CHAPTER XXIX

  THE GAME OF HIS LIFE

  For the ninth and deciding game, McRae had selected Joe to pitch.

  "I don't need to tell you, Joe, how much depends on this game," McRaesaid soberly, as the two came out of the clubhouse and walked acrossthe field towards the grandstand, which was crowded to suffocation."You know it as well as I do. I'm just counting on you, my boy. You'venever failed me yet in a pinch. You won't fail me now."

  "Trust me, Mac," replied Joe. "I'll do my best to win out."

  Hudson, the manager of the Yankees, was also pinning his faith onthe leader of his pitching staff, Phil Hays. He was a master of theunderhand delivery, and had already captured for the Yankees the twogames of the series in which he had pitched. In both games he hadsorely puzzled the Giants, for there was no pitcher in the NationalLeague who used that delivery, and they had found it almost impossibleto gauge it. He also had a crossfire, that he used at times withtelling effect. He had not yet matched his pitching strength againstJoe's, and the crowd was all agog with curiosity to see them battleagainst each other.

  Jim had been a little later than Joe in slipping into his uniform, andwas still in the clubhouse, after his friend had gone out on the field,when Reggie came rushing in, panting and out of breath.

  "Where's Joe?" he asked, looking wildly around.

  "He's just gone out to practice," answered Jim. "Why, what's thematter, Reggie?"

  "I've got to get Joe," Reggie panted, making a dash for the door.

  But Jim caught his arm.

  "Look here, Reggie," he said, holding to him tightly. "Joe mustn't beupset. I can see that something's happened. Tell me what it is, andI'll see about letting Joe know."

  "It's M-Mabel!" answered Reggie, stammering in his excitement. "She'sdisappeared."

  "Disappeared!" echoed Jim, in bewilderment. "What do you mean?"

  "Just that," answered Reggie. "She went out this morning to call ona friend, but said she'd get back to go with me to the game. I gotanxious when she didn't come, and called up her friend, who said shehadn't seen her. Just then a messenger boy brought me this," and hehanded over a typewritten, unsigned note, which read:

  "Miss Varley is in safe hands. If Matson loses his game to-day she will be returned this evening. If he doesn't, it will cost $25,000 to get her back. Personal in papers to-morrow, signed T. Z., will give exact directions for carrying on further negotiations."

  "Now you see why I've got to see Joe right away," said Reggie infrenzied impatience, snatching the note from Jim's hands.

  "You mustn't!" ejaculated Jim, barring the way. "Don't you see thatthat's just what the rascals want you to do? You'd just be playingtheir game. They want to get Joe so frightened and upset that he can'tpitch. It's the scheme of some gamblers who have bet on the Yanks towin. They want to make sure that they will win, and so they want tobribe or frighten Joe into losing. But probably if he did, they'ddemand the ransom money just the same. We'll have to keep it from Joeuntil the game is over. Nothing will be lost by that. I'll give McRae atip and he'll let me off. Then you and I will get busy and do all thatwe can for the next two hours. If we turn nothing up, we'll be backhere when the game ends and tell Joe all about it. Wait here a minutetill I see McRae, and then we'll get on the job."

  In five minutes he was back with the required permission, and as soonas he had got into his street clothes he hailed a taxicab, and he andReggie jumped in and were off.

  When the bell rang for the game to begin, the Giants took the field,and Milton, the big center-fielder of the Yankees, came to the plate.Joe wound a high fast one about his neck, at which he refused to bite.The next one split the rubber, and Milton swung savagely at it andmissed. The next was a called strike. On the following ball, he rolledan easy grounder to Burkett at first, who made the put out unassisted.The next man, Pender, Joe put out on strikes in jig time. Then themighty Kid Rose strode to the bat.

  He grinned at Joe and Joe grinned back. They were both good fellows,and each thoroughly respected the other. There was no bitterness intheir rivalry.

  "Now little ball, come to papa!" sang out Rose.

  "Here he comes!" laughed Joe. "Take a look at baby."

  The ball whizzed over the plate, and Rose missed it by an inch. Thenext he fouled off, as he did the following one. Then Joe tried afadeaway, and Rose fell for it, swinging himself halfway round with theforce of his blow.

  "You're out!" cried the umpire, and the Giant supporters in the standsbroke out in cheers. It was not often that Rose struck out, and thefeat was appreciated.

  In the Giants' half, Hays set them down in one, two, three order. Curryflied to Russell in right, Iredell went out by the strike route, whileBurkett's grounder to Pender at short was whipped smartly down to first.

  The Yankees were easy victims in the second. Russell fanned, Walshlifted a twisting foul, on which Mylert made a superb catch close tothe Giants' dugout and Mullen hit a grounder between first and the box,which Joe captured and fielded to Burkett in plenty of time.

  Joe was first up in the Giants' half, and had to doff his cap inresponse to the cheers which greeted him as he came to the plate.

  Hays sized him up carefully and did not like his looks. The first ballhe threw him was so wide that Banks, the catcher, had to reach far outto nab it with one hand.

  That might have been lack of control on Hays' part, but when a secondfollowed, that came nowhere in the range of Joe's bat, the crowd jumpedto the conclusion that he was deliberately trying to pass him, and astorm of protests rained down on the diamond.

  "You're a game sport--not!"

  "Let Baseball Joe hit the ball!"

  "Yellow streak!"

  "Matson took a chance with Rose. Why don't you take a chance withMatson?"

  "Where's your sand?"

  Whether Hays was stung by these jibes or not, the next ball curvedover the plate and just above the knee. There was a ringing crack, andthe ball sailed aloft in the direction of the bleachers with home runwritten all over it. There was no need of hurrying, and Joe simplytrotted around the bases, while pandemonium reigned in the stands andbleachers.

 
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