"I say, my good fellow," he went on--he would persist in being what he thought was English, "does the ticket for that bracelet happen to be among these you've given me."
"No, here's the thing itself--catch!" exclaimed Hogan, and he threw something to Joe, who caught it. It proved to be a quaint wrist-ornament.
The young pitcher slipped it into his pocket.
"It'll have to be disinfected before she can wear it," he said in a low voice to Reggie. "I'll give it to her, after I soak it in formaldehyde."
Reggie nodded--and smiled. Perhaps he understood more than Joe thought he did.
"Is that all you want of me?" asked Hogan, looking uneasily about.
"I guess so," answered one of the officers. "But how did you come to get at the valise?"
"Oh, it was easy. I spotted it in the depot and when that chap wasn't looking,"--he nodded at Reggie--"I just opened it, took out what I wanted, and slipped out of the station before anyone saw me. You'd never have gotten me, either, if I hadn't been a dub and told him," and he scowled at Pop Dutton.
"Well, I'm glad, for my own sake, that you did tell," spoke Joe.
"Now you'd better clear out," warned the officer, "and don't let us find you near the railroad tracks again, or it will be the jug for yours.
Vamoose!"
"Wait a minute," said Pop Dutton, softly. "Have you any money, Hogan?"
"Money! No, how should I get money? I couldn't pawn that bracelet, or I'd have some though. They all said it wasn't worth anything."
"My sister values it as a keepsake," explained Reggie to Joe in a low voice. "She'll be awfully glad to get it back."
"Here," went on the old pitcher to his former companion of the highway, and he passed him a bill. "It's all I can spare or I'd give you more."
Hogan was greatly surprised. He stared at the money half comprehendingly.
"You--do you mean it?" he stammered.
"Certainly," answered Pop.
"Well, I--er--I--I'm sorry!" burst out the tramp, and, making a quick grab for the bill, he turned aside and was soon lost to sight amid the trees.
"Hum! That's a queer go!" commented one of the officers.
"I guess he's got some feeling, after all," said Joe, softly.
They had accomplished what they set out to do--proved the innocence of the young pitcher. And they had done more, for they were in the way of recovering most of the stolen stuff. Joe anticipated much pleasure in restoring to Mabel her odd bracelet.
They motored back to the city from the rendezvous of the tramps, talking over the strange occurrence. But they took none of the members of the ball team into their confidence--Joe and Pop. They thought the fewer who knew of it the better.
"And now if I was sure dad would be all right, and Pop's arm would get into pitching shape again, I wouldn't ask for anything more," said Joe to Reggie that night, when he called on the youth and his sister.
"Don't you want to win the pennant?" asked Mabel, softly. She had thanked Joe--and her brother--with blushing cheeks for the return of her keepsake bracelet. But her blushes were not for her brother.
"The pennant! Of course!" cried Joe. "I almost forgot about that! And we're going to win it!"
"I'm going to see every game, too!" exclaimed Mabel, with brilliant cheeks and eyes.
The first pennant game with Clevefield was a hard-fought one. Collin took the mound in the opening of the battle, and for a time all went well. He made some mistakes, and the heavy batters on the other side began "finding" him. But he was well supported by the fielders and basemen, and three innings ran along with the visitors securing nothing but zero tallies.
Then came a break. A swift ball glanced off Collin's glove, and Charlie Hall, the shortstop, after a magnificent jump, by which he secured the horsehide, made a wild throw to first. Then began a slump, and Collin had his share in it.
Joe was called on, but too late to be of any real service, though he stopped the rout.
Score: Pittston three, Clevefield nine.
"We've got to take three straight, or make a tie so as to get another game--making five instead of four," said Gregory, gloomily that evening.
The next contest would take place in Clevefield and the teams made a night journey there. Reggie and his sister went on by auto early the next day, arriving in time to visit Joe before practice was called.
"Joe, you're nervous!" exclaimed Reggie, when he met the young pitcher, just before lunch. "You ought to come out in the country for a little run. I'll take you in my car. It will do you good."
"Yes, do come," urged Mabel.
"All right," agreed Joe. "But I'll have to be back soon. No telling which one of us Gregory will call on to pitch."
"Oh, I'll get you back in time," promised Reggie.
So Joe, with the permission of Gregory, who warned him not to be late, started off for an auto ride.
They went for some distance into the beautiful country and Joe was beginning to feel in fit condition to pitch a great game. As they passed through one small town, Joe looked at the clock in a jeweler's window.
Then he glanced at his watch.
"I say!" he cried in dismay. "Either my watch is slow, or that clock is fast. Why, I haven't time enough to get back to play! What time have you, Reggie?"
"My watch has stopped. But we can ask the jeweler if his time is right."
It was, as Joe learned to his dismay. They had been going by his watch, and now it developed that it was nearly an hour slow!
"Jove! If I should be late!" cried the young pitcher in a panic of apprehension.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE RACE
There was but one thing to do--make all speed back to the ball park.
Already, in fancy, Joe could see his team trotting out for warming-up practice, and wondering, perhaps, why he was not there with them.
"This is fierce!" he gasped. "I had no idea it was so late!"