He and Charlie Hall grew more and more friendly, but it was not a companionship of long enough standing to make it the kind Joe really cared for.
He had much pleasure in writing home, and to Mabel, who in turn, sent interesting letters of her life in the South. One letter in particular made Joe rather eager.
"My brother and I are coming North on a combined business and pleasure trip," she wrote, "and we may see your team play. We expect to be in Newkirk on the twentieth."
Joe dropped everything to look eagerly at the official schedule.
"Well, of all the luck!" he cried. "We play in Newkirk that date. I wonder if she knew it? I wonder----?"
Then for days Joe almost prayed that there would be no rainy days--no upsetting of the schedule that would necessitate double-headers, or anything that would interfere with playing at Newkirk on the date mentioned. That city, as he found by looking at a map, was on a direct railroad line from Goldsboro.
"I hope nothing slips up!" murmured the young pitcher. From then on he lived in a sort of rosy glow.
The ball season of the Central League was well under way now. A number of games had been played, necessitating travel from one city to another.
Some of the journeys Joe liked, and some were tiresome. He met all sorts and conditions of men and was growing to be able to take things as he found them.
Joe worked hard, and he took a defeat more to heart than did any of the others. It seemed to be all in the day's work with them. With Joe it was a little more. Not that any of the players were careless, though. They were more sophisticated, rather.
The third week of the season, then, found Pittston third in line for pennant honors, and when the loss of a contest to Buffington had set them at the end of the first division there were some rather glum-looking faces seen in the hotel corridor.
"Boys, we've got to take a brace!" exclaimed Gregory, and the manner in which he said it told his men that he meant it. Joe went to bed that night wildly resolving to do all sorts of impossible things, so it is no wonder he dreamed that he pitched a no-hit no-run game, and was carried in triumph around the diamond on the shoulders of his enthusiastic comrades.
I shall not weary you with an account of the ordinary games. Just so many had to be played in a certain order to fulfill the league conditions. Some of the contests were brilliant affairs, and others dragged themselves out wearily.
Joe had his share in the good and bad, but, through it all, he was gradually acquiring a good working knowledge of professional baseball.
He was getting better control of his curves, and he was getting up speed so that it was noticeable.
"I'll have to get Nelson a mitt with a deeper pit in it if you keep on,"
said Gregory with a laugh, after one exciting contest when Joe had fairly "pitched his head off," and the game had been won for Pittston by a narrow margin.
Gradually Joe's team crept up until it was second, with Clevefield still at the head.
"And our next game is with Newkirk!" exulted Joe one morning as they took the train for that place. They were strictly on schedule, and Joe was eager, for more reasons than one, to reach the city where he hoped a certain girl might be.
"If we win, and Clevefield loses to-morrow," spoke Charlie Hall, as he dropped into a seat beside Joe, "we'll be on top of the heap."
"Yes--if!" exclaimed the young pitcher. "But I'm going to do my best, Charlie!"
"The same here!"
It was raining when the team arrived in Newkirk, and the weather was matched by the glum faces of the players.
"No game to-morrow, very likely," said Charlie, in disappointed tones.
"Unless they have rubber grounds here."
"No such luck," returned Joe.
As he walked with the others to the desk to register he saw, amid a pile of luggage, a certain peculiar valise. He knew it instantly.
"Reggie Varley's!" he exclaimed to himself. "There never was another bag like that. And it has his initials on it. Reggie Varley is here--at this hotel, and--and--she--must be here too. Let it rain!"
CHAPTER XIII
MABEL
Joe Matson stood spell-bound for a second or so, staring at the valise which had such an interest for him in two ways. It meant the presence at the hotel of the girl who had awakened such a new feeling within him, and also it recalled the unpleasant occasion when he had been accused of rifling it.
"What's the matter, Matson?" asked Gus Harrison, the big centre fielder, who stood directly behind the young pitcher, waiting to register. "Have you forgotten your name?"
"No--oh, no!" exclaimed our hero, coming to himself with a start.
"I--er--I was just thinking of something."
"I should imagine so," commented Harrison. "Get a move on. I want to go to my room and tog up. I've got a date with a friend."
As Joe turned away from the desk, after registering, he could not refrain from glancing at the odd valise. He half expected to see Reggie Varley standing beside it, but there was no sign of Mabel's brother.
"Quite a coincidence that she should be stopping at this hotel," thought Joe, for a quick glance at the names on the register, ahead of those of the ball team, had shown Joe that Miss Varley's was among them. "Quite a coincidence," Joe mused on. "I wonder if she came here because she knew this was where the team always stops? Oh, of course not. I'm getting looney, I reckon."
Then, as he looked at the valise again another thought came to him.
"I do wish there was some way of proving to young Varley that I didn't take the stuff out of it," reasoned Joe. "But I don't see how I can prove that I didn't. It's harder to prove a negative than it is a positive, they say. Maybe he has found his stuff by this time; I must ask him if I get a chance. And yet I don't like to bring it up again, especially as she's here. She doesn't know of it yet, that's evident, or she'd have said something. I mean Reggie hasn't told her that he once suspected me."
Joe went to his room, and made a much more careful toilet than usual. So much so that Charlie Hall inquired rather sarcastically:
"Who's the lady, Joe?"
"Lady? What do you mean?" responded Joe, with simulated innocence.
"Oh, come now, that's too thin!" laughed the shortstop. "Why all this gorgeousness? And a new tie! Upon my word! You are going it!"
"Oh, cut it out!" growled Joe, a bit incensed.
But, all the while, he was wondering how and when he would meet Mabel.
Would it be proper for him to send her his card? Or would she know that the ball team had arrived, and send word to Joe that he could see her?
How were such things managed anyhow?
Joe wished there was some one whom he could ask, but he shrank from taking into his confidence any of the members of the team.
"I'll just wait and see what turns up," he said.
Fate was kind to him, however.
Most of the ball players had gone in to dinner, discussing, meanwhile, the weather probabilities. There was a dreary drizzle outside, and the prospects for a fair day to follow were remote indeed. It meant almost certainly that there would be no game, and this was a disappointment to all. The Pittston team was on edge for the contest, for they wanted their chance to get to the top of the league.
"Well, maybe it's just as well," confided Gregory to Jimmie Mack. "It'll give the boys a chance to rest up, and they've been going the pace pretty hard lately. I do hope we win, though."