A CRACK SHOT
There was a cry of horror from the crowd. To be hurled to the tracks
from that height meant instant death for the little one.
Several of the men had started to climb the lumber pile, but when they
heard the madman’s threat they stopped instantly. The man above saw that
his words had taken effect and he laughed shrilly. But he still held the
baby high in the air.
For a moment there was a hush of fear and indecision. Then Joe took
command of the situation. His baseball experience had taught him to
think quickly and act instantly.
“That’s all right,” he sang out to the crazy man. “You can keep the baby
if you want to. We just want to have a quiet little talk with you.”
The madman hesitated, looked about a little uncertainly, then slowly
lowered the infant and held it cradled in his arms.
“That’s right,” approved Joe heartily. “You and I are the only sensible
people here. These lunatics down here were making such a noise that I
couldn’t make you hear me. Now we can talk.”
“Ha, ha!” cried the lunatic, delighted at the compliment. “You hit it
right that time. The whole world is mad except for you and me. And I’m
not so sure of you, either,” he modified, with a gravity that would have
been comical under any other circumstances.
While he was speaking, Joe was giving quick directions in a low voice to
the men nearest him.
“Get the fellows to spread out on all sides of the lumber pile,” he said
to Ed Wilson. “You, Tom,” he went on to Tom Davis, “go quietly out on
the tracks. Then if he does throw the baby down, we’ll at least have a
chance to catch it or break its fall.”
The others slipped away like shadows and Joe once more sought to engross
the madman’s attention.
“Oh, but you must be sure of me,” he expostulated in answer to what the
lunatic had said. “Just watch the signs I give you, and if you can do
the same that will prove that we both belong to the same lodge.”
The disordered wits of the man above saw something interesting in this,
and he nodded gravely.
Joe stretched out his left hand and made a number of mysterious passes
in the air, at the same time closing and unclosing his fingers.
Then he stopped and the man extended his left arm and went through the
same motions as nearly as he could.
“Good!” cried Joe, and the madman capered about in childish pleasure at
the commendation.
“Now, do this,” commanded Joe, and he went through a similar lot of
mummery with the right hand.
The crazy man imitated him, but to do it he had to change the baby from
his right arm to the left, and this gave Joe an inspiration.
“Now, here’s the hardest thing,” said Joe, as he lifted both arms at
once and made them revolve. “If you can do this, I’ll know for sure that
you’re all right.”
The stranger started to lift both arms to imitate Joe’s revolutions, but
found himself encumbered by the baby. He looked at Joe in a sheepish
way, as though for advice.
“Of course you’ll have to lay the baby down,” said Joe, carelessly. “You
can’t make the right motions unless you do.”
The lunatic looked at him with a sudden glint of suspicion in his eyes,
but Joe was so apparently indifferent that he slowly laid the baby down.
Joe’s heart was beating high now with excitement as the critical moment
approached that would test the success of the plan that had suddenly
darted into his brain.
A number of the village boys had been building a snow fort and having a
mock battle in the lumber yard that afternoon. The snow was very wet and
the snowballs that had been formed from it had almost the consistency of
stone. A number of these “soakers” were still lying about and Joe saw
his chance.
“Sam,” he murmured in a low voice to Sam Berry. “Make me three or four
hard snowballs about as big as a baseball. Don’t ask me why but make
them hard and quick.”
Sam asked no questions but worked frantically, and soon stood alongside
Joe with his hands behind his back.
“All ready, Joe,” he whispered. “Just reach out when the time comes and
I’ll put one in your hand.”
The time had nearly come. Joe’s manœuvering had brought it about that
the baby was out of the madman’s hands. The last step remained to be
taken.
“That’s fine,” roared Joe, as the stranger, after making both hands
revolve in the air, was about to pick up the baby. “Now, there’s just
this one thing more and if you can do that, it will prove that you and I
are brother members of the same lodge.”
Joe placed both hands on top of his head and began to revolve his body
slowly so as to present his back to the man above. In this position
he remained for about fifteen seconds.
“Can you do that?” he asked solemnly.
“Of course I can,” responded the other eagerly. “Just watch.”
He slowly revolved until he stood with his back toward Joe.
Now was the latter’s opportunity.
“Quick!” he muttered to Sam Berry.
Sam put in his hand a ball of snow that was almost as solid as a stone.
Joe’s fingers tightened about it and his muscles grew taut.
Many a time before had he felt that queer thrill go through his arm and
shoulder as he stood before some batsman in a critical period of the
game and tried to strike him out. But this time much more than a game
was at stake. A human life depended upon the sureness of his aim.
He took careful aim at the back of the madman’s head and sent the icy
snowball whizzing as though from a catapult.
[Illustration: HE SENT THE ICY SNOWBALL WHIZZING AS THOUGH FROM A
CATAPULT.]
Straight as an arrow it found its mark. It struck the stranger just at
the base of the skull and he went down like a bullock smitten by an axe.
A wild cheer rose from the crowd as they saw the man fall. The next
minute Joe had swarmed up the lumber pile with the agility of a monkey
and clasped the baby in his arms.
He was rapidly followed by others, who secured the stranger. Ropes were
called for, and he was bound before he could recover consciousness. A
doctor who was in the crowd examined him and found that he was suffering
from shock but that his skull had not been fractured and there would be
no serious results from the blow.
In the meantime, Joe was surrounded by a delirious throng that clapped
him on the back, tried to grasp his hand, and in general deported itself
as though it had just escaped from an asylum.
“What’s the matter with Matson?” shouted one enthusiast.
“He’s all right!” yelled the crowd.
“Who’s all right?”
“Joe Matson!” came back the shout in undiminished volume.
“Oh, cut it out, fellows,” growled Joe good-naturedly, feeling himself
getting pink to the tips of his ears. “The first thing to do is to get
this baby home to its mother.”
The baby seemed to think this was good sense, and urged the good work
along by howling so lustily, that Joe quickened his steps in his
eagerness to be rid of his burden. It was all very well to rescue
babies, but he felt awkward and helpless when it came to handling them
and he looked forward to the Bilkins home as a harbor of refuge.
Fortunately, in snatching the baby out of the cradle, the madman had
gathered up the bedclothes with it, so that the infant had not suffered
from cold. Its lungs anyway were in good condition, as Joe was willing
to testify, and it did not seem to have suffered in any way from its
involuntary flight through the town.
It was not long before Joe reached the panic-stricken home where
neighbors were ministering to the frantic mother and assuring her with
a brave show of confidence that her baby would soon be restored. She
gave a scream of delight when Joe appeared with the little pink, fluffy
bundle in his arms, and in a moment she had snatched it from him and was
smothering it with kisses.
This was Joe’s chance and he was trying to make a “quick sneak,” as
he phrased it in his own mind, but Bilkins himself and the crowd of
neighbors would stand for nothing of the kind, and again he had to
submit to being made a hero of, much against his will.
“It was nothing at all,” he protested, blushing like a school girl at
the praises showered upon him. “Any other fellow could have done the
same.”
“But you notice that none of the other fellows did do it,” said Bilkins.
“It was not only the sure and swift aim that did it, but the clever work
before that that enabled you to get the baby out of the man’s arms and
get the man himself with his back toward you so that he could not see
the ball coming and dodge. It was splendid, brainy work, Joe, and I’ll
never forget it.”
It was a long time before the excitement quieted down and Joe at last
was at liberty to wend his way home. The dusk was falling now and the
air was biting cold, but he was in such a glow of body and spirit that
he took no note of outside conditions.
A great emergency had suddenly confronted him and he had played the man.