QUICK AS LIGHTNING
For one awful instant the crowd sat as though paralyzed.
But in that instant Joe acted.
With one powerful leap he reached the frenzied shouter, his fist shot out,
and the man went down as though hit with an axe.
Up the aisle Joe went like a flash, cleared the orchestra rail at a bound,
and with one more jump was on the stage.
The audience had risen now and was crowding toward the aisles. Women
screamed, some fainted, and all the conditions were ripe for a panic.
Above the hubbub, Joe's voice rang out like a trumpet.
"Keep your seats!" he shouted. "There's no danger. I tell you to keep your
seats."
The crowd halted uncertainly, fearfully, and Joe took instant advantage of
the hesitation.
"You know me," he cried. "I tell you there's no danger. Haven't you ever
smelled cigar smoke before?"
The suggestion was a happy one, and the crowd began to quiet down,
regaining their courage at the sight of that indomitable figure on the
stage.
Jim had been only two jumps behind Joe in his rush to the front, and while
Joe was calming the crowd Jim had rushed into the wing and dragged down
some draperies that had caught fire from a gas jet. In a moment he had
trampled them underfoot and the danger was over.
The orchestra had seemed to keep its wits better than the rest of the
throng, and Joe signaled to the leader to strike up a tune. The next
instant the musicians swung into a popular air, and completely reassured,
the people settled down into their seats.
And while Joe stands there, exulting in his triumph over the panic, it may
be well for the sake of those who have not read the preceding books of
this series to sketch something of his life and adventures up to this
time.
Joe's first experience in the great game in which he was to become so
famous was gained on the diamond of his own home town. He did so well
there that he soon became known in the towns around as one of the best
players in the county. He had many mishaps and difficulties, and how he
overcame them is told in the first volume of the series, entitled,
"Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; Or The Rivals of Riverside."
A little later on, when playing on his school nine, he had obstacles of a
different character to surmount. The bully of the school sought to down
him, but found that he had made a mistake in picking out his victim. Joe's
natural skill and constant practice enabled him to win laurels for himself
and his school on the diamond, and prepared him for the larger field that
awaited him when later on he went to Yale.
As may be easily understood, with all the competition he had to meet at
the great University his chance was long in coming to prove his class in
the pitching box. But the homely old saying that "it is hard to keep a
squirrel on the ground" was never better exemplified than in his case.
There came a time when the Yale "Bulldog" was hard beset by the Princeton
"Tiger," and Joe was called on to twist the Tiger's tail. How well he did
it and what glory he won for his Alma Mater can be read in the third
volume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe at Yale; Or, Pitching for
the College Championship."
But even at the top notch of his popularity, Joe was restless at college.
He was bright and keen in his studies and had no difficulty in standing up
well in his classes. But all his instincts told him that he was made for
the out-of-door life.
His mother had hoped that Joe would enter the ministry, but Joe, although
he had the greatest respect for that profession, did not feel that his
life work lay in that direction. He had been so successful in athletic
sports and took such pleasure in them that he yielded to his natural bent
and decided to adopt professional baseball as his vocation.
His mother was sorely grieved at first, and the more so as she felt that
Joe was "stepping down" in entering the professional ranks. But Joe was
able to show her that scores of college men were doing the same thing that
he planned to do, and she had too good sense to press her opposition too
far.
The opening that Joe was looking for came when he was offered a chance to
play in the Pittston team of the Central League. It was only a minor
league, but all the great players have been developed in that way, and Joe
determined to make it a stepping stone to something higher. How he
speedily rose to leadership among the twirlers of his league is told in
the fourth volume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe in the Central
League; Or, Making Good as a Professional Pitcher."
While Joe had been winning his spurs, the keen-eyed scouts of the big
leagues had not been idle. The St. Louis team of the National League
drafted him into their ranks and took him away from the "bushes." Now he
felt that he was really on the highway to success. Almost from the start
he created a sensation, and it was his pitching that brought his team into
the first division.
A still wider field opened up before him when after one year with St.
Louis he was bought by the New York Giants. This had been his ambition
from the start, but he had scarcely dared to hope that his dream would
come true. He promised himself that he would "pitch his head off" to
justify the confidence that McRae, the Giants' manager, had put in him.
How he came through an exciting season and in the final game won the
championship for his team can be seen in the sixth volume of the series,
entitled: "Baseball Joe on the Giants; Or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler
in the Metropolis."
Of course this brought him into the World's Series, in which that year the
Boston Red Sox were the Giants' opponents. It proved to be a whirlwind
series, whose result remained in doubt until the last inning of the last
game. Joe had fearful odds to contend against since an accident to
Hughson, the Giants' standby, put the bulk of the pitching burden on our
hero's shoulders. Unscrupulous enemies also sought by foul means to keep
him out of the Series, but Joe's indomitable will and magnificent pitching
won out against all odds, as told in the volume preceding this, entitled:
"Baseball Joe in the World Series; Or, Pitching for the Championship."
If ever a man had earned a rest it was Joe, and, as we have seen, he was
taking it now in his home town. Jim Barclay, a fine young Princeton man
and second-string pitcher on the Giants, had come with him, not so much,
it is to be suspected, because of his fondness for Joe, though that was
great, as to be near Clara, Joe's charming sister, who had been working
all sorts of havoc with poor Jim's heart.
By the time the orchestra had finished the tune, the panic had about
subsided. But Joe was taking no chances and he motioned for a repetition.
The leader obeyed, and at the end of this second playing the danger was
entirely over. The audience was seated, with the exception of the man whom
Joe had knocked down, who slunk shame-facedly out of the hall holding his
hand on the place where the blow had landed.
And now that the peril had passed, it was Joe who was panic-stricken.
Though brave as a lion and quick as a panther in an emergency, he was the
most modest of men and hated to pose as a hero. He was wondering what he
should say or do, when Altman solved the problem by coming up to him with
both hands extended. That gave the audience its cue, and in a moment a
tempest of cheers swept the hall.
"What's the matter with Matson?" someone shouted in a stentorian voice.
"He's all right!" came back in a roar.
"Who's all right?"
"Matson! Joe Matson! Baseball Joe!"
Men crowded forward, and in a moment Joe was surrounded by his friends and
fellow townsmen, most of whom had known him when he was in knickerbockers
and now were more proud of him than they had ever been, even when he
returned to Riverside crowned with the laurels of his last great season.
Joe was mauled and pounded until he was almost out of breath, and it was a
relief when at last he had made his way back to his mother and sister.
They were both crying openly with joy and pride, and the looks they turned
on Joe were a greater reward than all the plaudits of his friends.
There was no going on with the performance after that. The nerves of the
audience were too highly keyed by the great peril that had been escaped.
And they had a more dramatic scene to remember and talk about than
anything that could be given them from the stage.
In the excitement, a great many of those present had lost track of the
friends or relatives that had been with them, and from all sides came
various calls.
"Where is Frank?"
"Did you see what became of my sister Bessie?"
"Oh, Bill! I say, Bill! Where are you?"
Many of the scenes were most affecting. Women would rush into each other's
arms, crying with joy to find that the lost ones were safe.
"I can tell you it's a grand good thing that panic was stopped so
quickly," remarked one man to another, as he gazed admiringly at the hero
of the occasion.
As Joe and his folks were leaving, a tall, well-dressed man stepped up to
Joe and extended his hand.
"Let me congratulate you, Mr. Matson," he said effusively. "That was a
splendid thing you did to-night. I never saw anything finer."
"I'm afraid you exaggerate it," deprecated Joe.
"Not at all," said the stranger. "By the way, Mr. Matson, it's a
coincidence that I came to town with the express purpose of seeing you on
a business matter. But I didn't expect that my first meeting with you
would be under such exciting circumstances."
He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Joe.
"My name, as you see, is Westland," he continued. "I'm stopping at the
hotel, and I would be glad to see you there or at any place that may be
convenient to you some time to-morrow."
"Suppose you call at my home to-morrow morning," said Joe. "It's only
about five minutes' walk from the hotel."
"You needn't bother about giving me the directions," said Westland, with
an ingratiating smile. "Everybody in Riverside knows where Baseball Joe
lives. I'll be around at eleven o'clock."
He lifted his hat and departed, while Joe and the others walked toward
home.
"What do you suppose he wants of you, Joe?" asked Clara, with lively
curiosity.
"Oh, I don't know," answered her brother carelessly. "Some reporter
probably who wants to get the sad story of my life."
"If it is, he'll have something to write about after to-night," put in
Jim. "Great Scott! Joe, if that had happened in New York it would be
spread all over the front page of to-morrow's papers."
"Oh, Joe, I'm so proud of you," sighed his mother happily.
"You're a brother worth having!" exclaimed Clara warmly.
Jim was on the point of saying that Joe was a brother-in-law worth having,
but checked himself in time.
They had almost reached the house when Clara began to laugh.
"What's the joke?" inquired Jim.
But Clara only laughed the harder until they became a little alarmed.
"No, I'm not hysterical," she said, when she could speak. "I only happened
to remember what tune it was the orchestra played. I suppose it was the
first thing the leader thought of, and he didn't have time to pick out
another. Do you remember what it was?"
They cudgeled their brains, but could not recall it.
"What was it?" asked Jim.
"'There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night!'"