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

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER XXII

  IN DANGER

  "Bad news?" asked the hotel clerk, as he noticed the look on Joe's face.

  "No--yes--well, it's unexpected news," hesitated Joe, as he made up hismind, on the instant, not to tell the contents of the note. He wanted alittle time to think. Rapidly he read the message over again. The boywas just shuffling out of the hotel.

  "Wait a minute!" Joe called after him. "Where'd you get this note?" theyoung pitcher asked.

  "At de office."

  "Yes, I know. But who brought it in?"

  "I dunno. Youse'll have to see de manager."

  "Oh, all right," Joe assented, and then he turned aside. He was still ina quandary as to what to do.

  Once more he read the note.

  "'If you want to do your friend Rad a good turn,'" he repeated. "Ofcourse I do, but what does it mean? Rad can't be in trouble, or he'dhave sent me some word himself. That isn't a very good neighborhood atnight, but I guess I can take care of myself. The trouble is, though, ifI go out, and Rad comes back here in the meanwhile, what will happen?"

  Joe was thinking hard, trying to find some solution of the mystery, andthen a flash came to him.

  "Baseball!" he whispered to himself. "Maybe it is something to do withbaseball! Someone may be scouting for Rad, and want to find out, on thequiet, if he's willing to help in making a shift to some other team.They want me to aid them, perhaps."

  Joe had been long enough in organized baseball to know that there aremany twists and turns to it, and that many "deals" are carried on inwhat might be considered an underhand manner. Often, when rivalorganizations in the baseball world are at war, the various managers,and scouts, go to great lengths, and secretly, to get some player theyconsider valuable.

  "Maybe some rival club is after Rad and doesn't want its plans known,"mused Joe. "That must be it. They know he and I are chums, and they cometo me first. Well, I sure do want to help Rad, but I don't want to seehim leave the Cardinals. I guess I'll take a chance and go down there.I'll leave word at the desk that I'll meet Rad at the theatre. Thatwill be the best. I can telephone back to the hotel, after I go to thisaddress, and find out if Rad has been back here. I'll go."

  Stuffing the queer note into his pocket, Joe started off, catching a carthat would take him near the address given. Before leaving, he arrangedwith the hotel clerk to tell Rad that he would meet him at the theatre.

  It was a rather dark, and quite lonesome, street in which Joe foundhimself after leaving the street car. On either side were tall buildingsthat shut out much of the light by day, while at night they made theplace a veritable canyon of gloom. There were big warehouses andfactories with, here and there, a smaller building, and some ramshackledwellings that had withstood the encroachment of business.

  Some of these latter had fallen into decay, and others were being usedas miserable homes by those who could afford no better. In one or two,saloons held forth, the light from their swinging doors making yellowpatches on the dark pavement.

  "I wouldn't like to have to live down here," mused Joe, as he picked hisway along, looking, as best he could, for the number given in the note."It's a queer place to appoint a meeting, but I suppose the baseballfellows don't want to be spied on. I'll be glad when I'm through."

  Joe walked on a little farther. The neighborhood seemed to become moredeserted and lonesome. From afar off came the distant hum and roar ofthe city, but all around Joe was silence, broken, now and then, by thesound of ribald laughter from the occasional saloons.

  "Ah, here's the place!" exclaimed Joe, as he stood in front of one ofthe few dwellings in the midst of the factories. "It looks gloomyenough. I wonder who can be waiting to see me here about Rad? Well,there's a light, anyhow."

  As Joe approached the steps of the old house he saw, at one side of thedoor, a board on which were scrawled the words:

  _Peerless Athletic Club_

  "Hum! Must be a queer sort of club," mused Joe. "I guess they do moreexercise with their tongues, and with billiard cues, than with theirmuscles."

  For, as he mounted the steps, he heard from within the click of billiardand pool balls, and the noise of talk and laughter. It was one of theso-called "athletic" clubs, that often abound in low neighborhoods,where the name is but an excuse for young "toughs" to gather. Under thename, and sometimes incorporation of a "club," they have certain rightsand privileges not otherwise obtainable. They are often a politicalfactor, and the authorities, for the sake of the votes they control,wink at minor violations of the law. It was to such a place as this thatJoe had come--or, in view of what happened afterward, had been luredwould be the more proper term.

  "Well, what do youse want?" asked an ill-favored youth, as Joe enteredthe poorly lighted hall. The fellow had his hat tilted to one side, anda cigarette was glued to one lip, moving up and down curiously as hespoke.

  "I don't know who I want," said Joe, as pleasantly as he could. "I wastold to come here to do my friend Rad Chase a favor. I'm Joe Matson, ofthe Cardinals, and----"

  "Oh, yes. He's expectin' youse. Go on in," and the fellow nodded towarda back room, the door of which stood partly open. Joe hesitated amoment, while the youth who had spoken to him went out and stood on thehalf-rotting steps. Then, deciding that, as he had come thus far, hemight as well see the thing through, Joe started for the rear room.

  But, as he reached the door, and heard a voice speaking, he hesitated.For what he heard was this:

  "S'posin' he don't come?"

  "Aw, he'll come all right, Wessel," said another voice. "He sure isstuck on his friend Rad, and he'll want to know what he can do for him.He'll come, all right."

  "Shalleg!" gasped Joe, as he recognized the tones. "It's a trick. Hethinks he can trap me here!"

  As he turned to go, Joe heard Wessel say:

  "There won't be no rough work; will there?"

  "Oh, no! Not too rough!" replied Shalleg with a nasty laugh.

  Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Joe was hasteningaway when he accidentally knocked over a box in the hall. Instantly thedoor to the rear room was thrown wide open, giving the young pitcher, ashe turned, a glimpse of Shalleg, Wessel and several other men seatedabout a table, playing cards.

  "Who's there?" cried Shalleg. Then, as he saw Joe hurrying away, headded: "Hold on, Matson. I sent for you. I want to see you!"

  "But I don't want to see you!" Joe called back over his shoulder.

  "Say, this is straight goods!" cried Shalleg, pushing back his chairfrom the table, the legs scraping over the bare boards of the floor."It's all right. I've got a chance to do your friend Rad Chase a goodturn, and you can help in it. Wait a minute!"

  But Joe fled, unheeding. Then Shalleg, seeing that his plans were aboutto miscarry, yelled:

  "Stop him, somebody!"

  Joe was running along the dim hallway. As he reached the outside stepsthe youth who had first accosted him turned, and made a grab for him.

  "What's your hurry?" he demanded. "Hold on!"

  Joe did not answer, but, eluding the outstretched hands, made thesidewalk in a jump and ran up the street. He was fleet of foot--histraining gave him that--and soon he was safe from pursuit, though, as amatter of fact, no one came after him. Shalleg and his tools were hardlyready for such desperate measures yet, it seemed.

  Joe passed a side street, and, looking up it, saw at the other end, amore brilliantly lighted thoroughfare. Arguing rightly that he would besafer there, Joe turned up, and soon was in a more decent neighborhood.His heart was beating rapidly, partly from the run, and partly throughapprehension, for he had an underlying fear that it would not have beenfor his good to have gone into the room where Shalleg was.

  "Whew! That was a happening," remarked Joe, as he slowed down. "I wonderwhat it all meant? Shalleg must be getting desperate. But why does hekeep after me? Unless he thinks I am responsible for his not getting aplace on the Cardinals. It's absurd to think that, but it does seem so.I wonder what I'd better do?" />
  Joe tried to reason it out, and then came the recollection of Rad.

  "I'll telephone to the hotel, and see if he's come back," he said."Then, when I meet him, I'll tell him all that happened. It's a queergo, sure enough."

  A telephone message to the hotel clerk brought the information that Radhad telephoned in himself, saying that he had been unexpectedlydetained, and would meet Joe at the theatre entrance.

  "That's good!" thought our hero. For one moment, after running away fromthe gloomy house, he had had a notion that perhaps Rad had also beenlured there. Now he knew his friend was safe.

  "Sorry I couldn't come back to the hotel for you," Rad greeted Joe, asthey met in front of the theatre. "But my business took me longer than Icounted on. We're in time for the show, anyhow. It starts a little laterin summer."

  "That's all right," said Joe. "As a matter of fact I have been away fromthe hotel myself, for some time."

  "So the clerk said. Told me you'd gone out and left a message for me.Say, what's up, Joe? You look as though something had happened," fornow, in the light, Rad had a glimpse of his chum's face, and it wore astrange look.

  "Something did happen," said Joe in a low voice. "I believe I was indanger. I'll tell you all about it," which he did, in a low voice,between the acts of the play.

  It is doubtful if either Joe or Rad paid much attention to what occurredon the stage that evening.