Lester Chadwick

“ These and other frantic appeals and bits of advice were hurled at Joe as he dashed madly on. He had a glimpse of the centre fielder racing madly after the ball, and then he felt for the first time that he really had a chance to make a home run. Still he knew that the ball travels fast when once thrown, and it might be relayed in, for he saw the second baseman running back to assist the centre fielder. ”

“ The lads did not know exactly how to take his request, but Joe came to the rescue.
“Sure you can come in,” he said heartily. “We’re just seeing who can put the most balls in the basket.”
“What good do you think that does?” asked Sam.
“Well, doesn’t it help a fellow to get a straight aim?” asked Tom, half defiantly.
“Oh, I don’t know,” was the rather sneering answer. “It might, if you kept at it long enough.”
“Let’s see you try it,” suggested Rodney Burke, who did not hold Sam in much awe.
Carelessly the Silver Star pitcher accepted a ball that Joe obligingly held out. ”

“ It was a critical point in the game. As Joe took his place and faced the batter he felt his heart wildly throbbing. He knew he must hold himself well in hand or he would go to pieces. The crowd of Resolute sympathizers was hooting and yelling at him. Darrell saw how things might go and ran out to the pitcher.
“Hold hard!” he whispered. “Just take it easy. Pitch a few balls to Bart and your nerve will come back. We’ve got to win.”
“And we will!” exclaimed Joe. The delivery of a few balls, while the batter stepped away from the plate, showed Joe that he still had his speed and control. ”

“ But can’t I do something to help you, dad?”
“We can’t do anything right away,” rejoined Mr. Matson. “We can only wait. I shall have to see a lawyer, and have him look after my interests. I never thought that Mr. Benjamin and Mr. Holdney would treat me this way.
“But don’t worry. Perhaps we shall come out all right, and in the end this may be a good thing. It will teach me a lesson never again to trust any one where patents are concerned. I should have had a written contract and not taken their mere word that they would treat me right.”
“And you are out of the harvester works?” asked Joe. ”

“ The practice balls were called in, players were selecting their sticks, the batting order had been decided on, and the final arrangements made.
“Play ball!” called the umpire, and the Silver Stars took the field. Joe walked out to centre. His heart was beating high. It was his first chance to show what he could do in a match game with his new team and he wanted to make good. But oh! how he longed to be in the pitching box occupied by Sam Morton!
“Play ball!” called the umpire again, and Sam, “winding up,” let fly a swift white ball toward the expectant batter. ”

“ Painter, the Red Stocking pitcher, had no phenomenal speed and his curves could not be depended on to break at the right places. Still he was a good “bluffer” and he made many a batter think that he was getting a very swift ball. Often it would look as though it was going to hit the man at the plate and he would instinctively step back, disconcerting his own aim.
Joe let the first ball pass, and was somewhat surprised to have a strike called on him. But he did not kick, for, as a matter of fact, the horsehide had clipped the plate. ”

“ And, to the delight of Joe, he found that he had made many new friends, chiefly because of his sensational run. The members of the team, of course, crowded around him congratulating him, and asking him how he did it. But, in addition, there now flocked into the dressing room a crowd of lads who had witnessed the game. Some of them were high school pupils who knew Joe, at least by sight, but they now came up and spoke to him. Other town lads did the same thing.
“Gee! It’s great to be popular!” exclaimed Tom, with a mock sigh. ”

“ He was in an agony of fear when he heard the crack of the bat on the ball when the third man came up. The spheroid went shooting off in centre field, but by a magnificent stop Percy Parnell gathered it in and the side was retired runless. Things were not so bad for the Stars.
For the next two innings neither side got a run, though there were some scattered hits. Again was there talk of a pitchers’ battle, though in the strict sense of the word this was not so, as both Joe and Hen Littell were hit occasionally, and for what would have been runs only for the efficient fielding on both sides. ”

“ The Silver Stars didn’t like to think of that inning afterward. There were numerous errors, wild throws and muffs. Joe let a ball slip through his fingers when by holding it he might have prevented a run, but it happened to hit on the cut place, and the agony was such that he let out an exclamation of pain.
But he was not the only one who sinned. Sam was “rotten,” to quote Tom Davis, and “issued a number of passes.” One man got to first by virtue of being hit and when the inning was over there were three runs in the Red’s box.
“Six to two against us,” murmured Darrell. ”

“ But at the sight of it, as Darrell held the two parts in his hand, Joe uttered an exclamation.
“What’s the matter?” asked the manager of the Silver Stars.
“I think I have the very thing!” said Joe quickly. “I’ve got some spare bolts in my tool bag. They may not be the same size, but they’ll hold the shaft in until you get home I think. I’ll take a look.”
“Good for you!” cried Darrell. “Most anything will do in a pinch. Even a piece of wire, but I can’t find any along the road in the dark. I hope you have something,” and while Joe opened his tool bag Darrell patted the somewhat restive horse. ”

“ The team and substitutes were to go to Rocky Ford in two big stages, in time to get in some practice on the grounds that were none too familiar to them. A crowd of Silver Star “rooters” were to follow on the trolley. The captain and managers of the rival teams watched their opponents practice with sharp eyes.
“They’re snappier than when they beat us before,” was Darrell’s conclusion.
“They’ve got a heap sight better pitcher in Joe than Sam Morton ever was,” concluded Captain Hen Littell of the Resolutes, who twirled for his team. “I shouldn’t wonder but what we’d have a mighty close game.” ”

“ The sixth inning saw a run chalked up for each team, making the score three to two in favor of the Stars.
“Oh, if we can only keep this up!” exclaimed Darrell, “we’ll have them. Can you do it, Joe?”
“I guess so—yes, I can!” he said with conviction.
Then came the lucky seventh, in which the Stars pounded out three runs, setting the big crowd wild [238] with joy, and casting corresponding gloom over the cohorts of the Resolutes. The Stars now had six runs and their rivals were desperate. They even adopted unfair tactics, and several decisions of the umpire were manifestly in their favor. ”

“ There was a half cheer from the Whizzers. 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 different pitcher,” and he glanced significantly at Sam.
“No telling,” replied Darrell with a laugh. “Come on, fellows. We’ll give three cheers for the team that beat us and then we’ll beat it for home.”
It was rather a silent crowd of the Silver Stars that rode in the special trolley. Following them was another car containing some of the “rooters.” ”

“ Joe mused, naming the second baseman who sometimes acted as pitcher for the Stars. Joe did not dare hope that he himself would be chosen.
“Well, how much longer?” demanded Johnson, when two more cars had passed and Sam was on neither of them. “We want to finish this game before dark.”
“All right,” assented Darrell briskly. “Get your men ready, Rankin.”
“But who will pitch?”
“Joe Matson, of course. It’s the only thing we can do. ”

“ And Joe nodded.
“So you’re practicing pitching, eh? And you hope to get on our nine. Well let me tell you one thing, Matson; you won’t pitch on the Silver Stars as long as I’m on deck, and I intend to remain for quite a while yet. Pitching practice, eh? Ho! That’s pretty good! What you’d better practice is running bases. We may let you run for some of the fellows, if you’re real good. Or how would you like to carry the bats or be the water boy? I understand there’s a vacancy there. Pitcher! Ha! Ha!” and Sam doubled up in mirth. Joe’s face flushed, but he said nothing. ”

“ The motorman was grinding away at the brakes but the heavy car continued to slide on, for the hill was steep. The horse lay quiet now, for a man had managed to get to him and sit on his head, so the animal could not kick and thresh about with the consequent danger of getting his legs under the trolley. The car would pass the horse and the wagon by a good margin, but the boy, leaning far over, was sure to be hit unless Joe saved him, and no one in the street seemed to think of the boy’s danger. ”

“ Joe hardly knew what to say when Darrell, as calmly as if he had done it several times before, asked him to go in the box for the scrub and pitch against the Silver Stars.
“And do your best,” added Darrell. “I don’t care how many of our fellows you strike out. Every one, if you can.” ”

“ Lots of times I have to jump for your throws, and if I wasn’t pretty quick at it they’d get by me.”
“Oh, well, you won’t have any complaint to-day. I’ll get ’em there all right. But you’d better stay in the whole game yourself.”
“I’ll see. Hark, what’s that?”
The inspiring notes of a coaching horn echoed down the village street.
“Sounds like a tally-ho,” remarked Sam.
Just then there swung into view a large stage, drawn by four horses, the vehicle filled with a cheering, shouting and laughing crowd of boys.
“That’s the Resolute team,” said Darrell. “They’re coming in style all right.” ”

“ As Tom had said, some of the best authorities on pitching did advocate the trying for control before a prospective boxman endeavored to get either speed or curves.
“The thing seems to be,” remarked Joe, “to get a ball just where you want it, ten times out of ten if you can, and then when you can do that, try for the in and out shoots and the drop.”
“That’s it,” agreed Tom. “Are you any good at throwing stones?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Well, one fellow says that the lad who can throw a stone straight can generally throw a ball straight. We’ll have a contest when we get down to the lots. ”

“ The batter slipped on his way from second to third, however, and was put out when Joe made a magnificent throw in from deep centre.
With one out Sam gathered himself together and struck out the next man. Then came to the bat the mightiest walloper of the rival team.
“Wait for a good one. Make him give you what you want,” advised the coacher to the batter.
And the latter did wait, for when he got what he wanted he “slammed it” away out in centre field.
“A home run! A home run!” yelled the frantic crowd.
“And win the game!” shouted a score of the players’ friends. “Come on, baby-mine!” ”

“ Nature is something that doesn’t like to be hurried, young man,” responded the physician. “However, it might be worse, and perhaps if that arm is massaged half the night and up to the time of the game to-morrow, he might pitch a few innings.”
“That’s good!” exclaimed Joe.
“And it’s me for the massage!” cried Tom. “Now give us some stuff to rub on, doctor.”
Dr. Pickett showed Tom how to rub the arm, and how to knead the muscles to take out the soreness, [179] and gave the boys a prescription to get filled at the drug store.
“Come on!” cried Tom again. ”

“ Rufus Holdney, as he at one time thought he would, for they have violated their contract. So we won’t be poor, after all, children. Aren’t you glad?”
“You bet!” exploded Joe, throwing his arms around his mother’s neck.
“And we won’t have to leave this nice house,” added Clara, looking around the comfortable abode.
“Then I can go to boarding school—and pitch on the school nine; can’t I mother?” cried Joe, throwing his arms around her. ”

“ BASEBALL JOE CHAPTER I A HOT GAME
“Come on, Sam, get a move on. I thought you’d be out on the diamond long ago. What’s the matter?”
“Oh, I had to help dad put in some fence posts. I’m through now, Darrell, and I’ll be right with you.”
“Setting fence posts; eh?” and Darrell Blackney, the young manager of the Silver Star baseball nine of Riverside looked critically at Sam Morton, the team’s pitcher. “Well, Sam, I hope it didn’t make you stiff so that you can’t put some good balls over the plate. It’s going to be a hot game all right.” ”

“ Sam Morton had gone out some time before and Joe and Tom soon followed. As they strolled down the street toward their homes Tom said:
“Say Joe, I was in earnest in saying I’d coach you. I believe you do need practice in throwing, and if you haven’t given up the idea of pitching some day——”
“I’ll never give up the idea until I’m knocked out of the box,” declared Joe.
“Good! Then I’ll help coach you. I was going [108] to say it wasn’t much fun practicing alone, and as a matter of fact it doesn’t do much good.” ”

“ You started to say that you thought our side—you see I’m already a Silver Star rooter—that our side would win, if something didn’t happen.”
“Oh, yes, and then that ball came over the fence. Well, we’ll win, I think, if Sam doesn’t go to pieces.”
[13]
“Who’s Sam?”
“Sam Morton, our pitcher. He’s pretty good too, when he doesn’t get rattled.”
“Then we’ll hope that he doesn’t to-day,” said Joe with a smile. “But go ahead and dress.”
“All right,” assented Tom, and he started off on a run to the dressing rooms. It was only just in time, too, for at that moment Darrell came hastening up to him. ”