JOE AND THE OLD APPLEWOMAN.
That evening Charley Osborne and Billy Smith called a special meeting
of the baseball club, at which Joe was present.
“The Stars want to play us next Saturday,” Charley said, as he held up
a communication. “Shall we accept or put off the match?”
“Let us accept,” said Billy. “We can practice every afternoon and get
into good shape, to my way of thinking.”
The matter was talked over and finally the other boys decided to follow
this advice.
A communication accepting the challenge was written by Charley and sent
to the Stars on the following Monday.
Then the Rushers settled down to steady, hard practice with Joe as
their catcher.
A few evenings later Joe spent two hours at Billy Smith’s house helping
his friend fix up and paint a rowboat to be used on the lake.
When he left Billy’s house he found the sky overcast. In the west the
thunder rumbled, telling that a storm was not far off.
Not wishing to be caught out without an umbrella, our hero started for
his home on a swift walk.
He had gone about two blocks when, on turning a street corner, a sight
met his gaze that caused his blood to boil.
An old woman known as Apple Mary, who sold fruit and candy throughout
the district, was in the hands of two cowardly footpads, who were
trying to rob her of her hard-earned savings.
One of the footpads was behind the old woman, and had his hands over
her mouth so she could not scream. The other footpad was in front,
trying to find the pocket in Apple Mary’s dress.
“Got it, Henderson?” asked the footpad in the rear.
“No, hang the luck, I can’t find the pocket!” growled his companion.
“Den cut der dress!”
To follow this advice the other footpad brought out a big pocket-knife.
He was in the act of cutting the garment mentioned when Joe came up on
a run.
“Leave that old lady alone!” he cried indignantly.
“Mind yer own business!” howled both footpads.
Scarcely had they spoken when Joe’s arm shot out.
The footpad who was holding Apple Mary received a blow in the neck that
almost bowled him over.
Seeing this the other footpad leaped toward our hero, but the lad was
not to be caught. He dodged off and began to cry for the police.
“Shut up!” howled one of the footpads.
In the meanwhile Apple Mary, finding herself free, pulled something
from under her skirt. It was an old Irish hawthorn stick.
“Bad cess to ye, ye villains!” she cried, and then she went at one of
the footpads, tooth and nail.
She was thoroughly aroused, and before the rascal could retreat she
gave him a whack over the head that almost paralyzed him.
“Good for you, Mary!” shouted Joe. “He deserves it.”
But now the footpads thought it time to clear out, and both ran up the
street, and a moment later vanished in the darkness.
By the time the constable who did duty as a policeman at night in
Lockport arrived, it was too late to attempt to hunt them up, although
the officer made a great show of doing so.
“I owe ye wan for that, Joe Johnson,” said Apple Mary. “’Tis yerself
that has a stout heart under yer coat, so ye have!”
And she gave his hand a warm shake.
“Did they know you had money with you?” asked the youth.
“Most likely, the villains! Oi got a hundred dollars from the bank
to-day, to pay on me little home. Oi have it in a bag here,” and Apple
Mary tapped her skirt.
“Maybe I had better see you safe home then,” said Joe, and he
accompanied the old Irish woman to the humble cottage she occupied on
one of the side streets of the town.
Before he left her she thanked him again.
“You’ll be a great man some day,” she said. “You will have thousands of
friends, mark my wurrud.”
Joe walked home in a thoughtful mood.
“I wonder if Apple Mary is right,” he asked himself. “Will I have
thousands of friends? I surely hope so.”
Two days passed and the Rushers kept steady at work on the diamond.
Charley Osborne was getting his new curve down fine, and Joe managed
to catch nearly everything that came over the plate untouched.
“I don’t know what I would do without Joe behind the plate,” Charley
said more than once. “He is so reliable that he gives me great
confidence.”
On Friday Sam Anderson, who was also on the nine, came to the meeting
place looking very much excited.
“Boys, I have a bit of news,” he said.
“All right, Sam; let us have it.”
“I’ve got word in a roundabout way from the Stars.”
“What of them?”
“They intend to beat us.”
“Chestnuts!”
“They can’t do it.”
“Hear me out, boys. They intend to beat us. If they can’t do it by fair
means, they intend to do it by foul.”
Instantly every one of the Rushers was more than interested. They
crowded about Sam waiting for him to explain.
But the explanation was not forthcoming.
“I can’t tell you how it is to be done,” said Sam. “All I know is what
my father told me. He said we must be careful and not get into any
trouble with the Independence boys.”
“But what does he know?” asked Joe with much interest.
“He was over to Independence to-day, and while he was waiting at a
store for a man three boys came along. He knew them to be players on
the Stars, although he doesn’t know their names. He heard them talking
about the game Saturday and about what they intended to do. He said
they talked as if they had some trick arranged.”
At this the members of the local club grew serious.
It would not have been so bad had they known what the Stars were up to.
It was the dread of the unknown that haunted them. They talked the
matter over.
“Every one must be on guard,” said Joe. “They must not be allowed to
tamper with the balls or bats.”
“Nor the drinking water,” put in Larry Dare, the shortstop. “I believe
the time they won they put something in the water. I never had such a
headache in my life.”
“Nor I!” cried Carl Lathrop, who was one of the fielders.
“I believe the water was tampered with beyond a doubt,” said Charley
Osborne.
“We’ll all keep wide awake. Don’t touch water or anything else unless
you are certain it is O. K.”
That was Joe’s advice, and they resolved to follow it.
After this the boys went out to practice.