CHAPTER XV
ANOTHER THREAT
"Play ball!"
"Batter up!"
"Clang! Clang!"
The old familiar cries, and the resonant sound of the starting gong,were heard at the Reedville diamond. It was the first real game of theseason, and it was awaited anxiously, not only by the players, but byManager Watson, the coach, and by the owners back home. For it wouldgive a "line" on what St. Louis could do.
Of course it was not a league contest, and the work, good, bad orindifferent, would not count in the averages. Joe hoped he would get achance to pitch, at least part of the game, but he was not likely to,Boswell frankly told him, as it was desired to let Barter and Cooneyhave a fairly hard work-out on this occasion.
"But your turn will come, son," said the coach, kindly. "Don't you fret.I think you're improving, and, to be frank with you, there's lots ofroom for it. But you've got grit, and that's what I like to see."
Reedville was a good baseball town, which was one of the reasons whyManager Watson had selected it as his training camp. The townspeoplewere ardent supporters of the home team, and they welcomed the advent ofthe big leaguers. In the vicinity were also other teams that played goodball.
The bleachers and grandstand were well filled when the umpire gave hisechoing cry of:
"Play ball!"
The ball-tossers had been warming up, both the Cardinals and the hometeam, which proved to be a husky aggregation of lads, with tremendoushitting abilities, provided they could connect with the ball. And thatwas just what the St. Louis pitchers hoped to prevent.
"Willard, you can lead off," was the unexpected announcement of Mr.Watson, as he scanned his batting order. "McCann will catch for you. Nowlet's see what you can do."
"I'll show 'em!" exclaimed the "grouchy" pitcher as he unbuttoned hisglove from his belt. He had been warming up, and had come to the bench,donning a sweater, with no hope of being put in the game at the startoff. But, unexpectedly, he had been called on.
"Play ball!" cried the umpire again.
Joe wished, with all his heart, that he was going in, but it was not tobe.
In order to give the home team every possible advantage, they were to goto bat last. And there was some little wonder when the first St. Louisplayer faced the local pitcher. There were cries of encouragement fromthe crowd, for Robert Lee Randolph--the pitcher in question--hadaspirations to the big league. He was a tall, lanky youth, and, as theCardinal players soon discovered, had not much except speed in his box.But he certainly had speed, and that, with his ability, or inability, tothrow wildly, made him a player to be feared as much as he was admired.
He hit three players during the course of the game, and hit them hard.
"If they can't beat us any other way they're going to cripple us," saidRad grimly to Joe, as they sat on the bench.
"It does look that way; doesn't it?" agreed our hero.
The game went on, and, as might have been expected, the St. Louis teamdid about as they pleased. No, that is hardly correct. Even a countryaggregation of players can sometimes make the finest nine ofprofessionals stand on its mettle. And, in this case, for a time, thecontest was comparatively close.
For Mr. Watson did not send in all his best players, and, from the factthat his men had not been in a game since the former season closed,whereas the Reedville team had been at the game for two months or more,the disadvantage was not as great as it might have seemed.
But there was one surprise. When Willard first went in he pitchedbrilliantly, and struck out the local players in good order, allowingonly a few scattering hits.
Then he suddenly went to pieces, and was severely pounded. Onlyexcellent fielding saved him, for he was well backed-up by his fellowplayers.
"Rexter will bat for you, Willard," said Manager Watson, when the inningwas over. "Cooney, you go out and warm up."
"What's the matter. Ain't I pitching all right?" angrily demanded thedeposed one.
"I'm sorry to say you're not. I'm not afraid of losing the game, but Idon't want any more of this sort of stuff going back home," replied themanager, as he nodded over to where the newspaper reporters werechuckling among themselves over the comparatively poor exhibition theSt. Louis Cardinals had so far put up.
So Willard went to the bench, while crafty Cooney, with his left-handdelivery, went to warm up. And how Joe did wish _he_ would get a chance!
But he did not, and the game ended, as might have been expected, withthe Cardinals snowing under their country opponents.
Hard practice followed that first exhibition game, and there were someshifts among the players, for unexpected weakness, as well as strengthhad by this time developed in certain quarters.
"I wonder when I'll get a chance to show what I can do?" spoke Joe toRad, as they were on their way back to the hotel, after a second contestwith Reedville, in which our hero had still stuck to the bench.
"Oh, it's bound to come," his chum told him. Personally, he was joyful,for he had been given a try-out, and had won the applause of the crowdby making a difficult play.
"Well, it seems a long time," grumbled Joe, with a sigh.
The practice became harder, as the opening of the season drew nearer.Some recruits joined the Cardinals at their training camp, and furthershifts were made.
Joe was finally given a chance to pitch against a team from BottomFlats--a team, by the way, not as strong as the Reedville nine. And thatJoe made good was little to his credit, as he himself knew.
"I could have fanned them without any curves," he told Rad afterward.
"Well, it's good you didn't take any chances," his chum said. "You nevercan tell."
Again came a contest with Reedville, but Joe was not called on. ToeBarter, who had gained his nickname from the queer habit he had ofdigging a hole for his left foot, before delivering the ball, opened thecontest, and did so well that he was kept in until the game was "in therefrigerator." Then Joe was given his chance, but there was littleincentive to try, with the Cardinals so far ahead.
Nevertheless, our hero did his best, and to his delight, he knocked atwo-bagger, sliding to second amid a cloud of dust, to be decided safeby the umpire, though there was a howl of protest from the "fans."
The Cardinals won handily, and as Joe was walking to the club house withRad, eagerly talking about the game, he saw, just ahead of him in thecrowd of spectators a figure, at the sight of which he started.
"That looks like Shalleg," he said, half aloud.
"What's that?" asked Rad.
"Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw someone I knew. That is, I don'texactly know him, but----"
At that moment the man at whose back Joe had been looking turnedsuddenly, and, to our hero's surprise, it was Shalleg. The man, with animpudent grin on his face, spoke to a companion loudly enough for Joe tohear.
"There's the fellow who wouldn't help me out!" Shalleg exclaimed. "Heturned me down cold. Look at him."
The other turned, and Joe's surprise was heightened when he saw Wessel,the man who had tried to quarrel with him, and who had "jumped" his billat the hotel.
"Oh, I know him all right," Wessel responded to Shalleg. "I've seen himbefore."
Joe and Rad, with the two men, were comparatively alone now. Theattitude and words of the fellows were so insulting that Joe almost madeup his mind to defy them. But before he had a chance to do so Shallegsnapped out:
"You want to look out for yourself, young man. I'll get you yet, andI'll get even with you for having me turned down. You want to look out.Bill Shalleg is a bad man to have for an enemy. Come on, Ike," and withthat they turned away and were soon lost in the throng.