CHAPTER XXI
A DANGER SIGNAL
"Boys, we're on the right road again!" exclaimed the enthusiasticmanager at the conclusion of the game, when the team was in the dressingroom. "Another like this to-morrow, and one the next day, if it doesn'train, and we'll be near the top."
"Say, you don't want much," remarked Jimmie Mack, half sarcastically,but with a laugh. "What do you think we are anyhow; wonders?"
"We'll have to be if we're going to bring home the pennant," retortedGregory.
"And we're going to do it!" declared Joe, grimly.
Collin went to pieces in more ways than one that day. Probably hisfailure in the game, added to Joe's triumph, made him reckless, for hewent back to his old habit of gambling, staying up nearly all night, andwas in no condition to report for the second game of the series.
"He makes me tired!" declared Gregory. "I'd write his release in aminute," he went on, speaking to Jimmie Mack, "only I'm up to my neck inexpenses now, and I can't afford to buy another pitcher. I need all I'vegot, and Collin is good when he wants to be."
"Yes, it's only his pig-headedness about Joe that sets him off. But Ithink we've got a great find in Matson."
"So do I. There was a time when I was rather blue about Joe, but heseems to have come back wonderfully."
"Yes," agreed Jimmie Mack, "that fade-away of his is a wonder, thanks toPop Dutton."
"Pop himself is the greatest wonder of all," went on Gregory. "I neverbelieved it possible. I've seen the contrary happen so many times that Iguess I've grown skeptical."
"He and Joe sure do make a queer team," commented the assistant manager."Joe watches over him like a hen with one chicken."
"Well, I guess he has to. A man like Pop who has been off the right roadalways finds lots of temptation ready and waiting to call him back. ButJoe can keep him straight.
"Now come over here. I want to talk to you, and plan out the rest of theseason. We're in a bad way, not only financially, but for the sake ofour reputations."
If Joe could have heard this he would have worried, especially aboutthe financial end. For he counted very much on his baseball money--infact, his family needed it greatly.
Mr. Matson's savings were tied up in investments that had turned outbadly, or were likely to, and his expenses were heavy on account ofthe doctor's and other bills. Joe's salary was a big help. He alsoearned something extra by doing some newspaper work that was paid forgenerously.
But Joe counted most on the final games of the series, which woulddecide the pennant. These were always money-makers, and, in addition,the winning team always played one or more exhibition games with somebig league nine, and these receipts were large.
"But will we win the pennant?" queried Joe of himself. "We've got to--ifdad is going to have his operation. We've just got to!"
The news from home had been uncertain. At one time Dr. Birch had decidedthat an operation must be performed at once, and then had come a changewhen it had to be delayed. But it seemed certain that, sooner or later,it would have to be undertaken, if the inventor's eyesight was to besaved.
"So you see we've just got to win," said Joe to Charlie Hall.
"I see," was the answer. "Well, I'll do my share toward it, old man,"and the two clasped hands warmly. Joe was liking Charlie more and moreevery day. He was more like a college chum than a mate on a professionalteam.
But Pittston was not to have a victory in the second game withClevefield. The latter sent in a new pitcher who "played tag," to use aslang expression, with Joe and his mates, and they lost the contest by afour to one score. This in spite of the fact that Joe did some good workat pitching, and "Old Pop," as he was beginning to be called, knocked athree-bagger. Dutton was one of those rare birds, a good pitcher and agood man with the stick. That is, he had been, and now he was beginningto come back to himself.
There was a shadow of gloom over Pittston when they lost the secondgame, after having won the first against such odds, and there was muchspeculation as to how the other two contests would go.
Gregory revised his batting order for the third game, and sent in hislatest purchase, one of the south-paws, to do the twirling. But hesoon made a change in pitchers, and called on Tooley, who also was aleft-hander.
"I may need you later, Joe," he said as he arranged to send in a "pinch"hitter at a critical moment. "Don't think that I'm slighting you, boy."
"I don't. I understand."
"How's your fade-away?"
"All right, I guess."
"Good. You'll probably have to use it."
And Joe did. He was sent in at the seventh, when the Clevefield nine wasthree runs ahead, and Joe stopped the slump. Then, whether it was thisencouragement, or whether the other team went to pieces, did notdevelop, but the game ended with Pittston a winner by two runs.
The crowd went wild, for there had been a most unexpected ending, and sosure had some of the "fans" been that the top-notchers would come outahead, that they had started to leave.
But the unexpected happens in baseball as often as in football, and itdid in this case.
Pittston thus had two out of the four games, and the even break hadincreased her percentage to a pleasing point. If they could have takenthe fourth they would have fine hopes of the pennant, but it was not tobe. An even break, though there was a close finish in the last game, wasthe best they could get.
However, this was better than for some time, and Gregory and hisassociates were well pleased.
Then came a series of games in the different league cities, and matterswere practically unchanged. In turn Buffington, Loston and Manhattanwere visited, the Pittston nine doing well, but nothing remarkable.
Joe seemed firmly established in the place he most desired, and his finedelivery was increasing in effectiveness each day. His fade-awayremained a puzzle to many, though some fathomed it and profited thereby.But Joe did not use it too often.
The secret of good pitching lies in the "cross-fire," and in varying thedelivery. No pitcher can continue to send in the same kind of balls inregular order to each batter. He must study his man and use his brains.
Joe knew this. He also knew that he was not alone a pitcher, but a ballplayer, and that he must attend to his portion of the diamond. Too manytwirlers forget this, and Joe frequently got in on sensational playsthat earned him almost as much applause as his box-work did.
Joe was always glad to get back to Pittston to play games. He wasbeginning to feel that it was a sort of "home town," though he had fewfriends there. He made many acquaintances and he was beginning to buildup a reputation for himself. He was frequently applauded when he cameout to play, and this means much to a baseball man.
Then, too, Joe was always interested in Pop Dutton. He was so anxiousthat the former fine pitcher should have his chance to "come back."Often when scouts from bigger leagues than the Central stopped off tomore or less secretly watch the Pittstons play, Joe would have a talkwith them. Sometimes he spoke of Pop, but the scouts did not seeminterested. They pretended that they had no special object in view, or,if they did, they hinted that it was some other player than Dutton.
To whisper a secret I might say that it was Joe himself who was underobservation on many of these occasions, for his fame was spreading. Buthe was a modest youth.
Joe was not inquisitive, but he learned, in a casual way, that PopDutton was seemingly on the right road to success and prosperity. It wassomewhat of a shock to the young pitcher, then, one evening, as he wasstrolling down town in Pittston, to see his protege in company with ashabbily dressed man.
"I hope he hasn't taken to going with those tramps again," mused Joe."That would be too bad."
Resolving to make sure of his suspicions, and, if necessary, hold out ahelping hand, the young pitcher quickened his pace until he was closebehind the twain.
He could not help but hear part of the conversation.
"Oh, come on!" he caught, coming from Dutton's companion. "What's theharm?"
"No, I
'll not. You don't know how hard it is to refuse, but I--Ican't--really I can't."
"You mean you won't?"
"Put it that way if you like."
"Well, then, I do like, an' I don't like it! I'll say that much. I don'tlike it. You're throwin' me down, an' you're throwin' the rest of usdown. I don't like it for a cent!"
"I can't help that," replied Dutton, doggedly.
"Well, maybe _we_ can help it, then. You're leaving us in the lurch justwhen we need you most. Come on, now, be a sport, Pop!"
"No, I've been too much of a sport in the past--that's the trouble."
"So you won't join us?"
"No."
"Will you come out and tell the boys so? They maybe won't believe me."
"Oh, well, I can't see any harm in that."
"Come on, then, they'll be glad to see you again."
Joe wondered what was afoot. It was as though he saw a danger signalahead of Pop Dutton.