Baseball Joe In The Big League Part 37

Wessel subsided, but one of Joe's questions was answered. There were other problems yet unsolved, though. What were they going to do with him? He could only wait and learn.

The bandage was still over his eyes, and he tried, by wrinkling the skin of his forehead, to work it loose. But he could not succeed. He wished he could have some glimpse, even a faint one, in the darkness, of where he was, though perhaps it would have done him little good.

"Take the oars now," directed Shalleg, after a pause. "I guess it's safe to row out a bit. There aren't so many craft here now. But go easy."

"Hadn't we better show a light?" asked the man who had twisted Joe's arm. "We might be run down!"

"Light nothing!" exclaimed Shalleg, who now spoke somewhat above a whisper. "I don't want some police launch poking her nose up here. It's light enough for us to see to get out of the way if anything comes along. I'm not going to answer any hails."

"Oh, all right," was the answer.

Joe's head was beginning to clear itself from the fumes of the chloroform, and he could think more clearly. He wondered more and more what his fate was to be. Evidently the men were taking him somewhere in a rowboat. But whether he was to be taken wherever they were going, in this small craft, or whether it was being used to transport them to a larger boat, he could not, of course, determine.

The men rowed on for some time in silence.

"It's getting late," ventured Wessel at length.

"Not late enough, though," growled Shalleg.

Joe went over, in his mind, all the events that had been crowded into the last few hours. He had told Rad that he was going to see his mother's friend in Camden, but had given no address.

"They won't know but what I'm staying there all night," he reasoned.

"And they won't start to search for me until some time to-morrow. When I don't show up at the game they'll think it's queer, and I suppose they'll fine me. I wouldn't mind that if they only come and find me. But how can they do it? There isn't a clue they could follow, as far as I know. Not one!"

He tried to think of some means by which he could be traced, and rescued by his friends, but he could imagine none. No one who knew him had seen him come down to the ferry, or walk through the deserted neighborhood.

And, as far as he knew, no one had seen the bearded stranger accost him.

"I'll just have disappeared--that's all," mused poor Joe, lying on the hard and uncomfortable bottom of the boat.

For some time longer the three men, or rather two of them, rowed on, paying no attention to Joe. Then Shalleg spoke.

"I guess we're far enough down the river," he said. "We can go ash.o.r.e now."

"And take him with us?" asked Wessel.

"Well, you don't think I'm going to chuck him overboard; do you?"

demanded Shalleg. "I told you I wasn't going to do anything violent."

"But what are you going to do?"

"Wait, and you'll see," was the rather unsatisfactory answer.

Joe wished it was settled. He, too, was wondering.

The course of the boat seemed changed. By the motion the men were rowing across a choppy current, probably toward sh.o.r.e. Joe found this to be so, a little later, for the boat's side grated against what was probably a wooden pier.

"Light the lantern," directed Shalleg.

"But I thought you didn't want to be seen," objected Wessel.

"Do as I tell you," was the sharp rejoinder. "We're not going to be seen. We're going to leave the boat."

"And leave him in it?" asked the other man.

"Yes, I'm going to turn him adrift down the river," went on the chief conspirator. "I'll stick a light up, though, so he won't be run down. I don't wish him that harm."

"Are you going to leave him tied?" Wessel wanted to know.

"I sure am!" was the rejoinder. "Think I want him giving the alarm, and having us nabbed? Not much!"

Dimly, from beneath the handkerchief over his eyes, Joe saw the flash as a match was struck, and the lantern lighted. Then he heard it being lashed to some upright in the boat. A little later Joe felt the craft in which he lay being shoved out into the stream, and then he realized that he was alone, drifting down the Delaware, toward the bay, and tied hand and foot, as well as being gagged. He was practically helpless.

"There, I guess that'll teach him not to meddle in my affairs any more!"

said Shalleg bitterly. Then Joe heard no more, save the lapping of the waves against the side of the craft.

For a time his senses seemed to leave him under the terrible strain, and when he again was in possession of his faculties he could not tell how long he had been drifting alone, nor had he any idea of the time, save that it was still night.

"Well, I've got to do something!" decided Joe. "I've got to try and get rid of this gag, and yell for help, and to do that I've got to have the use of my hands."

Then he began to struggle, but the men who had trussed him up had done their evil work well, and he only cut his wrists on the cruel bonds. He was on his back, and he wished there was some rough projection in the bottom of the boat, against which he could rub his rope-entangled wrists. But there was none.

How the hours of darkness pa.s.sed Joe never knew. He was thankful for one thing--that there was a light showing in his boat, for he would not be run down in the darkness by some steamer, or motor craft. By daylight he hoped the drifting boat might be seen, and picked up. Then he would be rescued. Even now, if he could only have called, he might have been saved.

Gradually Joe became aware that morning had come. He could see a film of light beneath the bandage over his eyes. The boat was bobbing up and down more violently now.

"I must be far down the bay," thought Joe.

He was cramped, tired, and almost parched for a drink. He had dozed fitfully through the night, and his eyes smarted and burned under the bandage.

Suddenly he heard voices close at hand, above the puffing of a motorboat.

"Look there!" someone exclaimed. "A boat is adrift. Maybe we can work that into the film."

"Maybe," a.s.sented another voice. "Let's go over and see, anyhow. We want this reel to be a good one."

Dimly Joe wondered what the words meant. He heard the voices, and the puffing of the motor coming nearer. Then the latter sound ceased. Some craft b.u.mped gently against his, and a man cried:

"Someone is in this boat!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

MOVING PICTURES

For a moment silence followed the announcement that meant so much to Joe. He could hear murmurs of surprise, and the violent motion of the craft in which he lay, bound helpless and unseeing, told him that the work of rescue was under way. The motor boat, he reflected, must be making fast to the other. The bandage over Joe's eyes prevented him from seeing what went on. Then came a series of exclamations and questions, and, to Joe's surprise, the voices of women and girls mingled with those of men.