CHAPTER XXVIII
MOVING PICTURES
For a moment silence followed the announcement that meant so much toJoe. He could hear murmurs of surprise, and the violent motion of thecraft in which he lay, bound helpless and unseeing, told him that thework of rescue was under way. The motor boat, he reflected, must bemaking fast to the other. The bandage over Joe's eyes prevented him fromseeing what went on. Then came a series of exclamations and questions,and, to Joe's surprise, the voices of women and girls mingled with thoseof men.
"My, look, Jackson!" a man's voice exclaimed. "He's bound, and gagged.There's been some crime here!"
"You're right. We must get him aboard our boat."
Joe could tell, by the motion of the boat which contained him, that someof the rescue party were getting into it to aid him. Then he felt thebandage being taken from his eyes, and the gag from his mouth.
"Hand me a knife, somebody!" called a man. "I'll cut these ropes."
Joe opened his eyes, and closed them again with a feeling of pain. Thesudden light of a bright, sunny morning was too much for him.
"He's alive, anyhow," a girl's voice said.
Joe half opened his eyes this time, and saw a strange sight. Alongsidehis boat was a cabin motor craft, and on the rear deck he could seegathered a number of men, women and girls. What took Joe's attentionnext was a queer oblong box, with a crank at one side, and a tubeprojecting from it, mounted on a tripod. Then, as his eyes became moreaccustomed to the light, Joe saw bending over him in the boat, two men.
One of them had a knife, with which he quickly cut the ropes that boundJoe's arms and feet. It was a great relief.
He sat up and looked about him. The motor boat was a large and fine one,and was slowly drifting down into Delaware Bay, for Joe could see a vaststretch of water on all sides.
"Too bad we can't work this rescue into a scene," spoke one of the menon the motor craft.
Joe looked at him wonderingly, and then at the machine on the bow of theboat. All at once he realized what it was--a moving picture camera. Hehad seen them before.
"Are you folks in the movies?" he asked as he stood up, with the help ofthe two men.
"That's what we are," was the answer. "We came out early this morning todo a bit of 'water stuff,' when we saw your boat adrift. We put over toit, and were surprised to see you tied in it. Can you tell us whathappened?"
"Yes," answered Joe, "I was practically kidnapped!"
"Come aboard, and have some coffee," urged a motherly-looking woman ofthe party.
"Yes, do," added another member of the company. "We have just hadbreakfast."
The aroma of coffee was grateful to Joe, and soon he was aboard themotorboat, sipping a steaming cup.
"Kidnapped; eh?" remarked one of the men. "Then we'd better save thatboat for you. It will be a clue to those who did it."
"Oh, I know who did it, all right," answered Joe, who was rapidlyfeeling more like himself. "I don't need the boat for evidence. But,since you have been so kind to me, I wish you'd do one thing more."
"Name it," promptly said the man who seemed to be in charge of thecompany.
"Get me somewhere so I can send word to Philadelphia--to Manager Watsonof the St. Louis Cardinals. I want to explain what happened, so he won'texpect me in the game to-day."
"Are you a member of the St. Louis team?" asked one of the men,quickly.
"One of the pitchers--my name is Matson."
The two leading men of the company looked at each other in an oddmanner.
"It couldn't have happened better; could it, Harry?" one asked.
Our hero was a trifle mystified until the man called Harry explained.
"You see, it's this way," he said. "My name is Harry Kirk, and this isJames Morton," nodding toward the other man. "We manage a moving picturecompany, most of whom you now see," and he indicated those about him."We have been doing a variety of stuff, and we want to get some baseballpictures. We've been trying to induce some of the big teams to play anexhibition game for us, but so far we haven't been successful. Now ifyou would use your influence with your manager, and he could induce someother team to play a short game, why we'd be ever so much obliged."
"Of course I'll do all I can!" cried Joe. "I can't thank you enough foryour rescue of me, and the least I could do would be to help you out!I'm pretty sure I can induce Mr. Watson to let his team give anexhibition, anyhow."
"That's all we want--an opening wedge," said Mr. Kirk, "but we couldn'tseem to get it. Our finding of you was providential."
"It was for me, anyhow," said Joe. "I don't know what might havehappened to me if I had drifted much farther."
Joe explained how it had happened, and the unreasoning rage of Shallegtoward him.
"He ought to be sent to jail for life, to do such a thing as that!"burst out Mr. Kirk. "You'll inform the police; won't you?"
"I think I had better," said Joe, thoughtfully.
The motor began its throbbing, and the big boat cut through the water,towing the small craft, in which Joe had spent so many uncomfortablehours.
The young pitcher was himself again, thanks to a good breakfast, andwhen the dock was reached was able to talk to Manager Watson over thetelephone. It was then nearly noon, and Joe was in no shape to get inthe game that day.
To say that the news he gave the manager astonished Mr. Watson isputting it mildly.
"You stay where you are," directed his chief. "I'll send someone down tosee you, or come myself. We'll get after this Shalleg and his gang. Thishas gone far enough!"
"What about the game to-day?" asked Joe.
"Don't you worry about that. We'll beat the Phillies anyhow, though Iwas counting on you, Joe. But don't worry."