CHAPTER VII
BASEBALL TALK
There was silence for a moment, following Joe's warning, and then thevoice of his mother was heard:
"Joe, you're wanted on the telephone."
"Oh, all right," he answered in a relieved tone. "I didn't want her tohear about Shalleg," he added in a whisper to Charlie. "She and fatherwould worry, and, with his recent sickness, that wouldn't be a goodthing for him."
"I should say not," agreed the other ball player.
"I'll be right there, Mother," went on Joe, in louder tones and then hewent to the hall, where the telephone stood. It was only a message froma local sporting goods dealer, saying that he had secured for Joe acertain glove he had had made to order.
Joe went back to his chum, and the baseball talk was renewed.
"What were you going to say that Shalleg was up to?" asked Joe.
"As I was saying," resumed Charlie, "there may be nothing in the rumor,but it's the talk, in baseball circles, that Shalleg has been trying hisbest, since being released, to get a place with the Cardinals."
"You don't mean it!" cried Joe. "That accounts for his surprise, andperhaps for his bitter feeling against me when I told him there was achance that I would go to St. Louis."
"Probably," agreed Charlie. "So, having heard this, and knowing thatShalleg is a hard character, I thought I'd warn you."
"I'm glad you did," returned Joe warmly. "It was very good of you to goto that trouble. And, after the experience I had with Shalleg, Ishouldn't wonder but what there was something in it. Though why heshould be vindictive toward me is more than I can fathom. I certainlynever did anything to him, except to refuse to lend him money, and Iactually had to do that."
"Of course," agreed Charlie. "But I guess, from his bad habits, his mindis warped. He is abnormal, and your refusal, coupled with the fact thatyou are probably going to a team that he has tried his best to make, andcan't, simply made him wild. So, if I were you, I should be on thelookout, Joe."
"I certainly will. It's queer that I met Shalleg the way I did--in thestorm. It was quite an unusual coincidence. It seems he had been toRocky Ford, a town near here, to see if he could borrow money fromsomebody there--at least so he said. Then he heard I lived here, and hestarted for Riverside, and got lost on the way, in the storm. Altogetherit was rather queer. I never was so surprised in my life as when, afterriding with me for some time, the man said he was looking for me."
"It _was_ queer," agreed Charlie. "Well, the only thing to do, afterthis, is to steer clear of him. And, after all, it may only be talk."
"Yes," assented Joe, "and now let's talk about something pleasant. Howare you, anyhow? What are your plans for the coming season? And how areall the boys since we played the last pennant game?"
"Gracious!" exclaimed Charlie with a laugh. "You fire almost as manyquestions at a fellow as a lawyer would."
Then the two plunged into baseball talk, which, as it has no specialinterest for my readers, I shall omit.
"Have you anything special to do?" asked Joe, as Charlie and he came toa pause in recalling scenes and incidents, many of which you will findset down in the previous book of this series.
"No. After I clean up all the orders I can here I will have a few days'vacation," replied Hall.
"Good!" cried Joe. "Then spend them with me. Reggie Varley and hissister are here for a while--you remember Reggie; don't you, Charlie?"
"As well as you remember his sister, I reckon," was the laughingrejoinder.
"Never mind that. Then I'll count on you. I'll introduce you to a nicegirl, and we'll get up a little sleigh-riding party. There'll be a finemoon in a couple of nights."
"Go as far as you like with me," invited Charlie. "I'm not in trainingyet, and I guess a late oyster supper, after a long ride, won't do meany particular harm."
Charlie departed for the hotel, to get his baggage, for he was going tofinish out the rest of his stay in Riverside as Joe's guest, and theyoung pitcher went to get the new glove, about which he had received thetelephone message.
It was a little later that day that, as Clara was passing her brother'sroom, she heard a curious, thumping noise.
"I wonder what that is?" she murmured. "Sounds as though Joe wereworking at a punching bag. Joe, what in the world are you doing?" sheasked, pausing outside his door.
"Making a pocket in my new glove," he answered. "Come on in, Sis. I'mall covered with olive oil, or I'd open the door for you."
"Olive oil! The idea! Are you making a salad, as well?" she askedlaughingly, as she pushed open the portal.
She saw her brother, attired in old clothes, alternately pouring a fewdrops of olive oil on his new pitcher's glove, and then, with an oldbaseball pounding a hollow place in the palm.
"What does it mean?" asked Clara.
"Oh, I'm just limbering up my new glove," answered Joe. "If I'm to playwith a big team, like the St. Louis Cardinals, I want to have the bestsort of an outfit. You know a ball will often slip out of a new glove,so I'm making a sort of 'pocket' in this one, only not as deep as in acatcher's mitt, so it will hold the ball better."
"But why the olive oil?"
"Oh, well, of course any good oil would do, but this was the handiest.The oil softens the leather, and makes it pliable. And say, if youhaven't anything else to do, there's an old glove, that's pretty badlyripped; you might sew it up. It will do to practice with."
"I'll sew it to-morrow, Joe. I've got to make a new collar now. Mabeland I are going to the matinee, and I want to look my best."
"Oh, all right," agreed Joe easily. "There's no special hurry," and hewent on thumping the baseball into the hollow of the new glove.
"Well, Joe, is there anything new in the baseball situation?" asked Mr.Matson of his son a little later. The inventor, whose eyesight had beensaved by the operation (to pay for which most of Joe's pennant moneywent) was able to give part of his time to his business now.
"No, there's not much new, Dad," replied the young player. "I am stillwaiting to hear definitely about St. Louis. I do hope I am draftedthere."
"It means quite an advance for you; doesn't it, Joe?"
"Indeed it does, Dad. There aren't many players who are taken out of asmall league, to a major one, at the close of their first season. Isuppose I ought to be proud."
"Well, I hope you are, Joe, in a proper way," said Mr. Matson. "Pride,of the right sort, is very good. And I'm glad of your prospectiveadvance. I am sure it was brought about by hard work, and, after all,that is the only thing that counts. And you did work hard, Joe."
"Yes, I suppose I did," admitted the young pitcher modestly, as hethought of the times he pitched when his arm ached, and when his nerveswere all unstrung on account of the receipt of bad news. "But otherfellows worked hard, too," he went on. "You've _got_ to work hard inbaseball."
"Will it be any easier on the St. Louis team?" his father wanted toknow.
"No, it will be harder," replied Joe. "I might as well face that atonce."
And it was well that Joe had thus prepared himself in advance, forbefore him, though he did not actually know it, were the hardeststruggles to which a young pitcher could be subjected.
"Yes, there'll be hard work," Joe went on, "but I don't mind. I like it.And I'm not so foolish as to think that I'm going to go in, right offthe reel, and become the star pitcher of the team. I guess I'll have tosit back, and warm the bench for quite a considerable time before I'mcalled on to pull the game out of the fire."
"Well, that's all right, as long as you're there when the time comes,"said his father. "Stick to it, Joe, now that you are in it. Your motherdidn't take much to baseball at first, but, the more I see of it, andread of it, the more I realize that it's a great business, and a cleansport. I'm glad you're in it, Joe."
"And I am too, Dad."