"Play ball!" droned the umpire as the gong clanged, and George Lee, the second baseman, who was first at bat, strolled out to pick up his club.
The first part of the game was rather a surprise to the Pittston players. Lee was struck out with amazing ease, and even Jimmie Mack, who had the best batting average of any on the team, "fell" for a delusive "fade-away" ball.
"But I've got his number!" he exclaimed, as he nodded at the opposing pitcher. "He won't get me again."
Pittston did not get a run, though she had three men on bases when the last one went down, and it looked as though her chances were good.
Then came more disappointment when Tooley failed to get his batters, and Newkirk had two runs chalked up to her credit. The second inning was almost like the first and then at the proper time, Gregory, with a decisive gesture, signalled to Joe.
"You'll have to pitch us out of this hole!" he said, grimly. Collin, who had said openly that he expected to be called on, looked blackly at our hero.
As Joe started to take his place a messenger boy handed him a telegram.
He was a little startled at first, and then laughed at his fears.
"Probably good wishes from home," he murmured, as he tore open the envelope. And then the bright day seemed to go black as he read:
"Your father hurt in explosion. No danger of death, but may lose eyesight. If you can come home do so. MOTHER."
CHAPTER XV
JOE'S PLUCK
Joe's distress at receiving the bad news was so evident, at least to Gregory, that the manager hurried over to the young pitcher and asked:
"What's the matter, old man? Something upset you?"
For answer Joe simply held out the message.
"I say! That's too bad!" exclaimed Gregory sympathetically. "Let's see now. You can get a train in about an hour, I think. Skip right off. I'll make it all right." It was his business to know much about trains, and he was almost a "walking timetable."
"Awfully sorry, old man!" he went on. "Come back to us when you can.
You'll find us waiting."
Joe made up his mind quickly. It was characteristic of him to do this, and it was one of the traits that made him, in after years, such a phenomenal pitcher.
"I--I'm not going home," said Joe, quietly.
"Not going home! Why?" cried Gregory.
"At least not until after the game," went on Joe. "The telegram says my father isn't in any immediate danger, and I could not gain much by starting now. I'm going to stay and pitch. That is, if you'll let me."
"Let you! Of course I'll let you. But can you stand the gaff, old man? I don't want to seem heartless, but the winning of this game means a lot to me, and if you don't feel just up to the mark----"
"Oh, I can pitch--at least, I think I can," said Joe, not wishing to appear too egotistical. "I mean this won't make me flunk."
"That's mighty plucky of you, Joe, and I appreciate it. Now don't make a mistake. It won't hurt your standing with the club a bit if you go now.
I'll put Collin in, and----"
"I'll pitch!" said Joe, determinedly. "After that it will be time enough to start for home."
"All right," assented Gregory. "But if you want to quit at any time, give me the signal. And I'll tell you what I'll do. Have you a 'phone at home?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll have someone get your house on the long distance wire, and find out just how your father is. I'll also send word that you'll start to-night."
"That will be fine!" cried Joe, and already he felt better. The bad news had shocked him for the time, though.
"Play ball!" called the umpire, for there had been a little delay over the talk between Joe and the manager.
"Just keep quiet about it, though," advised the manager to the young pitcher. "It may only upset things if it gets out. Are you sure you can stand it?"
"I--I'm going to stand it!" responded Joe, gamely.
He faced his first batter with a little sense of uncertainty. But Nelson, who was catching, nodded cheerfully at him, and gave a signal for a certain ball that Joe, himself, had decided would best deceive that man with the stick. He sent it in rushingly, and was delighted to hear the umpire call:
"Strike one!"
"That's the way!"
"Two more like that and he's a goner!"
"Slam 'em in, Matson!"
Joe flushed with pleasure at the encouraging cries. He wondered if Mabel was joining in the applause that frequently swept over the grandstand at a brilliant play.
Again Joe threw, and all the batter could do was to hit a foul, which was not caught.
Then came a ball, followed by another, and Joe began to get a bit anxious.
"That's the boy!" welled up encouragingly from the crowd.
Joe tried a moist ball--a delivery of which he was not very certain as yet, but the batter "fell for it" and whirled around as he missed it cleanly.
"Three strikes--batter's out!" howled the umpire, and the man went back to the bench.
The next candidate managed to get a single, but was caught stealing second, and Joe had a chance to retire his third man.
It was a chance not to be missed, and he indulged in a few delaying tactics in order to place, in his mind, the hitter and his special peculiarities.
With a snap of his wrist Joe sent in an out curve, but the manner in which the batter leaped for it, missing it only by a narrow margin, told our hero that this ball was just "pie," for his antagonist.
"Mustn't do that again," thought Joe. "He'll slam it over the fence if I do."