BROUGHT TO BOOK--CONCLUSION
There was a gasp of dismay and astonishment, as the conspirators jumped to
their feet from the windowsill upon which they had been sitting.
At the same instant Joe drew the flashlight from his pocket and illumined
their startled faces.
"Don't move!" he commanded. "Jim, you keep them covered."
Jim took up his station in the doorway, and in the insufficient light the
rascals could not see whether he had a weapon or not.
"What do you mean by this?" blustered Fleming, in a voice that he tried to
make brave, but that quavered despite himself.
"It means," said Joe grimly, "that one of you men is in for the licking of
his life. Don't tremble so, Fleming," he added contemptuously. "I've
already thrashed you once and I don't care to soil my hands with you
again. But I've been aching for months to get my fingers on the man that
made me out a liar and a contract-breaker. I have him now," he added,
with a steely glance at Braxton.
"Here, Jim," he continued, stepping back, "take this flash. I've got some
work to do."
With a quick wrench he tore off his coat.
"You'd better be careful," said Braxton--no longer the suave and polished
trickster, but pale as chalk and trembling like a leaf. "This is assault
and battery, and you'll answer to the law."
"Put up your hands," said Joe curtly. "You're as big a man as I am, but
you've got to prove which is the better one. And you, Jim, keep your eye
on Fleming and stand by to see fair play."
Even a rat will fight when cornered and Braxton, seeing no alternative,
threw off his coat and made a desperate rush at Joe. Joe met him with a
clip to the jaw that shook him from head to foot. Then he sailed in and
gave the scoundrel what he had promised--the thrashing of his life.
Braxton tried foul tactics, butted and kicked and tried to gouge and bite,
but Joe's powerful arms worked like windmills, his fists ripping savagely
into Braxton's face and chest. All the pent-up indignation and humiliation
of the last few weeks found vent in those mighty blows, and soon, too soon
to suit Joe, the man lay on the floor, whining and half-sobbing with shame
and pain.
"Get up, you cur!" said Joe, as he pulled on his coat. "I'm not through
with you yet."
"You're not going to hit him again, are you?" asked Fleming, while Braxton
staggered painfully to his feet.
"No," said Joe. "I guess he's had enough."
"You said it!" cried Jim admiringly. "If ever a man was trimmed to the
queen's taste he's that man."
"But I'm going to nail, right now, the lies you fellows have been
spreading," continued Joe, eyes alight with the thought of his coming
vindication. "You've got to sign a written confession of the part you've
played in this dirty business."
"We w-will, w-when we get back to town," stammered Fleming.
"No, you won't," cried Joe. "You'll do it right here and now."
"B-but we haven't any writing materials," suggested Braxton, through his
swollen lips.
"I've got paper and a fountain pen!" exclaimed Jim eagerly. "This light is
rather dim, but probably Mike has got the automobile lamps going by this
time and that'll be light enough."
"Come along!" cried Joe sternly, and his crest-fallen opponents knew him
too well by this time to resist.
They went out into the open and found that the rain had almost stopped. As
Jim had prophesied, the automobile lamps were gleaming through the dusk.
Like every Irishman, Mike dearly loved a scrap, and his eyes lighted with
a mixture of eagerness and regret as he looked at Braxton and realized
what he had been missing.
"Begorra!" he cried in his rich brogue, "'tis a lovely shindy ye've been
after havin'."
With the paper resting on his knee and Jim's fountain pen in his hand, Joe
wrote out the story of the trickery and fraud that had been practiced in
getting his signature. When he had covered every important point, he held
out the pen to Braxton.
The latter hesitated, and Joe's fist clenched till the knuckles were
white. Braxton knew what that fist was capable of and hesitated no longer.
He wrote his name under the confession and Fleming followed suit. Then Jim
affixed his name as a witness, and Michael O'Halloran happily added his.
"Now," said Jim, as he folded the precious paper and stowed it safely in
his pocket, "you fellows clear out. I suppose that's your car that we saw
standing a little way down the road. I don't think either of you will care
to mix in my affairs again."
They moved away with an assumption of bravado they were far from feeling
and were lost in the darkness.
"And now, Mike," said Joe with a jubilant ring in his voice, as they
leaped into the car, "let her go. Drive to Dublin as if the ghost of the
last of the O'Brians were at your back!"
And Mike did.
The two baseball players found the girls impatiently awaiting them, and
wondering rather petulantly what had become of them. Joe seized Mabel in
his arms and whirled her about the room like a dancing dervish, paying no
heed to her laughing protests.
Jim would have liked to do the same to Joe's sister, but did not quite
dare to--yet.
"Are you boys crazy?" demanded Mabel, as soon as she could get her
breath.
"Yes," said Joe promptly. "You'll be, too, when you see this."
He flourished the paper before their faces and in disjointed sentences,
frequently broken by interruptions, told them of all that had happened
since they had left them after the game.
No need of telling how they felt when the boys had finished. There was no
happier party that night in all Ireland.
Then, leaving the delighted girls for a few minutes, the boys hunted up
McRae. They found him glum and anxious, talking earnestly with Robbie in
the lobby of the hotel. One glance at the young men's faces made the pair
jump wonderingly to their feet.
"For the love of Pete, let's have it, Joe!" cried McRae. "What's
happened?"
"Plenty!" exulted Joe. "We've put the All-Star League out of business!"
"What!" cried McRae, as he snatched the paper that Joe held out to him and
devoured its contents, while Robbie peered eagerly over his shoulder.
Then, as they realized what it meant, they set up a wild whoop which made
the other members of the team, scattered about the lobby, come running,
followed a scene of mad hilarity, during which no one seemed to know what
he said or did.
That night the cable carried the news to New York, and from there to every
city in the United States. It sounded the death knell of the All-Star
League, and it went to pieces like a house of cards. The American public
will stand for much, but for nothing so gross and contemptible as that had
been.
The trip wound up in a blaze of glory with the Giants just one game to the
good in the hot series of games that had been played. They had a swift and
joyous journey home, and when they separated on the dock in New York,
McRae's hearty grip of Baseball Joe's hand fairly made the latter wince.
"Good-bye, old man," he said. "You've stood by me like a brick. You'll be
on hand when the bell rings."
"Joe will hear other bells before that," grinned Jim, as he looked at
Mabel, who flushed rosily.
"What's that?" asked McRae with a twinkle in his eye.
"Wedding bells," replied Jim.
THE END
THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES
By LESTER CHADWICK
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1. BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS
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2. BASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINE
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3. BASEBALL JOE AT YALE
or Pitching for the College Championship
4. BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE
or Making Good as a Professional Pitcher
5. BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE
or A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles
6. BASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTS
or Making Good as a Twirler in the Metropolis
7. BASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIES
or Pitching for the Championship
8. BASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD
or Pitching on a Grand Tour
9. BASEBALL JOE: HOME RUN KING
or The Greatest Pitcher and Batter on Record
10. BASEBALL JOE SAVING THE LEAGUE
or Breaking Up a Great Conspiracy
11. BASEBALL JOE CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM
or Bitter Struggles on the Diamond
12. BASEBALL JOE CHAMPION OF THE LEAGUE
or The Record that was Worth While
13. BASEBALL JOE CLUB OWNER
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FOUR BOY HUNTERS
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The Adventure Boys find plenty of thrills when they hit the ruby trail,
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Dick the Bank Boy
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End of Project Gutenberg's Baseball Joe Around the World, by Lester Chadwick