CHAPTER XXX
BROUGHT TO BOOK--CONCLUSION
There was a gasp of dismay and astonishment, as the conspirators jumped totheir feet from the windowsill upon which they had been sitting.
At the same instant Joe drew the flashlight from his pocket and illuminedtheir startled faces.
"Don't move!" he commanded. "Jim, you keep them covered."
Jim took up his station in the doorway, and in the insufficient light therascals could not see whether he had a weapon or not.
"What do you mean by this?" blustered Fleming, in a voice that he tried tomake brave, but that quavered despite himself.
"It means," said Joe grimly, "that one of you men is in for the licking ofhis life. Don't tremble so, Fleming," he added contemptuously. "I'vealready thrashed you once and I don't care to soil my hands with youagain. But I've been aching for months to get my fingers on the man thatmade me out a liar and a contract-breaker. I have him now," he added,with a steely glance at Braxton.
"Here, Jim," he continued, stepping back, "take this flash. I've got somework to do."
With a quick wrench he tore off his coat.
"You'd better be careful," said Braxton--no longer the suave and polishedtrickster, but pale as chalk and trembling like a leaf. "This is assaultand battery, and you'll answer to the law."
"Put up your hands," said Joe curtly. "You're as big a man as I am, butyou've got to prove which is the better one. And you, Jim, keep your eyeon Fleming and stand by to see fair play."
Even a rat will fight when cornered and Braxton, seeing no alternative,threw off his coat and made a desperate rush at Joe. Joe met him with aclip to the jaw that shook him from head to foot. Then he sailed in andgave the scoundrel what he had promised--the thrashing of his life.
Braxton tried foul tactics, butted and kicked and tried to gouge and bite,but Joe's powerful arms worked like windmills, his fists ripping savagelyinto Braxton's face and chest. All the pent-up indignation and humiliationof the last few weeks found vent in those mighty blows, and soon, too soonto suit Joe, the man lay on the floor, whining and half-sobbing with shameand pain.
"Get up, you cur!" said Joe, as he pulled on his coat. "I'm not throughwith you yet."
"You're not going to hit him again, are you?" asked Fleming, while Braxtonstaggered painfully to his feet.
"No," said Joe. "I guess he's had enough."
"You said it!" cried Jim admiringly. "If ever a man was trimmed to thequeen's taste he's that man."
"But I'm going to nail, right now, the lies you fellows have beenspreading," continued Joe, eyes alight with the thought of his comingvindication. "You've got to sign a written confession of the part you'veplayed in this dirty business."
"We w-will, w-when we get back to town," stammered Fleming.
"No, you won't," cried Joe. "You'll do it right here and now."
"B-but we haven't any writing materials," suggested Braxton, through hisswollen lips.
"I've got paper and a fountain pen!" exclaimed Jim eagerly. "This light israther dim, but probably Mike has got the automobile lamps going by thistime and that'll be light enough."
"Come along!" cried Joe sternly, and his crest-fallen opponents knew himtoo well by this time to resist.
They went out into the open and found that the rain had almost stopped. AsJim had prophesied, the automobile lamps were gleaming through the dusk.Like every Irishman, Mike dearly loved a scrap, and his eyes lighted witha mixture of eagerness and regret as he looked at Braxton and realizedwhat he had been missing.
"Begorra!" he cried in his rich brogue, "'tis a lovely shindy ye've beenafter havin'."
With the paper resting on his knee and Jim's fountain pen in his hand, Joewrote out the story of the trickery and fraud that had been practiced ingetting his signature. When he had covered every important point, he heldout the pen to Braxton.
The latter hesitated, and Joe's fist clenched till the knuckles werewhite. Braxton knew what that fist was capable of and hesitated no longer.He wrote his name under the confession and Fleming followed suit. Then Jimaffixed his name as a witness, and Michael O'Halloran happily added his.
"Now," said Jim, as he folded the precious paper and stowed it safely inhis pocket, "you fellows clear out. I suppose that's your car that we sawstanding a little way down the road. I don't think either of you will careto mix in my affairs again."
They moved away with an assumption of bravado they were far from feelingand were lost in the darkness.
"And now, Mike," said Joe with a jubilant ring in his voice, as theyleaped into the car, "let her go. Drive to Dublin as if the ghost of thelast of the O'Brians were at your back!"
And Mike did.
The two baseball players found the girls impatiently awaiting them, andwondering rather petulantly what had become of them. Joe seized Mabel inhis arms and whirled her about the room like a dancing dervish, paying noheed to her laughing protests.
Jim would have liked to do the same to Joe's sister, but did not quitedare to--yet.
"Are you boys crazy?" demanded Mabel, as soon as she could get herbreath.
"Yes," said Joe promptly. "You'll be, too, when you see this."
He flourished the paper before their faces and in disjointed sentences,frequently broken by interruptions, told them of all that had happenedsince they had left them after the game.
No need of telling how they felt when the boys had finished. There was nohappier party that night in all Ireland.
Then, leaving the delighted girls for a few minutes, the boys hunted upMcRae. They found him glum and anxious, talking earnestly with Robbie inthe lobby of the hotel. One glance at the young men's faces made the pairjump wonderingly to their feet.
"For the love of Pete, let's have it, Joe!" cried McRae. "What'shappened?"
"Plenty!" exulted Joe. "We've put the All-Star League out of business!"
"What!" cried McRae, as he snatched the paper that Joe held out to him anddevoured its contents, while Robbie peered eagerly over his shoulder.
Then, as they realized what it meant, they set up a wild whoop which madethe other members of the team, scattered about the lobby, come running,followed a scene of mad hilarity, during which no one seemed to know whathe said or did.
That night the cable carried the news to New York, and from there to everycity in the United States. It sounded the death knell of the All-StarLeague, and it went to pieces like a house of cards. The American publicwill stand for much, but for nothing so gross and contemptible as that hadbeen.
The trip wound up in a blaze of glory with the Giants just one game to thegood in the hot series of games that had been played. They had a swift andjoyous journey home, and when they separated on the dock in New York,McRae's hearty grip of Baseball Joe's hand fairly made the latter wince.
"Good-bye, old man," he said. "You've stood by me like a brick. You'll beon hand when the bell rings."
"Joe will hear other bells before that," grinned Jim, as he looked atMabel, who flushed rosily.
"What's that?" asked McRae with a twinkle in his eye.
"Wedding bells," replied Jim.
THE END