CHAPTER XXIX

  THE SNAKE'S HEAD

  "I suppose I am," replied Joe, impressed by the earnestness of Jim'stone. "It's up to us to keep our eyes open. Luckily, we have only threemore days to stay here. All I want is to have them keep away from metill the season's ended. Then the tables will be turned, and I'll getafter them."

  Joe and Jim changed into their street clothes and came out of theclubhouse. All the other men had gone, except Iredell, who had notquite finished dressing.

  "Dandy weather," remarked Joe, as they lingered for a moment on thesteps. "What do you say, Jim, to a little auto ride to-morrow morning,along the Lincoln pike? Splendid road and fine scenery."

  "I'm on," assented Jim. "I'd like nothing better."

  The weather was perfect the next day, and shortly after breakfastthe chums hired a speedy little car and set out for their ride. Themachine purred along smoothly, with Joe at the wheel, and as travelerswere comparatively few at that early hour, they had the road largelyto themselves, and on the long stretches could let the car out to anexhilarating speed.

  "This is the life!" exclaimed Jim, jubilantly, as he settled back inhis seat and drew in long breaths of the invigorating air. "It does afellow good sometimes to-- Look out, Joe! Look out!"

  His shout of alarm was torn from him by a great motor truck thatcame darting at high speed from a side road that had been partiallyconcealed by trees and underbrush.

  It came thundering down upon the little car as though it were bent onannihilating it.

  Joe's quick glance took in the danger, and he swerved sharply to oneside. Not sharply enough, however, to escape the impact altogether. Thetruck caught the car a glancing blow that hurled it like a catapultagainst a fence at the side of the road, which at that point ran alongthe edge of a deep ravine.

  The car crashed through the fence, and had it not been that one of thewheels struck the trunk of a tree, would have plunged headlong into thegulch. The blow slewed the machine around, where it hung partly overthe edge.

  Jim had been thrown against the windshield and his hands were cut bythe flying glass. Joe had clung desperately to the wheel, and thoughbadly shaken up, had sustained no injury.

  Without waiting to see the extent of the damage, the truck had gone onat breakneck speed. By the time the young men had leaped to the ground,the truck had vanished around a turn in the road.

  Joe and Jim looked at each other, pale with anger.

  "Are you hurt, Jim?" asked Joe, as he saw the blood on his comrade'shands.

  "Only scratches," was the reply. "And I'm so thankful I'm not dead thatI don't mind little things like that."

  "It's almost a miracle that we're not lying at this moment at thebottom of the ravine," said Joe, soberly. "What do you think of thosefellows? Did you ever see such reckless driving?"

  "It wasn't reckless," declared Jim, grimly. "It was deliberate. Thatfellow was trying to run us down."

  "What?" exclaimed Joe.

  "Just that," reiterated Jim. "Did you see the man who was driving?"

  "No," said Joe. "I only saw the truck. I was too busy trying to get thecar out of the way to notice the driver."

  "Well, I saw him," said Jim. "That is, I saw part of him. He had hiscoat drawn up and his cap pulled down so as to hide his face. But Icaught sight of the biggest pair of lob ears I ever saw on any man.Does that mean anything to you?"

  "Lemblow!" exclaimed Joe.

  "Lemblow," assented Jim. "And probably the rest of the gang were in thetruck back of him. I tell you, Joe, those fellows are out to do you.They failed in their first attempt, and so they tried this."

  "And they came mighty near putting this across," said Joe. "But how onearth did they know we were going on this ride? We didn't mention it toanybody."

  "No," agreed Jim, "not directly. But when we first spoke of ityesterday afternoon, we were on the clubhouse steps. Iredell was stillin there, dressing, and the door was open."

  "By George, you've hit it!" cried Joe. "Jim, the time has come for ashowdown. We won't wait till the end of the season. We may not see theend of the season if this kind of thing is allowed to go on. I'm goingto get even with those scoundrels before we leave Pittsburgh."

  "I'm with you till the cows come home," declared Jim. "I'm aching toget my hands on them. But how are you going to do it?"

  "By shadowing Iredell," replied Joe. "It's a dead certainty that he'llmeet the rest of the gang to talk things over before we leave the city.We'll keep him in sight every night from now on and follow him to theirmeeting place. Then we'll trim the bunch."

  "Good dope!" ejaculated Jim. "And now let's get this car out to theside of the road where the owners can send for it. There'll be agood-sized dent in our bankrolls by the time we get through paying forthe damage."

  They took care not to speak of the incident to any one, and at the gamethat afternoon showed no antipathy or suspicion in regard to Iredell.Several times they noticed the covert glances of that individualdirected toward Jim's scratched hands--glances in which malignity wasmingled with disappointment--but they gave no sign, and conductedthemselves exactly as usual.

  But not for a moment was Iredell out of their sight without theirknowing where he was. All their faculties were intent upon using him asan unwitting guide to the rendezvous of the gang.

  For a time after supper, Iredell hung around the lobby of the hotel. Itwas nearly ten o'clock before he sauntered carelessly into the street,where Joe and Jim were ensconced in the shadow of convenient doorways.

  Iredell walked along slowly at first, glancing about from side toside, but as he saw nothing to arouse his suspicion, he quickened hissteps and soon was making rapidly for the outskirts of the city. Joeand Jim followed at some distance, keeping in the shadows as much aspossible.

  In a little while they found themselves in a cheap quarter of the city,not far from the bank of the Allegheny River. Factories and slag heapsalternated with shabby dwellings, dimly lighted stores, and low resorts.

  Standing in a lot, with no houses for a considerable distance on eitherside, was an old one-story shack. From its battered and dilapidatedappearance, it seemed unfit for human habitation. But that some one wasin it was indicated by the light from a smoky oil lamp that threw aflickering beam through the open window.

  Iredell pushed his way along the weed-grown path and knocked threetimes. After a moment the door was opened and Iredell entered.

  Joe and Jim waited for a brief time, and then, with the stealth ofIndians, crept up near the open window. Bushes were growing all aroundthe house, and behind these the two friends crouched. The brushwood wasso thick that they were perfectly safe from detection, while at thesame time they had a clear vision of the room and its inmates.

  They had no difficulty in identifying the latter. Hupft, McCarney,Lemblow and Iredell were seated around a table, engaged in an excitedconversation.

  There was practically no other furniture in the room than the table andchairs. It was evident that none of the gang lived there, but that theyhad picked out an abandoned house where they could meet in security andtalk with freedom.

  There was no attempt to lower their voices, and the unseen listenershad no difficulty in hearing every word that was said.

  "So we've made another flivver," growled McCarney, pounding the tableangrily with his fist.

  "Seems so," said Iredell, moodily. "They turned up at the game thisafternoon just as though nothing had happened. Barclay had somescratches on his hand, but Matson was unhurt. At least he didn't showany signs of injury."

  "I'm beginning to think we can't down that fellow," muttered Hupft. "Nomatter what we do, he comes up smiling."

  "Nonsense!" snarled Lemblow. "He's had luck, that's all. The pitcherthat goes to the well too often is broken at last. There's luck in oddnumbers, and the third time we'll get him."

  Joe felt in his pocket and took out an object that was roughly oblongin shape. He gripped it tightly in his hand and waited.

  Jim, who had noted t
he action, reached out and touched his friend's arm.

  "What's the game?" he whispered.

  "You'll see in a minute," returned Joe. "When I start, you follow me."

  "Lemblow's right," cried McCarney, rising to his feet, his faceinflamed with passion. "We've failed twice, but the third time we'llget him. We'll get him so hard----"

  He never finished the sentence.

  Something whizzed through the open window with terrific force andcaught him right between the eyes. Taken by surprise, and partlystunned by the force of the blow, he went down heavily to the floor.

  With startled shouts, the other three leaped to their feet and stoodstaring at the table on which the missile had fallen. Iredell leanedforward, took one look and jumped back with a terrified yell.

  "It's a rattlesnake's head!" he screamed in horror.

  His shriek was echoed by the other rascals as they fell back from thetable, trembling as though with palsy.

  The next instant, Joe and Jim, who had jumped through the window, wereupon the rascals, dealing out blows with the force of trip-hammers.Iredell went down from a terrific right on the chin, and laymotionless. Hupft and Lemblow tried to fight back, but their nerveswere so unstrung and they had been so overwhelmed with surprise at thesudden onslaught that their efforts were pitiful. Joe and Jim, alltheir pent up indignation putting double strength into their musculararms, gave them the beating of their lives, until they cowered in acorner, covering their faces with their hands and whimpering for mercy.

  "I guess that will do, Jim," said Joe at last. "They'll carry the marksof this for a long time, and they'll remember this night as long asthey live.

  "Now listen to me, you rascals," he said, with withering scorn, ashis eyes bored through the discomfited conspirators. "What you've gotto-night isn't a circumstance to what's coming to you if you everdare to lift a finger against me again. I could have every one of youarrested and put behind bars for years to come if I wanted to, but Iprefer to settle my own quarrels. But just one more move on your part,and you'll go where the dogs won't bite you for a while.

  "As for you, Iredell," he continued, in a slightly gentler tone,addressing his teammate who was now sitting up on the floor, still halfdazed, "I could have you fired off the team in disgrace and blacklistedforever, if I told McRae of this dirty work of yours. But I rememberthat you have a family and that you've played on the same team withme for years, and I'm going to give you one more chance. No one willhear of this if you go straight from now on. Cut out these dogs ofcompanions and play the game like a man.

  "Come along, Jim," he concluded, "I guess our night's work is done.We'll leave the snake's head behind as a souvenir."

  The night's work was indeed done, and done so effectively that Joesuffered no more trouble from the precious trio. As for Iredell, thelesson had been sufficient, and while there never was a resumption ofthe cordial relations of previous years, he gave no further cause forcomplaint. At the end of the season he was traded, as young Renton hadfilled his place so well that the Giants could do without him.

  The Giants "cleaned up" in Pittsburgh, and did so well with the otherteams that the last day of the season found them tied with Chicago forthe lead. The Cubs had played out all their games. The Giants still hadone to play with Brooklyn. If they won, they would have the pennant. Ifthey lost, the flag would go to Chicago.

 
Lester Chadwick's Novels
»The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trailby Lester Chadwick
»The Radio Detectivesby Lester Chadwick
»Polly's First Year at Boarding Schoolby Lester Chadwick
»Batting to Win: A Story of College Baseballby Lester Chadwick
»The Rival Pitchers: A Story of College Baseballby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team; or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamondby Lester Chadwick
»The Broncho Rider Boys with the Texas Rangersby Lester Chadwick
»Grit A-Plenty: A Tale of the Labrador Wildby Lester Chadwick
»The Eight-Oared Victors: A Story of College Water Sportsby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe on the Giants; or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolisby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe on the School Nine; or, Pitching for the Blue Bannerby Lester Chadwick
»For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athleticsby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; or, The Rivals of Riversideby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe at Yale; or, Pitching for the College Championshipby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe in the World Series; or, Pitching for the Championshipby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe in the Central League; or, Making Good as a Professional Pitcherby Lester Chadwick
»The Winning Touchdown: A Story of College Footballby Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe, Home Run King; or, The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Recordby Lester Chadwick
»Bolax, Imp or Angel—Which?by Lester Chadwick
»Baseball Joe in the Big League; or, A Young Pitcher's Hardest Strugglesby Lester Chadwick