IN MIKADO LAND
But if Braxton sensed the slight feeling of antipathy which Joe felt for
him, he gave no sign of it, and Joe himself, who wanted to be strictly
just, took pains to conceal it.
Braxton had a fund of anecdotes that made him good company, and the
friendship that Reggie felt for him made him often a member of Joe's
party.
"Fine fellow, that Mr. Matson of yours," he remarked one afternoon, when
he and Reggie and Mabel were sitting together under an awning, which the
growing heat of every day, as the vessel made its way deeper into the
tropics, made very grateful for its shade and coolness.
"Indeed he is," remarked Mabel, warmly, to whom praise of Joe was always
sweet.
"He's a ripper, don't you know," agreed Reggie.
"Not only as a man but as a player," continued Braxton. "Hughson used to
be king pin once, but I think it can be fairly said that Matson has taken
his place as the star pitcher of America. Hughson's arm will probably
never be entirely well again."
"Joe thinks that Hughson is a prince," remarked Mabel. "He says he stands
head and shoulders above everybody else."
"He used to," admitted Braxton. "For ten years there was nobody to be
compared with him. But now it's Matson's turn to wear the crown."
"Have you ever seen Joe pitch?" asked Mabel.
"I should say I have," replied Braxton. "And it's always been a treat to
see the way he did his work. I saw him at the Polo Grounds when in that
last, heartbreaking game he won the championship for the Giants. And I saw
him, too, in that last game of the World's Series, when it seemed as
though only a miracle could save the day. That triple play was the most
wonderful thing I ever beheld. The way he nailed that ball and shot it
over to Denton was a thing the fans will talk over for many years to
come."
"Wasn't it great?" cried Mabel, enthusiastically, at the same time
privately resolving to tell all this to Joe and show him how unjust he was
in feeling the way he did toward this generous admirer.
"The fact is," continued Braxton, "that Matson's in a class by himself.
He's the big cog in the Giant machinery. It's a pity they don't
appreciate him more."
"Why, they do appreciate him!" cried Mabel, her eyes opening wide with
wonder. "Mr. McRae thinks nothing's too good for him."
"Nothing's too good except money," suggested Braxton.
"They give him plenty of that, too," put in Mabel, loyally.
"He gets a ripping salary, don't you know," put in Reggie. "And he almost
doubled it in this last World's Series."
"A man's worth what he can get," returned Braxton. "Now, of course, I
don't know and perhaps it might be an impertinence for me even to guess
what his salary is, but I should say that it isn't a bit more than ten
thousand a year."
"Oh, it isn't anything like that," said Reggie, a little chop fallen.
Braxton raised his eyebrows in apparent surprise.
"I didn't think the Giants were so niggardly," he remarked, with a touch
of contempt. "It's simply robbery for them to hold his services at such a
figure. Mr. Matson could demand vastly more than that."
"Where?" asked Reggie. "He's under contract with the Giants and they
wouldn't let him go to any other club."
"Why doesn't he go without asking leave?" asked Braxton.
"But no other club in the big leagues would take him if he broke his
contract with the Giants," said Mabel, a little bewildered.
"I've heard there was a new league forming," said Braxton, carelessly.
"Let's see, what is it they call it? The All-Star League. There would be
no trouble with Matson's getting an engagement with them. They'd welcome
him with open arms."
"They've already tried to get him," cried Mabel, proudly.
"Is that so? I suppose they made him a pretty good offer. I've heard
they're doing things on a big scale."
"It was a wonderful offer," said Mabel.
"It certainly was, 'pon honor," chimed in Reggie.
"Would it be indiscreet to ask the amount?" said Braxton.
"I don't think there's any bally secret 'bout it," complied Reggie. "They
offered him twenty thousand dollars to sign a contract and fifteen
thousand dollars a year for a three years' term. Many a bank or railroad
president doesn't get that much, don't you know."
"And Matson refused it?" asked Braxton, incredulously.
"How could he help it?" replied Mabel. "His contract with the Giants has
two years yet to run."
"My dear young lady," said Braxton, "don't you know that a baseball
contract isn't as binding as the ordinary kind? In the first place, it's
one-sided, and that itself makes it worthless."
"In what way is it so one-sided?" asked Mabel.
"Well, just to take one instance," replied Braxton. "A baseball club may
engage a man for a year and yet if it gets tired of its bargain, it can
let him go on ten days' notice. That doesn't seem fair, does it?"
"No-o, it doesn't," admitted Mabel slowly.
"It would be all right," continued Braxton, "if the player also could
leave his club by giving ten days' notice. But he can't. That's what makes
it unfair. The club can do to the player what the player can't do to the
club. So the supposed contract is only a bit of paper. It's no contract at
all."
"Not in the legal sense, perhaps," said Reggie, dubiously.
"Well, if not in the legal sense, then in no sense at all," persisted
Braxton. "The law is supposed to be based on justice, isn't it, and to do
what is right?
"Of course," he went on, "it's none of my business; but if I were in Mr.
Matson's place, I shouldn't hesitate a moment in going where my services
were in the most demand."
Mabel felt there was sophistry somewhere in the argument, but could hardly
point out where it was.
"I wouldn't like to be quoted in this matter, of course," said Braxton,
suavely. "And it might be just as well not to mention to Mr. Matson that I
have spoken about it. He might think I was trying to pry into his
affairs."
As Joe and Jim came up just then from the engine-room of the ship which
they had been inspecting, the subject, of course, was dropped, and after a
while Braxton strode away with a self-satisfied smile on his lips.
The travelers were now in the heart of the typhoon region but luckily for
them it was the winter season when such storms are least frequent and
although they met a half gale that for two days kept them in their cabins,
they were favored on the whole by fair weather and at the appointed time
dropped anchor in the harbor of Yokohama.
Now they were on the very threshold of the Oriental world of whose wonders
they had heard and dreamed, and all were on tiptoe with curiosity and
interest.
The sights and scenes were as strange almost as though they were on
another planet. Everything was new to their young blood and unjaded senses
in this "Land of the Rising Sun."
The great city itself, teeming with commerce and busy life, had countless
places of interest, but far more enchanting were the trips they took in
the jinrikishas drawn by tireless coolies which carried them to the little
dreaming, rustic towns with their tiny houses, their quaint pagodas, their
charming gardens and their unhurried life, so different from the feverish,
restless tumult of western lands.
"Really, this seems to be a different world from ours," was Clara's
comment.
"It certainly is vastly different from anything we have in America,"
replied Mabel.
"It's interesting--I'll admit that," said Joe. "Just the same, I like
things the way we have them much better."
"To me these people--or at least a large part of them--seem to lead a
dreamlike existence," was Jim's comment. "They don't seem to belong to the
hurry and bustle of life such as we know it."
"And yet there is noise enough, goodness knows!" answered Clara.
"I think I really prefer the good old U. S. A., don't you know," drawled
Reggie. "There may be society here, but really it's so different from ours
that I shouldn't like to take part in it."
"Yes, there is plenty of noise, but, at the same time, there is a good
deal of calm and quiet," said Joe.
But the calm and quiet that seemed to be prevailing features of Japanese
life were wholly absent from the ball games where the visiting teams met
the nines of Keio and Waseda Universities.
The Giants were to play the first named team, while later on the
All-Americans were slated to tackle the Waseda men.
In the first game the contrast was laughable between the sturdy Giant
players and their diminutive opponents.
"What are we playing against?" laughed Larry to Denton. "A bunch of
kids?"
"It would take two of them to make a mouthful," grinned Denton.
"I feel almost ashamed of myself," chimed in Burkett. "We ought to tackle
fellows of our own size."
"You don't find many of that kind in Japan," said Joe. "But don't you hold
these fellows too cheap. They may have a surprise in store for us."
The snap and vim that the Japs put into their practice before the game
seemed to add point to his prophecy. They shot the ball around the bases
with a speed and precision that would have done credit to seasoned
veterans and made McRae, who watched them keenly, give his men a word of
caution.
"Don't get too gay, boys," he warned.
The game that followed was "for blood." The universities had poured out
their crowds to a man to cheer their players on to victory.
And for the first five innings the scales hung in the balance. The Keio
pitcher had a world of speed and a tantalizing drop, and only two safe
hits were made off him. Behind him his team mates fielded like demons. No
ball seemed too hard for them to get, and even when a Giant got to first
base he found it difficult to advance against the accurate throwing to
second of the Jap catcher.
At the bat the home players were less fortunate. They hit the ball often
enough but they couldn't "lean against it" with the power of their
sturdier rivals.
They were skillful bunters, however, and had the Giant players "standing
on their heads" in trying to field the balls that the clever Jap players
laid deftly in front of the plate.
By these tactics they scored a run in the sixth inning, against which the
Giants had only a string of goose eggs.
"It's like a bear against a wildcat," muttered Robbie to McRae, as the
little Jap scurried over the plate.
"And it looks as if the wildcat might win," grunted the Giant manager, not
at all pleased at the possibility.
"Not a bit of it," denied Robbie sturdily. "A good big man is better than
a good little man any time."
And his faith was justified when, in the seventh inning, the Giants, stung
by the taunts of their manager, really woke up and got into action. A
perfect storm of hits broke from their bats and had the Japanese players
running after the ball until their tongues hung out.
Five runs came in and it was "all over but the shouting." There was not
much shouting, however, for the home crowd had seen its dream of victory
shattered.
But though the Giants won handily in the end by a score of six to two, it
had been a red-hot game, and had taken some of the conceit out of the
major leaguers. It was a tip, too, to the All-Americans, who, when they
played the Waseda team a little later, went in with determination to win
the game from the start and trimmed their opponents handsomely.
"Those Japs are the goods all right," conceded McRae, when at last they
were ready to embark for Hongkong.
"You're right they are," agreed Robbie.
"We call ourselves the world's champions," grinned Jim. "But, after all,
we're only champions of the United States. The time may come when there
will be a real World's Series and then the pennant will mean something
more than it does now."
"It would be some big jump between the games," said Joe.
"Lots of queer things happen," said Larry sagely. "The time yet may come
when the umpire will take off his hat, bow to the crowd and say--
"'Ladies and gentlemen: the batteries for to-day's game are Matsuda and
Nagawiki for the All-Japans, Matson and Mylert for the All-Americans.'"