CHAPTER VI
GLORIOUS NEWS
When Joe said goodby to Hank Bailey it was nearly noon, and as his wayled past the Bilkins home he met Bilkins himself hurrying home from theHarvester Works for lunch.
The latter grasped Joe's hand and almost wrung it from its socket.
"The more I think of what you did yesterday, the more grateful I am,"he declared. "We were all so worked up that I didn't thank you half asmuch as I ought to have done. But I've been thinking of it every momentsince, and so has my wife."
"How is she, after the strain of yesterday?" asked Joe, hoping to changethe subject from his own exploits.
"She's all right," replied the young husband. "Of course, she's a littleshaky and weepy yet, but that's not to be wondered at when you think ofwhat she went through. But here we are right at the gate. Come in for aminute."
Joe would gladly have pleaded an excuse but hardly saw how he could,and he followed Bilkins into the neat little living room of the cottage.
Mrs. Bilkins hurried forward to meet him.
"Oh, Joe!" she exclaimed, as she clasped his hand, "I've been hopingto get this chance of thanking you for what you did for us yesterday.I was so excited at getting my baby back that I couldn't think ofanything else at the time. But I realize that if it hadn't been for yourquickness and presence of mind I wouldn't have any baby now."
She was perilously close to tears, and Joe, who had the masculine dreadof a scene, sought to introduce a lighter note.
"The baby himself didn't seem glad," he laughed. "The little rascalthought he was out for a grand spree, and he was as good as a kittenwhile the lunatic had hold of him. But the minute I grabbed him hestarted in to howl like all possessed. He didn't like the idea of mybreaking up his fun."
This broke the tension and they all laughed, while Mrs. Bilkinssnatched up a fluffy little bunch from the cradle and showed him to hisdeliverer. The baby cooed and gurgled and stretched out his arms to Joe,who chucked him under the chin.
"Don't try to come it over me, you young rascal," he said sternly, butthe baby only cooed the more and grabbed at his watch chain.
"It's too bad he's christened already," smiled Mrs. Bilkins. "If hehadn't been, we'd name him Joe."
"What would be the use of putting a hoodoo on the little chap,"protested Joe.
There was a little further conversation and then, although they urgedJoe to stay to lunch, he excused himself on the plea that his motherwould be waiting for him and started for home.
But his progress homeward was doomed to be slow that day, for he hadscarcely gone a block when he was hailed by Dick Talbot, the movingpicture operator whom he had had in mind the day before while talking toProfessor Crabbe.
"Hello, Joe, old man!" cried Dick, clapping him on the shoulder. "Ihaven't seen you for a month of Sundays. How's tricks?"
Joe returned his greeting with equal warmth, for he had a strong feelingof friendship for that exuberant youth who seemed always to be in goodspirits.
"Things are moving all right," he answered.
"Anything doing in this old burg?" asked Dick.
"Oh, not so much," was the answer. "You know it's rather a sleepy oldtown."
"Sure thing," said Dick with a twinkle in his eye. "Nothing doing atall, except chasing crazy men and saving kidnapped babies and littlethings like that. Oh, yes, it was sleepy yesterday."
Joe laughed good-naturedly.
"Trust you to get next to anything that happens," he said. "You've gotthe nose of a fox for news. Who's been filling you up?"
"Who hasn't?" replied Dick with a chuckle. "The whole town is talking ofnothing else. They say that a prophet is not without honor save in hisown country, but that doesn't fit your case. You're the whole thing inRiverside.
"But say, Joe," Dick went on jokingly, "why didn't you wait to pull thisthing off till I reached town with my little camera. My, what a scenefor a moving picture! I'd have given my eyes to have a crack at it.Wild-eyed madman, holding baby above his head; frightened mob in theyard below; handsome young pitcher hurling the ball of ice. Say, I couldhave made a fortune with that film. All of the managers would have beencrazy to get hold of it."
"Oh, cut it out," remonstrated Joe. "The whole bunch of you are makingfar too much out of it. As for your moving picture stuff, I've gotsomething for you along that line that I'd like to try out if you don'tmind."
"Of course I will," answered Dick. "Get it off your chest. What is it?"
"I want you to take a picture of my curve ball," answered Joe.
"It's a pretty swift thing to take," commented Dick. "Still, if we canshow a bullet in motion, I guess we can take anything propelled by thebrawny arm of Mr. Matson."
"There's a professor in town," explained Joe, "who says it isn'tpossible to pitch a curve."
"Shades of Arthur Cummings and Bobby Mathews!" groaned Dick. "Are theresuch fossils still left in the world? Hasn't the old chap ever been to abaseball game?"
"I suppose he has," smiled Joe. "Anyway, he saw me curve some ballsyesterday. He admits that it _seems_ to curve, but tells me that it isonly an optical delusion."
"Listen to that!" exclaimed Dick. "Optical delusion! If that's so,about ten million fans in this country have trouble with their eyesightand ought to see an oculist. Your professor reminds me of the wiseEnglishman who wrote a book to prove it impossible for a steamer tocross the Atlantic, and the very first boat that crossed brought hisbook to this country."
"Of course," smiled Joe, "you and I know that he's wrong. But how are weto prove it to him?"
Dick thought hard for a minute or two. He had had to do all sorts ofthings in the exercise of his profession, and this had developed hisnatural ingenuity to the point where he was ready to say with Napoleonthat there was no such word as "impossible."
"I'll tell you how I think we can fix it!" he exclaimed at length."We'll put two bamboo poles about ten feet apart and in a direct linebetween you and the plate. Then you take your stand in the box exactlyin a line with both of them. Between the two poles we'll stretch a sheetof white paper. You throw the ball so that it goes to the right of thefirst pole then turns and breaks the paper and comes out to the left ofthe second pole. That will be proof positive that the ball has describeda curve, and no matter how obstinate the professor is he'll have toadmit it."
"Bully!" cried Joe. "That will do the trick all right. When do you thinkyou can do it?"
"Oh, almost any time," answered Dick. "My time is pretty well filled upfor today or tomorrow, but if you'll have the thing rigged up by dayafter tomorrow, I'll come over to the gymnasium and take the picture."
"Fine," said Joe. "That'll suit me to a dot. Suppose we say two o'clockin the afternoon day after tomorrow."
"I'll be there with bells on," declared Dick; and with a final handclaspthey separated, and Joe hurried home to his belated dinner.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Momsey," he said to his mother as hekissed her in the hall and hung his hat and coat on the rack, "butit seems to me that I've met the whole population of Riverside thismorning. I didn't know the old town had so many people in it."
"I don't wonder they wanted to talk to you, after yesterday," said Mrs.Matson, her bosom swelling with maternal pride. "I thought it would bethat way, so I got dinner ready a little later than usual. But comeright in now while things are hot."
"That's an invitation I never refuse," said Joe gaily, as with his armaround his mother's waist he went into the dining room. "Hello, what'sthis?" as his eye fell on a yellow envelope on the mantelpiece.
"It's a telegram that came for you about an hour ago."
"From Reggie again, probably," said Joe, as he tore it open. "Somethinghe forgot to put into the first one. If I keep on getting telegrams, itmay pay the company to put in a branch office at the house here."
He ran over the message and his face flushed. Then he read it again asthough he could not believe his eyes. Then with a whoop he threw it fromhim, and catching his mother about the wai
st whirled her around the roomin a wild war dance.
She extricated herself at last, breathless and scandalized.
"Joseph Matson!" she exclaimed, "what on earth is the matter with you?Have you gone crazy?"
"Not a bit of it, Momsey," exulted Joe, "though it wouldn't besurprising if I had. I've been traded to the New York Giants!"
Baseball Joe on the Giants; or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis Page 6
