Baseball Joe in the Big League; or, A Young Pitcher's Hardest Struggles

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER IX

  JOE IS DRAFTED

  For a moment Joe stood facing the angry man--unnecessarily angry, itseemed--since, even if the young ball player had trod on his foot, theinjury could not have amounted to much.

  "I told you once that I was sorry for having collided with you, though Ido not believe it was my fault," spoke Joe, holding himself in checkwith an effort. "That is all I intend to say, and you may make the mostof it."

  "I'll make the most of you, if you don't look out!" blustered the man."If you'll just step outside we can settle this little argument to thequeen's taste," and he seemed very eager to have Joe accept hischallenge.

  "Now see here! There'll be no fighting on these premises," declared thehotel proprietor, with conviction.

  "No, we'll do it outside," growled the man.

  "Not with me. I don't intend to fight you," said Joe as quietly as hecould.

  "Huh! Afraid; eh?"

  "No, not afraid."

  "Well, you're a coward and a----"

  "That will do, Wessel. Get out!" and the proprietor's voice left no roomfor argument. The man slunk away, giving Joe a surly look, and then thesupper bill was paid, and receipted.

  "Who was he?" asked Joe, when the fellow was out of sight.

  "Oh, I don't know any good of him," replied the hotel man. "He's beenhanging around town ever since the ball season closed."

  "Is he a player?" Joe inquired.

  "No. I'm inclined to think he's a gambler. I know he was always wantingto make bets on the games around here, but no one paid much attention tohim. You don't know him; do you?"

  "Never saw him before, as far as I recollect," returned Joe slowly. "Iwonder why he wanted to pick a quarrel with me? For that was certainlyhis object."

  "It was," agreed Reggie, "and he didn't pay much attention to you untilhe heard your name."

  "I wonder if he could be----?" began Joe, and then he hesitated in hishalf-formed question. Reggie looked at his friend inquiringly, but Joedid not proceed.

  "Don't say anything about this to the girls," requested Joe, as theywent upstairs.

  "Oh, no, of course not," agreed Reggie. "He was only some loafer, Iexpect, who had a sore head. Best to keep it quiet."

  Joe was more upset by the incident than he liked to admit. He could notunderstand the man's motive in trying so hard to force him into a fight.

  "Not that I would be afraid," reasoned Joe, for he was in goodcondition, and in splendid fighting trim, due to his clean living andhis outdoor playing. "I think I could have held my own with him," hethought, "only I don't believe in fighting, if it can be avoided.

  "But there was certainly something more than a little quarrel back of itall. Wessel is his name; eh? I must remember that."

  Joe made a mental note of it, but he little realized that he was to hearthe name again under rather strange circumstances.

  "What's the matter?" asked Mabel, on the way home in the sleigh, drawnby the prancing horses with their jingling bells.

  "Why?" parried Joe.

  "You are so quiet."

  "Well--I didn't count on so much happening to-night."

  "You mean about that little pin? I think it's awfully sweet."

  "Did you help pick it out?" asked Joe, seeing a chance to turn theconversation.

  "Yes. Reggie asked me what I thought would be nice, and I chose that."

  "Couldn't have been better," declared Joe, with enthusiasm. "I shallalways keep it!"

  They rode on, but Joe could not shake off the mood that had seized him.He could not forget the look and words of the man who endeavored toforce a quarrel with him--for what object Joe could only guess.

  "I'm sure there's something the matter," insisted Mabel, when the song"Jingle Bells!" had died away. "Have I done anything to displease you?"she asked, for she had "split" one dance with Charlie Hall.

  "No, indeed!" cried Joe, glad that he could put emphasis into hisdenial. "There's nothing really the matter."

  "Unless you're sorry you're going away out to Missouri," persisted thegirl.

  "Well, I am sorry--that is, if I really have to go," spoke the youngball player sincerely. "Of course it isn't at all certain that I willgo."

  "Oh, I guess it's certain enough," she said. "And I really hope you dogo."

  "It's pretty far off," said Joe. "I'll have to make my headquarters inSt. Louis."

  "Reggie and I expect to be in the West a good part of the comingSummer," went on Mabel, in even tones. "It's barely possible thatReggie may make his business headquarters in St. Louis, for papa'strade is shifting out that way."

  "You don't mean it!" cried Joe, and some of his companions in the sleighwondered at the warmth of his tone.

  "Oh, yes, I do," said Mabel. "So I shall see you play now and then; forI'm as ardent a 'fan' as I ever was."

  "That's good," returned Joe. "I'm glad I'm going to a major league--thatis, if they draft me," he added quickly. "I didn't know you might be outthere."

  From then on the thought of going to St. Louis was more pleasant to Joe.

  The sleigh ride was a great success in every particular. The youngpeople reached home rather late--or, rather early in the morning, happyand not too tired.

  "It was fine; wasn't it?" whispered Clara, as she and her brothertip-toed their way into the house, so as not to awaken their parents.

  "Dandy!" he answered softly.

  "Weren't you surprised about the pin?"

  "Of course I was."

  "But you don't seem exactly happy. Is something worrying you? I heardMabel ask you the same thing."

  "Did you?" inquired Joe, non-committally.

  "Yes. Is anything the matter?"

  "No, Sis. Get to bed. It's late."

  Clara paused for a moment. She realized that Joe had not answered herquestion as she would have liked.

  "But I guess he's thinking of the change he may have to make," thesister argued. "Joe is a fine fellow. He certainly has gone ahead inbaseball faster than he would have done in some other line of endeavor.Well, it's good he likes it.

  "And yet," she mused, as she went to her room, "I wonder what it is thatis worrying him?"

  If she could have seen Joe, at that same moment, sitting on the edge ofa chair in his apartment, moodily staring at the wall, she would havewondered more.

  "What was his game?" thought Joe, as he recalled the scene with the manat the hotel. "What was his object?"

  But he could not answer his own question.

  Joe's sleep was disturbed the remainder of that night--short as theremainder was.

  At breakfast table, the next morning, the story of the jolly sleigh ridewas told to Mr. and Mrs. Matson. Of course Joe said nothing of thedispute with the surly man.

  "And here's the pin they gave me," finished the young player as hepassed around the emblem that had been so unexpectedly presented tohim.

  His mother was looking at it when the doorbell rang, and the maid, whoanswered it, brought back a telegram.

  "It's for Mr. Joseph," she announced.

  Joe's face was a little pale as he tore open the yellow envelope, andthen, as he glanced at the words written on the sheet of paper, heexclaimed:

  "It's settled! I'm drafted to St. Louis!"