck?" "yes. do you recognize him?" "recognize him? i should say not. i'm not in the habit of----" "easy, old man. would you be surprised if i told you that many times you've taken your hat off to that same tramp, and cheered him until you were hoarse?" "get out!" "it's a fact." "who is he?" "i don't know who he is now--not much, to judge by his looks; but that's old pop dutton, who, in his day, was one of the best pitchers boston ever owned. he was a wonder!" "is that pop dutton?" "that's the wreck of him!" "how have the mighty fallen," was the whispered comment. "poor old pop! indeed, many a time i have taken my hat off to him! he sure was a wonder. what caused his downfall?" "bad companions--that and--drink." "too bad!" joe felt an irresistible impulse to turn around and speak to the two men. but he refrained, perhaps wisely. "and to think that i saved his life!" mused joe. "no wonder he talked as he did. pop dutton! why, i've often read of him. he pitched many a no-hit no-run game. and now look at him!" as the train pulled out joe saw the wreck of what had once been a fine man stagger across the platform. a railroad man had driven him from the truck. joe's heart was sore. he realized that in baseball there were many temptations, and he knew that many a fine young fellow had succumbed to them. but he felt himself strong enough to resist. if joe expected to make the trip south with speed and comfort he was soon to realize that it was not to be. late that afternoon the train came to an unexpected stop, and on the passengers inquiring what was the trouble, the conductor informed them that, because of a wreck ahead, they would be delayed at a little country station for several hours. there were expostulations, sharp remarks and various sorts of suggestions offered by the passengers, all of whom seemed to be in a hurry. joe, himself, regretted the delay, but he did not see how it could be avoided. "the company ought to be sued!" declared a young man whose rather "loud" clothes proclaimed him for an up-to-date follower of "fashion." he had with him a valise of peculiar make--rather conspicuous--and it looked to be of foreign manufacture. in fact, everything about him was rather striking. "i ought to be in new york now," this young chap went on, as though everyone in the train was interested in his fortunes and misfortunes. "this delay is uncalled for! i shall start suit against this railroad. it's always having wrecks. can't we go on, my good man?" he asked the conductor, sharply. "not unless you go on ahead and shove the wreck out of the way," was the sharp answer. "i shall report you!" said the youth, loftily. "do! it won't be the first time i've been reported--my good fellow!" the youth flushed and, taking his valise, left the car to enter the small railway station. several other passengers, including joe, did the same, for the car was hot and stuffy. joe took a seat near one where the modish young man set down his queer valise. some of the other passengers, after leaving their baggage inside, went out on the platform to stroll about. joe noted that the young man had gone to the telegraph office to send a message. our hero having nothing else to do, proceeded to look over more of his baseball information. he was deep in a study of batting averages when he was aware that someone stood in front of him. it was the young man, who had his valise open, and on his face was a puzzled expression, mingled with one of anger. "i say now! i say!" exclaimed the young chap. "this won't do! it won't do at all, you know!" and he looked sharply at joe. "are you speaking to me?" asked the young pitcher. "if you are i don't know what it is that won't do--and i don't care." "it won't do at all, you know!" went on the young man, speaking with what he probably intended to be an english accent. "it won't do!" "what won't?" asked joe sharply. "why, taking things out of my valise, you know. there's a gold watch and some jewelry missing--my sister's jewelry. it won't do!" "do you mean to say that i had anything to do with taking jewelry out of your valise?" asked joe hotly. "why--er--you were sitting next to it. i went to send a wire--when i come back my stuff is missing, and----" "look here!" cried the young pitcher in anger. "do you mean to accuse me?" and he jumped to his feet and faced the young man. "do you?" "why--er--yes, i think i do," was the answer. "you were next my bag, you know, and--well, my stuff is gone. it won't do. it won't do at all, you know!" chapter iv in training for a moment joe stood glaring at the modish young man who had accused him. the latter returned the look steadily. there were superciliousness, contempt and an abiding sense of his own superiority in the look, and joe resented these too-well displayed feelings fully as much as he did the accusation. then a calmer mood came over the young pitcher; he recalled the training at yale--the training that had come when he had been in troublesome situations--and joe laughed. it was that laugh which formed a safety-valve for him. "i don't see what there is to laugh at," sneered the young man. "my valise has been opened, and my watch and some jewelry taken." "well, what have i got to do with it?" demanded joe hotly. "i'm not a detective or a police officer!" joe glanced from the youth to the bag in question. it was a peculiar satchel, made of some odd leather, and evidently constructed for heavy use. it was such a bag as joe had never seen before. it was open now, and there could be noticed in it a confused mass of clothes, collars, shirts of gaudy pattern and scarfs of even gaudier hues. the young pitcher also noticed that the bag bore on one end the initials "r. v." while below them was the name of the city where young "r. v." lived--goldsboro, n. c. "suffering cats!" thought joe, as he noted that. "he lives in goldsboro. montville is just outside that. i hope i don't meet this nuisance when i'm at the training camp." "i did not assume that you were an officer," answered the young man, who, for the present, must be known only as "r. v." "but you were the only one near my valise, which was opened when i went to send that wire. now it's up to you----" "hold on!" cried joe, trying not to let his rather quick temper get the better of him. "nothing is 'up to me,' as you call it. i didn't touch your valise. i didn't even know i sat near it until you called my attention to it. and if it was opened, and something taken out, i beg to assure you that i had nothing to do with it. that's all!" "but if you didn't take it; who did?" asked "r. v." in some bewilderment. "how should i know?" retorted joe, coolly. "and i'd advise you to be more careful after this, in making accusations." he spoke rather loudly--in fact so did "r. v.," and it was but natural that several of the delayed passengers should gather outside the station, attracted by the voices. some of them looked in through the opened windows and doors, and, seeing nothing more than what seemed to be an ordinary dispute, strolled on. "but this won't do," insisted "r. v.," which expression seemed to be a favorite with him. "this won't do at all, you know, my good fellow. my watch is gone, and my sister's jewelry. it won't do----" "well, i have nothing to do with it," declared joe, "and i don't want to hear any more about it. this ends it--see!" "oh, but i say! you were nearest to my valise, and----" "what's the trouble?" interrupted the ticket agent, coming from his little office. "what's the row here?" "my valise!" exclaimed "r. v." angrily. "it's been opened, and----" "he thinks i did it just because i sat near it!" broke in joe, determined to get in his word first. "it's absurd! i never touched his baggage." the agent looked at the modish youth. "is that the only reason you accuse him--because he sat near your satchel?" he asked. "why--er--yes, to be sure. isn't that reason enough?" "it wouldn't be for me, young man. i don't see that you can do anything about it. you say he took something of yours, and he says he didn't. that's six of one and a half-dozen of the other. you ought to have your satchel locked if you carry valuables in it." "it was locked, but i opened it and forgot to lock it again." "that's up to you then," and the agent's sympathies seemed to be with joe. "well, but it won't do, you know. it won't do at all!" protested "r. v.," this time pleadingly. "i must have my things back!" "then you had better go to the police," broke in the agent. "if you like, though i've never done such a thing before, i'll submit to a search," said joe, the red blood mantling to his cheeks as he thought of the needless indignity. "i can refer to several well-known persons who will vouch for me, but if you feel----" "all aboard!" suddenly called the conductor of the stalled train, coming into the depot. "we just got word that we can proceed. if we can reach the next junction before the fast mail, we can go ahead of her and get around the wreck. lively now! all aboard!" there was a scramble in which joe and "r. v." took a part. all of the passengers were anxious to proceed, and if haste meant that they could avoid further delay they were willing to hasten. the engineer whistled impatiently, and men and women scrambled into the coaches they had left. "r. v." caught up his peculiar bag and without another look at joe, got aboard. for a moment the young pitcher had an idea of insisting on having the unpleasant matter settled, but he, too, wanted to go on. at any rate no one he knew or cared about had heard the unjust accusation made, and if he insisted on vindication, by means of a personal search, it might lead to unpleasant complications. "even if he saw that i didn't have his truck on me that wouldn't prove anything to him--he'd say it 'wouldn't do,'" thought joe. "he's altogether too positive." and so, leaving the matter of the missing articles unsettled, joe sprinted for the train. joe saw his accuser enter the rear coach, while the young ball player took his place in the second coach, where he had been before. "if he wants to take up this matter again he knows i'm aboard," mused joe, as the train pulled out of the way-station. but the matter was not reopened, and when the junction was reached our hero saw "r. v." hurrying off to make other connections. as he turned away, however, he favored joe with a look that was not altogether pleasant. the remainder of our hero's trip to montville was uneventful, save that it was rather monotonous, and, the further south he went the worse the railroad service became, until he found that he was going to be nearly half a day late. but he was not expected at any special time, and he knew that he had done the best possible. arriving in montville, which he found to be a typical small southern town, joe put up at the hotel where he had been told by "jimmie" mack to take quarters. "are any of the pittston players around--is mr. gregory here?" asked joe of the clerk, after registering. it was shortly after two o'clock. "they're all out practicing, i believe," was the answer. "mr. gregory was here a while ago, but i reckon as how he-all went out to the field, too. are you a member of the nine, sir?" the clerk really said "suh," but the peculiarities of southern talk are too well known to need imitating. "well, i suppose i am, but i've only just joined," answered joe, with a smile. "i'm one of the new pitchers." "glad to know you. we enjoy having you ball players here. it sort of livens things up. i believe your team is going to cross bats with our home team saturday." "that's good!" exclaimed joe, who was just "aching" to get into a game again. he ate a light luncheon and then, inquiring his way, went out to the ball field. he was rather disappointed at first. it was not as good as the one where the silver stars played--not as well laid out or kept up, and the grandstand was only about half as large. "but of course it's only a practice field," reasoned joe, as he looked about for a sight of "jimmie" mack, whom alone he knew. "the home field at pittston will probably be all right. still, i've got to remember that i'm not playing in a major league. this will do for a start." he looked over the men with whom he was to associate and play ball for the next year or so--perhaps longer. the members of the team were throwing and catching--some were batting flies, and laying down grounders for others to catch or pick up. one or two were practicing "fungo" batting. up near the grandstand a couple of pitchers were "warming-up," while the catchers were receiving the balls in their big mitts. several small and worshipping boys were on hand, as always is the case, gathering up the discarded bats, running after passed balls and bringing water to their heroes. "well, i'm here, anyhow," thought joe. "now to see what sort of a stab i can make at professional ball." no one seemed to notice the advent of the young pitcher on the field, and if he expected to receive an ovation, such as was accorded to him when he left home, joe was grievously disappointed. but i do not believe joe matson looked for anything of the sort. in fact i know he did not, for joe was a sensible lad. he realized that however good a college player he might be he was now entering the ranks of men who made their living at ball playing. and there is a great deal of difference between doing a thing for fun, and doing it to get your bread and butter--a heap of difference. joe stood on the edge of the diamond looking at the players. they seemed to be a clean-cut set of young fellows. one or two looked to be veterans at the game, and here and there joe could pick out one whose hair was turning the least little bit gray. he wondered if they had slid down the scale, and, finding their powers waning, had gotten out of the big leagues to take it a little easier in one of the "bush" variety. "but it's baseball--it's a start--it's just what i want!" thought joe, as he drew a deep breath, the odors of crushed green grass, the dry dust and the whiff of leather mingling under the hot rays of the southern sun. "it's baseball, and that's enough!" exulted joe. "well, i see you got here!" exclaimed a voice behind him, and joe turned to see "jimmie" mack, in uniform, holding out a welcoming hand. "yes," said joe with a smile. "i'm a little late, but--i'm here." "if the trains arrive on time down here everybody worries," went on jimmie. "they think something is going to happen. did you bring a uniform?" joe indicated his valise, into which he had hastily stuffed, at the hotel, one of his old suits. "well, slip it on--take any dressing room that's vacant there," and jimmie motioned to the grandstand. "then come out and i'll have you meet the boys. we're only doing light practice as yet, but we'll soon have to hump ourselves, for the season will shortly open." "is mr. gregory here?" asked joe, feeling that he ought to meet the manager of the team. "he'll be here before the day is over. oh, harrison!" he called to a passing player, "come over and meet joe matson, one of our new pitchers. harrison tries to play centre," explained the assistant manager with a smile. "quit your kiddin'!" exclaimed the centre fielder as he shook hands with joe. "glad to meet you, son. you mustn't mind jimmie," he went on. "ever played before?" "not professionally." "that's what i meant." "joe's the boy who pitched yale to the championship this year," explained jimmie mack. "oh, ho! yes, i heard about that. well, hope you like it here. i'm going out in the field. see you there," and harrison passed on. joe lost no time in changing into his playing togs. the dressing rooms in the montville grandstand were only apologies compared with what joe was used to. but he knew that this was only a training camp, and that they would not be here long. he walked out on the field, feeling a little nervous and rather lonesome--"like a cat in a strange garret," as he wrote home to his folks. but joe's school and college training stood him in good stead, and when he had been introduced to most of the players, who welcomed him warmly, he felt more at home. then he went out in the field, and began catching flies with the others. "but i wish they'd put me at pitching," mused joe. "that's what i want to do." he was to learn that to make haste slowly is a motto more or less followed by professional ball players. there would be time enough to put on speed before the season closed. chapter v the clash "that's the way! line 'em out, now!" "put some speed into that!" "look out for a high one!" "oh, get farther back! i'm going to knock the cover off this time!" these were only a few of the cries and calls that echoed over the ball field at montville. the occasion was the daily practice of the pittston nine, and orders had come from the manager and trainer to start in on more lively work. it was joe's third day with the professionals. he had made the acquaintance of all the players, but as yet had neither admitted, nor been admitted to, a real friendship with any of them. it was too early. joe held back because he was naturally a bit diffident. then, too, most of the men were older than he, and with one exception they had been in the professional ranks for several seasons. that one exception was charlie hall, who played short. he, like joe, had been taken that spring from the amateur ranks. hall had played on a western college team, and had been picked out by one of the ever-present professional scouts. with charlie, joe felt more at home than with any of the others and yet he felt that soon he would have good friends among the older men. on their part they did not become friendly with joe at once simply for the reason that they wanted to "size him up," or "get his number," as jimmie mack put it in speaking of the matter. "but they'll cotton to you after a bit, joe," said the assistant manager, "and you'll like them, too. don't get discouraged." "i won't," was the answer. there was one man on the team, though, with whom joe felt that he would never be on friendly terms, and this was jake collin, one of the pitchers--the chief pitcher and mainstay of the nine on the mound, from what joe picked up by hearing the other men talk. and collin himself was not at all modest about his ability. that he had ability joe was ready to concede. and collin wanted everyone else to know it, too. he was always talking about his record, and his batting average, which, to do him credit, was good. collin was not much older than joe, but a rather fast life and hard living counted for more than years. joe heard whispers that collin could not last much longer. perhaps it was a realization of this that made collin rather resent the arrival of our hero on the pittston nine. for he gave joe but a cold greeting, and, as he moved off to practice, the young pitcher could hear him saying something about "college dudes thinking they can play professional ball." joe's faced flushed, but he said nothing. it was something that called more for deeds than words. "everybody lively now! i want some snappy work!" called jimmie mack as the practice progressed. "if we're going to play the montville team saturday we want to snow them under. a win by a few runs won't be the thing at all, and, let me tell you, those boys can play ball. "so step lively, everybody. run bases as if you meant to get back home some time this week. slug the ball until the cover comes off. and you, collin, get a little more speed on your delivery. is your arm sore?" "arm sore? i guess not! i'm all right!" and the man's eyes snapped angrily. "well, then, show it. let's see what you've got up your sleeve, anyhow. here comes gregory now--he'll catch a few for you, and then we'll do some batting." the manager, whom joe had met and liked, came out to join in the practice. he nodded to our hero, and then took collin off to one side, to give him some instructions. joe under the direction of jimmie mack was allowed to do some pitching now. with terry hanson the left fielder, to back him up, joe began throwing in the balls on a space in front of the grandstand. joe noticed that collin regarded him sharply in the intervals of his own practice, but he was prepared for a little professional jealousy, and knew how to take it. he had seen it manifested often enough at school and college, though there the spirit of the university was paramount to personal triumph--every player was willing to sacrifice himself that the team might win. and, in a large measure, of course, this is so in professional baseball. but human nature is human nature, whether one is playing for money or for glory, and in perhaps no other sport where money counts for as much as it does in baseball, will you find more of the spirit of the school than in the ranks of the diamond professionals. "take it easy, joe; take it easy," advised terry, with a good-natured smile, as the lad stung in the balls. "you've got speed, and i'm willing to admit it without having you split my mitt. but save yourself for a game. you're not trying to pitch anyone out now, you know, and there's no one looking at you." "i guess i forgot this was just practice," admitted joe with a laugh. "i'll throw in some easy ones." he did, and saw an admiring look on terry's face. "they seem to have the punch--that's a nice little drop you've got. but don't work it too much. vary your delivery." from time to time as the practice proceeded terry gave joe good advice. occasionally this would be supplemented by something mack or gregory would say and joe took it all in, resolving to profit by it. the practice came to an end, and the players were advised by their trainer, mike mcguire, to take walks in the country round-about. "it'll be good for your legs and wind," was the comment. joe enjoyed this almost as much as the work on the field, for the country was new to him and a source of constant delight. he went out with some of the men, and again would stroll off by himself. saturday, the day when the first practice game was to be played, found joe a bit nervous. he wondered whether he would get a chance to pitch. so too, for that matter, did tom tooley, the south-paw moundman, who was nearer joe's age than was collin. "who's going to be the battery?" was heard on all sides as the pittston players went to the grounds. "the old man hasn't given it out yet," was the reply of jimmie mack. the "old man" was always the manager, and the term conveyed no hint of disrespect. the montville team, a semi-professional one, was a good bit like the silver stars, joe thought, when he saw the members run out on the diamond for practice. still they looked to be a "husky lot," as he admitted, and he was glad of it, for he wanted to see what he and his team-mates could do against a good aggregation. "play ball! play ball!" called the umpire, as he dusted off the home plate. there was quite a crowd present, and when gregory handed over his batting list the umpire made the announcement: "batteries--for pittston, collin and gregory. for montville, smith and jennings." "um. he's going to pitch collin," murmured tooley in joe's ear. "that means we warm the bench." joe was a little disappointed, but he tried not to show it. this first game was neither better nor worse than many others. naturally the playing was ragged under the circumstances. the pittstons had everything to lose by being beaten and not much to gain if they won the game. on the other hand the home nine had much to gain in case they should win. so they took rather desperate chances. pittston was first at bat, and succeeded in getting two runs over. then came a slump, and in quick succession three men went down, two being struck out. the montville pitcher was a professional who had been in a big league, but who had drifted to a minor, and finally landed in the semi-pro ranks. but he had some good "heaves" left. collin walked to the mound with a rather bored air of superiority. there was a little whispered conference between him and the catcher-manager, and the second half of the first inning began. collin did well, and though hit twice for singles, not a run came in, and the home team was credited with a zero on the score-board. "oh, i guess we can play some!" cried one of the professionals. "what are you crowing over?" demanded jimmie mack. "if we win this i suppose you fellows will want medals! why this is nothing but a kid bunch we're up against." "don't let 'em fool you, though," advised the manager, who overheard the talk. and then, to the surprise and dismay of all, the home team proceeded to "do things" to the professionals. they began making runs, and succeeded in stopping the winning streak of the pittstons. the detailed play would not interest you, and, for that matter it was a thing the pittstons did not like to recall afterward. there was a bad slump, and when the seventh inning arrived gregory called: "matson, you bat for collin." joe felt the blood rush to his face. "does that mean i'm going to be taken out of the box?" asked the chief pitcher, stalking angrily over to the manager. "it means just that, son. i can't afford to lose this game, and we sure will the way you're feedin' 'em in to 'em. i guess you drew it a little too fine the last few days. you need a rest." "but--i--er--i----" protested collin. "that'll do," said gregory, sharply. "joe matson will pitch. it's a chance, but i've got to take it." "what's the matter with tooley?" demanded collin. "what do you want to go shove this raw college jake in ahead of us for? say!" "go to the bench!" ordered the manager. "i know what i'm doing, collin!" the pitcher seemed about to say something, and the look he gave joe was far from friendly. then, realizing that he was under the manager's orders, he stalked to the bench. "you won't do this again, if i can prevent it!" snapped collin at joe, as he passed him. "i'll run you out of the league, if you try to come it over me!" only a few players heard him, and one or two whispered to him to quiet down, but he glared at joe, who felt far from comfortable. but he was to have his chance to pitch at last. chapter vi a straight throw joe had hopes of making a safe hit when he came up, but pitchers are proverbially bad batsmen and our hero was no exception. i wish i could say that he "slammed one out for a home run, and came in amid wild applause," but truth compels me to state that joe only knocked a little pop fly which dropped neatly into the hands of the second baseman, and joe went back to the bench. "never mind," consoled jimmie mack, "you're not here to bat--we count on you to pitch, though of course if you can hit the ball do it--every time. but don't get nervous." "i'm not," answered joe. and, to do him justice, his nerves were in excellent shape. he had not played on the school and yale nines for nothing, and he had faced many a crisis fully as acute as the present one. then, too, the action of collin must have had its effect. it was not pleasant for joe to feel that he had won the enmity of the chief pitcher of the nine. but our hero resolved to do his best and let other matters take care of themselves. whether it was the advent of joe into the game, or because matters would have turned out that way anyhow, was not disclosed, but pittston seemed to brace up, and that inning added three runs to their score, which put them on even terms with the home team--the members of which were playing phenomenal ball. "and now we've got to go in and beat them!" exclaimed manager gregory, as his men took the field. "joe, i want to see what you can do." enough to make any young pitcher nervous; was it not? yet joe kept his nerves in check--no easy matter--and walked to the box with all the ease he could muster. he fingered the ball for a moment, rubbed a little dirt on it--not that the spheroid needed it, but it gave him a chance to look at gregory and catch his signal for a fast out. he nodded comprehendingly, having mastered the signals, and wound up for his first delivery. "ball one!" howled the umpire. joe was a little nettled. he was sure it had gone cleanly over the plate, curving out just as he intended it should, and yet it was called a ball. but he concealed his chagrin, and caught the horsehide which gregory threw back to him--the catcher hesitating just the least bit, and with a look at the umpire which said much. again came the signal for a fast out. joe nodded. once more the young pitcher threw and this time, though the batter swung desperately at it, not having moved his stick before, there came from the umpire the welcome cry of: "strike--one!" joe was beginning to make good. i shall not weary you with a full account of the game. i have other, and more interesting contests to tell of as we proceed. sufficient to say that while joe did not "set the river afire," he did strike out three men that inning, after a two-bagger had been made. but joe "tightened up," just in time to prevent a run coming in, and the score was still a tie when the last man was out. in the next inning pittston managed, by hard work, and a close decision on the part of the umpire, to add another run to their score. this put them one ahead, and the struggle now was to hold their opponents hitless. it devolved upon joe to accomplish this. and he did it. perhaps it was no great feat, as baseball history goes, but it meant much to him--a raw recruit in his first professional league, "bush" though it was. joe made good, and when he struck out the last man (one of the best hitters, too, by the way) there was an enthusiastic scene on that little ball field. "good, joe! good!" cried jimmie mack, and even the rather staid mr. gregory condescended to smile and say: "i thought you could do it!" collin, suffering from his turn-down, sulked on the bench, and growled: "i'll show that young upstart! he can't come here and walk over me." "he didn't walk over you--he pitched over you," said george lee, the second baseman. "he pitched good ball." "bah! just a fluke! if i hadn't strained my arm yesterday i'd have made this home team look like a sick cat!" "post-mortems are out of style," said lee. "be a sport! it's all in the game!" "um!" growled collin, surlily. the team played the game all over again at the hotel that night. of course it was not much of a victory, close as it was, but it showed of what stuff the players were made, and it gave many, who were ignorant of joe's abilities, an insight into what he could do. "well, what do you think of my find?" asked jimmie mack of his chief that night. "all right, jimmie! all right! i think we'll make a ball-player of him yet." "so do i. and the blessed part of it is that he hasn't got a swelled head from his college work. that's the saving grace of it. yes, i think joe is due to arrive soon." if joe had heard this perhaps he would have resented it somewhat. surely, after having supplanted a veteran pitcher, even though of no great ability, and won his first professional game, joe might have been excused for patting himself on the back, and feeling proud. and he did, too, in a sense. but perhaps it was just as well he did not hear himself discussed. anyhow, he was up in his room writing home. the next day was sunday, and in the afternoon joe went for a long walk. he asked several of the men to go with him, but they all made good-enough excuses, so joe set off by himself. it was a beautiful day, a little too warm, but then that was to be expected in the south, and joe was dressed for it. as he walked along a country road he came to a parting of the ways; a weather-beaten sign-post informed him that one highway led to north ford, while the other would take him to goldsboro. "goldsboro; eh?" mused joe. "that's where that 'r. v.' fellow lives, who thought i robbed his valise. i wonder if i'll ever meet him? i've a good notion to take a chance, and walk over that way. i can ask him if he found his stuff. maybe it's risky, but i'm going to do it." he set off at a swinging pace to limber up his muscles, thinking of many things, and wondering, if, after all, he was going to like professional baseball. certainly he had started in as well as could be expected, save for the enmity of collin. joe got out into the open country and breathed deeply of the sweet air. the road swept along in a gentle curve, on one side being deep woods, while on the other was a rather steep descent to the valley below. in places the road approached close to the edge of a steep cliff. as the young pitcher strode along he heard behind him the clatter of hoofs. it was a galloping horse, and the rattle of wheels told that the animal was drawing a carriage. "someone's in a hurry," mused joe. "going for a doctor, maybe." a moment later he saw what he knew might at any moment become a tragedy. a spirited horse, attached to a light carriage, dashed around a bend in the road, coming straight for joe. and in the carriage was a young girl, whose fear-blanched face told that she realized her danger. a broken, dangling rein showed that she had tried in vain to stop the runaway. joe formed a sudden resolve. he knew something of horses, and had more than once stopped a frightened animal. he ran forward, intending to cut across the path of this one, and grasp the bridle. but as the horse headed for him, and caught sight of the youth, it swerved to one side, and dashed across an intervening field, straight for the steep cliff. "look out!" cried joe, as if that meant anything. the girl screamed, and seemed about to jump. "i've got to stop that horse!" gasped joe, and he broke into a run. then the uselessness of this came to him and he stopped. at his feet were several large, round and smooth stones. hardly knowing why he picked up one, just as the horse turned sideways to him. "if i could only hit him on the head, and stun him so that he'd stop before he gets to the cliff!" thought joe. "if i don't he'll go over sure as fate!" the next instant he threw. straight and true went the stone, and struck the horse hard on the head. the animal reared, then staggered. it tried to keep on, but the blow had been a disabling one. it tried to keep on its legs but they crumpled under the beast, and the next moment it went down in a heap, almost on the verge of the steep descent. the carriage swerved and ran partly up on the prostrate animal, while the shock of the sudden stop threw the girl out on the soft grass, where she lay in a crumpled heap. joe sprinted forward. "i hope i did the right thing, after all," he panted. "i hope she isn't killed!" chapter vii the girl joe matson bent over the unconscious girl, and, even in the excitement of the moment, out of breath as he was from his fast run, he could not but note how pretty she was. though now her cheeks that must usually be pink with the flush of health, were pale. she lay in a heap on the grass, at the side of the overturned carriage, from which the horse had partly freed itself. the animal was now showing signs of recovering from the stunning blow of the stone. "i've got to get her away from here," decided joe. "if that brute starts kicking around he may hurt her. i've got to pick her up and carry her. she doesn't look able to walk." in his sturdy arms he picked up the unconscious girl, and carried her some distance off, placing her on a grassy bank. "let's see--what do you do when a girl faints?" mused joe, scratching his head in puzzled fashion. "water--that's it--you have to sprinkle her face with water." he looked about for some sign of a brook or spring, and, listening, his ear caught a musical trickle off to one side. "must be a stream over there," he decided. he glanced again at the girl before leaving her. she gave no sign of returning consciousness, and one hand, joe noticed when he carried her, hung limp, as though the wrist was broken. "and she's lucky to get off with that," decided the young pitcher. "i hope i did the right thing by stopping the horse that way. she sure would have gone over the cliff if i hadn't." the horse, from which had gone all desire to run farther, now struggled to its feet, and shook itself once or twice to adjust the harness. it was partly loose from it, and, with a plunge or two, soon wholly freed itself. "run away again if you want to now," exclaimed joe, shaking his fist at the brute. "you can't hurt anyone but yourself, anyhow. jump over the cliff if you like!" but the horse did not seem to care for any such performance now, and, after shaking himself again, began nibbling the grass as though nothing had happened. "all right," went on joe, talking to the horse for companionship, since the neighborhood seemed deserted. "stay there, old fellow. i may need you to get to a doctor, or to some house. she may be badly hurt." for want of something better joe used the top of his cap in which to carry the water which he found in a clear-running brook, not far from where he had placed the girl. the sprinkling of the first few drops of the cold liquid on her face caused her to open her eyes. consciousness came back quickly, and, with a start, she gazed up at joe uncomprehendingly. "you're all right," he said, reassuringly. "that is, i hope so. do you think you are hurt anywhere? shall i get a doctor? where do you live?" afterward he realized that his hurried questions had given her little chance to speak, but he meant to make her feel that she would be taken care of. "what--what happened?" she faltered. "your horse ran away," joe explained, with a smile. "he's over there now; not hurt, fortunately." "oh, i remember now! something frightened prince and he bolted. he never did it before. oh, i was so frightened. i tried--tried to stop him, but could not. the rein broke." the girl sat up now, joe's arm about her, supporting her, for she was much in need of assistance, being weak and trembling. "then he bolted into a field," she resumed, "and he was headed for a cliff. oh, how i tried to stop him! but he wouldn't. then--then something--something happened!" she looked wonderingly at joe. "yes, i'm afraid _i_ happened it," he said with a smile. "i saw that your horse might go over the cliff, so i threw a stone, and hit him on the head. it stunned him, he fell, and threw you out." "i remember up to that point," she said with a faint smile. "i saw prince go down, and i thought we were going over the cliff. oh, what an escape!" "and yet not altogether an escape," remarked joe. "your arm seems hurt." she glanced down in some surprise at her right wrist, as though noticing it for the first time. then, as she moved it ever so slightly, a cry of pain escaped her lips. "it--it's broken!" she faltered. joe took it tenderly in his hand. "only sprained, i think," he said, gravely. "it needs attention at once, though; i must get you a doctor. can you walk?" "i think so." she struggled to her feet with his help, the red blood now surging into her pale cheeks, and making her, joe thought, more beautiful than ever. "be careful!" he exclaimed, as she swayed. his arm was about her, so she did not fall. "i--i guess i'm weaker than i thought," she murmured. "but it isn't because i'm injured--except my wrist. i think it must be the shock. why, there's prince!" she added, as she saw the grazing horse. "he isn't hurt!" "no, i only stunned him with the stone i threw," said joe. "oh, and so you threw a stone at him, and stopped him?" she seemed in somewhat of a daze. "yes." "what a splendid thrower you must be!" there was admiration in her tones. "it's from playing ball," explained joe, modestly. "i'm a pitcher on the pittston nine. we're training over at montville." "oh," she murmured, understandingly. "if i could get you some water to drink, it would make you feel better," said joe. "then i might patch up the broken harness and get you home. do you live around here?" "yes, just outside of goldsboro. perhaps you could make a leaf answer for a cup," she suggested. "i believe i would like a little water. it would do me good." she moistened her dry lips with her tongue as joe hastened back to the little brook. he managed to curl an oak leaf into a rude but clean cup, and brought back a little water. the girl sipped it gratefully, and the effect was apparent at once. she was able to stand alone. "now to see if i can get that horse of yours hitched to the carriage," spoke the young pitcher, "that is, if the carriage isn't broken." "it's awfully kind of you, mr.----" she paused suggestively. "i'm joe matson, formerly of yale," was our hero's answer, and, somehow, he felt not a little proud of that "yale." after all, his university training, incomplete though it had been, was not to be despised. "oh, a yale man!" her eyes were beginning to sparkle now. "but i gave it up to enter professional baseball," the young pitcher went on. "it's my first attempt. if you do not feel able to get into the carriage--provided it's in running shape--perhaps i could take you to some house near here and send word to your folks," he suggested. "oh, i think i can ride--provided, as you say, the carriage is in shape to use," she answered, quickly. "i am miss varley. it's awfully good of you to take so much trouble." "not at all," protested joe. he noticed a shadow of pain pass over her face, and she clasped her sprained wrist in her left hand. "that must hurt a lot, miss varley," spoke joe with warm sympathy. "i know what a sprain is. i've had many a one. let me wrap a cold, wet rag around it. that will do until you can get to a doctor and have him reduce it." not waiting for permission joe hurried back to the brook, and dipped his handkerchief in the cold water. this he bound tightly around the already swelling wrist, tying it skillfully, for he knew something about first aid work--one needed to when one played ball for a living. "that's better," she said, with a sigh of relief. "it's ever so much better. oh, i don't know what would have happened if you had not been here!" "probably someone else would have done as well," laughed joe. "now about that carriage." prince looked up as the youth approached, and joe saw a big bruise on the animal's head. "too bad, old fellow, that i had to do that," spoke joe, for he loved animals. "no other way, though. i had to stop you." a look showed him that the horse was not otherwise injured by the runaway, and another look showed him that it would be impossible to use the carriage. one of the wheels was broken. "here's a pickle!" cried joe. "a whole bottle of 'em, for that matter. i can't get her home that way, and she can't very well walk. i can't carry her, either. i guess the only thing to do is to get her to the nearest house, and then go for help--or 'phone, if they have a wire. i'm in for the day's adventure, i guess, but i can't leave her." not that he wanted to, for the more he was in the girl's presence, the more often he looked into her brown eyes, the more joe felt that he was caring very much for miss varley. "come, matson!" he chided himself, "don't be an idiot!" "well?" she questioned, as he came back to her. "the carriage is broken," he told her. "do you think you could walk to the nearest house?" "oh, i'm sure of it," she replied, and now she smiled, showing two rows of white, even teeth. "i'm feeling ever so much better. but perhaps i am keeping you," and she hung back. "not at all. i'm glad to be able to help you. i suppose i had better tie your horse." "perhaps." as joe turned back to the grazing animal there was the sound of a motor car out in the road. he and the girl turned quickly, the same thought in both their minds. then a look of pleased surprise came over miss varley's face. "reggie! reggie!" she called, waving her uninjured hand at a young man in the car. "reggie, prince bolted with me! come over here!" the machine was stopped with a screeching of brakes, and the young fellow leaped out. "why, mabel!" he cried, as he came sprinting across the field. "are you hurt? what happened? dad got anxious about you being gone so long, and i said i'd look you up in my car. are you hurt, mabel?" joe made a mental note that of all names he liked best that of mabel--especially when the owner had brown eyes. "only a sprained wrist, reggie. this gentleman hit prince with a stone and saved me from going over the cliff." "oh, he did!" by this time the youth from the auto was beside joe and the girl. the two young men faced each other. joe gave a gasp of surprise that was echoed by the other, for the youth confronting our hero was none other than he who had accused joe of robbing that odd valise. chapter viii a parting "why--er--that is--i'm awfully obliged to you, of course, for saving my sister," spoke the newcomer--his name must be reggie varley, joe rightly decided. "very much obliged, old man, and--er----" he paused, evidently quite embarrassed. "you two act as though you had met before," said miss varley, with a smile. "have you?" "once," spoke joe, drily. "i did not know your brother's name then." he did not add that he was glad to find that he was mabel's brother, and not a more distant relation. "how strange that you two should have met," went on mabel varley. "yes," returned joe, "and it was under rather strange circumstances. it was while i was on my way down here to join the ball team, and your brother thought----" "ahem!" exclaimed reggie, with a meaning look at joe. "i--er--you'd better get in here with me, mabel, and let me get you home. perhaps this gentleman----" "his name is joe matson," spoke the girl, quickly. "perhaps mr. matson will come home with--us," went on reggie. obviously it was an effort to extend this invitation, but he could do no less under the circumstances. joe felt this and said quickly: "no, thank you, not this time." "oh, but i want papa and mamma to meet you!" exclaimed mabel, impulsively. "they'll want to thank you. just think, reggie, he saved my life. prince was headed for the cliff, and he stopped him." there were tears in her eyes as she gazed at joe. "it was awfully good and clever of you, old man," said reggie, rather affectedly, yet it was but his way. "i'm sure i appreciate it very much. and we'd like--my sister and i--we'd like awfully to have you come on and take lunch with us. i can put the horse up somewhere around here, i dare say, and we can go on in my car." "the carriage is broken reggie," mabel informed him. "too bad. i'll send jake for it later. will you come?" he seemed to wish to ignore, or at least postpone, the matter of the valise and his accusation. perhaps he felt how unjust it had been. joe realized reggie's position. "no, thank you," spoke the young pitcher. "i must be getting back to my hotel. i was just out for a walk. some other time, perhaps. if you like, i'll try and put the horse in some near-by barn for you, and i'll drop you a card, saying where it is." "will you really, old man?" asked reggie, eagerly. "it will be awfully decent of you, after--well, i'd appreciate it very much. then i could get my sister home, and to a doctor." "which i think would be a wise thing to do," remarked joe. "her wrist seems quite badly sprained. i'll attend to the horse. so now i'll say good-bye." he turned away. he and reggie had not shaken hands. in spite of the service joe had rendered he could not help feeling that young varley harbored some resentment against him. "and if it's her jewelry that is missing, with his watch, and he tells her that he suspects me--i wonder how she'll feel afterward?" mused joe. "i wonder?" mabel held out her uninjured hand, and joe took it eagerly. the warm, soft pressure lingered for some little time afterward in his hardened palm--a palm roughened by baseball play. "good-bye," she said, softly. "i can't thank you enough--now. you must come and get the rest--later." "i will," he said, eagerly. "here is my card--it has our address," spoke reggie holding out a small, white square. "i trust you will come--soon." "i shall try," said joe, with a peculiar look at his accuser. "and i'll drop you a card about the horse." reggie helped his sister into the auto, and they drove off, mabel waving a good-bye to joe. the latter stood for a minute in the field, looking at the disappearing auto. then he murmured, probably to the horse, for there was no other sign of life in sight: "well, you've gone and done it, matson! you've gone and done it!" but joe did not admit, even to himself, what he had gone and done. prince seemed tractable enough after his recent escapade, and made no objection to joe leading him out to the road. the young pitcher soon came to a farmhouse, where, when he had explained matters, the man readily agreed to stable the animal until it should be called for. and, as joe matson trudged back to the hotel he said, more than once to himself: "you've gone and done it, old man! you've gone and done it!" and a little later, as joe thought of the look on reggie's face when he recognized the youth he had accused, our hero chuckled inwardly. "he didn't know what to do," mused joe. "i sure had him buffaloed, as the boys say." joe was welcomed by his fellow players on his return to the hotel. it was nearly meal time, but before going down to the dining room joe wrote a short note giving the name of the farmer where he had left the horse. "let's see now," mused our hero. "to whom shall i send it--to him--or--her." when he dropped the letter in the mail box the envelope bore the superscription--"miss mabel varley." practice was resumed monday morning, and joe could note that there was a tightening up all along the line. the orders from the manager and his assistant came sharper and quicker. "i want you boys to get right on edge!" exclaimed gregory. "we'll play our opening game in pittston in two weeks now. we'll cross bats with clevefield, last season's pennant winners, and we want to down them. i'm getting tired of being in the ruck. i want to be on top of the heap." joe, from his study of the baseball "dope," knew that pittston had not made a very creditable showing the last season. the practice was sharp and snappy, and there was a general improvement all along the line. joe was given several try-outs in the next few days, and while he received no extravagant praise he knew that his work pleased. jake collin still held his enmity against joe, and perhaps it was but natural. wet grounds, a day or so later, prevented practice, and joe took advantage of it to call on the girl he had rescued. he found her home, her wrist still bandaged, and she welcomed him warmly, introducing him to her mother. joe was made to feel quite at home, and he realized that reggie had said nothing about the articles missing from the valise--or, at least, had not mentioned the accusation against joe. "will you tell me how, and when, you met my brother?" asked mabel, after some general talk. "hasn't he told you?" inquired joe, with a twinkle in his eyes. "no, he keeps putting it off." "then perhaps i'd better not tell," said joe. "oh, mr. matson, i think you're horrid! is there some reason i shouldn't know?" "not as far as i am concerned. but i'd rather your brother would tell." "then i'm going to make him when he comes home." joe was rather glad reggie was not there then. for, in spite of everything, joe knew there would be a feeling of embarrassment on both sides. "i have come to say good-bye," he said to the girl. "we leave for the north, soon, and the rest of the season will be filled with traveling about." "i'm sorry you're going," she said, frankly. "are you?" he asked, softly. "perhaps you will allow me to write to you." "i'd be glad to have you," she replied, warmly, and she gave him a quick glance. "perhaps i may see you play sometime; i love baseball!" "i'm very glad," returned joe, and, after a while--rather a long while, to speak the truth--he said good-bye. chapter ix the first league game "all aboard!" "good-bye, everybody!" "see you next spring!" "good-bye!" these were some of the calls heard at the montville station as the pittston ball team left their training grounds for the trip to their home city, where the league season would start. joe had been south about three weeks, and had made a few friends there. these waved a farewell to him, as others did to other players, as the train pulled out. joe was not sure, but he thought he saw, amid the throng, the face of a certain girl. at any rate a white handkerchief was waved directly at him. "ah, ha! something doing!" joked charlie hall, with whom joe had struck up quite a friendship. "who's the fair one, joe?" "i didn't see her face," was the evasive answer. "oh, come now! that's too thin! she's evidently taken a liking to you." "i hope she has!" exclaimed the young pitcher, and then blushed at his boldness. as the train pulled past the station he had a full view of the girl waving at him. she was mabel varley. charlie saw her also. "my word!" he cried. "i congratulate you, old man!" and he clapped joe on the shoulder. "cut it out!" came the retort, as joe turned his reddened face in the direction of the girl. and he waved back, while some of the other players laughed. "better be looking for someone to sign in matson's place soon, mack," remarked john holme, the third baseman, with a chuckle. "he's going to trot in double harness if i know any of the symptoms." "all right," laughed the assistant manager. "i'll have to begin scouting again, i suppose. too bad, just as joe is going to make good." "oh, don't worry," advised our hero coolly. "i'm going to play." the trip up was much more enjoyable than joe had found the one down, when he came alone. he was beginning to know and like nearly all of his team-mates--that is, all save collin, and it was due only to the latter's surly disposition that joe could not be friendly with him. "think you'll stay in this business long?" asked charlie of joe as he sank into the seat beside him. "well, i expect to make it my business--if i can make good." "i think you will." "but i don't intend to stay in this small league forever," went on joe. "i'd like to get in a major one." "that isn't as easy as it seems," said the other college lad. "you know you're sort of tied hand and foot once you sign with a professional team." "how's that?" "why, there is a sort of national agreement, you know. no team in any league will take a player from another team unless the manager of that team gives the player his release. that is, you can quit playing ball, of course; but, for the life of you, you can't get in any other professional team until you are allowed to by the man with whom you signed first." "well, of course, i've read about players being given their release, and being sold or traded from one team to another," spoke joe, "but i didn't think it was as close as that." "it is close," said hall, "a regular 'trust.' modern professional baseball is really a trust. there's a gentleman's agreement in regard to players that's never broken. i'm sorry, in a way, that i didn't stay an amateur. i, also, want to get into a big league, but the worst of it is that if you show up well in a small league, and prove a drawing card, the manager won't release you. and until he does no other manager would hire you. though, of course, the double a leagues can draft anyone they like." joe whistled softly. "then it isn't going to be so easy to get into another league as i thought," he said. "not unless something happens," replied his team-mate. "of course, if another manager wanted you badly enough he would pay the price, and buy you from this club. high prices have been paid, too. there's marquard--the giants gave ten thousand dollars to have him play for them." "yes, i heard about that," spoke joe, "but i supposed it was mostly talk." "there's a good deal more than talk," asserted charlie. "though it's a great advertisement for a man. think of being worth ten thousand dollars more than your salary!" "and he didn't get the ten," commented joe. "no. that's the worst of it. we're the slaves of baseball, in a way." "oh, well, i don't mind being that kind of a slave," said joe, laughingly. he lay back in his seat as the train whirled on, and before him, as he closed his eyes, he could see a girl's face--the face of mabel varley. "i wonder if her brother told her?" mused the young pitcher. "if he did she may think just as he did--that i had a hand in looting that valise. oh, pshaw! i'm not going to think about it. and yet i wish the mystery was cleared up--i sure do!" the training had done all the players good. they were right "on edge" and eager to get into the fray. not a little horse-play was indulged in on the way north. the team had a car to itself, and so felt more freedom than otherwise would have been the case. terry blake, the little "mascot" of the nine, was a great favorite, and he and joe soon became fast friends. terry liked to play tricks on the men who made so much of him, and late that first afternoon he stole up behind jake collin, who had fallen asleep, and tickled his face with a bit of paper. at first the pitcher seemed to think it was a troublesome fly, and his half-awake endeavors to get rid of it amused terry and some others who were watching. then, as the tickling was persisted in, collin awoke with a start. he had the name of waking up cross and ugly, and this time was no exception. as he started up he caught sight of the little mascot, and understood what had been going on. "you brat!" he cried, leaping out into the aisle. terry fled, with frightened face, and collin ran after him. "i'll punch you for that!" cried the pitcher. "oh, can't you take a joke?" someone asked him, but collin paid no heed. he raced after poor little terry, who had meant no harm, and the mascot might have come to grief had not joe stepped out into the aisle of the car and confronted collin. "let me past! let me get at him!" stormed the man. "no, not now," was joe's quiet answer. "out of my way, you whipper-snapper, or i'll----" he drew back his arm, his fist clenched, but joe never quailed. he looked collin straight in the eyes, and the man's arm went down. joe was smaller than he, but the young pitcher was no weakling. "that'll do, collin," said jimmie mack, quietly. "the boy only meant it for a joke." collin did not answer. but as he turned aside to go back to his seat he gave joe a black look. there was an under-current of unpleasant feeling over the incident during the remainder of the trip. little terry stole up to joe, when the players came back from the dining-car, and, slipped his small hand into that of the pitcher. "i--i like you," he said, softly. "do you?" asked joe with smile. "i'm glad of that, terry." "and i'll always see that you have the bat you want when you want it," went on the little mascot. poor little chap, he was an orphan, and gus harrison, the big centre fielder, had practically adopted him. then he was made the official mascot, and while perhaps the constant association with the ball players was not altogether good for the small lad, still he might have been worse off. pittston was reached in due season, no happenings worth chronicling taking place on the way. joe was eager to see what sort of a ball field the team owned, and he was not disappointed when, early the morning after his arrival, he and the others went out to it for practice. it was far from being the new york polo grounds, nor was the field equal to the one at yale, but joe had learned to take matters as they came, and he never forgot that he was only with a minor league. "time enough to look for grounds laid out with a rule and compass when i get into a major league," he told himself. "that is, if i can get my release." joe found some letters from home awaiting him at the hotel where the team had its official home. but, before he answered them he wrote to mabel. i wonder if we ought to blame him? the more joe saw of his team-mates the more he liked them--save collin, and that was no fault of the young pitcher. he found pittston a pleasant place, and the citizens ardent "fans." they thought their team was about as good as any in that section, and, though it had not captured the pennant, there were hopes that it would come to pittston that season. "they're good rooters!" exclaimed jimmie mack. "i will say that for this pittston bunch. they may not be such a muchness otherwise, but they're good rooters, and it's a pleasure to play ball here. they warm you up, and make you do your best." joe was glad to hear this. the new grounds were a little strange to him, at first, but he soon became used to them after one or two days' practice. nearly all the other players, of course, were more at home. "and now, boys," said manager gregory, when practice had closed one day. "i want you to do your prettiest to-morrow. i've got a good team--i know it. some of you are new to me, but i've heard about you, and i'm banking on your making good. i want you to wallop clevefield to-morrow. i want every man to do his best, and don't want any hard feelings if i play one man instead of another. i have reasons for it. now that's my last word to you. i want you to win." there was a little nervous feeling among the players as the time for the first league game drew near. a number of the men had been bought from other clubs. there was one former clevefield player on the pittston team, and also one from the pennant club of a previous year. that night joe spent some time studying the batting averages of the opposing team, and also he read as much of their history as he could get hold of. he wanted to know the characteristics of the various batters if he should be fortunate enough to face them from the pitching mound. there was the blare of a band, roars of cheers, and much excitement. the official opening of the league season was always an event in pittston, as it is in most large cities. the team left their hotel in a body, going to the grounds in a large 'bus, which was decorated with flags. a mounted police escort had been provided, and a large throng, mostly boys, marched to the grounds, accompanying the players. there another demonstration took place as the home team paraded over the diamond, and greeted their opponents, who were already on hand, an ovation having also been accorded to them. the band played again, there were more cheers and encouraging calls, and then the mayor of the city stepped forward to throw the first ball. clevefield was to bat first, the home team, in league games, always coming up last. the initial ball, of course, was only a matter of form, and the batter only pretended to strike at it. then came the announcement all were waiting for; the naming of the pittston battery. "for clevefield," announced the umpire, "mcguinness and sullivan. for pittston, matson and nelson." joe had been picked to open the battle, and nelson, who was the regular catcher, except when gregory took a hand, would back him up. joe's ears rang as he walked to the mound. "play ball!" droned the umpire. chapter x bitterness joe glanced over to where gregory sat on the bench, from which he would engineer this first game of the season. the manager caught the eye of the young pitcher, and something in joe's manner must have told the veteran that his latest recruit was nervous. he signalled to joe to try a few practice balls, and our hero nodded comprehensively. the batter stepped back from the plate, and joe thought he detected a smile of derision at his own newness, and perhaps rawness. "but i'll show him!" whispered joe fiercely to himself, as he clinched his teeth and stung in the ball. it landed in the mitt of the catcher with a resounding thud. "that's the boy!" called gregory to him. "you'll do, old man. sting in another." joe threw with all his force, but there was a sickening fear in his heart that he was not keeping good control over the ball. nelson signalled to him to hold his curves in a little more, and joe nodded to show he understood. "play ball!" drawled the umpire again, and the batter took his place at the plate. joe looked at the man, and reviewing the baseball "dope" he recalled that the player batted well over .300, and was regarded as the despair of many pitchers. "if i could only strike him out!" thought joe. his first ball went a little wild. he realized that it was going to be a poor one as soon as it left his hand, but he could not for the life of him recover in time. "ball one!" yelled the umpire. "that's the way!" "make him give you what you want!" "wait for a pretty one!" "that's their ten thousand dollar college pitcher! back to the bench for his!" these were only a few of the remarks, sarcastic and otherwise, that greeted joe's first performance. he felt the hot blood rush to his face, and then, as he stepped forward to receive the ball which the catcher tossed back to him, he tried to master his feelings. the catcher shook his head in a certain way, to signal to joe to be on his guard. joe looked over at gregory, who did not glance at him. "i'll do better this time!" whispered joe, fiercely. he deliberated a moment before hurling in the next ball. "here goes a home run! clout it over the fence, pike!" called an enthusiastic "fan" in a shrill voice and the crowd laughed. "not if i know it!" muttered joe. the ball clipped the corner of the plate cleanly, and the batter, who had made a half motion to hit at it, refrained. "strike one!" yelled the umpire, throwing up his arm. "that's the way, matson!" "two more like that and he's a dead one!" joe caught the signal for a drop, but shook his head. he was going to try another out. again his catcher signalled for a drop, but joe was, perhaps, a trifle obstinate. he felt that he had been successful once with an out, and he was going to do it again. the catcher finally nodded in agreement, though reluctantly. joe shot in a fast one, and he knew that he had the ball under perfect control. perhaps he was as disappointed as any of the home players when there came a resounding crack, and the white sphere sailed aloft, and well out over centre field. "that's the way, pike! two bags anyhow!" but the redoubtable pike was to have no such good fortune, for the centre fielder, after a heart-breaking run, got under the fly and caught it, winning much applause from the crowd for his plucky effort. "one down!" called gregory, cheerfully. "only two more, joe." joe wished that he had struck out his man, but it was some consolation to know that he was being supported by good fielding. the next man up had a ball and a strike called on him, and joe was a bit puzzled as to just what to offer. he decided on a swift in, and thought it was going to make good, but the batter was a crafty veteran, and managed to connect with the ball. he sent a swift liner which the shortstop gathered in, however, and there was another added to the list of outs. "one more and that'll be about all!" called the pittston catcher. joe threw the ball over to first for a little practice, while the next batter was picking out his stick, and then came another try. "i've got to strike him out!" decided the young pitcher. "i've got to make good!" his heart was fluttering, and his nerves were not as calm as they ought to have been. he stooped over and made a pretence of tying his shoe-lace. when he straightened up he had, in a measure, gained a mastery of himself. he felt cool and collected. in went the ball with certain aim, and joe knew that it was just what he had intended it should be. "strike!" called the umpire, though the batter had not moved. there was some laughter from the grandstand, and the batter tapped the plate nervously. joe smiled. "good work!" called gregory from the bench. again the ball went sailing in, but this time joe's luck played him a shabby trick, or perhaps the umpire was not watching closely. certainly joe thought it a strike, but "ball" was called. joe sent in the next one so quickly that the batter was scarcely prepared for it. but it was perfectly legitimate and the umpire howled: "strike two!" "that's the boy!" "good work!" "another like that now, joe!" thus cried the throng. gregory looked pleased. "i guess mack didn't make any mistake picking him up," he said. the batter knocked a little foul next, that the catcher tried in vain to get. and then, when he faced joe again, our hero sent in such a puzzling drop that the man was deceived and struck out. "that's the boy!" "what do you think of our ten thousand dollar college pitcher now?" "come on, clevefield! he's got some more just like that!" the home team and its supporters were jubilant, and joe felt a sense of elation as he walked in to the bench. "now see what my opponent can do," he murmured. mcguinness was an old time pitcher, nothing very remarkable, but one any small club would be glad to get. he had the "number" of most of the pittston players, and served them balls and strikes in such order that though two little pop flies were knocked no one made a run. the result of the first inning was a zero for each team. "now joe, be a little more careful, and i think you can get three good ones," said gregory, as his team again took the field. "i'll try," replied joe, earnestly. he got two men, but not the third, who knocked a clean two-bagger, amid enthusiastic howls from admiring "fans." this two-base hit seemed to spell joe's undoing, for the next man duplicated and the first run was scored. there were two out, and it looked as though clevefield had struck a winning streak, for the next man knocked what looked to be good for single. but bob newton, the right fielder, caught it, and the side was retired with one run. pittston tried hard to score, but the crafty pitcher, aided by effective fielding, shut them out, and another zero was their portion on the score board. "joe, we've got to get 'em!" exclaimed gregory, earnestly. "i'll try!" was the sturdy answer. it was heart-breaking, though, when the first man up singled, and then came a hit and run play. joe was not the only player on the pittston team who rather lost his head that inning. for, though joe was hit badly, others made errors, and the net result was that clevefield had four runs to add to the one, while pittston had none. they managed, however, to get two in the following inning, more by good luck than good management, and the game began to look, as jimmie mack said, as though the other team had it in the "refrigerator." how it happened joe never knew, but he seemed to go to pieces. probably it was all a case of nerves, and the realization that this game meant more to him than any college contest. however that may be, the result was that joe was effectively hit the next inning, and when it was over, and three more runs had come in, gregory said sharply: "collin, you'll pitch now!" it meant that joe had been "knocked out of the box." "we've got to get this game!" explained the manager, not unkindly. but joe felt, with bitterness in his heart, that he had failed. chapter xi old pop consoles collin flashed a look of mingled scorn and triumph on joe as he walked past him. it needed only this to make our hero feel that he had stood about all he could, and he turned away, and tried to get rid of a lump in his throat. none of the other players seemed to notice him. probably it was an old story to them. competition was too fierce--it was a matter of making a living on their part--every man was for himself, in a certain sense. they had seen young players come and old players go. it was only a question of time when they themselves would go--go never to come back into baseball again. they might eke out a livelihood as a scout or as a ground-keeper in some big league. it was a fight for the survival of the fittest, and joe's seeming failure brought no apparent sympathy. understand me, i am not speaking against organized baseball. it is a grand thing, and one of the cleanest sports in the world. but what i am trying to point out is that it is a business, and from a business standpoint everyone in it must do his best for himself. each man, in a sense, is concerned only with his own success. nor do i mean that this precludes a love of the club, and good team work. far from it. nor were joe's feelings made any the less poignant by the fact that collin did some wonderful pitching. he needed to in order to pull the home team out of the hole into which it had slipped--and not altogether through joe's weakness, either. perhaps the other players braced up when they saw the veteran collin in the box. perhaps he even pitched better than usual because he had, in a sense, been humiliated by joe's preference over himself. at any rate, whatever the reason, the answer was found in the fact that pittston began to wake up. collin held the other team hitless for one inning, and the rest of the game, ordinary in a sense, saw pittston march on to victory--a small enough victory--by a margin of two runs, but that was enough. for victory had come out of almost sure defeat. poor joe sat on the bench and brooded. for a time no one seemed to take any notice of him, and then gregory, good general that he was, turned to the new recruit and said: "you mustn't mind a little thing like that, joe. i have to do the best as i see it. this is business, you know. why, i'd have pulled collin out, or tooley, just as quick." "i know it," returned joe, thickly. but the knowledge did not add to his comfort, though he tried to make it do so. but i am getting a little ahead of my story. the game was almost over, and it was practically won by pittston, when a voice spoke back of where joe sat on the players' bench. it was a husky, uncertain, hesitating sort of voice and it said, in the ear of the young pitcher: "never mind, my lad. ten years from now, when you're in a big league, you'll forget all about this. it'll do you good, anyhow, for it'll make you work harder, and hard work makes a good ball player out of a middle-class one. brace up. i know what i'm talking about!" joe hesitated a moment before turning. somehow he had a vague feeling that he had heard that voice before, and under strange circumstances. he wanted to see if he could place it before looking at the speaker. but it was baffling, and joe turned quickly. he started as he saw standing behind him, attired rather more neatly than when last he had confronted our hero--the tramp whom he had saved from the freight train. on his part the other looked sharply at joe for a moment. over his face passed shadows of memory, and then the light came. he recognized joe, and with a note of gladness in his husky voice--husky from much shouting on the ball field, and from a reckless life--he exclaimed: "why it's the boy! it's the boy who pulled me off the track! it's the boy!" "of course!" exclaimed joe. impulsively he held out his hand. a shout arose as one of the pittston players brought in the winning run, but joe paid no heed. he was staring at old pop dutton. the other player--the "has-been"--looked at joe's extended hand a moment as if in doubt. then he glanced over the field, and listened to the glad cries. he seemed to straighten up, and his nostrils widened as he sniffed in the odors of the crushed green grass. it was as though a broken-down horse had heard from afar the battle-riot in which he never again would take part. back came the blood-shot eyes to joe's still extended hand. "do you--do you mean it?" faltered the old ball player. "mean it? mean what?" asked joe, in surprise. "are you going to shake hands with me--with a----" he did not finish his obvious sentence. "why not?" asked joe. the other did not need to answer, for at that moment gregory came up. he started at the sight of dutton, and said sharply: "how did you get in here? what are you doing here. didn't i tell you to keep away?" "i paid my way in--_mister_ gregory!" was the sarcastic answer. "i still have the price." "well, we don't care for your money. what are you doing here? the bleachers for yours!" "he came--i think he came to see me," spoke joe, softly, and he reached for the other's reluctant hand. "i have met him before." "oh," said gregory, and there was a queer note in his voice. "i guess we've all met him before, and none of us are the better for it. you probably don't know him as well as the rest of us, joe." "he--he saved my life," faltered the unfortunate old ball player. "in a way that was a pity," returned gregory, coolly--cuttingly, joe thought, "for you're no good to yourself, dutton, nor to anyone else, as near as i can make out. i told you i didn't want you hanging around my grounds, and i don't. now be off! if i find you here again i'll hand you over to the police!" joe expected an outburst from dutton, but the man's spirit was evidently broken. for an instant--just for an instant--he straightened up and looked full at gregory. then he seemed to shrink in his clothes and turned to shuffle away. "all--all right," he mumbled. "i'll keep away. but you've got one fine little pitcher in that boy, and i didn't want to see him lose his nerve and get discouraged--as i often did. that--that's why i spoke to him." poor joe felt that he had rather made a mess of it in speaking to dutton, but, he said afterward, he would have done the same thing over again. "you needn't worry about matson," said the manager, with a sneer. "i'll look after joe--i'll see that he doesn't lose his nerve--or get discouraged." "i--i hope you do," said the old player, and then, with uncertain gait, he walked off as the victorious pittston players swarmed in. the game was over. chapter xii the queer valise "matson, i hope you didn't misunderstand me," remarked the manager as he walked beside joe to the dressing rooms. "i mean in regard to that dutton. he's an intolerable nuisance, and i didn't want you to get mixed up with him. perhaps i spoke stronger than i should, but i'm exasperated with him. i've tried--and so have lots of us--to get him back on the right road again, but i'm afraid he's hopeless." "it's too bad!" burst out the young pitcher. "yes, i thought you were a little severe with him." "i have to be. i don't want him hanging around here. i haven't seen him for some time. he drifts all about--beating his way like a tramp, i guess, though he's better dressed now than in a long while. what's that he said about you saving his life?" "well, i suppose i did, in a way," and joe told of the freight train episode. "but that happened a long distance from here," he added. "i was surprised to turn around and see him." "oh, pop travels all over. you've probably heard about him. in his day there wasn't a better pitcher in any league. but he got careless--that, bad companions and dissipation spelled ruin for him. he's down and out now, and i'm sure he can never come back. he lives off what he can borrow or beg from those who used to be his friends. steer clear of him--that's my advice." joe did not respond and after a moment gregory went on with: "and you mustn't mind, joe, being taken out of to-day's game." "oh, i didn't--after the first." "it was for your own good, as well as for the good of the team," proceeded the manager. "if i hadn't taken you out you might have gone to pieces, and the crowd would have said mean things that are hard to forget. and i want you to pitch for us to-morrow, joe." "you do!" cried the delighted young pitcher, all his bitterness forgotten now. "i thought maybe----" he paused in confusion. "just because you got a little off to-day, did you imagine i was willing to give you your release?" asked gregory, with a smile. "well--something like that," confessed joe. the manager laughed. "don't take it so seriously," he advised. "you've got lots to learn yet about professional baseball, and i want you to learn it right." joe felt a sense of gratitude, and when he reached the hotel that afternoon, he took a refreshing shower bath, attired himself in his "glad rags," and bought a ticket to the theatre. then, before supper, he sat down to write home, enclosing some of his salary to be put in a savings bank at riverside. joe also wrote a glowing account of the game, even though his part in it was rather negligible. he also wrote to-but there! i shouldn't tell secrets that way. it's taking too much of an advantage over a fellow. there was an air of elation about the hotel where the players lived, and on all sides were heard congratulations. the evening papers had big headlines with the victory of the home team displayed prominently. collin's picture was there, and how much joe wished that his own was so displayed only he himself knew. clevefield played four games with pittston, and they broke even--each side winning two. joe was given another chance to pitch, and was mainly responsible for winning the second game for his team. joe was fast becoming accustomed to his new life. of course there was always something different coming up--some new problem to be met. but he got in the way of solving them. it was different from his life at boarding school, and different from his terms at yale. he missed the pleasant, youthful comradeship of both places, but he found, as he grew to know them better, some sterling men in his own team, and in those of the opposing clubs. but with all that, at times, joe felt rather lonesome. of course the days were busy ones, either at practice or in play. but his nights were his own, and often he had no one with whom he cared to go out. he and charlie hall grew more and more friendly, but it was not a companionship of long enough standing to make it the kind joe really cared for. he had much pleasure in writing home, and to mabel, who in turn, sent interesting letters of her life in the south. one letter in particular made joe rather eager. "my brother and i are coming north on a combined business and pleasure trip," she wrote, "and we may see your team play. we expect to be in newkirk on the twentieth." joe dropped everything to look eagerly at the official schedule. "well, of all the luck!" he cried. "we play in newkirk that date. i wonder if she knew it? i wonder----?" then for days joe almost prayed that there would be no rainy days--no upsetting of the schedule that would necessitate double-headers, or anything that would interfere with playing at newkirk on the date mentioned. that city, as he found by looking at a map, was on a direct railroad line from goldsboro. "i hope nothing slips up!" murmured the young pitcher. from then on he lived in a sort of rosy glow. the ball season of the central league was well under way now. a number of games had been played, necessitating travel from one city to another. some of the journeys joe liked, and some were tiresome. he met all sorts and conditions of men and was growing to be able to take things as he found them. joe worked hard, and he took a defeat more to heart than did any of the others. it seemed to be all in the day's work with them. with joe it was a little more. not that any of the players were careless, though. they were more sophisticated, rather. the third week of the season, then, found pittston third in line for pennant honors, and when the loss of a contest to buffington had set them at the end of the first division there were some rather glum-looking faces seen in the hotel corridor. "boys, we've got to take a brace!" exclaimed gregory, and the manner in which he said it told his men that he meant it. joe went to bed that night wildly resolving to do all sorts of impossible things, so it is no wonder he dreamed that he pitched a no-hit no-run game, and was carried in triumph around the diamond on the shoulders of his enthusiastic comrades. i shall not weary you with an account of the ordinary games. just so many had to be played in a certain order to fulfill the league conditions. some of the contests were brilliant affairs, and others dragged themselves out wearily. joe had his share in the good and bad, but, through it all, he was gradually acquiring a good working knowledge of professional baseball. he was getting better control of his curves, and he was getting up speed so that it was noticeable. "i'll have to get nelson a mitt with a deeper pit in it if you keep on," said gregory with a laugh, after one exciting contest when joe had fairly "pitched his head off," and the game had been won for pittston by a narrow margin. gradually joe's team crept up until it was second, with clevefield still at the head. "and our next game is with newkirk!" exulted joe one morning as they took the train for that place. they were strictly on schedule, and joe was eager, for more reasons than one, to reach the city where he hoped a certain girl might be. "if we win, and clevefield loses to-morrow," spoke charlie hall, as he dropped into a seat beside joe, "we'll be on top of the heap." "yes--if!" exclaimed the young pitcher. "but i'm going to do my best, charlie!" "the same here!" it was raining when the team arrived in newkirk, and the weather was matched by the glum faces of the players. "no game to-morrow, very likely," said charlie, in disappointed tones. "unless they have rubber grounds here." "no such luck," returned joe. as he walked with the others to the desk to register he saw, amid a pile of luggage, a certain peculiar valise. he knew it instantly. "reggie varley's!" he exclaimed to himself. "there never was another bag like that. and it has his initials on it. reggie varley is here--at this hotel, and--and--she--must be here too. let it rain!" chapter xiii mabel joe matson stood spell-bound for a second or so, staring at the valise which had such an interest for him in two ways. it meant the presence at the hotel of the girl who had awakened such a new feeling within him, and also it recalled the unpleasant occasion when he had been accused of rifling it. "what's the matter, matson?" asked gus harrison, the big centre fielder, who stood directly behind the young pitcher, waiting to register. "have you forgotten your name?" "no--oh, no!" exclaimed our hero, coming to himself with a start. "i--er--i was just thinking of something." "i should imagine so," commented harrison. "get a move on. i want to go to my room and tog up. i've got a date with a friend." as joe turned away from the desk, after registering, he could not refrain from glancing at the odd valise. he half expected to see reggie varley standing beside it, but there was no sign of mabel's brother. "quite a coincidence that she should be stopping at this hotel," thought joe, for a quick glance at the names on the register, ahead of those of the ball team, had shown joe that miss varley's was among them. "quite a coincidence," joe mused on. "i wonder if she came here because she knew this was where the team always stops? oh, of course not. i'm getting looney, i reckon." then, as he looked at the valise again another thought came to him. "i do wish there was some way of proving to young varley that i didn't take the stuff out of it," reasoned joe. "but i don't see how i can prove that i didn't. it's harder to prove a negative than it is a positive, they say. maybe he has found his stuff by this time; i must ask him if i get a chance. and yet i don't like to bring it up again, especially as she's here. she doesn't know of it yet, that's evident, or she'd have said something. i mean reggie hasn't told her that he once suspected me." joe went to his room, and made a much more careful toilet than usual. so much so that charlie hall inquired rather sarcastically: "who's the lady, joe?" "lady? what do you mean?" responded joe, with simulated innocence. "oh, come now, that's too thin!" laughed the shortstop. "why all this gorgeousness? and a new tie! upon my word! you are going it!" "oh, cut it out!" growled joe, a bit incensed. but, all the while, he was wondering how and when he would meet mabel. would it be proper for him to send her his card? or would she know that the ball team had arrived, and send word to joe that he could see her? how were such things managed anyhow? joe wished there was some one whom he could ask, but he shrank from taking into his confidence any of the members of the team. "i'll just wait and see what turns up," he said. fate was kind to him, however. most of the ball players had gone in to dinner, discussing, meanwhile, the weather probabilities. there was a dreary drizzle outside, and the prospects for a fair day to follow were remote indeed. it meant almost certainly that there would be no game, and this was a disappointment to all. the pittston team was on edge for the contest, for they wanted their chance to get to the top of the league. "well, maybe it's just as well," confided gregory to jimmie mack. "it'll give the boys a chance to rest up, and they've been going the pace pretty hard lately. i do hope we win, though." "same here," exclaimed jimmie earnestly. as joe came down from his apartment, and crossed the foyer into the dining room, he turned around a pillar and came face to face with reggie varley--and his sister. they both started at the sight of the young pitcher, and mabel blushed. joe did the same, for that matter. "oh, why how do you do!" the girl exclaimed graciously, holding out her hand. "i'm awfully glad to see you again! so you are here with your team? oh, i do hope you'll win! too bad it's raining; isn't it? reggie, you must take me to the game! you remember mr. matson, of course!" she spoke rapidly, as though to cover some embarrassment, and, for a few seconds, joe had no chance to say anything, save incoherent murmurs, which, possibly, was proper under the circumstances. "oh, yes, i remember him," said reggie, but there was not much cordiality in his tone or manner. "certainly i remember him. glad to meet you again, old man. we haven't forgotten what you did for sis. awfully good of you." joe rather resented this tone, but perhaps reggie could not help it. and the young pitcher wondered whether there was any significance in the way reggie "remembered." young varley glanced over toward where his odd valise had been placed, in a sort of checking room. "excuse me," he said to his sister and joe. "i must have my luggage sent up. i quite forgot about it." "then there isn't any jewelry in it this time," spoke joe significantly, and under the impulse of the moment. a second later he regretted it. "no, of course not. oh, i see!" exclaimed reggie, and his face turned red. "i'll be back in a moment," he added as he hurried off. mabel glanced from her brother to joe. she saw that there was something between them of which she knew nothing, but she had the tact to ignore it--at least for the present. "have you dined?" she asked joe. "if you haven't there's a vacant seat at our table, and i'm sure reggie and i would be glad to have you sit with us." "i don't know whether he would or not," said joe, feeling that, as his part in the story of the valise and the missing jewelry would have to come out sometime, now was as good as any. "why--what do you mean?" asked mabel in surprise. "hasn't he told you?" demanded joe. "told me? told me what? i don't understand." "i mean about his watch and some of your jewelry being taken." "oh, yes, some time ago. you mean when he was up north. wasn't it too bad! and my lovely beads were in his valise. but how did you know of it?" "because," blurted out joe, "your brother accused me of taking them!" mabel started back. "no!" she cried. "never! he couldn't have done that!" "but he did, and i'd give a lot to be able to prove that i had no hand in the looting!" joe spoke, half jokingly. "how silly!" exclaimed the girl. "the idea! how did it happen?" joe explained briefly, amid rather excited ejaculations from mabel, and had just concluded when reggie came back. he caught enough of the conversation to understand what it was about, and as his sister looked oddly at him, he exclaimed: "oh, i say now, matson! i was hoping that wouldn't get out. i suppose i made rather a fool of myself--talking to you the way i did, but----" "well, i resented it somewhat at the time," replied joe, slowly, "but i know how you must have felt." "yes. well, i never have had a trace of the stuff. i was hoping sis, here, wouldn't know how i accused you--especially after the plucky way you saved her." "i thought it best to tell," said the young pitcher, quietly. "oh, well, as you like," and reggie shrugged his shoulders. "it was certainly a queer go." "and i'm living in hope," went on joe, "that some day i'll be able to prove that i had no hand in the matter." "oh, of course you didn't!" cried mabel, impulsively. "it's silly of you, reggie, to think such a thing." "i don't think it--now!" but in spite of this denial joe could not help feeling that perhaps, after all, reggie varley still had an undefined suspicion against him. "i say!" exclaimed joe's one-time accuser, "won't you dine with us? we have a nice waiter at our table----" "i had already asked him," broke in mabel. "then that's all right. i say, matson, can't you take my sister in? i've just had a 'phone message about some of dad's business that brought me up here. i've got to go see a man, and if you'll take mabel in----" "i shall be delighted." "how long will you be, reggie?" "oh, not long, sis. but if i see jenkinson to-night it will save us time to-morrow." "oh, all right. but if i let you off now you'll have to take me to the ball game to-morrow." "i will--if it doesn't rain." "and you'll be back in time for the theatre?" "surely. i'll run along now. it's awfully good of you, matson, to take----" "not at all!" interrupted joe. the pleasure was all his, he felt. he and mabel went into the hotel dining room, and joe's team-mates glanced curiously at him from where they sat. but none of them made any remarks. "it was dreadful of reggie, to accuse you that way," the girl murmured, when they were seated. "oh, he was flustered, and perhaps it was natural," said joe. "i did sit near the valise, you know." "i know--but----" they talked over the matter at some length, and then the conversation drifted to baseball. joe had never eaten such a delightful meal, though if you had asked him afterward what the menu was made up of, he could not have told you. it was mostly mabel, i think, from the soup to the dessert. chapter xiv bad news grounds that were soggy and wet, and a dreary drizzle of rain, prevented a game next day, and there was much disappointment. weather reports were eagerly scanned, and the skies looked at more than once. "i think it'll clear to-morrow," remarked joe to charlie hall. "i sure hope so. i want to see what sort of meat these newkirk fellows are made of since we played against 'em last." "oh, they're husky enough, as we found, charlie," for there had been several league games between this team and the pittston nine, but in the latter town. now the tables might be turned. "they've got some new players," went on charlie, "and a pitcher who's said to be a marvel." "well, you've got me," laughed joe, in simulated pride. "that's right, old man, and i'm glad of it. i think you're going to pull us to the top in this pennant race." "oh, i haven't such a swelled head as to think that," spoke joe, "but i'm going to work hard--i guess we all are. but what does it look like for clevefield to-day? you know she's got to lose and we've got to win to put us on top." "i know. there wasn't any report of rain there, so the game must be going on. we ought to get results soon. come on over to the ticker." it was after luncheon, and the game in clevefield, with the washburg nine, would soon start. then telegraphic reports of the contest that, in a way, meant so much for pittston would begin coming in. after the delightful dinner joe had had with mabel his pleasure was further added to when he went with her to the theatre. reggie telephoned that he could not get back in time, and asked joe to take his sister, she having the tickets. of course the young pitcher was delighted, but he could not get over the uneasy feeling that young varley was suspicious of him. "hang it all!" exclaimed joe, mentally. "i've just got to get that out of his mind! but how? only by finding his watch or mabel's jewelry, and i suppose i might as well look for a needle in a haystack." joe sat in the hotel corridor, looking over a newspaper, and waiting for some news of the clevefield game, as many of his team were doing. an item caught the eye of the young pitcher that caused him to start. it was to the effect that the unfortunate pop dutton had been arrested for creating a scene at a ball park. "poor old man!" mused joe. "i wish i could do something for him. i feel sort of responsible for him, since i saved his life. i wonder if he couldn't be straightened up? i must have another talk with gregory about him." a yell from some of the players gathered about the news ticker in the smoking room brought joe to his feet. "what is it?" he called to charlie hall. "washburg got three runs the first inning and clevefield none!" was the answer. "it looks as if washburg would have a walk-over. and you know what that means for us." "yes, if we win to-morrow." "win! of course we'll win, you old bone-head!" cried charlie, clapping joe affectionately on the back. further news from the game was eagerly awaited and when the last inning had been ticked off, and washburg had won by a margin of three runs, the pittston team was delighted. not at the downfall of fellow players, understand, but because it gave pittston the coveted chance to be at the top of the first division. "boys, we've just got to win that game to-morrow!" cried gregory. "if they don't i'll make them live on bread and water for a week!" cried trainer mcguire, with a twinkle in his blue eyes. the second day following proved all that could be desired from a weather standpoint for a ball game, the grounds having dried up meanwhile. it was bright and sunny, but not too warm, and soon after breakfast the team was ordered out on the field for light practice. this was necessary as their day of comparative idleness, added to the damp character of the weather, had made them all a little stiff. "get limbered up, boys," advised jimmie mack. "you'll need all the speed and power you can bring along to-day. joe, how's your arm?" "all right, i guess," answered the young pitcher. "well, do some light practice. come on. i'll catch for you a while." there had been some slight changes made in the newkirk grounds since last season, and gregory wanted his players to familiarize themselves with the new layout. joe was delighted with the diamond. though newkirk was a smaller city than pittston the ball field was kept in better shape. "of course it isn't the polo grounds," joe confided to charlie hall, "but they're pretty good." "i wonder if i'll ever get a chance to play on the polo grounds?" murmured charlie, half enviously. "it must be great!" "it is!" cried joe, with memories of the yale-princeton contest he had taken part in there. "and i'm going to do it again, some time!" "you are?" "i sure am. i'm going to break into a big league if it's possible." "good for you, joe!" "still, the grounds aren't everything, charlie," went on joe. "we've got to play the best ball to win the game." "and we'll do it, too! don't worry." the practice was worked up to a fast and snappy point, and then gregory sent his men for a brisk walk, to be followed by a shower bath in preparation for the afternoon contest. certainly when the pittston team started for the grounds again they were a bright, clean-looking lot of players. joe was wondering whether he would have a chance to pitch, but, following his usual policy, the crafty manager did not announce his battery until the last moment. there was a big crowd out to see the game, for the rivalry in the central league was now intense, and interest was well keyed up. joe had seen mabel and her brother start for the grounds, and he wished, more than ever before, perhaps, that he would be sent to the mound to do battle for his team. the newkirk men were out on the diamond when the pittston players arrived, and, after an interval the latter team was given a chance to warm up. joe and the other pitchers began their usual practice, and joe felt that he could do himself justice if he could but get a chance. there was silence as the batteries were announced, and joe could not help feeling a keen disappointment as tooley, the south-paw, was named to open the contest. "there's a lot of queer batters on the newkirks," joe heard bob newton, the right fielder, say to terry hanson, who played left. "i guess that's the reason the old man wants tooley to feel them out." "i reckon." "play ball!" droned the umpire as the gong clanged, and george lee, the second baseman, who was first at bat, strolled out to pick up his club. the first part of the game was rather a surprise to the pittston players. lee was struck out with amazing ease, and even jimmie mack, who had the best batting average of any on the team, "fell" for a delusive "fade-away" ball. "but i've got his number!" he exclaimed, as he nodded at the opposing pitcher. "he won't get me again." pittston did not get a run, though she had three men on bases when the last one went down, and it looked as though her chances were good. then came more disappointment when tooley failed to get his batters, and newkirk had two runs chalked up to her credit. the second inning was almost like the first and then at the proper time, gregory, with a decisive gesture, signalled to joe. "you'll have to pitch us out of this hole!" he said, grimly. collin, who had said openly that he expected to be called on, looked blackly at our hero. as joe started to take his place a messenger boy handed him a telegram. he was a little startled at first, and then laughed at his fears. "probably good wishes from home," he murmured, as he tore open the envelope. and then the bright day seemed to go black as he read: "your father hurt in explosion. no danger of death, but may lose eyesight. if you can come home do so. mother." chapter xv joe's pluck joe's distress at receiving the bad news was so evident, at least to gregory, that the manager hurried over to the young pitcher and asked: "what's the matter, old man? something upset you?" for answer joe simply held out the message. "i say! that's too bad!" exclaimed gregory sympathetically. "let's see now. you can get a train in about an hour, i think. skip right off. i'll make it all right." it was his business to know much about trains, and he was almost a "walking timetable." "awfully sorry, old man!" he went on. "come back to us when you can. you'll find us waiting." joe made up his mind quickly. it was characteristic of him to do this, and it was one of the traits that made him, in after years, such a phenomenal pitcher. "i--i'm not going home," said joe, quietly. "not going home! why?" cried gregory. "at least not until after the game," went on joe. "the telegram says my father isn't in any immediate danger, and i could not gain much by starting now. i'm going to stay and pitch. that is, if you'll let me." "let you! of course i'll let you. but can you stand the gaff, old man? i don't want to seem heartless, but the winning of this game means a lot to me, and if you don't feel just up to the mark----" "oh, i can pitch--at least, i think i can," said joe, not wishing to appear too egotistical. "i mean this won't make me flunk." "that's mighty plucky of you, joe, and i appreciate it. now don't make a mistake. it won't hurt your standing with the club a bit if you go now. i'll put collin in, and----" "i'll pitch!" said joe, determinedly. "after that it will be time enough to start for home." "all right," assented gregory. "but if you want to quit at any time, give me the signal. and i'll tell you what i'll do. have you a 'phone at home?" "yes." "then i'll have someone get your house on the long distance wire, and find out just how your father is. i'll also send word that you'll start to-night." "that will be fine!" cried joe, and already he felt better. the bad news had shocked him for the time, though. "play ball!" called the umpire, for there had been a little delay over the talk between joe and the manager. "just keep quiet about it, though," advised the manager to the young pitcher. "it may only upset things if it gets out. are you sure you can stand it?" "i--i'm going to stand it!" responded joe, gamely. he faced his first batter with a little sense of uncertainty. but nelson, who was catching, nodded cheerfully at him, and gave a signal for a certain ball that joe, himself, had decided would best deceive that man with the stick. he sent it in rushingly, and was delighted to hear the umpire call: "strike one!" "that's the way!" "two more like that and he's a goner!" "slam 'em in, matson!" joe flushed with pleasure at the encouraging cries. he wondered if mabel was joining in the applause that frequently swept over the grandstand at a brilliant play. again joe threw, and all the batter could do was to hit a foul, which was not caught. then came a ball, followed by another, and joe began to get a bit anxious. "that's the boy!" welled up encouragingly from the crowd. joe tried a moist ball--a delivery of which he was not very certain as yet, but the batter "fell for it" and whirled around as he missed it cleanly. "three strikes--batter's out!" howled the umpire, and the man went back to the bench. the next candidate managed to get a single, but was caught stealing second, and joe had a chance to retire his third man. it was a chance not to be missed, and he indulged in a few delaying tactics in order to place, in his mind, the hitter and his special peculiarities. with a snap of his wrist joe sent in an out curve, but the manner in which the batter leaped for it, missing it only by a narrow margin, told our hero that this ball was just "pie," for his antagonist. "mustn't do that again," thought joe. "he'll slam it over the fence if i do." the next--an in-shoot--was hit, but only for a foul, and joe, whose heart had gone into his throat as he heard the crack of the bat, breathed easier. then, just to puzzle the batter, after delivering a "moistener" that fell off and was called a ball, joe sent in a "teaser"--a slow one--that fooled the player, who flied out to shortstop. joe was beginning to feel more confidence in himself. the others of the pittston team grinned encouragingly at joe, and gregory clasped his arms about the young pitcher as he came in to the bench. "can you stick it out?" he asked. "sure! have you any word yet on the 'phone?" "no. not yet. i'm expecting hastings back any minute," naming a substitute player who had not gone into the game, and whom the manager had sent to call up joe's house. "but are you sure you want to keep on playing?" "sure," answered joe. he had a glimpse of collin, and fancied that the eager look on the other pitcher's face turned to one of disappointment. "you're beating me out," said tooley, the south-paw, with an easy laugh. "i'm sorry," said joe, for he knew how it felt to be supplanted. "oh, i'm not worrying. my turn will come again. one can't be up to the mark all the while." pittston managed to get a run over the plate that inning, and when it came time for joe to go to the mound again he had better news to cheer him up. word had come over the telephone that mr. matson, while making some tests at the harvester works, had been injured by an explosion of acids. some had gone into his face, burning him badly. his life was in no danger, but his eyesight might be much impaired, if not lost altogether. nothing could be told in this respect for a day or so. hastings had been talking to joe's sister clara, to whom he explained that joe would start for home as soon as the game was over. mrs. matson was bearing up well under the strain, the message said, and joe was told not to worry. "now i'll be able to do better," said the young pitcher, with a little smile. "thanks for the good news." "you're doing all right, boy!" cried gregory. "i think we're going to win!" but it was not to be as easy as saying it. the newkirk men fought hard, and to the last inch. they had an excellent pitcher--a veteran--who was well backed up with a fielding force, and every run the pittstons got they fully earned. joe warmed up to his work, and to the howling delight of the crowd struck out two men in succession, after one had gone out on a pop fly, while there were two on bases. that was a test of nerve, for something might have broken loose at any moment. but joe held himself well in hand, and watched his batters. he so varied his delivery that he puzzled them, and working in unison with nelson very little got past them. then came a little spurt on the part of newkirk, and they "sweetened" their score until there was a tie. it was in the ninth inning, necessitating another to decide the matter. "if we can get one run we'll have a chance to win," declared gregory. "that is, if you can hold them in the last half of the tenth, joe." "i'll do my best!" "i know you will, my boy!" for a time it looked as though it could not be done. two of the pittston players went down in rapid succession before the magnificent throwing of the newkirk pitcher. then he made a fatal mistake. he "fed" a slow ball to john holme, the big third baseman, who met it squarely with his stick, and when the shouting was over john was safely on the third sack. "now bring him home, joe!" cried the crowd, as the young pitcher stepped to the plate. it was not the easiest thing in the world to stand up there and face a rival pitcher, with the knowledge that your hit might win the game by bringing in the man on third. and especially after the advent of the telegram. but joe steadied himself, and smiled at his opponent. he let the first ball go, and a strike was called on him. there was a groan from grandstand and bleachers. "take your time, joe!" called gregory, soothingly. "get what you want." it came. the ball sailed for the plate at the right height, and joe correctly gaged it. his bat met it squarely, with a resounding "plunk!" "that's the boy!" "oh, what a beaut!" "take third on that!" "come on home, you ice wagon!" "run! run! run!" it was a wildly shrieking mob that leaped to its feet, cheering on joe and holme. on and on ran the young pitcher. he had a confused vision of the centre fielder running back to get the ball which had dropped well behind him. joe also saw holme racing in from third. he could hear the yells of the crowd and fancied--though of course it could not be so--that he could hear the voice of mabel calling to him. on and on ran joe, and stopped, safe on second, holme had gone in with the winning run. but that was all. the next man struck out, and joe was left on the "half-way station." "but we're one ahead, and if we can hold the lead we've got 'em!" cried gregory. "joe, my boy, it's up to you! can you hold 'em down?" he looked earnestly at the young pitcher. "i--i'll do it!" cried joe. chapter xvi a slim chance there was an almost breathless silence as joe walked to the mound to begin what he hoped would be the ending of the final inning of the game. if he could prevent, with the aid of his mates, the newkirk team from gaining a run, the pittstons would be at the top of the list. if not---but joe did not like to think about that. he was under a great nervous strain, not only because of the news concerning his father, but because of what his failure or success might mean to the club he had the honor to represent. "i've just got to win!" said joe to himself. "play ball!" called the umpire. joe had been holding himself a little in reserve up to now; that is, he had not used the last ounce of ability that he had, for he could see that the game was going to be a hard one, and that a little added "punch" at the last moment might make or break for victory. the young pitcher had a good delivery of what is known as the "jump" ball. it is sent in with all the force possible, and fairly jumps as it approaches the plate. it is often used to drive the batsman away from the rubber. it is supposed to go straight for the plate, or the inside corner, and about shoulder high. a long preliminary swing is needed for this ball, and it is pitched with an overhand delivery. joe had practiced this until he was a fair master of it, but he realized that it was exhausting. always after sending in a number of these his arm would be lame, and he was not good for much the next day. but now he thought the time had come to use it, varying it, of course, with other styles of delivery. "i've got to hold 'em down!" thought joe. he realized that the attention of all was on him, and he wished he could catch the eyes of a certain girl he knew sat in the grandstand watching him. joe also felt that collin, his rival, was watching him narrowly, and he could imagine the veteran pitcher muttering: "why do they send in a young cub like that when so much depends on it? why didn't gregory call me?" but the manager evidently knew what he was doing. "play ball!" called the umpire again, at the conclusion of the sending in of a practice ball or two. joe caught his breath sharply. "it's now or never!" he thought as he grasped the ball in readiness for the jump. "it's going to strain me, but if i go home for a day or so i can rest up." in went the horsehide sphere with great force. it accomplished just what joe hoped it would. the batter instinctively stepped back, but there was no need. the ball neatly clipped the corner of the plate, and the umpire called: "strike one!" instantly there was a howl from the crowd. "that's the way!" "two more, matson, old man!" "make him stand up!" "slam it out, johnson!" the batter had his friends as well as joe. but the battle was not half won yet. there were two men to be taken care of after this one was disposed of, and he still had his chances. joe signalled to his catcher that he would slip in a "teaser" now, and the man in the wire mask nodded his understanding. the batter smiled, in anticipation of having a "ball" called on him, but was amazed, not to say angry, when he heard from the umpire the drawling: "strike--two!" instantly there came a storm of protest, some from the crowd, a half-uttered sneer from the batter himself, but more from his manager and team-mates on the players' bench. "forget it!" sharply cried the umpire, supreme master that he was. "i said 'strike,' and a strike it goes. play ball!" joe was delighted. it showed that they were now to have fair treatment from the deciding power, though during the first part of the game the umpire's decisions had not been altogether fair to pittston. the crowd was breathlessly eager again, as joe wound up once more. then there was a mad yell as the batter hit the next ball. "go on! go on! you----" "foul!" yelled the umpire, and there was a groan of disappointment. joe was a little nervous, so it is no wonder that he was called for a ball on his next delivery. but following that he sent in as neat an out curve as could be desired. the batter missed it by a foot, and throwing his stick down in disgust walked to the bench. "only two more, old man!" called gregory encouragingly. "only two more. we've got their number." then came an attempt on the part of the crowd, which naturally was mostly in sympathy with their home team, to get joe's "goat." he was hooted at and reviled. he was advised to go back to college, and to let a man take his place. joe only grinned and made no answer. the nervous strain under which he was playing increased. he wanted, no one perhaps but gregory knew how much, to get away and take a train for home, to be with his suffering father. but there were two more men to put out. and joe did it. that is, he struck out the next man. the third one singled, and when the best batter of the opposing team came up, joe faced him confidently. after two balls had been called, and the crowd was at the fever point of expectancy, joe got a clean strike. it was followed by a foul, and then came a little pop fly that was easily caught by the young pitcher, who hardly had to move from his mound. "pittston wins!" "pittston is up head!" "three cheers for joe matson!" they were given with a will, too, for the crowd loved a plucky player, even if it was on the other side. but joe did not stay to hear this. he wanted to catch the first train for home, and hurried into the dressing room. he spoke to gregory, saying that he was going, and would be back as soon as he could. "take your time, old man; take your time," said the manager kindly. "you did a lot for us to-day, and now i guess we can hold our own until you come back." there were sympathetic inquiries from joe's fellow players when they heard what had happened. joe wanted to say good-bye to mabel, but did not quite see how he could do it. he could hardly find her in that crowd. but chance favored him, and as he was entering the hotel to get his grip, he met her. "oh, it was splendid!" she cried with girlish enthusiasm, holding out her slim, pretty hand. "it was fine! however did you do it?" "i guess because i knew you were watching me!" exclaimed joe with a boldness that he himself wondered at later. "oh, that's awfully nice of you to say," she answered, with a blush. "i wish i could believe it!" "you can!" said joe, still more boldly. "but you--you look as though something had happened," she went on, for surely joe's face told that. "there has," he said, quietly, and he told of the accident to his father. "oh, i'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, clasping his hand again. "and you pitched after you heard the news! how brave of you! is there anything we can do--my brother--or i?" she asked anxiously. "thank you, no," responded joe, in a low voice. "i am hoping it will not be serious." "you must let me know--let reggie know," she went on. "we shall be here for some days yet." joe promised to write, and then hurried off to catch his train. it was a long ride to riverside, and to joe, who was all impatience to be there, the train seemed to be the very slowest kind of a freight, though it really was an express. but all things must have an end, and that torturing journey did. joe arrived in his home town late one afternoon, and took a carriage to the house. he saw clara at the window, and could see that she had been crying. she slipped to the door quickly, and held up a warning finger. "what--what's the matter?" asked joe in a hoarse whisper. "is--is he worse?" "no, he's a little better, if anything. but he has just fallen asleep, and so has mother. she is quite worn out. come in and i'll tell you about it. oh, joe! i'm so glad you're home!" clara related briefly the particulars of the accident, and then the doctor came in. by this time mrs. matson had awakened and welcomed her son. "what chance is there, doctor," asked the young pitcher; "what chance to save his eyesight?" "well, there's a chance; but, i'm sorry to say, it is only a slim one," was the answer. "it's too soon to say with certainty, however. another day will have to pass. i hope all will be well, but now all i can say is that there is a chance." joe felt his heart beating hard, and then, bracing himself to meet the emergency if it should come, he put his arm around his weeping mother, and said, as cheerfully as he could: "well, i believe chance is going to be on our side. i'm going to use a bit of baseball slang, and say i have a 'hunch' that we'll win out!" "that's the way to talk!" cried dr. birch, heartily. chapter xvii old pop again dr. birch remained for some little time at the matson home, going over in detail with joe just what the nature of his father's injuries were. in brief, while experimenting on a certain new method of chilling steel, for use in a corn sheller, mr. matson mixed some acids together. unknown to him a workman had, accidentally, substituted one very strong acid for a weak one. when the mixture was put into an iron pot there was an explosion. some of the acid, and splinters of iron, flew up into the face of the inventor. "and until i can tell whether the acid, or a piece of steel, injured his eyes, joe, i can't say for sure what we shall have to do," concluded the doctor. "you mean about an operation?" "yes. if we have to perform one it will be a very delicate one, and it will cost a lot of money; there are only a few men in this country capable of doing it, and their fees, naturally, are high. but we won't think of that now. i think i will go in and see how he is. if he is well enough i want you to see him. it will do him good." "and me, too," added joe, who was under a great strain, though he did not show it. mr. matson was feeling better after his rest, and joe was allowed to come into the darkened room. he braced himself for the ordeal. "how are you, son," said the inventor weakly. "fine, dad. but i'm sorry to see you laid up this way." "well, joe, it couldn't be helped. i should have been more careful. but i guess i'll pull through. how is baseball?" "couldn't be better, dad! we're at the top of the heap! i just helped to win the deciding game before i came on." "yes, i heard your mother talking about the telephone message. i'm glad you didn't come away without playing. have you the pennant yet?" "oh, no. that won't be decided for a couple of months. but we're going to win it!" "that's what i like to hear!" dr. birch did not permit his patient to talk long, and soon joe had to leave the room. the physician said later that he thought there was a slight improvement in mr. matson's condition, though of course the matter of saving his eyesight could not yet be decided. "but if we do have to have an operation," said mrs. matson. "i don't see where the money is coming from. your father's investments are turning out so badly----" "don't worry about that, mother," broke in joe. "but i have to, joe. if an operation is needed we'll have to get the money. and from where is more than i know," she added, hopelessly. "i'll get the money!" exclaimed the young pitcher in energetic tones. "how?" asked his mother. "i'm sure you can't make enough at ball playing." "no, perhaps not at ordinary ball playing, mother, but at the end of the season, when the deciding games for the pennant are played off, they always draw big crowds, and the players on the winning team come in for a good share of the receipts. i'll use mine for the operation." "but your team may not win the pennant, joe," said clara. "we're going to win!" cried the young pitcher. "i feel it in my bones! don't worry, mother." but, naturally, mrs. matson could not help it, in spite of joe's brave words. clara, though, was cheered up. "there's more to baseball than i thought," she said. "there's more in it than i'll ever learn," admitted joe, frankly. "of course our pennant-deciding games aren't like the world series, but i understand they bring in a lot of money." mr. matson was quite improved the next day, but dr. birch, and another physician, who was called in consultation, could not settle the matter about the eyes. "it will be fully a month before we can decide about the operation," said the expert. "in the meanwhile he is in no danger, and the delay will give him a chance to get back his strength. we shall have to wait." as nothing could be gained by joe's staying home, and as his baseball money was very much needed at this trying time, it was decided that he had better rejoin his team. he bade his parents and sister good-bye, and arranged to have word sent to him every day as to his father's condition. "and don't you worry about that money, mother," he said as he kissed her. "i'll be here with it when it's needed." "oh, joe!" was all she said, but she looked happier. joe went back to join the team at delamont, where they were scheduled to play four games, and then they would return to their home town of pittston. from the newspapers joe learned that his team had taken three of the four contests in newkirk, and might have had the fourth but for bad pitching on the part of collin. "maybe he won't be so bitter against me now," thought joe. "he isn't such a wonder himself." joe was glancing over the paper as the train sped on toward delamont. he was looking over other baseball news, and at the scores of the big leagues. "i wonder when i'll break into them?" mused joe, as he glanced rather enviously at several large pictures of celebrated players in action. "i'm going to do it as soon as i can." then the thought came to him of how hard it was for a young and promising player to get away from the club that controlled him. "the only way would be to slump in form," said joe to himself, "and then even if he did get his release no other team would want him. it's a queer game, and not altogether fair, but i suppose it has to be played that way. well, no use worrying about the big leagues until i get a call from one. there'll be time enough then to wonder about my release." as joe was about to lay aside the paper he was aware of a controversy going on a few seats ahead of him. the conductor had stopped beside an elderly man and was saying: "you'll have to get off, that's all there is to it. you deliberately rode past your station, and you're only trying to see how far you can go without being caught. you get off at the next station, or if you don't i'll stop the train when i get to you and put you off, even if it's in the middle of a trestle. you're trying to beat your way, and you know it! you had a ticket only to clearville, and you didn't get off." "oh, can't you pass me on to delamont?" pleaded the man. "i admit i was trying to beat you. but i've got to get to delamont. i've the promise of work there, and god knows i need it. i'll pay the company back when i earn it." "huh!" sneered the conductor, "that's too thin. i've heard that yarn before. no, sir; you get off at the next station, or i'll have the brakeman run you off. understand that! no more monkey business. either you give me money or a ticket, or off you go." "all right," was the short answer. "i reckon i'll have to do it." the man turned and at the sight of his face joe started. "pop dutton!" exclaimed the young pitcher, hardly aware that he had spoken aloud. "that's me," was the answer. "oh--why--it's joe!" he added, and his face lighted up. then a look of despair came over it. joe decided quickly. no matter what gregory and the others said he had determined to help this broken-down old ball player. "what's the fare to delamont?" joe asked the conductor. "one-fifty, from the last station." "i'll pay it," went on joe, handing over a bill. the ticket-puncher looked at him curiously, and then, without a word, made the change, and gave joe the little excess slip which was good for ten cents, to be collected at any ticket office. "say, joe matson, that's mighty good of you!" exclaimed old pop dutton, as joe came to sit beside him. "mighty good!" "that's all right," spoke joe easily. "what are you going to do in delamont?" "i've got a chance to be assistant ground-keeper at the ball park. i--i'm trying to--trying to get back to a decent life, joe, but--but it's hard work." "then i'm going to help you!" exclaimed the young pitcher, impulsively. "i'm going to ask gregory if he can't give you something to do. do you think you could play ball again?" "i don't know, joe," was the doubtful answer. "they say when they get--get like me--that they can't come back. i couldn't pitch, that's sure. i've got something the matter with my arm. doctor said a slight operation would cure me, and i might be better than ever, but i haven't any money for operations. but i could be a fair fielder, i think, and maybe i could fatten up my batting average." "would you like to try?" asked joe. "would i?" the man's tone was answer enough. "then i'm going to get you the chance," declared joe. "but you'll have to take care of yourself, and--get in better shape." "i know it, joe. i'm ashamed of myself--that's what i am. i've gone pretty far down, but i believe i can come back. i've quit drinking, and i've cut my old acquaintances." joe looked carefully at pop dutton. the marks of the life he had led of late were to be seen in his trembling hands, and in his blood-shot eyes. but there was a fine frame and a good physique to build on. joe had great hopes. "you come on to delamont with me," said the young pitcher, "and i'll look after you until you get straightened out. then we'll see what the doctor says, and gregory, too. i believe he'll give you the chance." "joe! i don't know how to thank you!" said the man earnestly. "if i can ever do something for you--but i don't believe i ever can." pop dutton little realized how soon the time was to come when he could do joe a great favor. chapter xviii in despair joe and pop dutton arrived at the hotel in delamont ahead of the team, which was on the way from newkirk after losing the last game of the four. but at that pittston was still in the lead, and now all energies would be bent on increasing the percentage so that even the loss of a game now and then would not pull the club from its place. "now look here, joe," said pop, when he and joe had eaten, "this may be all right for me, but it isn't going to do you any good." "what do you mean?" "i mean consorting with me in this way. i can't stay at this hotel with you, the other players would guy you too much." "i don't care about that." "well, but i do. now, look here. i appreciate a whole lot what you're doing for me, but it would be better if i could go to some other hotel. then, if you can, you get gregory to give me a chance. i'll work at anything--assistant trainer, or anything--to get in shape again. but it would be better for me not to stay here where the team puts up. "if things go right, and i can go back to pittston with the boys, i'll go to some quiet boarding house. being at a hotel isn't any too good for me. it brings back old times." joe saw the logic of pop's talk, and consented. he gave the broken-down player enough money to enable him to live quietly for several days. when the team came joe determined to put the question to the manager. as joe had registered he looked over the book to see if he knew any of the guests at the hotel. though he did not admit so to himself he had half a forlorn hope that he might find the name of mabel and her brother there. he even looked sharply at the various pieces of luggage as they were carried in by the bell boys, but he did not see the curious valise that had played such an unpleasant part in his life. joe was feeling very "fit." the little rest, even though it was broken by anxiety concerning his father, had done him good, and the arm that had been strained in the game that meant so much to pittston was in fine shape again. joe felt able to pitch his very best. "and i guess we'll have to do our prettiest if we want to keep at the top of the heap," he reasoned. then the team arrived, and noisily and enthusiastically welcomed joe to their midst again. seeking the first opportunity, joe had a talk with the manager concerning pop dutton. at first gregory would not listen, and tried to dissuade joe from having anything to do with the old player. but the young pitcher had determined to go on with his rescue work, and pleaded with such good effect that finally the manager said: "well, i'll give him a chance, providing he shows that he can keep straight. i don't believe he can, but, for your sake, i'm willing to make the experiment. i've done it before, and been taken in every time. i'm sure this will only be another, but you might as well learn your lesson now as later." "i don't believe i'll have much to learn," answered joe with a smile. "i think pop can come back." "the players who can do that are as scarce as hens' teeth," was the rejoinder of the manager. "but i'll take this last chance. of course he can't begin to play right off the bat. he's got to get in training. by the way, i suppose he has his release?" the manager looked questioningly at joe. "oh, yes. he's free and clear to make any contract he likes. he told me that." "i imagined so. no one wants him. i'm afraid i'm foolish for taking him on, but i'll do it to please you. i'll take his option, and pay him a small sum." "then i'll do the rest," returned joe, eagerly. "i'm going to have his arm looked at, and then couldn't you get him a place where he could do out-door work--say help keep our grounds in shape?" "well, i'll think about it, joe. but about yourself? are you ready to sail in again?" "i sure am. what are the prospects?" "well, they might be better. collin isn't doing any too well. i'm thinking of buying another pitcher to use when there's not much at stake. gus harrison is laid up--sprained his knee a little making a mean slide. i've got to do some shifting, and i need every game i can get from now on. but i guess we'll come out somehow." but the team did not come out "somehow." it came out "nohow," for it lost its first game with delamont the next day, and this, coupled with the winning of a double-header by clevefield, put that team in the lead and sent pittston to second place. joe worked hard, so hard that he began to go to pieces in the seventh inning, and had to be replaced by tooley, who came into the breach wonderfully well, and, while he did not save the day, he prevented a disgraceful beating. joe was in the dumps after this despite the cheerful, optimistic attitude of the manager. joe's one consolation, though, was that pop dutton was in the way of being provided for. the old pitcher was holding himself rigidly in line, and taking care of himself. he had a talk with gregory--a shame-faced sort of talk on pop's part--and was promised a place at the pittston ball park. it was agreed that he would go into training, and try to get back to his old form. gregory did not believe this could be done, but if a miracle should happen he realized that he would own a valuable player--one that would be an asset to his club. and then something happened. how it came about no one could say for a certainty, but joe went "stale." he fell off woefully in his pitching, and the loss of several games was attributable directly to his "slump." joe could not account for it, nor could his friends; but the fact remained. pittston dropped to third place, and the papers which gave much space to the doings of the central league began to make sarcastic remarks. on the diamond, too, joe had to suffer the gibes of the crowd, which is always ready to laud a successful player, and only too ready, also, to laugh at one who has a temporary setback. joe was in despair, but in his letters home he kept cheerful. he did not want his folks to worry. regularly he sent money to his mother, taking out of his salary check almost more than he could really afford. also he felt the drain of looking after pop, but now that the latter had regular work on the diamond, keeping it in order, the old pitcher was, in a measure, self-supporting. pop was rapidly becoming more like his former self, but it would take some time yet. he indulged in light practice, joe often having him catch for him when no one else was available. as yet pop attempted no pitching, the doctor to whom joe took him warning him against it. "there will have to be a slight operation on certain muscles," said the medical man, "but i prefer to wait a bit before doing it. you will be in better shape then." "you're taking too much trouble about me, joe," remarked the veteran player one day. "not a bit too much," responded joe, heartily. from joe's father came slightly encouraging news. the need of an operation was not yet settled, and mr. matson's general health had improved. "and we can bless baseball a lot!" wrote mrs. matson to her son. "i'm sorry i ever said anything against it, joe. if it were not for the money you make at the game i don't know what we'd do now." joe was glad his mother saw matters in a different light, but he was also a little disturbed. his pitching was not what it should be, and he felt, if his form fell off much more, that he would not last long, even in a small league. occasionally he did well--even brilliantly, and the team had hopes. then would come a "slump," and they would lose a much-needed game that would have lifted them well toward front place. joe's despair grew, and he wondered what he could do to get back to his good form. clevefield, the ancient rivals of pittston, were now firmly entrenched in first place, and there remained only about a quarter of the league season yet to play. "we've got to hustle if we want that pennant!" said gregory, and his tone was not encouraging. joe thought of what he had promised about having the money for his father's operation, and wondered whether he could do as he said. but i must not give the impression that all was unhappiness and gloom in the pittston team. true, the members felt badly about losing, but their nerve did not desert them, and they even joked grimly when the play went against them. then came a little diversion. they played a contest against a well-known amateur nine for charity, and the game was made the occasion for considerable jollity. gregory sent in most of his second string players against the amateurs, but kept joe as a twirler, for he wanted him to see what he could do against some fairly good hitters. and, to joe's delight, he seemed more like his old self. he had better control of the ball, his curves "broke" well and he was a source of dismay to the strong amateurs. of course pittston, even with her substitutes in the game, fairly walked away from the others, the right-handed batters occasionally doing left stick-work, on purpose to strike out. but the little change seemed to do them all good, and when the next regular contest came off pittston won handily, joe almost equalling his best record. it was at a hotel in buffington, whither they had gone to play a series of games with that team, that, one afternoon, as joe entered his room, after the game, he surprised a colored bell boy hurriedly leaving it. "did you want me?" asked the young pitcher. "no, sah, boss! 'deed an' i didn't want yo'all," stammered the dusky youth. "then what were you doing in my room?" asked joe, suspiciously. "i--i were jest seein', boss, if yo'all had plenty ob ice water. dat's whut i was doin', boss! 'deed i was." joe noticed that the boy backed out of the room, and held one hand behind him. with a quick motion the young pitcher whirled the intruder about and disclosed the fact that the colored lad had taken one of joe's neckties. but, no sooner had our hero caught sight of it than he burst into a peal of laughter which seemed to startle the boy more than a storm of accusation. chapter xix a new hold "what--what all am de mattah, massa matson?" asked the colored lad, his eyes bulging, and showing so much white that the rest of his face seemed a shade or two darker. "what all am de mattah? ain't yo'all put out 'bout me takin' dish yeah tie? i didn't go fo' to steal it, suh! 'deed an' i didn't. i were jest sort ob borrowin' it fo' to wear at a party i'se gwine t' attend dis ebenin'." "put out about you!" laughed joe. "indeed i'm not. but don't say you're going to borrow that tie," and he pointed to the one the lad had tried unsuccessfully to conceal. it was of very gaudy hue--broad stripes and prominent dots. "don't say you were going to borrow it." "'deed an' dat's all i were gwine t' do, massa matson. i didn't go fo' t' take it fo' keeps. i was a gwine t' ask yo'all fo' de lend ob it, but i thought mebby yo'all wasn't comin' in time, so i jest made up mah mind t' 'propriate it on mah own lookout, an' i was fixin' t' put it back 'fo' yo'all come in. i won't hurt it, 'deed an' i won't, an' i'll bring yo'all ice water any time yo'all wants it. i--i'd laik mighty much, massa matson, t' buy dish yeah tie offen yo'all." "buy it!" cried joe, still laughing, though it was evident that the colored lad could not understand why. "well, suh, that is, not exactly _buy_ it, 'case i ain't got no money, but yo'all needn't gib me no tips, suh, fo' a--fo' a long time, an' i could buy it dat way. yes, suh, you needn't gib me no tips fo' two weeks. an' yo'all is so generous, massa matson, dat in two weeks' time i'd hab dis tie paid fo'. it's a mighty pert tie, it suah am!" he gazed admiringly at it. "take it, for the love of mush!" cried joe. "i'm glad you have it!" "yo'all am glad, massa matson?" repeated the lad, as though he had not heard aright. "sure! that tie's been a nightmare to me ever since i bought it. i don't know what possessed me to buy a cross section of the rainbow in the shape of a scarf; but i did it in a moment of aberration, i reckon. take it away, sam, and never let me see it again." "does yo'all really mean dat?" "certainly." "well, suh, i thanks yo'all fo' de compliment--i suah does. an' yo'all ain't vexted wif me?" "not at all!" "an'--an' yo'all won't stop giving me tips?" "no, sam." "golly! dat's fine! i suah does thank you, mightily, suh! won't all dem odder coons open dere eyes when dey sees me sportin' dis yeah tie! yum-yum! i gass so!" and sam bounced out of the room before joe might possibly change his mind. the colored lad nearly ran into charlie hall, who was coming to have his usual chat with joe, and the shortstop, seeing the tie dangling from the bell boy's hand, guessed what had happened. "was he making free with your things, joe?" asked charlie, when sam had disappeared around a corner of the hall. "oh, i caught him taking my tie, that's all." "yes, i did the same thing to one of the boys on my floor the other day. i gave him a flea in his ear, too." "and i gave sam the tie," laughed joe. "you _gave_ it to him?" "yes, that thing has been haunting me. i never wore it but once and i got disgusted with it." joe failed to state that mabel had showed a dislike for the scarf, and that it was her implied opinion that had turned him against it. "you see," the young pitcher went on, "i didn't know just which of the fellows to give it to, and two or three times i've left it in my hotel room when we traveled on. and every blamed time some chambermaid would find it, give it to the clerk, and he'd forward it to me. that monstrosity of a scarf has been following me all over the circuit. "i was getting ready to heave it down some sewer hole, when i came in to find sam 'borrowing' it. i had to laugh, and i guess he thought i was crazy. anyhow he's got the tie, and i've gotten rid of it. so we're both satisfied." "well, that's a good way to look at it. how are things, anyhow?" "they might, by a strain, be worse," answered joe, a bit gloomily. the game that day had been a hard one, and gregory had used a string of three pitchers, and had only been able to stop the winning streak of buffington. joe had been taken out after twirling for a few innings. "yes, we didn't do ourselves very proud," agreed charlie. "and to-morrow we're likely to be dumped. our record won't stand much of that sort of thing." "indeed it won't. charlie, i've got to do something!" burst out joe. "what is it? i can't see but what you're doing your best." "my hardest, maybe, but not my best. you see this league pitching is different from a college game. i didn't stop to figure out that i'd have to pitch a deal oftener than when i was at yale. this is business--the other was fun." "you're tired, i guess." "that's it--i'm played out." "why don't you take a vacation; or ask gregory not to work you so often?" "can't take any time off, charlie. i need the money. as for playing the baby-act--i couldn't do that, either." "no, i reckon not. but what are you going to do?" "hanged if i know. but i've got to do something to get back into form. we're going down." "i know it. has gregory said anything?" "no, he's been awfully decent about it, but i know he must think a lot. yes, something's got to be done." joe was rather gloomy, nor was charlie in any too good spirits. in fact the whole team was in the "dumps," and when they lost the next game they were deeper in than ever. some of the papers began running headlines "pittston loses again!" it was galling. jimmie mack worked hard--so did gregory--and he, and trainer mcguire, devised all sorts of plans to get the team back in form again. but nothing seemed to answer. the pittstons dropped to the rear of the first division, and only clung there by desperate work, and by poor playing on the part of other teams. in all those bitter, dreary days there were some bright spots for joe, and he treasured them greatly. one was that his father was no worse, though the matter of the operation was not definitely settled. another was that he heard occasionally from mabel--her letters were a source of joy to him. thirdly, old pop dutton seemed to be "making good." he kept steadily at work, and had begun to do some real baseball practice. joe wrote to him, and his letters were answered promptly. even cynical gregory admitted that perhaps, after all, the former star pitcher might come into his own again. "when will you give him a trial?" asked joe, eagerly. "oh, some day. i'll put him in the field when we're sure of an easy game." the time came when the tail-enders of the league arrived for a series of contests with pittston, and pop dutton, to his delight, was allowed to play. there was nothing remarkable about it, but he made no errors, and once, taking a rather desperate chance on a long fly, he beat it out and retired the batter. he was roundly applauded for this, and it must have warmed his heart to feel that once more he was on the road he had left so long before. but coming back was not easy work. joe realized this, and he knew the old pitcher must have had a hard struggle to keep on the narrow path he had marked out for himself. but joe's influence was a great help--dutton said so often. the other players, now that they found their former mate was not bothering them, begging money, or asking for loans, took more kindly to him. but few believed he could "come back," in the full meaning of the words. "he may be a fairly good fielder, and his batting average may beat mine," said tooley, "but he'll never be the 'iron man' he once was." and nearly all agreed with him. joe was faithful to his protegã©. often the two would saunter out to some quiet place and there pitch and catch for each other. and joe's trained eye told him that the other's hand had lost little of its former cunning. meanwhile the fortunes of pittston did not improve much. sometimes they would struggle to second place, only to slip back again, while victorious clevefield held her place at the top. there was only one consolation--pittston did not drop out of the first division. she never got lower than fourth. joe was being used less and less on the pitching mound, and his heart was sore. he knew he could make good if only something would happen to give him back his nerve, or a certain something he lacked. but he could not understand what. properly enough it was pop dutton who put him on the right track. the two were pitching and catching one day, when joe delivered what he had always called a "fade-away" ball, made famous by mathewson, of the new york giants. as it sailed into pop's big mitt the veteran called: "what was that, joe?" "fade-away, of course." "show me how you hold the ball when you throw it." joe did so. the old pitcher studied a moment, and then said: "joe, you've got it wrong. have you been pitching that way all the while?" "always." "no wonder they have been hitting you. let me show you something. stand behind me." the old pitcher threw at the fence. joe was amazed at the way the ball behaved. it would have puzzled the best of batters. "how did you do it?" asked joe, wonderingly. "by using a different control, and holding the ball differently. i'll show you. you need a new hold." chapter xx joe's triumph then began a lesson, the learning of which proved of great value to joe in his after life as a ball player. if old pop dutton had not the nerve to "come back" as a pitcher in a big league, at least he could show a rising young one how to correct his faults. and a fault joe certainly had. for several years he had been throwing the fade-away ball in the wrong manner. not entirely wrong, to be sure, or he never would have attained the results he had, but it was sufficiently wrong to prevent him from having perfect control of that style of ball, and perfect control is the first law of pitching. for some time the two practiced, unobserved, and joe was glad of this. he felt more hopeful than at any time since his team had commenced to "slump." "am i getting there?" joe anxiously asked of the veteran, one day. "indeed you are, boy! but that's enough for to-day. you are using some new muscles in your arm and hand, and i don't want you to tire out. you'll probably have to pitch to-morrow." "i only wish i could use this style ball." "it wouldn't be safe yet." "no, i suppose not. but i'm going to keep at it." it was not easy. it is always more difficult to "unlearn" a wrong way of doing a thing, and start over again on the right, than it is to learn the proper way at first. the old method will crop up most unexpectedly; and this happened in joe's case more times than he liked. but he persisted and gradually he felt that he was able to deliver the fade-away as it ought to come from a pitcher's hand. now he waited the opportunity. meanwhile baseball matters were going on in rather slow fashion. all the teams, after the fierce rush and enthusiasm of the opening season, had now begun to fall off. the dog-days were upon them, and the heat seemed to take all the energy out of the men. still the games went on, with pittston rising and falling on the baseball thermometer from fourth to second place and occasionally remaining stationary in third. first place was within striking distance several times, but always something seemed to happen to keep joe's team back. it was not always poor playing, though occasionally it was due to this. often it was just fate, luck, or whatever you want to call it. fielders would be almost certain of a ball rolling toward them, then it would strike a stone or a clod of dirt and roll to one side. not much, perhaps, but enough so that the man would miss the ball, and the runner would be safe, by a fraction of time or space. it was heart-breaking. joe continued to work at the proper fade-away and he was getting more and more expert in its use. his control was almost perfect. still he hesitated to use it in a game, for he wanted to be perfect. a new pitcher--another south-paw, or left-hander--was purchased from another league club, at a high price, and for a time he made good. joe was fearful lest he be given his release, for really he was not doing as well as he had at first. truth to tell he was tired out, and gregory should have realized this. but he did not until one day a sporting writer, in a sensible article telling of the chances of the different teams in the central league for winning the pennant, wrote of joe: "this young pitcher, of whom bright things were predicted at the opening of the season, has fallen off woefully. at times he shows brilliant flashes of form, but it seems to me that he is going stale. gregory should give him a few days off." then the manager "woke up." "joe, is this true?" he asked, showing the youth the article. "well, i am a bit tired, gregory, but i'm not asking for a vacation," answered joe. "i know you're not, but you're going to get it. you just take a run home and see your folks. when you come back i'm going to pitch you in a series of our hardest games. we go up against clevefield again. you take a rest." joe objected, but half-heartedly, and ended by taking the train for home. his heart felt lighter the moment he had started, and when he got to riverside, and found his father much improved, joe was more like himself than at any time since the opening of the ball season. his folks were exceedingly glad to see him, and joe went about town, renewing old acquaintances, and being treated as a sort of local lion. tom davis, joe's chum, looked at the young pitcher closely. "joe," he said, "you're getting thin. either you're in love, or you aren't making good." "both, i guess," answered joe, with a short laugh. "but i'm going to make good very soon. you watch the papers." joe rejoined his team with a sparkle in his eye and a spring in his step that told how much good the little vacation had done him. he was warmly welcomed back--only collin showing no joy. truth to tell collin had been doing some wonderful pitching those last few days, and he was winning games for the team. the advent of joe gave him little pleasure, for none knew better than he on how slim a margin a pitcher works, nor how easily he may be displaced, not only in the affection of the public, always fickle, but in the estimation of the manager. "hang him! i wish he'd stayed away!" muttered collin. "now he's fresh and he may get my place again. but i'll find a way to stop him, if gregory gives him the preference!" joe went back at practice with renewed hope. he took gregory and the catchers into his confidence, and explained about the fade-away. they were enthusiastic over it. "save it for clevefield," advised the manager. the day when pittston was to play the top-notchers arrived. there were to be four games on pittston's grounds, and for the first time since his reformation began, pop dutton was allowed to play in an important contest. "i'm depending on you," gregory warned him. "and you won't be disappointed," was the reply. certainly the old player had improved greatly. his eyes were bright and his skin ruddy and clear. joe was a bit nonplussed when collin was sent in for the opening game. but he knew gregory had his reasons. and perhaps it was wise, for collin was always at his best when he could deliver the first ball, and open the game. clevefield was shut out in the first inning, and, to the howling delight of the crowd of pittston sympathizers and "fans," the home team got a run. this gave the players much-needed confidence, and though the visitors managed to tie the score in their half of the second inning, pittston went right after them, and got two more tallies. "we're going to win, joe!" cried charlie hall. "we're going to win. our hoodoo is busted!" "i hope so," said the young pitcher, wishing he had a chance to play. it came sooner than he expected. collin unexpectedly "blew up," and had to be taken out of the box. joe was called on, at the proper time, and walked nervously to the mound. but he knew he must conquer this feeling and he looked at nelson, who was catching. the back-stop smiled, and signalled for a fade-away, but joe shook his head. he was not quite ready for that ball yet. by using straight, swift balls, interspersed with ins and drops, he fooled the batter into striking out. the next man went out on a pop fly, and joe teased the third man into striking at an elusive out. clevefield was retired runless and the ovation to pittston grew. but it was not all to be as easy as this. joe found himself in a tight place, and then, with a catching of his breath, he signalled that he would use the fade-away. in it shot--the batter smiled confidently--struck--and missed. he did it twice before he realized what was happening, and then when joe felt sure that his next fade-away would be hit, he swiftly changed to an up-shoot that ended the matter. clevefield fought hard, and once when joe was hit for a long fly, that seemed good for at least two bases, pop dutton was just where he was most needed, and made a sensational catch. there was a howl of delight, and gregory said to joe afterward: "your man is making good." joe was immensely pleased. and when, a little later, at a critical point in the game, he struck out the third man, again using his famous fade-away, his triumph was heralded in shouts and cries, for pittston had won. it was a triumph for joe in two ways--his own personal one, and in the fact that he had been instrumental in having pop dutton play--and pop's one play, at least that day, saved a run that would have tied the score. chapter xxi a danger signal "boys, we're on the right road again!" exclaimed the enthusiastic manager at the conclusion of the game, when the team was in the dressing room. "another like this to-morrow, and one the next day, if it doesn't rain, and we'll be near the top." "say, you don't want much," remarked jimmie mack, half sarcastically, but with a laugh. "what do you think we are anyhow; wonders?" "we'll have to be if we're going to bring home the pennant," retorted gregory. "and we're going to do it!" declared joe, grimly. collin went to pieces in more ways than one that day. probably his failure in the game, added to joe's triumph, made him reckless, for he went back to his old habit of gambling, staying up nearly all night, and was in no condition to report for the second game of the series. "he makes me tired!" declared gregory. "i'd write his release in a minute," he went on, speaking to jimmie mack, "only i'm up to my neck in expenses now, and i can't afford to buy another pitcher. i need all i've got, and collin is good when he wants to be." "yes, it's only his pig-headedness about joe that sets him off. but i think we've got a great find in matson." "so do i. there was a time when i was rather blue about joe, but he seems to have come back wonderfully." "yes," agreed jimmie mack, "that fade-away of his is a wonder, thanks to pop dutton." "pop himself is the greatest wonder of all," went on gregory. "i never believed it possible. i've seen the contrary happen so many times that i guess i've grown skeptical." "he and joe sure do make a queer team," commented the assistant manager. "joe watches over him like a hen with one chicken." "well, i guess he has to. a man like pop who has been off the right road always finds lots of temptation ready and waiting to call him back. but joe can keep him straight. "now come over here. i want to talk to you, and plan out the rest of the season. we're in a bad way, not only financially, but for the sake of our reputations." if joe could have heard this he would have worried, especially about the financial end. for he counted very much on his baseball money--in fact, his family needed it greatly. mr. matson's savings were tied up in investments that had turned out badly, or were likely to, and his expenses were heavy on account of the doctor's and other bills. joe's salary was a big help. he also earned something extra by doing some newspaper work that was paid for generously. but joe counted most on the final games of the series, which would decide the pennant. these were always money-makers, and, in addition, the winning team always played one or more exhibition games with some big league nine, and these receipts were large. "but will we win the pennant?" queried joe of himself. "we've got to--if dad is going to have his operation. we've just got to!" the news from home had been uncertain. at one time dr. birch had decided that an operation must be performed at once, and then had come a change when it had to be delayed. but it seemed certain that, sooner or later, it would have to be undertaken, if the inventor's eyesight was to be saved. "so you see we've just got to win," said joe to charlie hall. "i see," was the answer. "well, i'll do my share toward it, old man," and the two clasped hands warmly. joe was liking charlie more and more every day. he was more like a college chum than a mate on a professional team. but pittston was not to have a victory in the second game with clevefield. the latter sent in a new pitcher who "played tag," to use a slang expression, with joe and his mates, and they lost the contest by a four to one score. this in spite of the fact that joe did some good work at pitching, and "old pop," as he was beginning to be called, knocked a three-bagger. dutton was one of those rare birds, a good pitcher and a good man with the stick. that is, he had been, and now he was beginning to come back to himself. there was a shadow of gloom over pittston when they lost the second game, after having won the first against such odds, and there was much speculation as to how the other two contests would go. gregory revised his batting order for the third game, and sent in his latest purchase, one of the south-paws, to do the twirling. but he soon made a change in pitchers, and called on tooley, who also was a left-hander. "i may need you later, joe," he said as he arranged to send in a "pinch" hitter at a critical moment. "don't think that i'm slighting you, boy." "i don't. i understand." "how's your fade-away?" "all right, i guess." "good. you'll probably have to use it." and joe did. he was sent in at the seventh, when the clevefield nine was three runs ahead, and joe stopped the slump. then, whether it was this encouragement, or whether the other team went to pieces, did not develop, but the game ended with pittston a winner by two runs. the crowd went wild, for there had been a most unexpected ending, and so sure had some of the "fans" been that the top-notchers would come out ahead, that they had started to leave. but the unexpected happens in baseball as often as in football, and it did in this case. pittston thus had two out of the four games, and the even break had increased her percentage to a pleasing point. if they could have taken the fourth they would have fine hopes of the pennant, but it was not to be. an even break, though there was a close finish in the last game, was the best they could get. however, this was better than for some time, and gregory and his associates were well pleased. then came a series of games in the different league cities, and matters were practically unchanged. in turn buffington, loston and manhattan were visited, the pittston nine doing well, but nothing remarkable. joe seemed firmly established in the place he most desired, and his fine delivery was increasing in effectiveness each day. his fade-away remained a puzzle to many, though some fathomed it and profited thereby. but joe did not use it too often. the secret of good pitching lies in the "cross-fire," and in varying the delivery. no pitcher can continue to send in the same kind of balls in regular order to each batter. he must study his man and use his brains. joe knew this. he also knew that he was not alone a pitcher, but a ball player, and that he must attend to his portion of the diamond. too many twirlers forget this, and joe frequently got in on sensational plays that earned him almost as much applause as his box-work did. joe was always glad to get back to pittston to play games. he was beginning to feel that it was a sort of "home town," though he had few friends there. he made many acquaintances and he was beginning to build up a reputation for himself. he was frequently applauded when he came out to play, and this means much to a baseball man. then, too, joe was always interested in pop dutton. he was so anxious that the former fine pitcher should have his chance to "come back." often when scouts from bigger leagues than the central stopped off to more or less secretly watch the pittstons play, joe would have a talk with them. sometimes he spoke of pop, but the scouts did not seem interested. they pretended that they had no special object in view, or, if they did, they hinted that it was some other player than dutton. to whisper a secret i might say that it was joe himself who was under observation on many of these occasions, for his fame was spreading. but he was a modest youth. joe was not inquisitive, but he learned, in a casual way, that pop dutton was seemingly on the right road to success and prosperity. it was somewhat of a shock to the young pitcher, then, one evening, as he was strolling down town in pittston, to see his protegã© in company with a shabbily dressed man. "i hope he hasn't taken to going with those tramps again," mused joe. "that would be too bad." resolving to make sure of his suspicions, and, if necessary, hold out a helping hand, the young pitcher quickened his pace until he was close behind the twain. he could not help but hear part of the conversation. "oh, come on!" he caught, coming from dutton's companion. "what's the harm?" "no, i'll not. you don't know how hard it is to refuse, but i--i can't--really i can't." "you mean you won't?" "put it that way if you like." "well, then, i do like, an' i don't like it! i'll say that much. i don't like it. you're throwin' me down, an' you're throwin' the rest of us down. i don't like it for a cent!" "i can't help that," replied dutton, doggedly. "well, maybe _we_ can help it, then. you're leaving us in the lurch just when we need you most. come on, now, be a sport, pop!" "no, i've been too much of a sport in the past--that's the trouble." "so you won't join us?" "no." "will you come out and tell the boys so? they maybe won't believe me." "oh, well, i can't see any harm in that." "come on, then, they'll be glad to see you again." joe wondered what was afoot. it was as though he saw a danger signal ahead of pop dutton. chapter xxii victory joe hardly knew what to do. he realized that all his efforts toward getting the old ball player back on the right road might go for naught if pop went off with these loose companions. and yet would he relish being interfered with by the young pitcher? pop was much older than joe, but so far he had shown a strong liking for the younger man, and had, half-humorously, done his bidding. indeed pop was under a deep debt not only of gratitude to joe, but there had been a financial one as well, though most of that was now paid. "but i don't want to see him slip back," mused joe, as he walked along in the shadows, taking care to keep far enough back from the twain. but pop never looked around. he seemed engrossed in his companion. "what shall i do?" joe asked himself. he half hoped that some of the other members of the nine might come along, and accost pop, perhaps taking him off with them, as they had done several times of late. for the old player was becoming more and more liked--he was, in a way, coming into his own again, and he had a fund of baseball stories to which the younger men never tired listening. "if some of them would only come along!" whispered joe, but none did. he kept on following the two until he saw them go into one of the less disreputable lodging houses in a poor quarter of the city. it was a house where, though some respectable workingmen, temporarily embarrassed, made their homes for a time, there was more often a rowdy element, consisting of tramps, and, in some cases, criminals. at election time it harbored "floaters" and "repeaters," and had been the scene of many a police raid. "i wonder what he can want by going in there?" thought joe. "it's a good thing gregory can't see him, or he'd sure say my experiment was a failure. it may be, after all; but i'm not going to give up yet. now, shall i go in, and pretend i happened by casually, or shall i wait outside?" joe debated the two propositions within himself. the first he soon gave up. he was not in the habit of going into such places, and the presence of a well-dressed youth, more or less known to the public as a member of the pittston nine, would excite comment, if nothing else. besides, it might arouse suspicion of one sort or another. then, too, pop might guess why joe had followed him, and resent it. "i'll just have to wait outside," decided joe, "and see what i can do when pop comes out." it was a dreary wait. from time to time joe saw men slouch into the place, and occasionally others shuffled out; but pop did not come, nor did his ragged companion appear. joe was getting tired, when his attention was attracted to a detective whom he knew, sauntering rather aimlessly past on the opposite side of the street. "hello!" thought the young ball player, "i wonder what's up?" he eyed the officer closely, and was surprised, a moment later, to see him joined by a companion. "something sure is in the wind," decided joe. "i'm going to find out." he strolled across the highway and accosted the detective with whom he had a slight acquaintance. "oh, it's matson, the pittston pitcher!" exclaimed the officer. "what's up, regan?" asked joe. "oh, nothing much. do you know farley, my side partner? farley, this is matson--baseball joe, they call him. some nifty little pitcher, too, let me tell you." "thanks," laughed joe, as he shook hands with the other detective. "why, we're looking for a certain party," went on regan. "i don't mind telling you that. we'll probably pull that place soon," and he nodded toward the lodging house. "some of the regulars will be along in a little while," he added. "pull," i may explain, is police language for "raid," or search a certain suspected place. "anything big?" asked joe. "oh, nothing much. there's been some pocket-picking going on, and a few railroad jobs pulled off. a lot of baggage belonging to wealthy folks has been rifled on different lines, all over the country, and we think we're on the track of some of the gang. we're going to pull the place and see how many fish we can get in the net." joe did not know what to do. if the place was to be raided soon it might mean that his friend, the old pitcher, would be among those arrested. joe was sure of his friend's innocence, but it would look bad for him, especially after the life he had led. it might also be discouraging to pop, and send him back to his old companions again. "how long before you'll make the raid?" asked joe. "in about half an hour, i guess," replied regan. "why, are you going to stick around and see it?" "i might. but there's a friend of mine in there," spoke joe, "and i wouldn't like him to get arrested." "a friend of yours?" repeated regan, wonderingly. "yes. oh, he's not a hobo, though he once was, i'm afraid. but he's reformed. only to-night, however, he went out with one of his old companions. i don't know what for. but i saw him go in there, and that's why i'm here. i'm waiting for him to come out." "then the sooner he does the better," observed farley, grimly. "it's a bad place." "look here," said joe, eagerly, "could you do me a favor, mr. regan?" "anything in reason, joe." "could you go in there and warn my friend to get out. i could easily describe him to you. in fact, i guess you must know him--pop dutton." "is old pop in there?" demanded the officer, in surprise. "yes," responded joe, "but i'm sure he's all right. i don't believe you want him." "no, he's not on our list," agreed regan. "well, say, i guess i could do that for you, joe. only one thing, though. if farley or i happen in there there may be a scare, and the birds we want will get away." "how can we do it, then?" asked joe. a figure came shuffling up the dark street, and, at the sight of the two detectives and the young pitcher, hesitated near a gas lamp. "hello! there's bulldog!" exclaimed regan, but in a low voice. "he'll do. we'll send him in and have him tip pop off to come out. bulldog is on our staff," he added. "he tips us off to certain things. here, bulldog!" he called, and a short, squat man shuffled up. his face had a canine expression, which, joe surmised, had gained him his name. "slip into genty's place, bulldog," said regan in a low voice, "and tell a certain party to get out before the bulls come. do you know pop dutton?" "sure. he and i----" "never mind about that part of it," interrupted the detective. "just do as i tell you, and do it quietly. you can stay in. you might pick up something that would help us." "what, me stay in there when the place is going to be pulled, and get pinched? not on your life!" and the man turned away. "hold on!" cried regan. "we'll get you out all right, same as we always do. you're too valuable to us to go to jail for long." then, as bulldog started for the dark entrance to the lodging house, joe realized that he had seen what is called a "stool-pigeon," a character hated by all criminals, and not very much respected by the police whom they serve. a "stool-pigeon" consorts with criminals, that he may overhear their plans, and betray them to the police. often he is himself a petty criminal. in a sense he does a duty to the public, making it more easy for the authorities to arrest wrong-doers--but no one loves a "stool-pigeon." they are the decoy ducks of the criminal world. i am making this explanation, and portraying this scene in joe matson's career, not because it is pleasant to write about, for it is not. i would much rather take you out on the clean diamond, where you could hear the "swat" of the ball. but as joe's efforts to make a new man of the old pitcher took him into this place i can do no less than chronicle the events as they happened. and a little knowledge of the sadder, darker and unhappy side of life may be of value to boys, in deterring them from getting into a position where it would appeal to them--appeal wrongly, it is true, but none the less strongly. the bulldog had not been in the building more than a minute before the door opened again, and pop dutton, alone, and looking hastily around, came out. joe got in a shadow where he could not be seen. he did not want his friend humiliated, now that he had seen him come out victorious. for the young pitcher could see that pop was the same straight and sober self he had been since getting back on the right road. his association with his former companions had evidently not tempted him. "oh, i'm glad!" exulted joe. pop dutton looked curiously at the two detectives. "thanks," he said briefly, as he passed them, and they knew that he understood. not for a long time afterward did the former pitcher know that to joe he owed so much. for, though his intention in going to the rendezvous of the unfortunates of the under-world was good, still it might have been misconstrued. now there was no danger. afterward joe learned that pop had been urged by the man he met on the street to take part in a robbery. the old pitcher refused, but his false companion tried to lure him back to his old life, on the plea that only from his own lips would his associates believe that pop had reformed. and pop made them plainly understand that he had. pop dutton passed on down the street, and, waiting a little while, joe followed. he did not care to see the raid. the young pitcher soon reached his hotel, and he felt that pop was safe in his own boarding house. the next morning joe read of the wholesale arrests in the lodging house, though it was said that the quarry the detectives most hoped to get escaped in the confusion. "baggage robbers, eh?" mused joe. "i wonder if they were the ones who went through reggie varley's valise? if they could be caught it would clear me nicely, providing i could prove it was they." chapter xxiii the tramp again baseball again claimed the attention of joe and his mates. they were working hard, for the end of the season was in sight, and the pennant ownership was not yet decided. clevefield was still at the top of the list, but pittston was crowding her hard, and was slowly creeping up. sometimes this would be the result of her players' own good work, and again it would be because some other team had a streak of bad luck which automatically put joe's team ahead. the young pitcher was more like himself than at any time since he had joined the club. he was really pitching "great" ball, and gregory did not hesitate to tell him so. and, more than this, joe was doing some good work with the bat. his average was slowly but steadily mounting. joe would never be a great performer in this line, and none realized it better than himself. no clubs would be clamoring for his services as a pinch hitter. on the other hand many a pitcher in the big leagues had not joe's batting average, though of course this might have been because they were such phenomenal twirlers, and saved all their abilities for the mound. also did joe pay attention to the bases. he wished he was a south-paw, at times, or a left-hand pitcher, for then he could more easily have thrown to first. but it was too late to change now, and he made up his mind to be content to work up his reputation with his good right arm. but, even with that, he made some surprisingly good put-outs when runners took chances and got too long a lead. so that throughout the circuit the warning began to be whispered: "look out for matson when you're on first!" joe realized that a good pitcher has not only to play the game from the mound. he must field his position as well, and the failure of many an otherwise good pitcher is due to the fact that they forget this. much of joe's success, at this time, was due to the coaching and advice he received from pop dutton. the veteran could instruct if he could not pitch yet, and joe profited by his experience. no reference was made by joe to the night pop had gone to the lodging house, nor did the old pitcher say anything to his young friend. in fact he did not know joe had had any hand in the matter. pop dutton went on his reformed way. he played the game, when he got a chance, and was increasingly good at it. "joe!" he cried one day, when he had played a full game, "we're getting there! i hope i'll soon be pitching." "so do i!" added joe, earnestly. true, the game pop had played at centre for the full nine innings was with the near-tailenders of the central league, but it showed that the veteran had "come back" sufficiently to last through the hard work. "how is your arm?" asked joe. "not good enough to use on the mound yet, i'm sorry to say," was pop's answer. "i guess i'll have to have that operation, after all. but i don't see how i can manage it. i'm trying to pay back some of my old debts----" "don't let that part worry you," spoke joe, quickly. "if things turn out right i may be able to help you." "but you've done a lot already, joe." "i'll do more--if i can. just wait until the close of the season, when we have the pennant." what joe meant was that he would have the money for an operation on the pitcher's arm if the cash was not needed to put mr. matson's eyes in shape through the attention of a surgeon. and this matter was still undecided, much to the worriment of joe, his mother and sister, to say nothing of his father. but it is necessary, in such matters, to proceed slowly, and not to take any chances. joe felt the strain. his regular salary was much needed at home, and he was saving all he could to provide for his father's possible operation. that cost would not be light. then there was pop dutton to think of. joe wanted very much to see the old player fully on his feet again. he did not know what to do, though, should all the money he might get from the pennant series be required for mr. matson. "well, i'll do the best i can," thought joe. "maybe if gregory and the others see how well pop is doing they'll take up a collection and pay for the operation. it oughtn't to cost such an awful lot." joe shook his head in a puzzled way. really it was a little too much for him to carry on his young shoulders, but he had the fire of youth in his veins, and youth will dare much--which is as it should be, perhaps. then, too, joe had to be on edge all the time in order to pitch winning ball. no pitcher is, or can be, at top notch all the while. he can hardly serve in two big games in quick succession, and yet joe did this several times, making an enviable record for himself. the rivalry between him and collin grew, though joe did nothing to inflame the other's dislike. but collin was very bitter, and pop gave joe some warning hints. "oh, i don't believe he'd do anything under-handed," said joe, not taking it seriously. "well, be on the lookout," advised the veteran. "i don't like collin, and never did." there came a series of rainy days, preventing the playing of games, and everyone fretted. the players, even joe, grew stale, though gregory tried to keep them in form by sending them off on little trips when the grounds were too wet even for practise. then came fine bracing weather, and pittston began to stride ahead wonderfully. it was now only a question of whether joe's team or clevefield would win pennant honors, and, in any event, there would have to be several games played between the two nines to decide the matter. this was due to the fact that the league schedule called for a certain number of games to be played by each club with every other club, and a number of rainy days, and inability to run off double headers, had caused a congestion. pittston kept on playing in good form, and joe was doing finely. so much so that on one occasion when a big league scout was known to be in attendance, gregory said in a way that showed he meant it: "joe, they're going to draft you, sure." the larger or major league clubs, those rated as aa, have, as is well known, the right to select any player they choose from a minor league, paying, of course a certain price. thus the big leagues are controllers in a way of the players themselves, for the latter cannot go to any club they choose, whereas any big league club can pick whom it chooses from the little or "bush" leagues. if two or more of the big clubs pick the same player there is a drawing to decide who gets him. "well, i'm not worrying," returned joe, with a smile. after a most successful game, in washburg, which team had been playing good ball--the contest having been won by pittston--joe was walking across the diamond with pop dutton, when the young pitcher saw approaching them the same tramp with whom his protegã© had entered the lodging house that night. "hello, pop!" greeted the shabby man. "i want t' see you." he leered familiarly. pop dutton stopped and gazed with half-frightened eyes at joe. chapter xxiv on the track "well, are you comin'?" demanded the tramp, as dutton did not answer. "i said i want to see you, an' i'm dead broke! took all i had t' git a seat on th' bleachers t' see de bloomin' game." "well, you saw a good game--i'll say that," commented the old player, though his voice was a bit husky. he seemed to be laboring under some nervous strain. "huh! i didn't come to see th' game. i want t' see you. are you comin'?" pop did not answer at once. about him and joe, who still stood at his side, surged the other players and a section of the crowd. some of the members of the team looked curiously at pop and the ragged individual who had accosted him. collin, the pitcher, sneered openly, and laughed in joe's face. "who's your swell friend?" he asked, nodding toward the tramp. joe flushed, but did not answer. "well, i'm waitin' fer youse," spoke the tramp, and his tone was surly. "come on, i ain't got all day." "nothing doing," said pop, shortly. "i'm not coming with you, hogan." "you're not!" there was the hint of a threat in the husky tones, and the glance from the blood-shot eyes was anything but genial. "no, i'm not coming," went on pop, easily. he seemed to have recovered his nerve now, and glanced more composedly at joe. "huh! well, i like that!" sneered the tramp. "you're gettin' mighty high-toned, all of a sudden! it didn't used to be this way." "i've changed--you might as well know that, hogan," went on pop. there were not so many about them now. all the other players had passed on. "well, then, if you won't come with me, come across with some coin!" demanded the other. "i need money." "you'll not get any out of me." "what!" there was indignant protest in the husky voice. "i said you'll not get any out of me." "huh! we'll see about that. now look here, pop dutton, either you help me out, or----" dutton turned to one of the officers who kept order on the ball field. "jim, see that this fellow gets out," the old player said, quietly. "all right, pop. what you say goes," was the reply. "now then, move on out of here. we want to clean up for to-morrow's game," spoke the officer shortly to the man whom pop had addressed as hogan. "ho! so that's your game is it--_mister_ dutton," and the ragged fellow sneered as he emphasized the "mister." "if you want to call it a game--yes," answered dutton, calmly. "i'm done with you and yours. i'm done with that railroad business. i don't want to see you again, and i'm not going to give you any more money." "you're not!" "i am not. you've bled me enough." "oh, i've bled you enough; have i? i've bled you enough, my fine bird! well then, you wait! you'll see how much more i'll bleed you! you'll sing another tune soon or i'm mistaken. i've bled you enough; eh? well you listen here! i ain't bled you half as much as i'm goin' to. and some of the others are goin' t' come in on the game! you wait! that's all!" and he uttered a lot of strong expressions that the ground officer hushed by hustling him off the field. joe took no part in this. he stood quietly at the side of pop as though to show, by his presence, that he believed in him, trusted him and would help him, in spite of this seeming disgrace. they were alone--those two. the young and promising pitcher, and the old and almost broken down "has-been." and yet the "has-been" had won a hard-fought victory. pop dutton glanced curiously at joe. "well?" he asked, as if in self-defence. "what's the answer?" inquired joe, trying to make his tones natural. "was it a hold-up?" "sort of. that's one of the fellows i used to trail in with, before you helped me out of the ditch." "is he a railroad man?" asked joe. "i thought he said something about the railroad." "he pretends to be," said dutton. "but he isn't any more. he used to be, i believe; but he went wrong, just as i did. just as i might be now, but for you, joe." his voice broke, and there was a hint of tears in his eyes. "oh, forget it!" said joe, easily. "i didn't do anything. but what sort of a fellow is this one, anyhow?" the man had been hustled off the grounds by the officer. "oh, he's just a plain tramp, the same as i was. only he hasn't anything to do with the railroad any more, except to rob baggage. that's his specialty. he hangs around the depots, and opens valises and such when he gets a chance." "he does!" cried joe, with sudden interest. "is he the fellow the detectives wanted to get the time they raided the keystone lodging house?" pop dutton flushed red. "what--what do you know about that?" he asked. "oh--i--er--i happened to be around there when the police were getting ready to close in," answered joe, truthfully enough. he did not want to embarrass his friend by going into details. "oh," said pop, evidently in relief. "yes, i think he was one of the gang they wanted to get. but they didn't." "he's taking a chance--coming here now." "oh, he's let his whiskers grow, and i suppose he thinks that disguises him. he's had a hold over me, joe, but i'm glad to say he hasn't any longer. i won't go into details, but i will say that he had me in his power. now i'm out." "so he used to rob travelers' baggage, did he?" "yes, and he does yet i guess, when he gets the chance. jewelry is his specialty. i remember once he was telling me of a job he did. "it was at a small station. i forget just where. anyhow this fellow--hogan is one of his names--he pretended to be a railroad freight brakeman. you know they are rather roughly dressed, for their work is not very clean. well, he got a chance to open a certain valise. i remember it because he said it was such an odd bag." joe felt a queer sensation. it was as though he had heard this same story years before. yet he knew what it meant--what it was leading to--as well as if it had all been printed out. "hogan made a good haul, as he called it," went on pop. "he thought he was going to have a lot of trouble opening the bag when he came into the station pretending he wanted a drink of water. it was a foreign-make valise, he said, but it opened easier than he thought and he got a watch and a lot of trinkets that ladies like." "he did?" asked joe, and his voice sounded strange, even to himself. "yes. why, do you know anything about it?" asked pop in some surprise. "i might," said joe, trying to speak calmly. "would you remember how this bag looked if i told you?" "i think so." "was it a yellow one, of a kind of leather that looked like walrus hide, and did it have two leather handles, and brass clips in the shape of lions' heads?" "yes--that's exactly how hogan described it," said pop. "but--why----" "and would you remember the name of the station at which the robbery took place?" asked joe. "that is if you heard it?" "i think so." "was it fairfield?" "that's it! why, joe, what does this mean? how did you know all this? what is hogan to you?" "nothing much, pop, unless he proves to be the fellow who took the stuff i was accused of taking," answered joe, trying to speak calmly. "do you know where we could find this man again?" "you mean hogan?" "yes. i'm going to tackle him. of course it's only a chance, but i believe it's a good one." "oh, i guess we can easily locate him," said pop. "he hasn't any money to get far away." "then come on!" cried joe, eagerly. "i think i'm at last on the track of the man who took the stuff from reggie varley's valise. pop, this means more to me than you can imagine. i believe i'm going to be cleared at last!" "cleared! you cleared? what of?" asked the old ball player in bewilderment. "i'll tell you," said joe, greatly excited. "come on!" chapter xxv reggie's auto hardly understanding what was afoot, and not in the least appreciating joe's excitement, pop dutton followed the young pitcher across the diamond. "what are you going to do?" asked the old player, as he hurried on after joe. "get into my street togs the first thing. then i'm going to try and find that fellow--hogan, did you say his name was?" "one of 'em, yes. but what do you want of him?" "i want him to tell when and where he took that stuff from the queer valise. and i want to know if he has any of it left, by any chance, though i don't suppose he has. and, in the third place, i want to make him say that i didn't take the stuff." pop dutton drew a long breath. "you, joe!" he exclaimed. "you accused?" "yes. it's a queer story. but i'm beginning to see the end of it now! come on!" they hurried into the dressing rooms. most of the other players had gone, for joe and pop had been delayed out on the diamond talking to hogan. charlie hall was there, however, and he looked curiously at joe. "anything the matter?" asked the young shortstop. "well, there may be--soon," answered his friend. "i'll see you later. tell gregory that i may be going out of town for a while, but i'll sure be back in time for to-morrow's game." "all right," said charlie, as he went in to take a shower bath. "now, pop," spoke joe, as he began dressing, "where can we find this hogan?" "oh, most likely he'll be down around kelly's place," naming a sort of lodging-house hang-out for tramps and men of that class. "then down there we'll go!" decided the young pitcher. "i'm going to have an interview with hogan. if i'd only known he was the one responsible for the accusation against me i'd have held on to him while he was talking to you. but i didn't realize it until afterward, and then the officer had put him outside. he was lost in the crowd. but suppose he isn't at kelly's?" "oh, someone there can tell us where to find him. but it's a rough place, joe." "i suppose so. you don't mind going there; do you?" "well, no, not exactly. true, a lot of the men i used to trail in with may be there, but, no matter. they can't do any more than gibe me." "we could take a detective along," suggested joe. "no, i think we can do better by ourselves. i don't mind. you see after i--after i went down and out--i used to stop around at all the baseball towns, and in that way i got to know most of these lodging-house places. this one in washburg is about as rough as any." "how did you come to know hogan?" "oh, i just met him on the road. he used to be a good railroad man, but he went down, and now he's no good. he's a boastful sort, and that's how he came to tell me about the valise. but i never thought you'd be mixed up in it." "of course i can't be dead certain this is the same valise that was robbed," said joe; "but it's worth taking a chance on. i do hope we can find him." but they were doomed to disappointment. when they reached kelly's lodging-house hogan had gone, and the best they could learn, in the sullen replies given by the habituã©s, was that the former railroad man had taken to the road again, and might be almost anywhere. "too bad!" exclaimed pop sympathetically, as he and joe came out. "yes, it is," assented the young pitcher, "for i did want reggie varley to know who really robbed his valise." perhaps joe also wanted a certain other person to know. but he did not mention this, so of course i cannot be sure. "better luck next time!" exclaimed the young pitcher as cheerfully as he could. they endeavored to trace whither hogan had gone, but without success. the best they could ascertain was that he had "hopped a freight," for some point west. joe did not allow the disappointment to interfere with his baseball work. in the following games with washburg he fitted well into the tight places, and succeeded, several times, when the score was close, in being instrumental in pulling the pittston team out a winner. on one occasion the game had gone for nine innings without a run on either side, and only scattered hits. both pitchers--joe for pittston, and young carrolton lloyd for washburg--were striving hard for victory. the game came to the ending of the ninth, with washburg up. by fortunate chance, and by an error on the part of charlie hall, the home team got two men on bases, and only one out. then their manager made a mistake. instead of sending in a pinch hitter--for a hit was all that was needed to score the winning run, the manager let the regular batting order be followed, which brought up the washburg pitcher. lloyd was tired out, and, naturally, was not at his best. he popped up a little fly, which joe caught, and then sending the ball home quickly our hero caught the man coming in from third, making a double play, three out and necessitating the scoring of another zero in the ninth frame for washburg. then came the tenth inning. perhaps it was his weariness or the memory of how he had had his chance and lost it that made lloyd nervous. certainly he went to pieces, and giving one man his base on balls, allowed joe to make a hit. then came a terrific spell of batting and when it was over pittston had four runs. it was then joe's turn to hold the home team hitless, so that they might not score, and he did, to the great delight of the crowd. this one feat brought more fame to joe than he imagined. he did not think so much of it himself, which is often the case with things that we do. but, in a way, it was the indirect cause of his being drafted to a big league, later on. the season was now drawing to a close. the race for the pennant was strictly between pittston and clevefield, with the chances slightly in favor of the latter. this was due to the fact that there were more veteran players in her ranks, and she had a better string of pitchers. a week or so more would tell the tale. pittston and clevefield would play off the final games, the best three out of four, two in one town and two in the other. interest in the coming contests was fast accumulating and there was every prospect of generous receipts. the winners of the pennant would come in for a large share of the gate receipts, and all of the players in the two leading teams were counting much on the money they would receive. joe, as you may well guess, planned to use his in two ways. the major part would go toward defraying the expenses of his father's operation. it had not yet been definitely settled that one would be performed, but the chances were that one would have to be undertaken. then, too, joe wanted to finance the cost of getting dutton's arm into shape. a well-known surgeon had been consulted, and had said that a slight operation on one of the ligaments would work wonders. it would be rather costly, however. "joe, i'm not going to let you do it," said pop, when this was spoken of. "you can't help yourself," declared joe. "i saved your life--at least i'm not modest when it comes to that, you see--and so i have, in a way, the right to say what i shall do to you. besides, if we win the pennant it will be due, as much as anything, to the instruction you gave me. now will you be good!" "i guess i'll have to," agreed pop, laughingly. pittston closed all her games with the other teams, excepting only clevefield. the pennant race was between these two clubs. arrangements had been made so that the opening game would be played on the pittston grounds. then the battle-scene would shift to clevefield, to come back to pittston, and bring the final--should the fourth game be needed, to clevefield. "if we could only win three straight it would be fine," said joe. "it's too much to hope," returned pop. it was the day before the first of the pennant games. the pittstons had gone out for light practice on their home grounds, which had been "groomed" for the occasion. as far as could be told pittston looked to be a winner, but there is nothing more uncertain than baseball. as joe and his mates came off the field after practice there shuffled up to the veteran player a trampish-looking man. at first joe thought this might be hogan again, but a second look convinced him otherwise. the man hoarsely whispered something to the old pitcher. "he says hogan and a gang of tramps are in a sort of camp in shiller's woods," said pop, naming a place that was frequently the abiding place of "gentlemen of the road." "he is?" cried joe. "then let's make a beeline for there. i've just got to get this thing settled! are you with me, pop?" "i sure am. but how are we going to get out there? it's outside the city limits, no car line goes there, and trains don't stop." "then we've got to have an auto," decided joe. "i'll see if we can hire one." he was on his way to the dressing rooms, when, happening to glance through the big open gate of the ball ground he saw a sight that caused him to exclaim: "the very thing! it couldn't be better. i can kill two birds with one stone. there's our auto, and the man in it is the very one i want to convince of my innocence! that's reggie varley. i'll make him take us to shiller's woods! we'll catch hogan there. come on!" never stopping to think of the peculiar coincidence that had brought reggie on the scene just when he was most needed, joe sprinted for the panting auto, pop following wonderingly. chapter xxvi the tramp rendezvous "come on!" cried joe to reggie varley, not giving that astonished young man a chance to greet him. "come on! got plenty of gas?" "gas? yes, of course. but where? what is it? are they after you?" "not at all. we're after _them_!" laughed joe. he could afford to laugh now, for he felt that he was about to be vindicated. "but i--er--i don't understand," spoke reggie, slowly. "where is it you want to go?" "after the tramp who rifled the valise you suspected me of opening in that way-station some time ago," answered joe quickly. "we're after him to prove i didn't do it!" "oh, but my dear matson--really now, i don't believe you took it. sis went for me red-hot, you know, after you told her. she called me all kinds of a brute for even mentioning it to you, and really----" he paused rather helplessly, while joe, taking the situation into his own hands, climbed up beside reggie, who was alone in his big car. the young pitcher motioned for pop to get into the tonneau, and the veteran did so, still wondering what was going to happen. "it's all right," laughed joe, more light-hearted than he had been in many months. "if you'll take us to shiller's woods you may see something that will surprise you." "but still i don't understand." joe explained briefly how hogan, the railroad tramp, had boasted of robbing a valise corresponding to reggie's. hogan was now within five miles of pittston, hiding in a tramps' camp, and if he was arrested, or caught, he might be made to tell the truth of the robbery, clear joe, and possibly inform reggie where the watch and jewelry had been disposed of. "i don't suppose he has any of it left," said reggie, simply. "there was one bracelet belonging to sis that i'd like awfully much to get back." "well, we can try," answered joe, hopefully. "sometimes," broke in pop, "those fellows can't dispose of the stuff they take, and then they hide it. maybe we can get it back." "let's hope so," went on reggie. "and now, where do you want to go? i'll take you anywhere you say, and i've got plenty of gas." "shiller's woods," returned joe. "do you know where it is, pop?" "yes. i've been there--once or twice." "and now," went on joe, as he settled back in the seat, still in his baseball uniform, as was pop dutton, "how did you happen to be here?" and he looked at reggie. "why, i had to come up in this section on business for dad, and sis insisted that i bring her along. so we motored up, and here we are. sis is at the continental." "our hotel!" gasped joe. "i didn't see her!" his heart was beating wildly. "no, i just left her there," returned reggie. "she is wild to see these final games----" "i hope she sees us win," murmured joe. "but about this chase," went on reggie. "if we're going up against a lot of tramps perhaps we'd better have a police officer with us." "it wouldn't be a bad idea," agreed pop. "we can stop and pick up a railroad detective i know. they'll be glad of the chance to raid the tramps, for they don't want them hanging around." "good idea," announced joe, who was still puzzling over the manner in which things fitted together, and wondering at the absurdly simple way in which reggie had appeared on the scene. the car sped away from the ball field, purring on its silent, powerful way. pop dutton gave directions as to the best roads to follow, and a little distance out of pittston he called a halt, in order that a railroad detective might be summoned. they found one at a small branch freight station, and this man called a companion, so there were five who proceeded to the rendezvous of the tramps in shiller's woods. it is not a difficult matter to raid the abiding place of the men, unfortunates if you will, who are known as "hoboes," and tramps. they are not criminals in the usual sense of the term, though they will descend to petty thievery. usually they are "pan-handlers," beggars and such; though occasionally a "yegg-man," or safe-blower, will throw in his lot with them. but for the most part the men are low characters, living as best they can, cooking meager meals over a camp fire, perhaps raiding hen-roosts or corn fields, and moving from place to place. they have no wish to defy police authority, and usually disappear at the first alarm, to travel on to the next stopping place. so there was no fear of any desperate encounter in this raid. the railroad detectives said as much, and expressed the belief that they would not even have to draw their revolvers. "we'll be glad of the chance to clean the rascals out," said one officer, "for they hang around there, and rob freight cars whenever they get the chance." "but we'd like a chance to talk to them--at least to this hogan," explained joe. "we want to find what he did with mr. varley's jewelry." "well, then, the only thing to do is to surround them, and hold them there until you interview them," was the decision. "i guess we can do it." shiller's woods were near the railroad line, in a lonesome spot, and the outskirts were soon reached. the auto was left in charge of a switchman at his shanty near a crossing and the occupants, consisting of the two detectives, joe, pop and reggie, proceeded on foot. they all carried stout cudgels, though the officers had revolvers for use in emergency. but they were not needed. pop dutton knew the way well to a little hollow where the tramps slept and ate. he led the others to it, and so quietly did they approach that the tramps were surrounded before they knew it. down in a grassy hollow were half a dozen of them gathered about a fire over which was stewing some mixture in a tomato can, suspended over the flame on a stick, by means of a bit of wire. "good afternoon, boys!" greeted one of the officers, as he stood up, and looked down on the men. it was apparent at first glance that hogan was one of them. pop had silently indicated him. the tramps started up, but seeing that they were surrounded settled back philosophically. only hogan looked eagerly about for a way of escape. "it's no go," said one of the railroad detectives. "just take it easy, and maybe you won't be so badly off as you imagine." hogan had been found at last. it developed that pop had asked his former "friends of the road" to keep track of him, and send word when located. this had been done by the ragged man who accosted the old player on the diamond that afternoon. chapter xxvii the slow watch "well, what do you want?" growled hogan, for he seemed to feel that attention was centered on him. "nothing much--no more than usual, that is," said one of the detectives, to whom the story of the looted valise had been told. "where did you put the stuff you got from this gentleman's bag some time last spring?" was the sharp question. "whose bag?" hogan wanted to know, with a frown. "mine!" exclaimed reggie. "that is, if you're the man. it was a yellow bag, with lions' heads on the clasps and it contained a swiss watch, with a gold face; some jewelry, including a bracelet of red stones was also taken." hogan started as this catalog was gone over. "now look here!" broke in the officer. "these gentlemen are willing to make some concessions to you." "yes?" spoke hogan, non-committally. he seemed easier now. "yes. if you'll own up, and give back what you've got left we'll call it off, providing you get out of the state and keep out." "an' s'posin' i don't?" he asked, defiantly. "then it's the jug for yours. you're the one we want. the rest of you can go--and keep away, too," added the detective, significantly. the tramps slunk off, glad enough to escape. only hogan remained. "well," he said, but now his nerve was gone. he looked surlily at pop, and wet his lips nervously. "go on," urged the officer. "i guess i did get a few things from his bag--leastwise it was a satchel like the one he tells about," confessed hogan. "then that clears me!" cried joe, joyfully. reggie varley held out his hand to the young pitcher. "it was silly of me ever to have suspected you," he said, contritely. "will you forgive me?" "of course!" joe would have forgiven reggie almost anything. "where's the stuff now?" asked the chief detective, sharply. hogan laughed. "where do you s'pose?" he asked. "think i can afford to carry swiss watches with gold faces, or ladies' bracelets? i look like it; don't i?" truly he did not, being most disreputable in appearance. "did you pawn it?" asked the other officer. "yes, and precious little i got out of it. you can have the tickets if you like. i'll never redeem 'em," and he tossed a bunch of pawn tickets over to reggie, who caught them wonderingly. "are--er--are these stubs for the things?" he asked. "how can i get them back?" "by paying whatever the pawnbrokers advanced on the goods," answered pop dutton, who looked quickly over the tickets. he knew most of the places where the goods had been disposed of. "i'll be glad to do that," went on the young man. "i'm much obliged to you, my good fellow." hogan laughed again. "you're a sport!" he complimented. "is that all you want of me?" the detectives consulted together a moment. then one of them asked joe and his two friends: "what do you say? there isn't much to be gained by arresting him. you've got about all you can out of him. i suppose you might as well let him go." "i'm willing," spoke joe. "all i wanted was to have my name cleared, and that's been done." "i don't care to have him prosecuted," spoke reggie. "it might bring my sister into unpleasant prominence, as most of the things were hers." "i say, my good fellow," he went on--he would persist in being what he thought was english, "does the ticket for that bracelet happen to be among these you've given me." "no, here's the thing itself--catch!" exclaimed hogan, and he threw something to joe, who caught it. it proved to be a quaint wrist-ornament. the young pitcher slipped it into his pocket. "it'll have to be disinfected before she can wear it," he said in a low voice to reggie. "i'll give it to her, after i soak it in formaldehyde." reggie nodded--and smiled. perhaps he understood more than joe thought he did. "is that all you want of me?" asked hogan, looking uneasily about. "i guess so," answered one of the officers. "but how did you come to get at the valise?" "oh, it was easy. i spotted it in the depot and when that chap wasn't looking,"--he nodded at reggie--"i just opened it, took out what i wanted, and slipped out of the station before anyone saw me. you'd never have gotten me, either, if i hadn't been a dub and told him," and he scowled at pop dutton. "well, i'm glad, for my own sake, that you did tell," spoke joe. "now you'd better clear out," warned the officer, "and don't let us find you near the railroad tracks again, or it will be the jug for yours. vamoose!" "wait a minute," said pop dutton, softly. "have you any money, hogan?" "money! no, how should i get money? i couldn't pawn that bracelet, or i'd have some though. they all said it wasn't worth anything." "my sister values it as a keepsake," explained reggie to joe in a low voice. "she'll be awfully glad to get it back." "here," went on the old pitcher to his former companion of the highway, and he passed him a bill. "it's all i can spare or i'd give you more." hogan was greatly surprised. he stared at the money half comprehendingly. "you--do you mean it?" he stammered. "certainly," answered pop. "well, i--er--i--i'm sorry!" burst out the tramp, and, making a quick grab for the bill, he turned aside and was soon lost to sight amid the trees. "hum! that's a queer go!" commented one of the officers. "i guess he's got some feeling, after all," said joe, softly. they had accomplished what they set out to do--proved the innocence of the young pitcher. and they had done more, for they were in the way of recovering most of the stolen stuff. joe anticipated much pleasure in restoring to mabel her odd bracelet. they motored back to the city from the rendezvous of the tramps, talking over the strange occurrence. but they took none of the members of the ball team into their confidence--joe and pop. they thought the fewer who knew of it the better. "and now if i was sure dad would be all right, and pop's arm would get into pitching shape again, i wouldn't ask for anything more," said joe to reggie that night, when he called on the youth and his sister. "don't you want to win the pennant?" asked mabel, softly. she had thanked joe--and her brother--with blushing cheeks for the return of her keepsake bracelet. but her blushes were not for her brother. "the pennant! of course!" cried joe. "i almost forgot about that! and we're going to win it!" "i'm going to see every game, too!" exclaimed mabel, with brilliant cheeks and eyes. the first pennant game with clevefield was a hard-fought one. collin took the mound in the opening of the battle, and for a time all went well. he made some mistakes, and the heavy batters on the other side began "finding" him. but he was well supported by the fielders and basemen, and three innings ran along with the visitors securing nothing but zero tallies. then came a break. a swift ball glanced off collin's glove, and charlie hall, the shortstop, after a magnificent jump, by which he secured the horsehide, made a wild throw to first. then began a slump, and collin had his share in it. joe was called on, but too late to be of any real service, though he stopped the rout. score: pittston three, clevefield nine. "we've got to take three straight, or make a tie so as to get another game--making five instead of four," said gregory, gloomily that evening. the next contest would take place in clevefield and the teams made a night journey there. reggie and his sister went on by auto early the next day, arriving in time to visit joe before practice was called. "joe, you're nervous!" exclaimed reggie, when he met the young pitcher, just