A FEARFUL SITUATION
There was a general gasp of horror mixed with unbelief.
“What do you mean?” demanded Sam Berry.
“Where did you get that yarn?” asked Ed Wilson.
“It’s true,” declared the boy. “The whole town’s hunting for him. He ran
into Mrs. Bilkins’ house and snatched the baby from the cradle. The man
was bareheaded and didn’t have any coat. Mrs. Bilkins ran after him,
screaming, but she couldn’t catch him and----”
But the rest of the lad’s story fell on deaf ears. Joe and Tom and
the others had already slipped into their coats, and now they poured
pell-mell out of the door, each of them eager to be first on the scene
and rescue the kidnapped baby before the madman could do it harm.
They all knew and liked Bilkins, who was a bright young fellow employed
in the Harvester works. Three years before he had married and brought
his bride to a pretty little cottage at the southern edge of the town.
Their one baby was now nearly a year old and of course the young parents
were wrapt up in him.
Joe and his sister Clara had often spent a pleasant evening at the
Bilkins home, and the heart of the young pitcher was hot within him as
he raced in that direction, while his sympathy gave wings to his feet.
A light snow had fallen and this would have been of some assistance in
tracing the marauder, but so many people had by this time joined in the
hunt that many trails led in as many different directions.
Joe and Tom were circling wildly around, like hounds trying to pick up a
lost scent, when a little fellow ran up to them.
“I saw him!” he cried, “a big, tall man carrying a baby! He was going
down to the lumber yard.”
Like a flash Joe turned and headed the crowd that rushed in the
direction pointed out.
And while he is thus racing along, it may be well, for the benefit of
those who are not yet acquainted with this clever young pitcher, to
mention the previous books of this series in which “Baseball Joe,” as he
was affectionately known, has taken a leading part.
The beginning of his career on the diamond is told in the first volume
of the series, entitled: “Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; Or, The
Rivals of Riverside.” Here Joe had his first real experience in the
box. He had to fight hard to make good, but he did it, and soon became
widely known in that section as one of the best of the amateur pitchers.
There were many things that sought to hinder him, but he worked like a
Trojan and brought his team to the front.
In “Baseball Joe on the School Nine,” we find Joe in that same gritty
way of his “making” the school team. There were rivalries here of a
different kind than he had met before, and the bully of the school
succeeded for a time in making things very unpleasant. But Joe had the
“class” as a ball player that was bound to make itself felt, and in a
great crisis he rose to the emergency and at the last moment brought
victory from defeat.
From Excelsior Hall, Joe went to Yale, and his career in the great
university is told in the third volume of the series called “Baseball
Joe at Yale; Or, Pitching for the College Championship.”
Traditions are very strong at Yale and one of them that is seldom broken
is that no Freshman shall play on a ’Varsity Team. No matter how good he
is, he has to win his spurs first on his class team before he can aspire
to the ranks of the ’Varsity. Joe had to undergo his apprenticeship,
and a hard one it was. But his light could not be kept under a bushel,
and by sheer force of merit he finally captured the attention of the
leaders in athletics. A combination of circumstances put it up to him
to pitch for Yale against Princeton in the deciding game of the season
at the Polo Grounds, and although the test was a severe one the “Yale
bulldog” scored a glorious victory over the “Princeton tiger.”
But, despite the successes he had won, Joe was not altogether happy at
Yale. His good mother wanted him to study to be a minister, but, while
Joe appreciated what a noble calling it was, he did not feel himself cut
out for a preacher. Though bright enough in his studies, he was not a
natural scholar. Outdoor life had strong attractions for him, and his
love for baseball combined with his natural abilities in that direction
made him feel strongly inclined to take up professional baseball as his
regular vocation.
His mother was grieved and almost shocked by this decision of his.
She had longed to see her boy in the pulpit, and she had the mistaken
feeling, shared by many good women, that there was something that was
almost disreputable in being a professional ball player. But Joe was so
earnest in his conviction that it was better to be a good ball player
than a poor professional man, whether doctor, lawyer or minister, that
his mother was reluctantly won over to his view.
Joe’s chance was not long in coming. That last great game he pitched
for Yale had been seen by Jimmie Mack, manager of the Pittston team of
the Central League. He scented an acquisition for his nine and made Joe
an offer that was too good to reject. His struggles and triumphs in that
league are told in the fourth volume of the series called “Baseball Joe
in the Central League; Or, Making Good as a Professional Pitcher.”
But Joe’s ambition kept pace with his progress. He was not satisfied
to be merely a “minor leaguer.” He dreamed of “making” one of the “Big
Leagues”--National or American, it did not matter which--but he knew how
hard it was for a minor to break in. His delight can be imagined then
when he learned that he had been drafted into the St. Louis club of the
National League. His stirring adventures in this new field are narrated
in the fifth volume of the series entitled: “Baseball Joe in the Big
League; Or, A Young Pitcher’s Hardest Struggles.” Hard struggles indeed
they had proved to be, but the same determination that had won for him
so far carried him triumphantly through these also, and he had had the
satisfaction of helping his team finish in the first division. From a
“second string” pitcher he now stood among the first, and his name had
become well known all over the country.
He had been very tired when he came back to the old home town to spend
the winter, and the rest had never seemed more grateful to him. But now
he was expecting very soon the call of his team to go with them to a
southern training camp, to prepare for the coming season, and for some
time past he had been faithfully training in the Riverside gymnasium,
where we found him when this story opened.
He was a fast and seasoned runner--any one in a big league has to be, or
he would not last long--but it seemed to him he had never run as fast
and hard as now when he was rushing toward the lumber yard. He knew that
what was to be done had to be done quickly. And he shuddered, as he
thought of the helpless baby in the grasp of a lunatic.
He had soon outdistanced his companions. Now he was getting close to
the lumber yard. It was in an isolated section of the town, down near
the railroad tracks which ran alongside of it. Here there were but few
footmarks, and Joe could easily make out the long prints of a man’s feet
pointing straight for the yard.
Another minute and Joe had entered the yard. He wound his way in and out
among the piles of lumber, hoping at every turn to catch sight of the
madman.
Suddenly he heard a shout that came from somewhere above him. He looked
up and saw a sight that seemed to turn his blood cold.
There, on an enormous pile of lumber that towered thirty feet into the
air, stood a man holding a baby in his arms. He had caught sight of
Joe and hailed him as though he wanted to have a talk with him. But
just then a torrent of men, young and old, who had followed Joe, poured
into the yard, and a yell went up as they saw the tall figure outlined
against the sky.
In that wild yell the madman scented danger. He lifted his helpless
burden high above his head.
“Keep back!” he shouted. “If you don’t I’ll throw the baby on the
railroad tracks!”