CHAPTER XXIX
SHALLEG'S DOWNFALL
Plans to capture Shalleg and his cronies were carefully made, but wereunsuccessful, for, it appeared, the scoundrel and his cronies had fledafter putting Joe into the boat.
The moving picture people readily agreed to keep silent about theaffair, and Manager Watson said he would explain Joe's absence from thegame in a way that would disarm suspicion.
Joe soon recovered from his unpleasant and dangerous experience and,true to his promise, used his influence to induce Mr. Watson to play anexhibition game for the moving picture people.
"Of course we'll do it!" the manager exclaimed. "That would be small payfor what they did for you. I'll see if we can't play the Phillies righthere. Of course it will have to be arranged with the high moguls, but Iguess it can be."
And it was. The game was not to count in the series, for some changesand new rules had to be adopted to make it possible to get it within thescope of the moving picture cameras. And the picture managers agreed topay a sum that made it worth while for the players, Joe included, to putup a good game of ball.
To his delight Joe was selected to pitch for his side, and fully himselfagain, he "put up a corking good game," to quote his friend Rad.
"Well, I'm not sorry to be leaving Philadelphia," remarked Joe to Rad,when their engagement in the Quaker City was over, and they were to goon to Brooklyn. "I always have a feeling that Shalleg will show upagain."
"I only wish he would!" exclaimed Rad.
"I don't!" said Joe, quickly.
"I mean and be captured," his chum added, quickly.
"Oh, that's different," laughed Joe.
Taking three of the four games from the Superbas, two of them on thesame day, in a double-header, the St. Louis team added to their ownprestige, and, incidentally, to their standing in the league, gainingfourth place.
"I think we have a good chance of landing third place," the managerexulted when they started West. They were to play Chicago in their hometown, then work their way to New York for a final set-to with theGiants, and end the season on Robison Field.
And in St. Louis something happened that, for a long time, took Shallegout of Joe's path.
The first game with Chicago had been a hard one, but by dint of hardwork, and good pitching (Joe going in at the fourth inning to replaceBarter), the Cardinals won.
"And we'll do the same to-morrow," good-naturedly boasted ManagerWatson, to Mr. Mandell of the Cubs.
"Well, maybe you will, but I have a good chance to put it all over you,"said the Chicago manager, and there was that in his manner which causedMr. Watson to ask quickly:
"What do you mean?"
"Just this. How much chance do you think you'd have to win if our menknew your battery signals?"
"Not much, of course, but the thing is impossible!"
"Is it?" asked the other, quietly. "Not so impossible as you suppose. Ihave just received an offer to have the signals disclosed to me beforethe game to-morrow."
"By whom?" cried Manager Watson. "If any of my players is trying tothrow the team----"
"Go easy," advised the other with a smile. "It's nothing like that. Theoffer came from a man, who, I understand, tried unsuccessfully to becomea member of the Cardinals."
"Not Shalleg!"
"That's who it was."
"Where can I get him?" asked Mr. Watson, eagerly. "He's wanted on a gooddeal more serious charge than that. Where can I get him?"
"I thought you might want to see him," said the Chicago manager, "so Iput him off. I've made an appointment with him----"
"Which the police and I will keep!" interrupted Mr. Watson.
"Perhaps that would be better," agreed Mr. Mandell.
So the plot for the downfall of Shalleg was laid. It appeared that hehad come back to St. Louis, and, by dint of careful watching, and by hisknowledge of the game, he had managed to steal the signal system usedbetween the Cardinal pitchers and catchers. This he proposed disclosingto the Chicago team, but of course the manager would have nothing to dowith the scheme.
Shalleg had named a low resort for the transfer of the information hepossessed, he to receive in exchange a sum of money. He was in desperatestraits, it appeared.
The Cubs' manager, Joe and Mr. Watson, with a detective, went to theappointed meeting place. The manager went in alone, but the others werehiding, in readiness to enter at a signal.
"Did you bring the money?" asked Shalleg, eagerly, as he saw the manwith whom he hoped to make a criminal "deal."
"I have the money, yes," was the cool answer. "Are you prepared todisclose to me the Cardinal battery signals?"
"Yes, but don't speak so loud, someone might hear you!" whined Shalleg.
"That's just what I want!" cried the manager in loud tones, and that wasthe signal for the officer to come in. He, Joe and Mr. Watson had heardenough to convict Shalleg.
"Ha! A trap!" cried the released player, as he saw them close in on him.He made a dash to get away, but, after a brief struggle, the detectiveoverpowered him, for Shalleg's manner of life was not such as to makehim a fighter.
He saw that it was no use to bluff and bluster, and, his nervecompletely gone, he made a full confession.
After his unsuccessful attempt to borrow money of Joe, he really becameimbued with the idea that our hero had injured him, and was spreadingfalse reports about him. So he set out to revenge himself on Joe.
It was Shalleg who induced Wessel to pick a quarrel with Joe, hoping todisable the pitcher so he could not play ball that season. It was a meanrevenge to plot. And it was Shalleg's idea, in luring Joe to the lonelyhouse, on the plea of helping Rad, to involve him in a fight that mightdisable, or disgrace, him so that he would have to resign from theCardinals. Likewise it was a tool of Shalleg's who kept track of Joe,who boarded the same car as did our hero, and who so cruelly twisted hisarm, hoping to put him out of the game.
Shalleg denied having induced Wessel to enter Joe's room that night inquestion, but his denial can be taken for what it was worth. As toWeasel's object, it could only be guessed at. It may have been robbery,or some worse crime.
And then, when all else failed, Shalleg tried the desperate plan ofkidnapping Joe, but, as he explained, he did not really intend bodilyharm. And perhaps he did not. He was a weak and criminally bad man, butperhaps there was a limit.
"Well, this is the end!" the former ball player said, bitterly, as hewas handcuffed, and led away. "I might have known better."
Some time afterward, when the ball season had closed, Shalleg was triedon the charge of mistreating Joe, and was convicted, being sentenced toa long term. His cronies were not caught, but as they were only toolsfor Shalleg no one cared very much whether or not they were punished.
CHAPTER XXX
THE HARDEST BATTLE
Filled to overflowing were the big bleachers. Crowded were thegrandstands. Above the noise made by the incoming elevated trains, andthe tramp of thousands of feet along the boarded run-ways leading to thebig concrete Brush Stadium at the Polo Grounds, could be heard theshrill voices of the vendors of peanuts, bottled ginger ale and icecream cones.
Out on the perfect diamond, laid out as though with rule and compass,men in white and other men in darker uniforms were practicing. Ballswere being caught, other balls were being batted.
It was a sunny, perfect day, hot enough to make fast playing possible,and yet with a refreshing breeze.
"Well, Joe, are we going to win?" asked Rad, as he and his chum went tothe bench after their warm-up work.
"I don't know," answered the young pitcher slowly. "They're a hard teamto beat."
It was the final game between the Giants and the Cardinals. To win itmeant for the St. Louis team that they would reach third place. And ifthey did get third position, it was practically certain that they couldkeep it, for their closing games in St. Louis were with the tail-endersof the league.
"Are you going to pitch, Joe?"
"I don't know that, either
. Haven't heard yet," was the answer.
Just then a messenger came up to Joe.
"There's somebody in that box," he said, indicating one low down, andjust back of home plate, "who wants to speak to you."
Joe looked around, and a delighted look came over his face as he saw hisfather and mother, Clara, and one other.
"Mabel!" exclaimed Joe, and then he hurried over.
"Say, this is great!" he cried, with sparkling eyes. "I didn't know youfolks were coming," and he kissed his mother and sister, and wished--butthere! I said I wouldn't tell secrets.
"Your father found he had some business in New York," explained Mrs.Matson, "so we thought we would combine pleasure with it, and see youplay."
"And they looked me up, and brought me along," added Mabel. "I justhappened to be in town. Now we want to see you win, Joe!"
"I don't even know that I'll play," he said, wistfully.
Joe felt that he could bide his time, and yet he did long to be the oneto open the game, as it was an important one, and a record-breakingcrowd was on hand to see it.
But it was evident that Manager Watson's choice of a pitcher must bechanged. It needed but two innings to demonstrate that, for the Giantsgot four hits and three runs off Slim Cooney, who, most decidedly, wasnot in form.
The substitution of a batter was made, and the manager nodded at Joe.
"You'll pitch!" he said, grimly. "And I want you to win!"
"And I want to," replied Joe, as he thought of those in the box watchinghim.
It was to be Baseball Joe's hardest battle. Opposed to him on the moundfor the Giants was a pitcher of world-wide fame, a veteran, well-nighpeerless, who had won many a hard-fought game.
I might describe that game to you in detail, but I will confine myselfto Joe's efforts, since it is in him we are most interested. I mighttell of the desperate chances the Cardinals took to gain runs, and ofthe exceptionally good stick work they did, against the redoubtablepitcher of the Giants.
For a time this pitcher held his opponents to scattering hits. Then, fora fatal moment, he went up in the air. It was a break that was at oncetaken advantage of by the Cardinals. They slammed out two terrific hits,and, as there were men on bases, the most was made of them. Two wildthrows, something exceptional for the Giants, added to the luck, andwhen the excitement was over the Cardinals had tied the game.
"Oh, wow!"
"Now, we've got 'em going!"
"Only one run to win, boys!"
"Hold 'em down, Joe!"
Thus came the wild cries from the stands. Excitement was at its height.
There was a hasty consultation between the peerless pitcher and theveteran catcher. They had gone up in the air, but now they were down toearth again. From then on, until the beginning of the ninth inning, theCardinals did not cross home plate, and they got very few hits. It was amarvelous exhibition of ball twirling.
But if the Giant pitcher did well, Joe did even better, when youconsider that he was only rounding out his first season in a big league,and that he was up against a veteran of national fame, the announcementthat he was going to be in the game being sufficient to attract a largethrong.
"Good work, old man! Good work!" called Boswell, when Joe came to thebench one inning, after having allowed but one hit. "Can you keep itup?"
"I--I hope so."
It was a great battle--a hard battle. The Giants worked every trick theyknew to gain another run, but the score remained a tie. Goose egg aftergoose egg went up on the score board. The ninth inning had started withthe teams still even.
"We've just _got_ to get that run!" declared Manager Watson. "We've just_got_ to get it. Joe, you are to bat first. See if you can't get a hit!"
Pitchers are proverbially weak hitters. One ingenious theory for it isthat they are so used to seeing the ball shooting away from them, andtoward the batter, that, when the positions are reversed, and they seethe ball coming toward them they get nervous.
"Ball!" was the umpire's first decision in Joe's favor. The youngpitcher was rather surprised, for he knew the prowess of his opponent.
And then Joe decided on what might have proved to be a foolish thing.
"I'm going to think that the next one will be a swift, straight one, andI'm going to dig in my spikes and set for it," he decided. And he did.He made a beautiful hit, and amid the wild yells of the crowd hestarted for first. He beat the ball by a narrow margin, and was declaredsafe.
A pinch hitter was up next, and amid a breathless silence he waswatched. But the peerless pitcher was taking no chances, and walked him,thinking to get Joe later.
But he did not. For, as luck would have it, Rad Chase made the hit ofhis life, a three-bagger, and with the crowd going wild, two runs camein, giving the Cardinals the game, if they could hold the Giants down.
And it was up to Joe to do this. Could he?
As Joe walked to the mound, for that last momentous inning, he glancedtoward the box where his parents, sister and Mabel sat. A little handwas waved to him, and Joe waved back. Then he faced his first man.
"Thud!" went the ball in Doc Mullin's big mitt.
"Ball!" droned the umpire.
"Thud!" went another. The batter stood motionless.
"Strike!"
The batter indignantly tapped the rubber.
"Crack!"
"You can't get it!" yelled the crowd, as the ball shot up in a foul.
The umpire tossed a new ball to Joe, for the other had gone too faraway to get back speedily.
Joe wet the horsehide, and sent it drilling in. The batter made a slightmotion, as though to hit it, but refrained:
"Strike! You're out!" said the umpire, stolidly.
"Why, that ball was----"
"You're out!" and the umpire waved him aside, impatiently.
Joe grinned in delight.
But when he saw the next man, "Home Run Crater," facing him, our herofelt a little shaky. True, the chances were in favor of the Cardinals,but baseball is full of chances that make or break.
"If he wallops it!" thought Joe.
But Crater did not wallop it. In his characteristic manner he swung atthe first delivery, and connected with it. Over Joe's head it was going,but with a mighty jump Joe corraled it in one hand, a sensational catchthat set the crowd wild. Joe was playing the game of his life.
"Only one more!"
"Strike him out!"
"The game is ours, Joe!"
But another heavy hitter was up, and there was still work for BaseballJoe to do.
To his alarm, as he sent in his first ball, there came to his arm thathad been twisted on the car, a twinge of pain.
"My! I hope that doesn't bother me," thought Joe, in anxiety.
"Ball one," announced the umpire.
Joe delivered a straight, swift one. His arm hurt worse, and he grittedhis teeth to keep from crying out.
"Strike!" grunted the umpire, and there was some balm for Joe in that.
The batter hit the next one for a dribbler, and just managed to reachfirst.
"If I could only have managed to get him out!" mused Joe. "I'd be donenow. But I've got to do it over again. I wonder if I can last out?"
To his relief the next batter up was one of the weakest of the Giants,and Joe was glad. And even yet a weak batter might make a hit that wouldturn the tables.
"I've got to do it!" murmured Joe, and he wound up for the delivery.
"Strike!" announced the umpire. Joe's heart beat hard.
"Here goes for the fadeaway," he said to himself, "though it will hurtlike fun!"
It did, bringing a remembrance of the old hurt. But it fooled thebatter, and there were two strikes on him.
The game was all but over. With two out, and two strikes called, therecould be but one result, unless there was to be something that occursbut once in a lifetime. And it did not occur.
"Strike! You're out!" was the umpire's decision, and that was the end.The Cardinals had won, thanks, in a great measure, to Joe Mats
on'ssplendid work.
"That's the stuff!"
"Third place for ours!"
"Three cheers for Joe Matson--Baseball Joe!" called his teammates, whocrowded around him to clap him on the back and say all sorts of nicethings. Joe stood it, blushingly, for a moment, and then he made his wayover to the box. As he walked along, a certain quiet man who had beenintently watching the game said softly to himself.
"He must be mine next season. I guess I can make a trade for him. He'dbe a big drawing card for the Giants."
"Oh, Joe, it was splendid! Splendid!" cried Mabel, enthusiastically.
"Fine!" said his father.
"Do you get any extra when your side wins?" asked his mother, while thecrowd smiled.
"Well, yes, in a way," answered Joe. "You get treated extra well."
"And it's going to be my treat this time," said Mabel, with a laugh. "Iwant you all to come to dinner with me. You'll come; won't you, Joe?"she asked, pleadingly.
"Of course," he said.
"And bring a friend, if you like," and she glanced at Clara.
"I'll bring Rad," Joe answered.
They lived the great game over again at the table of the hotel whereMable was stopping.
"Is your arm lame?" asked Mrs. Matson, noticing that her son favored hispitching member a trifle.
"Oh, I can finish out the season," said Joe. "The remainder will beeasy--only a few more games."
"And then what?" asked Rad.
"Well, a vacation, I suppose, and then get ready for another season withthe Cardinals."
But Joe was not destined to remain with the Western team. The horizonwas widening, and those of you who wish to follow further the adventuresof our hero may do so in the succeeding volume, which will be called"Baseball Joe on the Giants; Or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in theMetropolis."
In that we shall see how Joe rose to even higher fame, through grit,hard work and ability.
"Well, you turned the trick, old man!" declared Manager Watson, when, afew days later, the team was on the way back to St. Louis. "You did it.I felt sure you could."
"Well, _I_ didn't, at one time," was the rejoinder. "My arm started togo back on me."
"Well, there's one consolation, Shalleg and his crowd will never getanother chance at you," went on the manager. "Now take care of yourself.I'm only going to let you play one game--the closing one at St. Louis.We won't need our stars against the tail-enders."
And the Cardinals did not, winning handily with a number of secondstring men playing.
"Where are you going, Joe?" asked Rad, as they sat in their hotel roomone evening, for Joe was "dolling up."
"Out to a moving picture show."
"Moving pictures?"
"Yes. That film of the exhibition game we played in Philadelphia isbeing shown in town. Come on up."
"Sure," assented Rad; and as they went out together we will take leaveof Baseball Joe.
THE END
* * * * *
BOOKS BY LESTER CHADWICK
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THE RIVAL PITCHERS A Story of College Baseball
A QUARTER-BACK'S PLUCK A Story of College Football
BATTING TO WIN A Story of College Baseball
THE WINNING TOUCHDOWN A Story of College Football
THE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS A Story of College Water Sports
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