AN APPEAL
"Look out there!"
"See if you can grab the horses, Reggie!"
"Mabel, are you hurt?"
Fast and excitedly came the exclamations, as Joe managed to free himself
from the entanglement of robes and lines. Then he stood up, and, giving
a hasty glance to see that Mabel and her brother were extricating
themselves (apparently little if any hurt), the young pitcher sprang for
the heads of the horses, fearing they might bolt.
But, as if the steeds had done mischief enough; or, possibly because
they were well trained, and had lost most of their skittishness in the
cold, they stood still.
"For which I'm mighty glad!" quoth Joe, as he looked to see that no part
of the harness was broken, a fact of which he could not be quite sure in
the darkness.
"Are you all right, Mabel?" called Joe, as he stood at the heads of the
animals.
"All right, Joe, yes, thank you. How about yourself?"
"Oh, I haven't a scratch. The snow is soft. How about you, Reggie?"
"Nothing worse than about a peck of snow down my neck. What happened,
anyhow?"
"Hit a drift and turned too suddenly. I guess you'll wish I had left you
in the train; won't you?"
"No, indeed!" laughed Mabel. "This isn't anything, nor the first upset
I've been in--Reggie tipped us over once."
"Oh, that was when I was first learning how to drive," put in the other
youth, quickly. "But can we go on, Joe?"
"I think so. Nothing seems to be broken. We'll have to right the sled,
though. I wonder if the horses will stand while we do it? I wouldn't
like them to start up, but----"
"Let me hold them!" begged Mabel. "I'm not afraid, and with me at their
heads you boys can turn the sled right side up. It isn't tipped all the
way over, anyhow."
She shook the snow from her garments, and made her way to where Joe
stood, holding the reins close to the heads of the horses. It was still
snowing hard, and with the cold wind driving the flakes into swirls and
drifts, it was anything but pleasant. Had they been left behind by the
horses running away, their plight would have been dangerous enough.
"Perhaps I can help you," suddenly called a voice out of the storm, and
Joe and the others turned quickly, to see whence it had come.
The snow-encrusted figure of a man made its way over the piles of snow,
and stood beside Joe.
"I'll hold the horses for you," the stranger went on. "You seem to have
had an accident. I know something about horses. I'll hold them while you
right the sled."
"Thanks," said Joe, and, as he spoke, he wondered where he had heard
that voice before. He knew he had heard it, for there was a familiar
ring to it. But it was not light enough to make out the features of the
man. Besides, he was so wrapped up, with a slouch hat drawn low over his
face, and a scarf pulled up well around his neck, that, even in
daylight, his features would have been effectually concealed.
"I guess they won't need much holding," Joe went on, all the while
racking his brain to recall the voice. He wanted to have the man speak
again, that he might listen once more.
And the unknown, who had appeared so suddenly out of the storm, did not
seem to have anything to conceal. He spoke freely.
"Don't worry about the horses," he remarked. "I can manage them."
"They won't need a lot of managing," responded Joe. "I guess they've had
pretty nearly all the tucker taken out of them in the storm. It was
pretty hard coming from Riverside."
"Are you from there?" the man asked rather quickly.
"Yes," answered Joe, "and we're going back."
"Then I'm glad I met you!" the man exclaimed, and Joe, who had half
formed an opinion as to his identity, changed his mind, for the voice
sounded different now. "Yes, I'm glad I met you," the stranger went on.
"I was looking for someone to ask the road to Riverside, and you can
tell me. I guess I lost my way in the storm. I heard your sleigh-bells,
and I was heading for them when I heard you upset. You can show me the
shortest road to Riverside; can't you?"
"We can do better than that," spoke Joe, trying, but still
unsuccessfully, to get a look at the man's face. "We've got plenty of
room in the sled, and you can ride back with us, once we get it on the
runners again. Come on, Reggie, give me a hand, if you will, and we'll
get this cutter right side up with care."
"If it needs three of you, I can take my place at the horses," suggested
Mabel, who was standing beside Joe, idly looking through the
fast-gathering darkness at the stranger.
"Oh, the two of us can easily do it," said the young ball player. "It
isn't heavy. Come on, Reggie. Better stand a bit back, Mabel. It might
slip," he advised.
Joe and his friend easily righted the sleigh, while the stranger stood
at the heads of the horses, who were now quiet enough. Then, the
scattered robes having been collected, and the baggage picked up, all
was in readiness for a new start.
Joe tucked the warm blanket well around Mabel, and then called to the
stranger:
"Get up on the front seat, and I'll soon have you in Riverside. It isn't
very far now."
"Thanks," said the man, briefly. "This is better luck than I've had in
some time."
For a while, after the mishap, none of the occupants of the cutter
spoke, as the willing horses pulled it through the big drifts of snow.
Joe drove more carefully, taking care not to turn too suddenly, and he
avoided, as well as he could, the huge heaps of white crystals that,
every moment, were piling higher.
Reggie was snuggling down in the robes, and Mabel, too, rather worn out
by the events of the day, and the worry of being snowed in, maintained
silence.
As for Joe, he had all he could do to manage the horses in the storm,
though the beasts did not seem inclined to make any more trouble. The
man on the seat beside him appeared wrapped, not only in his heavy
garments, but in a sort of gloomy silence, as well. He did not speak
again, and Joe was still puzzling over his identity.
"For I'm sure I've met him before, and more than once," reasoned Joe.
"But then I've met so many fellows, playing ball all around the country,
that it's no wonder I can't recall a certain voice. Maybe I'll get a
chance to have a good look at him later."
"You'll come right to our house," said Joe, turning to speak to Mabel
and Reggie. "Mother said so."
"Oh, but we have our rooms engaged at the hotel," objected the other
youth.
"That doesn't matter. You can go there later, if you like. But mother
insisted that I bring you home," Joe went on. "You can be more
comfortable there--at least, until you get over this cold trip."
"It's perfectly lovely of your mother," declared Mabel. "But I don't
want to put her to so much inconvenience."
"It isn't any inconvenience at all," laughed Joe. "She wants to meet
you, and so does my sister Clara."
"And I want to meet them," responded Mabel, with a blush that was unseen
in the darkness.
"Well, have it your own way," said Reggie, who was, perhaps, rather too
much inclined to give in easily. Life came very easy to him, anyhow.
"It's very nice of you to put us up, Joe. By the way, how is your
father since the operation?"
"Oh, he has almost entirely recovered. His eyesight is better than ever,
he says."
"How lovely!" cried Mabel. "And how lucky it was, Joe, that your share
of the money your team got for winning the pennant helped to make the
operation possible."
"Yes, I sure do owe a debt of gratitude to baseball," admitted the young
pitcher.
"Do you play ball?" suddenly asked the man on the seat beside Joe.
"Yes, I play at it," was the modest answer.
"Amateur or professional?"
"Professional. I am with the Central League."
Was it fancy, or did the man give a sudden start, that might indicate
surprise? Joe could not be sure.
"I suppose you'll be at it again this year, Joe," put in Reggie.
"Oh, yes. But I may change my club. I'll tell you about it later. We'll
soon be at the house. Is there any special place I can take you to, in
Riverside?" asked Joe of the stranger.
"Well, I'm looking for a young fellow named Matson," was the unexpected
answer.
"Matson?" cried Joe. "Why, that's my name!"
"Joe Matson?" the man exclaimed, drawing slightly away in order,
possibly, to get a better look at the young player.
"I'm Joe Matson--yes. Are you looking for me?"
"I was, and I'm glad I found you!" the man exclaimed. "I've got a very
special request to make of you. Is there some hotel, or boarding house,
where I could put up, and where I could see you--later?" he asked,
eagerly.
"Why, yes, there are several such places in town," said Joe, slowly,
trying, harder than ever, to place the man who had so unexpectedly
appeared.
"Take me to a quiet one--not too high-priced," requested the man in a
low voice. "I want to see you on a very particular matter--that is, it's
particular to me," he added, significantly. "Will you come and see
me--after you take care of your friends?"
"Why, yes, I guess so--perhaps to-morrow," replied Joe, for he did not
fancy going out in the storm again that night. "But why can't you stop
off at my house now?" he asked.
"No, I don't want to do that," the man objected. "I'd rather you would
come to see me," and there was a note of appeal in his voice.
"Very well, I'll see you to-morrow," Joe promised, wondering if this
man's seeking of him had any connection with his possible draft to the
St. Louis Cardinals.