CHAPTER XII
THE QUEER VALISE
"Matson, I hope you didn't misunderstand me," remarked the manager as hewalked beside Joe to the dressing rooms. "I mean in regard to thatDutton. He's an intolerable nuisance, and I didn't want you to get mixedup with him. Perhaps I spoke stronger than I should, but I'm exasperatedwith him. I've tried--and so have lots of us--to get him back on theright road again, but I'm afraid he's hopeless."
"It's too bad!" burst out the young pitcher. "Yes, I thought you were alittle severe with him."
"I have to be. I don't want him hanging around here. I haven't seen himfor some time. He drifts all about--beating his way like a tramp, Iguess, though he's better dressed now than in a long while. What's thathe said about you saving his life?"
"Well, I suppose I did, in a way," and Joe told of the freight trainepisode. "But that happened a long distance from here," he added. "I wassurprised to turn around and see him."
"Oh, Pop travels all over. You've probably heard about him. In his daythere wasn't a better pitcher in any league. But he got careless--that,bad companions and dissipation spelled ruin for him. He's down and outnow, and I'm sure he can never come back. He lives off what he canborrow or beg from those who used to be his friends. Steer clear ofhim--that's my advice."
Joe did not respond and after a moment Gregory went on with:
"And you mustn't mind, Joe, being taken out of to-day's game."
"Oh, I didn't--after the first."
"It was for your own good, as well as for the good of the team,"proceeded the manager. "If I hadn't taken you out you might have gone topieces, and the crowd would have said mean things that are hard toforget. And I want you to pitch for us to-morrow, Joe."
"You do!" cried the delighted young pitcher, all his bitterness forgottennow. "I thought maybe----"
He paused in confusion.
"Just because you got a little off to-day, did you imagine I was willingto give you your release?" asked Gregory, with a smile.
"Well--something like that," confessed Joe.
The manager laughed.
"Don't take it so seriously," he advised. "You've got lots to learn yetabout professional baseball, and I want you to learn it right."
Joe felt a sense of gratitude, and when he reached the hotel thatafternoon, he took a refreshing shower bath, attired himself in his"glad rags," and bought a ticket to the theatre.
Then, before supper, he sat down to write home, enclosing some of hissalary to be put in a savings bank at Riverside. Joe also wrote aglowing account of the game, even though his part in it was rathernegligible. He also wrote to-- But there! I shouldn't tell secrets thatway. It's taking too much of an advantage over a fellow.
There was an air of elation about the hotel where the players lived, andon all sides were heard congratulations. The evening papers had bigheadlines with the victory of the home team displayed prominently.Collin's picture was there, and how much Joe wished that his own was sodisplayed only he himself knew.
Clevefield played four games with Pittston, and they broke even--eachside winning two. Joe was given another chance to pitch, and was mainlyresponsible for winning the second game for his team.
Joe was fast becoming accustomed to his new life. Of course there wasalways something different coming up--some new problem to be met. But hegot in the way of solving them. It was different from his life atboarding school, and different from his terms at Yale. He missed thepleasant, youthful comradeship of both places, but he found, as he grewto know them better, some sterling men in his own team, and in those ofthe opposing clubs.
But with all that, at times, Joe felt rather lonesome. Of course thedays were busy ones, either at practice or in play. But his nights werehis own, and often he had no one with whom he cared to go out.
He and Charlie Hall grew more and more friendly, but it was not acompanionship of long enough standing to make it the kind Joe reallycared for.
He had much pleasure in writing home, and to Mabel, who in turn, sentinteresting letters of her life in the South. One letter in particularmade Joe rather eager.
"My brother and I are coming North on a combined business and pleasuretrip," she wrote, "and we may see your team play. We expect to be inNewkirk on the twentieth."
Joe dropped everything to look eagerly at the official schedule.
"Well, of all the luck!" he cried. "We play in Newkirk that date. Iwonder if she knew it? I wonder----?"
Then for days Joe almost prayed that there would be no rainy days--noupsetting of the schedule that would necessitate double-headers, oranything that would interfere with playing at Newkirk on the datementioned. That city, as he found by looking at a map, was on a directrailroad line from Goldsboro.
"I hope nothing slips up!" murmured the young pitcher. From then on helived in a sort of rosy glow.
The ball season of the Central League was well under way now. A numberof games had been played, necessitating travel from one city to another.Some of the journeys Joe liked, and some were tiresome. He met all sortsand conditions of men and was growing to be able to take things as hefound them.
Joe worked hard, and he took a defeat more to heart than did any of theothers. It seemed to be all in the day's work with them. With Joe it wasa little more. Not that any of the players were careless, though. Theywere more sophisticated, rather.
The third week of the season, then, found Pittston third in line forpennant honors, and when the loss of a contest to Buffington had set themat the end of the first division there were some rather glum-lookingfaces seen in the hotel corridor.
"Boys, we've got to take a brace!" exclaimed Gregory, and the manner inwhich he said it told his men that he meant it. Joe went to bed thatnight wildly resolving to do all sorts of impossible things, so it is nowonder he dreamed that he pitched a no-hit no-run game, and was carriedin triumph around the diamond on the shoulders of his enthusiasticcomrades.
I shall not weary you with an account of the ordinary games. Justso many had to be played in a certain order to fulfill the leagueconditions. Some of the contests were brilliant affairs, and othersdragged themselves out wearily.
Joe had his share in the good and bad, but, through it all, he wasgradually acquiring a good working knowledge of professional baseball.He was getting better control of his curves, and he was getting up speedso that it was noticeable.
"I'll have to get Nelson a mitt with a deeper pit in it if you keep on,"said Gregory with a laugh, after one exciting contest when Joe hadfairly "pitched his head off," and the game had been won for Pittston bya narrow margin.
Gradually Joe's team crept up until it was second, with Clevefield stillat the head.
"And our next game is with Newkirk!" exulted Joe one morning as theytook the train for that place. They were strictly on schedule, and Joewas eager, for more reasons than one, to reach the city where he hoped acertain girl might be.
"If we win, and Clevefield loses to-morrow," spoke Charlie Hall, as hedropped into a seat beside Joe, "we'll be on top of the heap."
"Yes--if!" exclaimed the young pitcher. "But I'm going to do my best,Charlie!"
"The same here!"
It was raining when the team arrived in Newkirk, and the weather wasmatched by the glum faces of the players.
"No game to-morrow, very likely," said Charlie, in disappointed tones."Unless they have rubber grounds here."
"No such luck," returned Joe.
As he walked with the others to the desk to register he saw, amid a pileof luggage, a certain peculiar valise. He knew it instantly.
"Reggie Varley's!" he exclaimed to himself. "There never was another baglike that. And it has his initials on it. Reggie Varley is here--at thishotel, and--and--she--must be here too. Let it rain!"