CHAPTER XXIII
A LAME ARM
"But, great Scott, Joe!" exclaimed Rad, when he had been given all thefacts of the strange occurrence, "that was a raw sort of deal!"
"I think so myself."
"Why don't you get the police after them?"
"What would be the good? Nothing really happened, and just because Ihave an idea it would have, if I'd given them the chance to get at me,doesn't make them liable to arrest. I would look foolish going to thepolice."
"Maybe so. But then there's that note. They didn't have any idea ofdoing me a good turn. That was almost a forgery."
"The trouble is we can't prove it, though. I think the only thing I cando is to let it go, and be more careful in the future."
"Well, maybe it is," agreed Rad slowly. "But what do you think was theirobject?"
"I haven't the least idea," replied Joe. "That is, the only thing I canimagine is that Shalleg wanted to scare me; or, perhaps, threaten mefor what he imagines I have done to him."
"And that is?" questioned Rad.
"That I've been spreading false reports about him to our manager, inorder to keep him off the team. As a matter of fact, I don't believe Ihave ever mentioned him to Mr. Watson. It's all imagination on Shalleg'spart."
"What condition was he in to-night?" asked Rad, as he and Joe were ontheir way to the hotel after the play.
"As far as I could judge, he was about as he has been most of the timelately--scarcely sober. That, and his gambling and irregular living,took him off the team, you know."
"And he thinks, with that record behind him, that he can get on theCardinals!" exclaimed Rad. "He's crazy!"
"He's dangerous, too," added Joe. "I'm going to be more careful afterthis."
"And you thought you were doing me a favor, old man?"
"I sure did, Rad. I thought maybe some scout from another club wastrying to secure your valuable services."
"Now you're stringing me!"
"No, I'm not, really. You know there are queer doings in baseball."
"Yes, but none as queer as that. Well, I'm much obliged, anyhow. Butafter this you stick to me. If there's any danger we'll share ittogether!"
"Thanks!" exclaimed Joe warmly.
"Going to say anything to the boss about this?" asked Rad, after apause.
"I think not. Would you?"
"Well, perhaps we might just as well keep still about it," agreed Rad."We'll see if we can't trap this Shalleg and his crony, and put a stopto their game."
"All they have been is a nuisance, so far," spoke Joe. "But there's notelling when they might turn to something else."
"That's so. Well, we'll keep our weather eyes open."
Joe was not a little unnerved by his experience, and he was glad therewas not a game next day.
The Cardinals had crept up a peg. They were now standing one from thetop of the second division of clubs, and there began to be heard talkthat they would surely lead their column before many more games had beenplayed.
"And maybe break into the first division!" exclaimed Trainer Boswell."If you keep on the way you've started, Matson, we sure will do it!"
"I'll do my best," responded Joe.
In a series of four games with the Brooklyn Superbas the Cardinals brokeeven, thus maintaining their position. But they could not seem to climbany higher. Joe's pitching helped a lot, and he was regarded as a comingstar. He was acquiring more confidence in himself, and that, in playingbig baseball, helps a lot.
Of course I am not saying that Joe did all the work for his team. Nopitcher does, but a pitcher is a big factor. It takes batters to makehits and runs, however, and the Cardinals had their share of them. Theycould have done better with more, but good players brought high prices,and Manager Watson had spent all the club owners felt like laying out.
The other pitchers of the Cardinals worked hard. It must not be imaginedthat because I dwell so much on Joe's efforts that he was the "wholeshow."
Far from it. At times Joe had his "off days" as well as did the others,and there were times when he felt so discouraged that he wanted to giveit all up, and go back to a smaller league.
But Joe had grit, and he stuck to it. He was determined to make as greata name for himself as is possible in baseball, and he knew he must takethe bitter with the sweet, and accept defeat when it came, as it isbound to now and then.
Nor did his determination to overcome obstacles fail of its object.With the other members of the team, Joe played so surprisingly well thatsuddenly the Cardinals took one of those remarkable "braces" thatsometimes come in baseball, and from eighth position the club leapedforward into fifth, being aided considerably by some hard luck on thepart of the other teams. In other words, "things broke right" for theCardinals and the St. Louis "fans" began to harbor hopes of a possiblepennant.
Joe had several incentives for doing his best. There were his folks. Hewanted to justify his father's faith in him, and also his sister's. Joeknew that his mother, in spite of her kind and loving ways, was secretlydisappointed that he had quit his college career to become a baseballplayer.
"But I'll show her that it's just as honorable as one of the learnedprofessions, and that it pays better in a great many cases," reasonedJoe. "Though of course the money end of it isn't the biggest thing inthis world," he told himself. "Still it is mighty satisfactory."
Then there was another reason why Joe wanted to make good. Or, rather,there was another person he wanted to have hear of his success. I guessyou know her name.
And so the young pitcher kept on, struggling to perfect himself in thetechnicalities of the big game, playing his position for all it wascapable of. As the season went on Joe's name figured more and more oftenin the papers.
"He's got reporters on his staff!" sneered Willard.
"Well, I wish we all had," observed Manager Watson. "Publicity counts,and I want all I can get for my players. It's a wonder some of youfellows wouldn't have your name in the papers oftener."
"I don't play to the grandstand," growled the grouchy pitcher.
"Maybe it would help some if you did," the manager remarked quietly.
The baseball practice and play went on. Joe was called on more often nowto pitch a game, as Mr. Watson was kind enough to say some of the club'ssuccess was due to him, and while of course he was not considered theequal of the veteran pitchers, he was often referred to as a "comer."
What Joe principally lacked was consistency. He could go in and pitch abrilliant game, but he could not often do it two days in succession. Inthis respect he was not unlike many celebrated young pitchers. Joe wasnot fully developed yet. He had not attained his full growth, and he hadnot the stamina and staying power that would come with added years. Buthe was acquiring experience and practice that would stand him in goodstead, and his natural good health, and clean manner of living, were inhis favor.
The Cardinals had come back to St. Louis in high spirits over theirsplendid work on the road.
"We ought to take at least three from the Phillies," said Boswell, forthey were to play four games with the Quaker City nine. "That will helpsome."
"If we win them," remarked Joe, with a smile.
"Well, we're depending on you to help," retorted the trainer.
Joe only smiled.
There was some discussion in the papers as to who would pitch the firstgame against the Phillies, and it was not settled until a few minutesbefore the game was called, when Slim Cooney was sent in.
"I guess Mr. Watson wants to make sure of at least the first one,"remarked Joe, as he sat on the bench.
"Oh, you'll get a chance," Boswell assured him. "You want to keepyourself right on edge. No telling when you'll be called on."
It was a close game, and it was not until the eleventh inning that thehome team pulled in the winning run. Then, with jubilant faces, themembers hurried to the clubhouse.
"Whew!" whistled Cooney, as he swung his southpaw arm about. "I surewill be lame to-morrow."
"You ca
n have a rest," the manager informed him. "And be sure to haveyour arm massaged well. This is going to be a stiffer proposition than Ithought."
"Did you see him at the game?" asked Rad of Joe, as they walked alongtogether.
"See who?"
"Shalleg."
"No. Was he there?"
"He sure was! I had a glimpse of him over in the bleachers when I ranafter that long drive of Mitchell's. He was with that Wessel, but theydidn't look my way."
"Humph!" mused Joe. "Well, I suppose he's got a right to come to ourgames. If he bothers me, though, I'll take some action."
"What?"
"I don't know, yet. But I'm through standing for his nonsense."
"I don't blame you."
If Joe could have seen Shalleg and Wessel talking to a certain "tough"looking character, after the game, and at the same time motioning in hisdirection, he would have felt added uneasiness.
"Oh, let's go out to some summer garden and cool off," proposed Radafter supper. It was a hot night, and sitting about the hotel wasirksome.
"All right," agreed Joe, and they started for a car. The same "tough"looking character who had been talking with Wessel and Shalleg took thecar as well.
Coming back, after sitting through an open-air moving pictureperformance, Joe and Rad found all the cars crowded. It was an open one,and Joe and Rad had given their seats to ladies, standing up and holdingto the back of the seat in front of them. Just beyond Joe was a burlychap, the same one who had left the hotel at the time they did. He kepthis seat.
Then, as the car reached a certain corner, this man got up hurriedly.
"Let me past! I want to get off!" he exclaimed, in unnecessarily roughtones to Joe, at the same time pressing hard against him.
"Certainly," the young pitcher replied, removing his hands from the seatin front of him. At that moment the car stopped with a sudden jerk, andthe fellow grabbed Joe by the right arm, twisting it so that the ballplayer cried out, involuntarily.
"'Scuse me!" muttered the fellow. "I didn't mean to grab youse so hard.I didn't know youse was so tender," he sneered.
"Seems to me you could have grabbed the seat," objected Joe, wincingwith pain.
The other did not answer, but afterward Rad said he thought he saw himwink and grin maliciously.
"Hurt much?" asked Rad of Joe, as the fellow got off and the car went onagain.
"It did for a minute. It's better now."
"It looked to me as though he did that on purpose," said Rad.
"He certainly was very clumsy," spoke one of the ladies to whom Joe andRad had given their places. "He stepped on my foot, too."
Joe worked his arm up and down to limber the muscles, and then thoughtlittle more about the incident. That is, until the next morning. Heawoke with a sudden sense of pain, and as he stretched out his pitchingarm, he cried out.
"What's the matter?" asked Rad.
"My arm's sore and lame!" complained Joe. "Say, this is tough luck! Andmaybe I'll get a chance to pitch to-day."