Baseball Joe In The Big League Part 38

"My, look, Jackson!" a man's voice exclaimed. "He's bound, and gagged.

There's been some crime here!"

"You're right. We must get him aboard our boat."

Joe could tell, by the motion of the boat which contained him, that some of the rescue party were getting into it to aid him. Then he felt the bandage being taken from his eyes, and the gag from his mouth.

"Hand me a knife, somebody!" called a man. "I'll cut these ropes."

Joe opened his eyes, and closed them again with a feeling of pain. The sudden light of a bright, sunny morning was too much for him.

"He's alive, anyhow," a girl's voice said.

Joe half opened his eyes this time, and saw a strange sight. Alongside his boat was a cabin motor craft, and on the rear deck he could see gathered a number of men, women and girls. What took Joe's attention next was a queer oblong box, with a crank at one side, and a tube projecting from it, mounted on a tripod. Then, as his eyes became more accustomed to the light, Joe saw bending over him in the boat, two men.

One of them had a knife, with which he quickly cut the ropes that bound Joe's arms and feet. It was a great relief.

He sat up and looked about him. The motor boat was a large and fine one, and was slowly drifting down into Delaware Bay, for Joe could see a vast stretch of water on all sides.

"Too bad we can't work this rescue into a scene," spoke one of the men on the motor craft.

Joe looked at him wonderingly, and then at the machine on the bow of the boat. All at once he realized what it was--a moving picture camera. He had seen them before.

"Are you folks in the movies?" he asked as he stood up, with the help of the two men.

"That's what we are," was the answer. "We came out early this morning to do a bit of 'water stuff,' when we saw your boat adrift. We put over to it, and were surprised to see you tied in it. Can you tell us what happened?"

"Yes," answered Joe, "I was practically kidnapped!"

"Come aboard, and have some coffee," urged a motherly-looking woman of the party.

"Yes, do," added another member of the company. "We have just had breakfast."

The aroma of coffee was grateful to Joe, and soon he was aboard the motorboat, sipping a steaming cup.

"Kidnapped; eh?" remarked one of the men. "Then we'd better save that boat for you. It will be a clue to those who did it."

"Oh, I know who did it, all right," answered Joe, who was rapidly feeling more like himself. "I don't need the boat for evidence. But, since you have been so kind to me, I wish you'd do one thing more."

"Name it," promptly said the man who seemed to be in charge of the company.

"Get me somewhere so I can send word to Philadelphia--to Manager Watson of the St. Louis Cardinals. I want to explain what happened, so he won't expect me in the game to-day."

"Are you a member of the St. Louis team?" asked one of the men, quickly.

"One of the pitchers--my name is Matson."

The two leading men of the company looked at each other in an odd manner.

"It couldn't have happened better; could it, Harry?" one asked.

Our hero was a trifle mystified until the man called Harry explained.

"You see, it's this way," he said. "My name is Harry Kirk, and this is James Morton," nodding toward the other man. "We manage a moving picture company, most of whom you now see," and he indicated those about him.

"We have been doing a variety of stuff, and we want to get some baseball pictures. We've been trying to induce some of the big teams to play an exhibition game for us, but so far we haven't been successful. Now if you would use your influence with your manager, and he could induce some other team to play a short game, why we'd be ever so much obliged."

"Of course I'll do all I can!" cried Joe. "I can't thank you enough for your rescue of me, and the least I could do would be to help you out!

I'm pretty sure I can induce Mr. Watson to let his team give an exhibition, anyhow."

"That's all we want--an opening wedge," said Mr. Kirk, "but we couldn't seem to get it. Our finding of you was providential."

"It was for me, anyhow," said Joe. "I don't know what might have happened to me if I had drifted much farther."

Joe explained how it had happened, and the unreasoning rage of Shalleg toward him.

"He ought to be sent to jail for life, to do such a thing as that!"

burst out Mr. Kirk. "You'll inform the police; won't you?"

"I think I had better," said Joe, thoughtfully.

The motor began its throbbing, and the big boat cut through the water, towing the small craft, in which Joe had spent so many uncomfortable hours.

The young pitcher was himself again, thanks to a good breakfast, and when the dock was reached was able to talk to Manager Watson over the telephone. It was then nearly noon, and Joe was in no shape to get in the game that day.

To say that the news he gave the manager astonished Mr. Watson is putting it mildly.

"You stay where you are," directed his chief. "I'll send someone down to see you, or come myself. We'll get after this Shalleg and his gang. This has gone far enough!"

"What about the game to-day?" asked Joe.

"Don't you worry about that. We'll beat the Phillies anyhow, though I was counting on you, Joe. But don't worry."

CHAPTER XXIX

SHALLEG'S DOWNFALL

Plans to capture Shalleg and his cronies were carefully made, but were unsuccessful, for, it appeared, the scoundrel and his cronies had fled after putting Joe into the boat.

The moving picture people readily agreed to keep silent about the affair, and Manager Watson said he would explain Joe's absence from the game 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 an exhibition game for the moving picture people.

"Of course we'll do it!" the manager exclaimed. "That would be small pay for what they did for you. I'll see if we can't play the Phillies right here. Of course it will have to be arranged with the high moguls, but I guess it can be."

And it was. The game was not to count in the series, for some changes and new rules had to be adopted to make it possible to get it within the scope of the moving picture cameras. And the picture managers agreed to pay a sum that made it worth while for the players, Joe included, to put up a good game of ball.