Baseball Joe, Captain of the Team; or, Bitter Struggles on the Diamond

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XVI

  OUT FOR REVENGE

  "Joe," said McRae, on the eve of the Giants' second trip West, "I wantto have a serious talk with you."

  "That sounds ominous, Mac," replied Joe, with a twinkle in his eye."What have I been doing?"

  "What I wish every member of the team had been doing," responded McRae."Pitching like a wizard, batting like a fiend, and playing the gamegenerally as it's never been played before in my long experience asa manager. No, it isn't you, Joe, that I have to growl about. You'retop-notch in every department of the game, and as a captain you've morethan met my expectations. You've brought the team up from the seconddivision to a point where any day they may step into the lead."

  "Give credit to the boys," said Joe, modestly. "They're certainlyplaying championship ball. That is, with one exception," he addedhesitatingly.

  "With one exception," repeated McRae. "Exactly! And it's just aboutthat exception I want to talk to you. Of course, we're both thinking ofthe same man--Iredell."

  Joe nodded assent.

  "I've worked myself half sick trying to brace him up," he said. "Buthe's taken a bitter dislike to me since he was displaced as captainof the team. He only responds in monosyllables, or oftener yet witha grunt. He's such a crack player when he wants to be that I've beenhoping he'd wake up and change his tactics."

  "Same here," said McRae. "He's been with the team for a long time, andfor that reason I've been more patient with him than I otherwise would.But there comes a time when patience ceases to be a virtue, and I havea hunch that that time is now."

  "You may be right," assented Joe. "I'm sorry for Iredell."

  "So am I," replied McRae. "I'm sorry to see any man throw himself away.And that's just what Iredell is doing. If it were only a slump in hisplaying, such as any player has at times, it would be different. Butit's more than that. I've had detectives keeping track of him forthe last week or two, and they report that he has been drinking andfrequenting low resorts. You know as well as I do, that no man can dothat and play the game. So I'm going to bench him for a while and seeif that doesn't bring him to his senses. If it does, well and good. Ifit doesn't, I'll trade him at the end of the season."

  "That'll mean Renton in his place," said Joe, thoughtfully.

  "Do you think he measures up to the position?" inquired McRae.

  "I'm inclined to think he will," affirmed Joe. "Of course, he isn't theplayer that Iredell is when he's going right. But he'll certainly playthe position as well as Iredell has since we returned from the lasttrip. He is an upstanding, ambitious young chap, and he'll play hishead off to make good. He has all the earmarks of a coming star. WithLarry on one side of him and Jackwell on the other, and with you and meto drill the fine points of the game into him, I think he'll fill thebill."

  "Then it's a go," declared McRae. "I'll have a talk with Iredellto-night. You tell Renton that he's to play short to-morrow, and thatit's up to him to prove that he's the right man for the job."

  Joe did so, and the young fellow was delighted to learn that his chancehad come.

  "I'll do my best, Mr. Matson," he promised, "and give you and the teamall I've got. If I fall down, it won't be for the lack of trying."

  Pittsburgh was the first stop on the Giants' schedule, and ForbesField was crowded to repletion when the teams came out on the field.The local fans had been worked up to a high pitch of enthusiasm by thecloseness of the race, and they looked to see their favorites put theGiants to rout, as they had on the first visit of the latter to theSmoky City.

  "Look who's here," said Jim to Joe, as the two friends drew near to thegrandstand before the preliminary practice.

  "Meaning whom?" asked Joe, as his eyes swept the stands withoutrecognizing any one he knew.

  "In the second row near that post on the right of the middle section,"indicated Jim.

  Joe glanced toward that part of the stand, and gave a violent start ofsurprise, not unmixed with a deeper emotion.

  "That lob-eared scoundrel, Lemblow!" he ejaculated. "And confabbingwith Hupft and McCarney."

  "Evidently as thick as thieves," commented Jim. "A precious trio. Iwonder they have the face to show themselves at a baseball game whenthey've done the best they could to bring the sport into disgrace."

  "Three of the worst enemies we have in the world," murmured Joe, as hismind ran over the exciting events of the previous season.

  Hupft and McCarney had been members of the Giant team that year. Theywere good players, but had entered into a conspiracy with a gang ofgamblers--who had bet heavily against the Giants--to lose the pennant.Lemblow was a minor-league pitcher who had long wanted to get a chanceto play with the Giants. If Joe, their star pitcher, could be putout of the game, Lemblow figured that his chance for a berth wouldbe better. He also, therefore, had fallen in with the plans of thegambling ring, and had, seemingly, stopped at nothing to bring Joe togrief. How their plans miscarried, how Hupft and McCarney had been puton the blacklist that debarred them forever from playing in organizedbaseball, how Lemblow had been exposed and disgraced, are familiar tothose who have read the preceding volume of this series.

  "Wonder what they're doing here," puzzled Joe.

  "Rogues naturally drift together," said Jim. "I heard some time agothat the bunch was playing with one of the semi-pro teams in thePittsburgh district. But they usually play only on Saturdays andSundays, so I suppose they're choosing this way to spend their offtime. I suppose if we could hear what they're saying about us at thismoment, our ears would be blistered."

  "Whatever it is doesn't matter," laughed Joe. "They made acquaintancewith our fists once, and I don't think they're anxious to repeat theexperience. But I guess we'd better pick out catchers and begin to warmup. I've a hunch that the Pirates are going to pitch Miles to-day, andif they do we'll need the best we have in stock to turn them back."

  By the time the bell rang for the beginning of the game, the standswere black with spectators. The Giant supporters were comparativelyfew, but they made up in vehemence what they lacked in numbers.

  From the beginning it was evident that the game would be a pitchers'duel. Miles was in superb form, and up to the ninth inning had onlygiven three hits, and these so scattered that no runs resulted.

  But Joe was in the box for the Giants and was pitching for a no-hitgame. Up to the ninth, not even the scratchiest kind of hit had beenregistered from his delivery.

  Could he keep it up? The crowd waited breathlessly for the answer.