CHAPTER II
OFF FOR THE SOUTH
Sweeping past, in the cab of the locomotive, the engineer leaned out andshook his fist at the tramp.
"You ought to be locked up!" he yelled, with savage energy. Then, lesthe might not seem to appreciate Joe's action in saving the man's lifeand preventing a lot of trouble for the railroad authorities, theengineer added:
"Much obliged to you, young fellow. You saved us a bad mess. Better turnthat 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," answeredJoe, but it is doubtful if the engineer heard.
"You had a close call, old man," went on Joe, as he helped the tramp tostand 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 toofar. 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'snuther. Down--an'--out!"
"Oh, well, maybe you can come back," said Joe, as cheerfully as hecould. "Don't give up."
"Come back! Huh! Guess you don't know the game. Fellers like me nevercome 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 thetracks. The unfortunate man could hardly help himself. "You've got anarm--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 nettledat 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! Puther--there!" The man held out an unsteady hand, which Joe, more toquiet him than for any other reason, clasped firmly.
"An' you beat Princeton! Good for you! Put her there! I--er--I readabout that. I can read--I got a good education. But I--er--Oh, I'm afool, that's what I am. A fool! An' to think that I once--Oh, what's theuse--what's the use?"
The energy faded away from his voice, and he ended in a half sob. Withbowed head he allowed Joe to lead him across the tracks. A number ofrailroad men who had seen the rescue looked at the pair, but once thetramp 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'vegot nowhere to go. One place is as good as another when you're down--andout. 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 hisnerve, and was almost sobbing.
"That's right, young feller--that's right!" came the quick retort. "I doneed pullin' up. Much obliged to you. I--I guess I can take care ofmyself 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 canget--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 thewoods that adjoined the railroad.
"Poor old chap," mused the young pitcher, as he resumed his way to hisfather's shop. And while I have just a few moments I will take advantageof them to make my new readers better acquainted with Joe, and hisachievements, as detailed in the former books of this series.
The first volume is entitled "Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars," andtells how Joe began his career as a pitcher. The Silver Stars were madeup of ball-loving lads in Riverside, a New England town where Joe livedwith his parents and his sister Clara. Mr. Matson was an inventor offarming machinery, and had perfected a device that brought him insubstantial returns.
Joe, Tom Davis, and a number of other lads formed a team that was torepresent Riverside. Their bitterest rivals were the Resolutes of RockyFord, a neighboring town, and many hot battles of the diamond werefought. Joe rapidly developed as a pitcher, and it was due to hisefforts that his team made such an excellent showing.
In the second book, entitled, "Baseball Joe on the School Nine," Irelated what happened when our hero went to Excelsior Hall, a boardinginstitution 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 finallyoccupied the mound when the annual struggle for the Blue Banner tookplace. And what a game that was!
Joe spent several terms at Excelsior Hall, and then, more in deferenceto 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 thirdbook of the series, called "Baseball Joe at Yale." Joe had an uphillclimb at the big university. Mingled with the hard work, the hopesdeferred and the jealousies, were, however, good times a-plenty. That isone reason why Joe did not want to leave it. But he had an ambition tobecome a professional ball player, and he felt that he was not fittedfor a college life.
So when "Jimmie" Mack, assistant manager of the Pittston team of theCentral League, who was out "scouting" for new and promising players,saw Joe's pitching battle against Princeton, he made the young collegianan offer which Joe did not feel like refusing.
He closed his college career abruptly, and when this story opens we findhim coming back from New Haven to Riverside. In a day or so he expectedto join the recruits at the training camp of the Pittston nine, whichwas at Montville, North Carolina.
As Joe kept on, after his rescue of the tramp, his thoughts were busyover many subjects. Chief among them was wonder as to how he wouldsucceed in his new career.
"And then I've got to learn how dad's affairs are," mused Joe. "I mayhave to pitch in and help him."
Mr. Matson came from his private office in the Harvester Works, andgreeted Joe warmly.
"We didn't expect you home quite so soon," he said, as he clasped hisson's hand.
"No, I found out, after I wrote, that I was coming home, that I couldget 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 certainstocks 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 hesmiled, for he knew Joe's hobby.
Father and son talked at some length, and then, as Mr. Matson had aboutfinished work for the day, the two set out for home together. On the wayJoe met his old chum, Tom Davis, and they went over again the many goodtimes in which they had taken part.
Joe liked his home--he liked his home town, and his old chums, but stillhe wished to get into the new life that had called him.
He was not sorry, therefore, when, a few days later he received atelegram 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 willsoon 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. M
atson. "Oh, Joe! if it wasonly preaching--or something like that."
"Let the boy alone, Mother," said Mr. Matson, with a good-humoredtwinkle in his eye. "We can't all be ministers, and I'd rather have aworld series winner in my family than a poor lawyer or doctor. He'll domore good in society, too. Good luck to you, Joe."
But Joe was not to get away to the South as quietly as he hoped. Hewas importuned by his old baseball chums to pitch an exhibition gamefor them, but he did not think it wise, under the circumstances, sodeclined.
But they wanted to do him honor, and, learning through Tom Davis--who, Imay say in passing, got the secret from Clara--when Joe's train was toleave, many of the old members of the Silver Stars gathered to wishtheir 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 havingbidden 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 asshe 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 Joeagain and again. Many other boys joined in, and the scene about therailroad 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, hepitched a winning game for Yale against Princeton, and now he's going tothe Pittstons of the Central League."
"Oh, I see. Hum. Is that he?" and the man pointed to the figure of ourhero, surrounded by his friends.
"That's him! Say, I wish he was me!" and the lad looked enviously atJoe.
"I--I never knew baseball was so--so popular," said Mrs. Matson toClara, as the shouting and cheers grew, while Joe resisted an attempt onthe 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 answerfollowed. Joe was shaking hands with two lads at once, and trying torespond to a dozen requests for letters, or passes to the league games.
Then came the whistle of the train, more hurried good-byes, a lastkiss for his mother and sister--final cheers--shouts--calls for goodwishes--and Joe was on his way to the Southern baseball camp.