CHAPTER XIX
JOE IS WATCHED
There was an uproar in an instant. Players started for Sam and theunoffending lad whom he had struck. There were savage yells, calling forvengeance. Even Sam's mates, used as they were to his fits of temper,were not prepared for this. The Whizzer players were wild to get at him,but, instinctively Darrell, Joe, Rankin, and some of the others of theSilver Stars formed a protecting cordon about their pitcher.
"Are you crazy, Sam? What in the world did you do that for?" demandedthe manager.
"He made a rank decision, an unfair one!" cried Sam, "and when I calledhim down he was going to hit me. I got in ahead of him--that's all."
"That's not so!" cried the Whizzer captain. "I saw it all."
"That's right!" chimed in some of his mates.
"Farson never raised his hand to him!" declared another lad, who hadbeen standing near the umpire. "You're a big coward to hit a chapsmaller than you are!" he called tauntingly to Sam.
"Well, I'm not afraid to hit you!" cried the pitcher, who seemed to havelost control of himself. "And if you want anything you know how to getit."
"Yes, and I'm willing to take it right now," yelled the other, steppingup to Sam.
There might have been another fight then and there, for both lads wereunreasonable with anger, but Darrell quickly stepped in between them.
"Look here!" burst out the Stars' manager, in what he tried to make agood-natured and reasoning voice, "this has got to stop. We didn't comehere to fight, we came to play baseball and you trimmed us properly."
"Then why don't you fellows take your medicine?" demanded the homecaptain. "What right has he got to tackle our umpire?"
"No right at all," admitted Darrell. "Sam was in the wrong and he'llapologize. He probably thought the man was out."
"And he _was_ out!" exploded the unreasonable pitcher. "I'll notapologize, either."
"Wipe up the field with 'em!" came in murmurs from the home players.Several of the lads had grasped their bats.
It was a critical moment and Darrell felt it. He pulled Sam to one sideand whispered rapidly and tensely in his ear:
"Sam, you've got to apologize, and you've got to admit that the runnerwas safe. There's no other way out of it."
"Suppose I won't?"
There was defiance in Sam's air. Darrell took a quick decision.
"Then I'll put you out of the team!" was his instant rejoinder, and itcame so promptly that Sam winced.
Now it is one thing to resign, but quite another to be read out of anorganization, whether it be a baseball team or a political society. Samrealized this. He might have, in his anger, refused to belong to theSilver Stars and, later on he could boast of having gotten out of hisown accord. But to be "fired" carried no glory with it, and Sam was everon the lookout for glory.
"Do you mean that?" he asked of Darrell. "Won't you fellows stick up forme?"
He looked a vain appeal to his mates.
"I mean every word of it," replied the manager firmly. "We fellows wouldstick up for you if you were in the right, but you're dead wrong thistime. It's apologize or get out of the team!"
Once more Sam paused. He could hear the angry murmurs of the homeplayers as they watched him, waiting for his decision. Even some of hisown mates were regarding him with unfriendly eyes. He must make a virtueof necessity.
"All right--I--I apologize," said Sam in a low voice. "The runner wassafe I guess."
"You'd better be sure about it," said the captain of the Whizzers, in apeculiar tone as he looked at Sam.
"Oh, I'm sure all right."
"And you're sorry you hit our umpire?" persisted the captain, for Sam'sapology had not been very satisfactory.
"Yes. You needn't rub it in," growled the pitcher.
"Then why don't you shake hands with him, and tell him so like a man?"went on the home captain.
"I won't shake hands with him!" exclaimed the small umpire. "I don'tshake hands with cowards!"
There was another murmur, and the trouble that had been so nearlyadjusted threatened to break out again. But Darrell was wise in hisday.
"That's all right!" he called, more cheerily than he felt. "You fellowsbeat us fairly and on the level. We haven't a kick coming, but we maytreat you to a dose of the same medicine when we have a return game; eh,old man?" and he made his way to the opposing captain and the managerand cordially shook hands with them. There was a half cheer from theWhizzers. They liked a good loser.
"Yes, maybe you can turn the tables on us," admitted the other manager,"but I hope when we do come to Riverside you'll have a differentpitcher," and he glanced significantly at Sam.
"No telling," replied Darrell with a laugh. "Come on, fellows. We'llgive three cheers for the team that beat us and then we'll beat it forhome."
It was rather a silent crowd of the Silver Stars that rode in thespecial trolley. Following them was another car containing some of the"rooters." They made up in liveliness what the team members lacked inspirits, for there were a number of girls with the lads, Joe's sisterand Tom's being among them, and they started some school songs.
And the gloom that seemed to hang over the Stars was not altogetherbecause of their defeat. It was the remembrance of Sam's unsportsmanlikeact, and it rankled deep.
On his part it is doubtful if Sam felt any remorse. He was ahot-tempered lad, used to having his own way, and probably he thought hehad done just right in chastising the umpire for what he regarded as arank decision.
Darrell, Rankin and some of the others tried to be jolly and start aline of talk that would make the lads forget the unpleasant incident,but it is doubtful if they succeeded to any great extent.
The manager was seriously considering the future of the team. Was itwise to go on with such a pitcher as Sam who, though talented, could notbe relied upon and who was likely to make "breaks" at unexpected times?
"Yet what can we do?" asked Darrell of the captain. "Is there anotherman we could put in or get from some other team?"
"I don't believe any other team would part with a good pitcher at thistime of the season," replied Rankin. "Surely not if he was a real goodone, and we want one that _is_ good. As for using some of the otherfellows in Sam's place, I don't know of any one that's anywhere near asgood as he is."
"How about Percy Parnell? He's pitched some, hasn't he?"
"Yes, but you know what happened. He was knocked out of the box and wewere whitewashed that game."
"Say!" exclaimed Darrell. "I just happened to think of it. Thatnew fellow--Joe Matson. He told me he used to pitch in his hometown--Bentville I think it was. I wonder if he'd be any good?"
"Hard telling," replied the captain, somewhat indifferently. "We oughtto do something, anyhow."
"I tell you what I'm going to do," went on Darrell. "I'm going to writeto some one in Bentville. I think I know an old baseball friend there,and I'll ask him what Matson's record was. If he made good at all wemight give him a tryout."
"And have Sam get on his ear?"
"I don't care whether he does or not. Things can't be much worse; canthey?"
"No, I guess not. Go ahead. I'm with you in anything you do. Threestraight wallops in three weeks have taken the heart out of me."
"Same here. Well, we'll see what we can do."
Joe reached home that night rather tired and discouraged. He felt thedefeat of his team keenly, and the more so as the nine he had playedwith in Bentville had had a much better record than that of the SilverStars--at least so far, though the Silver Stars were an older andstronger team.
"I wonder if I'm the hoodoo?" mused Joe. "They lost the first game I sawthem play, and the next one I played in they lost, and here's this one.I hope I'm not a jinx."
Then he reviewed his own playing in the two games where he had had achance to show what he could do, and he had no fault to find with hisefforts. True, he had made errors; but who had not?
"I'm going to keep on practicing," mused Joe. "If I can work up in speedand accu
racy, and keep what curving power I have already, I may get achance to pitch. Things are coming to a head with Sam, and, though Idon't wish him any bad luck, if he _does_ get out I hope I get a chanceto go in."
Following this plan, Joe went off by himself one afternoon several dayslater to practice throwing in the empty lot. He used a basket to holdthe balls he pitched and he was glad to find that he had not gone backany from the time when he and Tom, with the other lads, had had theircontest.
"If I can only keep this up," mused the lad, "I'll get there some day.Jove! If ever I should become one of the big league players! Think oftaking part in the World's series! Cracky! I'd rather be in the box,facing the champions, than to be almost anything else I can think of.Forty thousand people watching you as you wind up and send in a swiftone like this!"
And with that Joe let fly a ball with all his speed toward the basket.He was not so much intent on accuracy then as he was in letting off somesurplus "steam," and he was not a little surprised when the ball notonly went _into_ the basket but _through_ it, ripping out the bottom.
"Wow!" exclaimed Joe. "I'm throwing faster than I thought I was. Thatbasket is on the fritz. But if I'd been sending a ball over the plate itwould have had some speed back of it, and it would have gone to theright spot."
As Joe went to pick up the ball and examine the broken basket moreclosely a figure peered out from a little clump of trees on the edge ofthe field where the lad was practicing. The figure watched the would-bepitcher closely and then murmured:
"He certainly has _speed_ all right. I'd like to be back of the plateand watch him throw them in. I wonder if he has anything in him afterall? It's worth taking a chance on. I'll wait a bit longer."
The figure dodged behind the trees again as Joe once more took hisposition. He had stuffed some grass in the hole in the peach basket hewas using, and again he threw in it.
He was just as accurate as before, and, now and then, when he cutloose, he sent the ball with unerring aim and with great force into thereceptacle, several times knocking it down off the stake on which itwas fastened.
"I don't know as there's much use in writing to Bentville to find outabout him," mused the figure hidden by the trees. "If he's got thatspeed, and continues to show the control he has to-day, even without anycurves he'd be a help to us. I'm going to speak to Rankin about it," andwith that the figure turned away.
Had Joe looked he would have seen Darrell Blackney, manager of theSilver Stars, who had been playing the innocent spy on him.
Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars; or, The Rivals of Riverside Page 19