CHAPTER XII
THE TABLES TURNED
Baseball Joe waited just long enough to wave his cap at the box in whichhis party sat, and then raced with his companions to the clubhousebefore the crowd that was rushing down over the field should overwhelmthem.
Mabel turned towards Mrs. Matson, who had been watching the game withthe most intense interest and yet with a sense of complete bewilderment.The intricacies of the game were new to her, but she knew that her boyhad won, and at the applause showered upon him her fond heart swelledwith motherly pride.
"What do you think of that son of yours now?" Mabel asked gaily. "Didn'tI tell you he was going to win?"
"It was j-just wonderful," replied Mrs. Matson, reaching for herhandkerchief to stay the happy tears that had not been far from her eyesall through the game.
Mr. Matson had renewed his youth, and his eyes were shining like aboy's. Clara clapped her hands and laughed almost hysterically.
"Oh, oh, oh!" she cried. "And he's my brother!"
Mabel laughed and gave her a little affectionate pat.
"I don't wonder that you're proud of him," she said. Joe would have beenglad to hear the slight tremble in her voice.
In the clubhouse there was, of course, a mighty celebration. A leadof one game in such a series as that promised to be was, as "Robbie"exultantly said, "not to be sneezed at." Now they would have to win onlythree more to be sure of the flag, while the Red Sox needed to take four.
And yet, despite the victory, there was no undue boasting or elation.They had not won by any such margin as to justify too rosy a view ofthe future. The Red Sox had fought for the game tooth and nail, andat various stages a hair would have turned the balance one way or theother. The Bostons were an enemy to be dreaded, and a profound respectfor their opponents had been implanted in the Giants' breasts.
Besides, McRae knew that he had "played his ace" in putting Joe intothe box. He had no pitcher of equal rank to bring out on the morrow,while at least two of the Red Sox boxmen were quite as high as Fraser inquality.
"You did splendidly to-day, Matson," said McRae to Joe, clapping himjovially on the shoulder.
"I'm glad we won," responded Joe. "But that Fraser is no slouch when itcomes to putting them over."
"He's a crackerjack," the manager admitted. "But you topped him all theway through. We raked him for seven hits, though he kept them prettywell scattered. But they only got to you for three, and one of them wasa scratch. And he was wobbly twice, while you only gave one pass."
"That crack of Burkett's was a dandy," observed Joe. "And it came justin the nick of time."
"It was a lulu," chuckled McRae. "My heart was in my mouth when I sawCooper making for it. Mighty few hits get away from that bird, but itwas just a bit too high for him."
Both teams were to leave for Boston that night. A special train made upentirely of Pullman cars had been prepared to carry them, together withhundreds of enthusiasts who had planned to go with them back and forthand see each game of the Series. They would reach the city a littleafter midnight, and in order that the athletes might not be disturbed,they would be shunted into a remote part of the railroad yards wherethey could slumber peacefully until morning.
But several hours were to elapse before the train started. Joe hurriedinto his street clothes, and, accompanied by Jim Barclay, was whirledaway in a taxicab to the Marlborough, where they had arranged to have ajolly dinner with his family and the Varleys.
The baseball players found everything ready for them, and the welcomethat greeted them warmed their hearts.
"What a pity that we haven't a band here ready to strike up: 'Hail theconquering heroes come,'" said Mabel, mischievously.
"'Hero,' you mean," corrected Jim. "I'm shining with only reflectedglory. Here's the real hero of the piece," indicating Joe. "I'm only oneof the Roman populace."
"And who's the villain?" smiled Mr. Matson.
"Oh, Fraser was the villain," responded Jim. "But Joe foiled him just ashe was about to carry away the che-ild."
Barclay had not yet met Joe's family, but now Joe introduced him to hisparents and Clara. They greeted him cordially, and Clara's eyes fellbefore the admiration that leaped into Jim's merry blue ones.
It is barely possible that that young lady had thought more than onceof what Joe had said of Barclay in the letter that had enclosed thethousand dollar bill. And now as she studied him shyly from time totime while he chatted away gaily, she had no difficulty in understandingwhy Joe had spoken so enthusiastically of his friend. And she was notsorry that Mabel had arranged that she and Jim should sit next eachother at the table.
They were soon talking with freedom and animation.
"You ought to be awfully proud of that brother of yours," Jim declared.
"I should say so!" Clara exclaimed. "He's the dearest brother that everlived."
"He's a prince," assented Jim. "A finer fellow never trod in shoeleather. I owe an awful lot to him, Miss Matson. I was feeling asforlorn as only a 'rookie' can feel when I broke into the big league,but he took me up at once and we've been like brothers ever since."
"He's often spoken of you in his letters home," replied Clara. "I'd tellyou what he said of you, only it would make you too conceited."
"And he's raved to me about that sister of his," said Jim. "He's donemore than that. He's shown me your picture. I've been tempted more thanonce to steal it from him."
"What a desperate criminal," laughed Clara, her cheeks growing pink.
"I think any jury would justify me if they once saw the picture,"replied Jim, gallantly, "and they certainly would if they caught sightof the original."
From this it can be seen that these young folks were fast becoming veryfriendly.
"It has been the dream of my life to see New York and Boston," observedClara.
"Is that so?" said Jim, eagerly. "I know both of them like a book. Youmust let me show you around."
"That's very nice of you," said Clara, demurely. "But I suppose Joe willwant----"
"Oh, of course," said Jim. "But Joe will be so busy you know with thegames. He'll be under a big strain, while I'll probably have plenty oftime. I'm only a sort of fifth wheel to the coach, while Joe's the wholething. And then, too, Joe's already got Mabel, and it isn't fair that heshould have two lovely girls while I'm left out in the cold. You reallymust take pity on me."
Few girls would have been so hard-hearted as to let such a handsomeyoung fellow as Jim die of grief, and Clara had no intention ofhastening his demise by excessive cruelty on her part. So she assented,though with the proper degree of maidenly hesitation, and they beganmerrily to map out plans for the coming week.
Joe, seated with Mabel on one side and his mother on the other, had alsobeen enjoying himself hugely through the dinner, while Reggie and Mr.Matson found plenty to talk about in discussing the events of the day.The time passed all too swiftly and before they knew it they had tobegin preparations for the journey.
"Let's look at the weather probabilities for to-morrow," said Joe,buying an evening paper at the newsstand as they passed through theGrand Central Terminal.
"Um--cloudy and unsettled," he read.
"That means that we'll have to get busy and win in the first fiveinnings before the rain comes," laughed Jim.
"It ought to be a good day to pitch Markwith," returned Joe. "With acloudy day and that blinding speed of his they won't be able to see theball."
The two young athletes saw their party to their car, and after a fewmoments of pleasant chat bade them good-night and repaired to thePullmans that had been reserved for the Giant team.
All were in a most jovial mood and filled with highest hopes for themorrow. Joke and banter flew back and forth, until the watchful McRaeasserted the claims of discipline and sent them all to their berths.
The next morning when they drew the curtains, they found that theweather man's prognostications had been correct. Dull, leaden-coloredclouds chased each other across the sky and a bleak w
ind came from theeast.
"Looks like soggy weather, sure enough," commented Jim, as he met Joe inthe lavatory.
"It certainly does," assented Joe. "Hope it holds off till after thegame. It may cut down the attendance."
"No danger of that unless it rains cats and dogs," rejoined Jim. "Bostonis the best baseball city in the country, and it'll take more than a fewclouds or even a drizzle to keep the crowds away."
They breakfasted in the dining car, and then Joe's party adjourned tothe hotel where rooms had been reserved. There was not much time forsight seeing, but they all had a pleasant little stroll on the Commonand in the wonderful Botanical Gardens, before their duties called theyoung men away to the baseball grounds.
The weather still continued threatening, but as Jim had prophesied, thisdid not affect the attendance. Boston was as wild over the Series asNew York, and long before noon Commonwealth Avenue and Gaffney Streetwere packed with the oncoming throngs. By the time the game started theenormous Braves Field was packed to its utmost capacity.
Personally, McRae welcomed the overcast sky. It was a pitcher's day, aday that called for speed, and speed as everybody knew was Markwith's"long suit."
"Smoke 'em over, Red," was McRae's admonition, when he told Markwith hewas slated to pitch. "If we can only put this game on the right side ofthe ledger, the world's flag is as good as won. Give us a lead of twogames and it will take the spine out of those birds. They'll never catchup."
"I get you, Mac," grinned the pitcher. "I'll zip 'em over so fastthey'll have to use glasses to see 'em."
For four innings it looked as though his prophecy would be fulfilled.His companions played like fiends behind him, and although the Bostonsgot to him for three bingles, they were scattered ones, and not a mangot as far as third base.
"Looks as though Red had their goat, John," Robson remarked to McRae.
"He's doing fine," McRae returned, "and our boys seem to be getting toBanks pretty freely."
The Giants had, in fact, got a pretty good line on Banks, the portflinger of the Red Sox, and had accumulated three runs, which, withMarkwith going as he was, seemed a very comfortable lead.
But the glorious uncertainty of the national game was demonstrated inthe next inning. The Giants had been disposed of in their half with agoose egg, and the Red Sox came in to bat.
The first man up was given a base on balls. The next hit a sharp bounderto Denton, who ought to have made an easy out either at first orsecond, but he juggled the ball and both men were safe.
The error seemed to unnerve Markwith, and he gave another pass, fillingthe bases.
"Get to him, boys!" screamed the Boston coacher on the side lines nearfirst base. "He's got nothing on the ball but his glove and a prayer."
Walters, the slugging center fielder, caught the second ball pitchedright on the seam and sent it on a line between left and center for thecleanest of home runs, clearing the bases and denting the rubber himselffor the fourth run. In jig time, the Red Sox had wiped out the Giants'advantage and taken the lead.
The crowd went wild and the "Tessie" song swelled up from the stands.
McRae, with his brow like a thunder cloud, beckoned Red from the box andcalled in Jim, who, as a matter of precaution but with little idea ofbeing called upon, had been warming up in a corner of the grounds.
"It's up to you, Barclay," he said as he handed him the ball. "Let's seenow what stuff you're made of."
Joe gave Jim an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
"Steady does it, old man," he said. "They're only one run ahead and thebases are empty. Hold them down and our boys will hand you enough runsto win out."
It was a trying position for a young and comparatively new pitcher, butJim was a "comer" and had already proved in other games that he had bothskill and nerve.
"Knock this one out of the box, too," came from the stands.
"Sew up the game right now!"
"Eat him up!"
"He'll be easy!"
"Oh, you Red Sox!"
Jim wound up and shot one over for a strike.
"Easy, is he?" came back from the Giant supporters. "Just watch thatboy's smoke."
Another strike followed, and the stands sobered down a little.
"You're out," called the umpire, as a third strike split the plate.
Shouts of delight and encouragement came from the Giants' bench, andMcRae's face lightened somewhat.
The next man went out on a high foul, and the inning ended when Stockpopped an easy fly to the box.
"Bully for you, old man!" came from his mates, as Jim walked in from themound.
"Knock out some runs now, you fellows," admonished McRae. "Barclay can'tdo it all. And do it in a hurry, too. I don't like the way those cloudsare coming up."
The sky was blackening rapidly, and the wind, coming from the east instrong gusts, told that a storm was on the way.
The Giants knew the need of haste, and they went at their work fiercely.Larry started proceedings with a rattling two bagger. Denton sacrificedhim to third. Willis lined out a single, bringing in Larry and reachingsecond himself a moment later on a passed ball. Becker sent one to rightthat scored Willis and netted two bags for himself. Iredell went outon an infield catch, but Mylert came to the rescue with a sizzling hitthat brought Becker to the plate amid frantic shouts from the New Yorkrooters.
Three runs had been scored and New York was again in the lead by six tofour. Two men were out. But now rain began to fall, although at first itwas only a drizzle, and McRae, frenzied with anxiety, ordered Burkett tostrike out.
Now, of course, it was the Bostons' cue to delay the game. If they couldprevent the sixth inning from being fully played out before the rainstopped proceedings, the score would revert to what it was at the end ofthe fifth inning and Boston would be declared the winner.
They came in slowly from the field, stopping frequently to talk to eachother. Then when at last they were at their bench, the first battertook unusual pains in selecting his bat. And all the time the rain wasfalling more heavily.
McRae rushed at the umpire.
"Can't you see what they're doing?" he demanded. "Make them play ball."
The umpire turned sternly to the batter.
"Hurry up there," he commanded. "None of your monkey tricks or I'llforfeit the game to the New Yorks."
Thus adjured, the batter sauntered as slowly as he dared to the plate.
Jim put over a strike.
"That wasn't a strike," argued the Boston captain. "It didn't comewithin six inches of the plate."
"No argument," snapped the umpire, who saw through the tactics. "Goahead there," he called to Jim.
Jim put over two more. The batter did not even offer at them. He hadfigured that with an occasional ball switched in it would take more timeto put him out on strikes than if he gave a fielder's chance. But therewere no balls and he was declared out.
The second man crawled like a snail to the plate. It was pouring now andthe bleachers were black with umbrellas. The Giants were fairly dancingup and down with impatience and apprehension.
Jim pitched like lightning, not waiting to wind up. But before he coulddispose of the batsmen, the heavens opened and the rain came down intorrents.
THE HEAVENS OPENED AND THE RAIN CAME DOWN IN TORRENTS.]
Play was impossible. The umpire called the game and everybody scurriedfor shelter.
Old Jupiter Pluvius had taken a hand in the game.