PLAYING THE GAME
If a visitor from Mars had seen the crowd at the Polo Grounds when Joe
knocked out that homer, he would promptly have set down the people of
this planet as madmen. The people in the stands and bleachers simply
went crazy with delight. Cheer after cheer went up. Hats were thrown
into the air and on the diamond by the hundreds. Then the throng swept
down on the field in the frantic desire to surround the hero of the
game and carry him in triumph on their shoulders.
But Joe had seen them coming and was off at top speed for the
clubhouse. The crowd thickened about him as he fled, and for the last
hundred feet he had fairly to fight his way through to get away from
the embarrassing attentions of his admirers.
Even in the clubhouse his troubles were not over, for his comrades were
almost as delirious as the outside throng. They wrung his hand and
slapped his back until he was sore.
McRae was all smiles, while Robbie, as Robson was usually called,
fairly hugged him in his delight.
“Man, you’re a wizard in the box and at the bat!” Robbie cried. “Sure,
it’s magic that you use. You’ve put a come-hither on the ball. You’ve
got it bewitched. You go into the box and you put two men out with only
one ball pitched. You whack the ball and it starts for Kingdom Come.”
McRae, though less exuberant, was none the less delighted.
“Once more you’ve pulled me out of a hole, Joe,” he said earnestly.
“Many’s the time I’ve had to call on you in a tight pinch, and I’ve
never been disappointed yet. You’re my standby and the standby of the
team. You’ve only proved to me again, what needed no proving, that when
the test comes you’re there.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Mac,” returned Joe. “Although I think you
make too much of what I’ve done. The team’s the biggest thing on earth
to me outside of my home and folks, and it’s always a pleasure to give
it my best efforts.”
There were two notable exceptions to the praise that was heaped on Joe
by his mates. Hupft and McCarney stood aloof, not saying a single word,
and their brows were so black that one might have thought that St.
Louis had won instead of the Giants.
“How sore those spalpeens look,” remarked Larry to Wheeler, as he
finished his dressing. “They’re like corpses at a wedding.”
“I’ve noticed that,” replied Wheeler. “I suppose they’re a little bit
crabbed because they failed to come through in the ninth inning. They
had their chances to send the boys in, but both fell down. I’ve felt
that way myself more than once. They’ll be all over that by to-morrow.”
The grumpiness of the pair had not escaped Joe and Jim, although they
gave no sign until they were clear of the clubhouse and on their way
home.
“I’ll bet a nickel I know what you’re thinking of,” bantered Jim.
“Too easy,” laughed Joe. “Of course, we’re both thinking of the same
thing and that is the sour looks of that precious pair of highbinders
at the end of the game. Even the other fellows, who haven’t the reason
we have to suspect them, were struck by it. You heard what Larry said
to Wheeler.”
“If they were really foxy they’d have made a bluff at feeling good, no
matter how they felt,” remarked Jim. “There were all the other fellows
fairly out of their heads with delight, and they were as black as
thunderclouds. If they don’t look out, other people will tumble to the
fact that there’s something crooked going on.”
“What took place in the game itself showed that our previous suspicion
was right,” observed Joe. “All the time Markwith was pitching they were
fairly eating up every chance that came to them. See the way McCarney
guarded third. Nothing was too hot for him and he tried for everything
at right and left of him. And Hupft played like a miracle-man out in
the field. Compare that with the way they played yesterday when I was
in the box.”
“And the way their batting fell off in the ninth inning,” added Jim.
“They had been clouting the ball for keeps in the early part of the
game. But McCarney stood there like a wooden man when Leadows set him
down on strikes, and that pop fly that Hupft lifted to the box was
just peaches and cream for St. Louis. It’s lucky they didn’t have any
fielding chances in the ninth or they’d probably have fallen down on
those, too.”
“It wasn’t merely luck,” explained Joe. “I had that in mind when I toed
the mound. I made up my mind that I’d work for strikeouts and nothing
else. I was actually afraid to let the ball go to the infield because I
believed that McCarney, if he had the chance, would deliberately fumble
it. Nice, isn’t it, when a pitcher has to feel that way about any of
the men behind him?”
“It’s an awful shame!” exclaimed Jim hotly.
“And here’s one other thing,” continued Joe. “You noticed that when I
caught Blair napping at second, I ran over to the base line and shouted
to Larry to throw the ball to me. Ordinarily I would have left it to
McCarney to make that play and he and Mylert together could have run
Nealon down. But I didn’t dare let McCarney take the throw for fear he
would let it slip through his fingers on purpose. So I tagged Nealon
myself and made sure of it.”
“Gee, but you’ve got a wonderful head on you, Joe!” was the admiring
ejaculation wrung from Jim. “You think of everything.”
“One has to think of a lot of things when his reputation and perhaps
his life is at stake,” replied Joe soberly. “I tell you, Jim, we’re
up against a serious problem, and every day it seems to get more
complicated. Even when we sleep, from now on we’ll have to do it with
one eye open.”
“That’s true,” agreed Jim. “Still, what has happened to-day isn’t
altogether without its bright side. Up to now you’ve been largely in
the dark. You’ve had an uneasy feeling that a web was being woven about
you, and you’ve had certain suspicions about Hupft and McCarney. But
their actions in to-day’s game and their grouchiness after the game
have transformed those suspicions almost into certainties. Now you can
plan to fight them and force them into the open without the fear that
you might be doing them an injustice.
“Then, too, that Lemblow matter has thrown a little more light on
things. It indicates that he’s in cahoots with the other two rascals.
The more there are in any conspiracy, the more likely it is that there
will be a leak somewhere. To-day’s happenings have given you three
sides of a triangle――Hupft, McCarney and Lemblow. Somewhere within that
triangle is the plot that is being hatched. At least we know where to
look, and that is something.”
“And whatever that something is we’ll meet it and we’ll beat it,” cried
Joe, throwing care to the winds. “Let’s think of something pleasant.
The girls will be on for that promised visit soon. In less than a week
now I’ll see the dearest girl in all the world――Mabel.”
“Clara,” corrected Jim.
And both laughed happily.