CHAPTER VIII

  THE QUARREL

  "Are we all here?"

  "Oh, what a glorious night!"

  "Did you ever see such a moon!"

  "Looks about as big as a baseball does when you're far from first andthe pitcher is heaving it over, to tag you out!"

  This last observation from Joe Matson.

  "Oh, what an unpoetical remark to make!"

  That from Mabel Varley.

  There came a chorus of laughter, shouts, good-natured jibes, littleshrieks and giggles from the girls, and chuckles from the young men.

  "Well, let's get started," proposed Joe.

  It was the occasion of the sleigh ride that Joe had gotten up,ostensibly for the enjoyment of a number of his young friends, but, inreality for Mabel, who, with her brother, was still staying on inRiverside, for the Varley business was not yet finished.

  It was a glorious, wintry night, and in the sky hung the silvery moon,lighting up a few fleecy clouds with glinting beams, and bringing intogreater brightness the sparkling snow that encrusted the earth.

  "Count noses," suggested Charlie Hill, who, with a young lady to whomJoe had introduced him a day or so before, was in the sleighing party.

  "I'll help," volunteered Mabel, who, of course, was being escorted byJoe, while Reggie had Clara under his care. Mabel and Joe made sure thatall of their party were present. They were gathered in the office of thelivery stable, whence they were to start, to go to a hotel about twelvemiles distant--a hotel famous for its oyster suppers, as many asleighing party, of which Joe had been a member, could testify.Following the supper there was to be a little dance, and the party,properly chaperoned, expected to return some time before morning.

  "Yes, I guess we're all here," Joe announced, as he looked among theyoung people. And it was no easy task to make sure, for they wereconstantly shifting about, going here and there, friends greetingfriends.

  Four sturdy horses were attached to a big barge, in the bottom of whichhad been spread clean straw, for it was quite frosty, and, in spite ofheavy wraps and blankets, feet would get cold. But the straw served, ina measure, to keep them warm.

  "All aboard!" cried Charlie Hill, who had made himself a generalfavorite with all of Joe's friends. "All aboard!"

  "Why don't you say 'play ball'?" asked Mabel, with a laugh. "It seems tome, with a National Leaguer with us, the least we could do would be tomake that our rallying cry!" Mabel was a real "sport."

  "I'm not a big leaguer yet," protested Joe. "Don't go too strong onthat. I may be turned back into the bushes."

  "Not much danger," commented Charlie, as he thought of the fine work Joehad done in times past. Joe was a natural born pitcher, but he haddeveloped his talents by hard work, as my readers know.

  Into the sled piled the laughing, happy young folks, and then, snuglytucked in, the word was given, and, with a merry jingle of bells, awaythey went over the white snow.

  There were the old-time songs sung, after the party had reached the opencountry, and had taken the edge off their exuberance by tooting tinhorns. "Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party," "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean,""Old Black Joe"--all these, and some other, more modern, songs weresung, more or less effectively. But, after all, it was the spirit andnot the melody that counted.

  On over the snowy road went the big sled, pulled by the willing horses,who seemed all the more willing because of the joyous party they weredragging along.

  "Look out for this grade-crossing," remarked Joe to the driver, for theywere approaching the railroad.

  "I will, Joe," the man replied. "I have good occasion to remember thisplace, too."

  "So have I," spoke Mabel, in a low voice to her escort. "There is wherewe were snowed in; isn't it?" she asked, nodding in the direction ofDeep Rock Cut.

  "That's the place," replied Joe.

  "Yes, sir, I have occasion to remember this place," went on the driver."And I'm always careful when I cross here, ever since, two years ago, Iwas nearly run down by a train. I had just such a load of young folks asI've got now," he went on.

  "How did it happen?" asked Reggie, as the runners scraped over the barerails, a look up and down the moon-lit track showing no train in sight.

  "Well, the party was making quite a racket, and I didn't hear thewhistle of the train," resumed the driver. "It was an extra, and Ididn't count on it. We were on our way home, and we had a pretty narrowescape. Just got over in time, I tell you. The young folks were prettyquiet after that, and I was glad it happened on the way home, instead ofgoing, or it would have spoiled all their fun. And, ever since then,whether I know there's a train due or not, I'm always careful of thiscrossing."

  "It makes one feel ever so much safer to have a driver like him," spokeMabel to Clara.

  "Oh, we can always trust Frank," replied Joe's sister.

  Laughing, shouting, singing and blowing the horns, the party went on itsmerry way, until the hotel was reached.

  Everything was in readiness for the young people, for the arrangementshad been made in advance, and soon after the girls had "dolled-up," asJoe put it, by which he meant arranged their hair, that had become blownabout under the scarfs they wore, they all sat down to abountifully-spread table.

  "Reminds me of the dinner we had, after we won the pennant," saidCharlie Hall.

  "Only it's so different," added Joe. "That was a hot night."

  Talk and merry laughter, mingled with baseball conversation went aroundthe table. Joe did not care to "talk shop," but somehow or other, hecould not keep away from the subject that was nearest his heart. Norcould Charlie, and the two shot diamond discussion back and forth, theothers joining in occasionally.

  The meal was drawing to an end. Reggie Varley, pouring out a glass ofwater, rose to his feet.

  "Friends and fellow citizens," he began in a sort of "toastmastervoice."

  "Hear! Hear!" echoed Charlie, entering into the spirit of the occasion.

  "We have with us this evening," went on Reggie, in the approved mannerof after-dinner introductions, "one whom you all well know, and whom itis scarcely necessary to name----"

  "Hear! Hear!" interrupted Charlie, pounding on the table with his knifehandle.

  All eyes were turned toward Joe, who could not help blushing.

  "I rise to propose the health of one whom we all know and love," went onReggie, "and to assure him that we all wish him well in his new place."

  "Better wait until I get it," murmured Joe, to whom this was a greatsurprise.

  "To wish him all success," went on Reggie. "And I desire to add that, asa token of our esteem, and the love in which we hold him, we wish topresent him this little token--and may it be a lucky omen for him whenhe is pitching away in the big league," and with this Reggie handed toJoe a stick-pin, in the shape of a baseball, the seams outlined indiamonds, and a little ruby where the trademark would have been.

  Poor Joe was taken quite by surprise.

  "Speech! Speech!" came the general cry.

  Joe fumbled the pin in his fingers, and for a moment there was a mistbefore his eyes. This little surprise had been arranged by Reggie, andhe had quietly worked up the idea among Joe's many young friends, all ofwhom had contributed to the cost of the token.

  "Go on! Say something!" urged Mabel, at Joe's side.

  "Well--er--well, I--er--I don't know what to say," he stammered, "exceptthat this is a great surprise to me, and that I--er--I thank you!"

  He sat down amid applause, and someone started up the song "For He's aJolly Good Fellow!"

  It was sung with a will. Altogether the affair was successfully carriedout, and formed one of the most pleasant remembrances in the life ofBaseball Joe.

  After the presentation, others made impromptu speeches, even the girlsbeing called on by Reggie, to whom the position of toastmasterparticularly appealed.

  The supper was over. The girls were in the dressing room, donning theirwraps, and Joe and Reggie had gone to the office to pay the bill.

  The prop
rietor of the hotel was in the men's room, and going there Joewas greeted by name, for the hotel man knew him well.

  "Everything satisfactory, Mr. Matson?" the host asked, and at themention of Joe's name, a rough-looking fellow, who was buying a cigar,looked up quickly.

  "Yes, Mr. Todd, everything was fine," replied Joe, not noticing theman's glance. "Now we'll settle with you."

  "No hurry," said the proprietor. "I hear you're going to leave ussoon--going up to a higher class in baseball, Joe."

  "Well, there's some talk of it," admitted our hero, and as he took outthe money to make the payment, the rough-looking man passed behind him.Joe dropped a coin, and, in stooping to pick it up, he moved back astep. As he did so, he either collided with the man, who had observedhim so narrowly, or else the fellow deliberately ran into Joe.

  "Look out where you're walking! You stepped on my foot!" exclaimed theman in surly tones. "Can't you see what you're doing? you country gawk!"

  "I beg your pardon," spoke Joe quietly, but a red flush came into hisface, and his hands clenched involuntarily.

  "Huh! Trying to put on high society airs; eh?" sneered the other. "I'llsoon take that out of you. I say you stepped on me on purpose."

  "You are mistaken," said Joe, still quietly.

  "Huh! Do you mean to say I'm sayin' what ain't so?" demanded the other.

  "If you like to put it that way; yes," declared Joe, determined to standupon his rights, for he felt that it had not been his fault.

  "Be careful," warned Reggie, in a low voice.

  "Say, young feller, I don't allow nobody to say that to me!" blusteredthe fellow, advancing on Joe with an ugly look. "You'll either beg mypardon, or give me satisfaction! I'll----"

  "Now here. None of that!" interposed the proprietor. "You aren't hurt,Wessel."

  "How do you know? And didn't he accuse me of----"

  "Oh, get out. You're always ready to pick a quarrel," went on the hotelman. "Move on!"

  "Well, then let him beg my pardon," insisted the other. "If he don't,I'll take it out of him," and his clenched fist indicated his meaningonly too plainly.

 
Lester Chadwick's Novels
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»For the Honor of Randall: A Story of College Athleticsby Lester Chadwick
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