Baseball Joe In The Big League Part 41

Joe grinned in delight.

But when he saw the next man, "Home Run Crater," facing him, our hero felt a little shaky. True, the chances were in favor of the Cardinals, but baseball is full of chances that make or break.

"If he wallops it!" thought Joe.

But Crater did not wallop it. In his characteristic manner he swung at the first delivery, and connected with it. Over Joe's head it was going, but with a mighty jump Joe corraled it in one hand, a sensational catch that set the crowd wild. Joe was playing the game of his life.

"Only one more!"

"Strike him out!"

"The game is ours, Joe!"

But another heavy hitter was up, and there was still work for Baseball Joe to do.

To his alarm, as he sent in his first ball, there came to his arm that had been twisted on the car, a twinge of pain.

"My! I hope that doesn't bother me," thought Joe, in anxiety.

"Ball one," announced the umpire.

Joe delivered a straight, swift one. His arm hurt worse, and he gritted his teeth to keep from crying out.

"Strike!" grunted the umpire, and there was some balm for Joe in that.

The batter hit the next one for a dribbler, and just managed to reach first.

"If I could only have managed to get him out!" mused Joe. "I'd be done now. But I've got to do it over again. I wonder if I can last out?"

To his relief the next batter up was one of the weakest of the Giants, and Joe was glad. And even yet a weak batter might make a hit that would turn the tables.

"I've got to do it!" murmured Joe, and he wound up for the delivery.

"Strike!" announced the umpire. Joe's heart beat hard.

"Here goes for the fadeaway," he said to himself, "though it will hurt like fun!"

It did, bringing a remembrance of the old hurt. But it fooled the batter, and there were two strikes on him.

The game was all but over. With two out, and two strikes called, there could be but one result, unless there was to be something that occurs but once in a lifetime. And it did not occur.

"Strike! You're out!" was the umpire's decision, and that was the end.

The Cardinals had won, thanks, in a great measure, to Joe Matson's splendid work.

"That's the stuff!"

"Third place for ours!"

"Three cheers for Joe Matson--Baseball Joe!" called his teammates, who crowded around him to clap him on the back and say all sorts of nice things. Joe stood it, blus.h.i.+ngly, for a moment, and then he made his way over to the box. As he walked along, a certain quiet man who had been intently watching the game said softly to himself.

"He must be mine next season. I guess I can make a trade for him. He'd be a big drawing card for the Giants."

"Oh, Joe, it was splendid! Splendid!" cried Mabel, enthusiastically.

"Fine!" said his father.

"Do you get any extra when your side wins?" asked his mother, while the crowd smiled.

"Well, yes, in a way," answered Joe. "You get treated extra well."

"And it's going to be my treat this time," said Mabel, with a laugh. "I want you all to come to dinner with me. You'll come; won't you, Joe?"

she asked, pleadingly.

"Of course," he said.

"And bring a friend, if you like," and she glanced at Clara.

"I'll bring Rad," Joe answered.

They lived the great game over again at the table of the hotel where Mable was stopping.

"Is your arm lame?" asked Mrs. Matson, noticing that her son favored his pitching member a trifle.

"Oh, I can finish out the season," said Joe. "The remainder will be easy--only a few more games."

"And then what?" asked Rad.

"Well, a vacation, I suppose, and then get ready for another season with the Cardinals."

But Joe was not destined to remain with the Western team. The horizon was widening, and those of you who wish to follow further the adventures of our hero may do so in the succeeding volume, which will be called "Baseball Joe on the Giants; Or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis."

In that we shall see how Joe rose to even higher fame, through grit, hard work and ability.

"Well, you turned the trick, old man!" declared Manager Watson, when, a few days later, the team was on the way back to St. Louis. "You did it.

I felt sure you could."

"Well, _I_ didn't, at one time," was the rejoinder. "My arm started to go back on me."

"Well, there's one consolation, Shalleg and his crowd will never get another chance at you," went on the manager. "Now take care of yourself.

I'm only going to let you play one game--the closing one at St. Louis.

We won't need our stars against the tail-enders."

And the Cardinals did not, winning handily with a number of second string men playing.

"Where are you going, Joe?" asked Rad, as they sat in their hotel room one evening, for Joe was "dolling up."

"Out to a moving picture show."

"Moving pictures?"