Baseball Joe in the World Series; or, Pitching for the Championship

by Lester Chadwick

  CHAPTER VI

  JOE GIVES FAIR WARNING

  Although the news only confirmed what had been all along expected, itwas worth a great deal to the Giants to know certainly just whom theywould have to fight. Their enemy now was detached from the crowd and outin the open. They could study him carefully and arrange a clear plan ofcampaign.

  Joe and Jim were discussing the matter earnestly, as they passed out ofthe Polo Grounds to go downtown.

  "Don't let's take the elevated," suggested Joe. "We haven't had muchexercise, and I want to stretch my legs a little."

  "I'm agreeable," replied Jim. "There's a cool breeze and it's a nicenight for walking. We can go part of the way on foot, anyway, and if wefeel like it we'll hoof it for the whole distance."

  They soon got below the Harlem River and before long found themselvesin the vicinity of Columbus Circle. They were passing one of thefashionable cafes that abound in that quarter when the door opened anda man came out. Joe caught a good look at his face, and a grim look cameinto his eyes as he recognized Beckworth Fleming.

  Fleming saw him at the same time, and the eyes of the two men met in alook of undisguised hostility. Then with an ugly sneer, Fleming remarked:

  "Ah, Mr. Matson, I believe. Or was it Mr. Buttinski? I'm not very goodat remembering names."

  "You'll remember mine if I have to write it on you with my knuckles,"returned Joe, brought to a white heat by the insult and the remembranceof the occurrence of the day before.

  "Now, my good fellow----" began Fleming, a look of alarm replacing hisinsolent expression.

  "Don't 'good fellow' me," replied Joe. "I owe you a thrashing and I'mperfectly able to pay my debts. You'd have gotten it yesterday if we'dbeen alone."

  "I--I don't understand you," stammered Fleming, looking about him forsome way of escape from the sinewy figure that confronted him.

  "Well, I'm going to make myself so clear that even your limitedintelligence can understand me," said Joe, grimly. "You keep away fromthe Marlborough Hotel. Is that perfectly plain?"

  Before the glow in Joe's eyes, Fleming retreated a pace or two, but ashe caught sight of a policeman sauntering up toward them, his couragerevived.

  "I'll do nothing of the kind," he snarled.

  "You will if you value that precious skin of yours. I've given you fairwarning, and you'll find that I keep my word."

  By this time the officer had come up close to them, and Fleming,immensely relieved, turned to him as an ally.

  "Officer, this man has been threatening me with personal violence," hecomplained.

  The policeman sized him up quizzically. Then he looked at Joe and hisface lighted up.

  "Good evening, Mr. Matson. That was a great game you pitched yesterday,"he ejaculated in warm admiration.

  "I tell you he threatened me," repeated Fleming, loudly.

  The officer smiled inquiringly at Joe.

  "Just a trifling personal matter," Joe explained quietly. "He insultedme and I called him down."

  The policeman turned to Fleming.

  "Beat it," he commanded briefly. "You're blocking up the sidewalk."

  Fleming bristled up like a turkey cock.

  "I'll have your number," he said importantly. "I'll----"

  "G'wan," broke in the officer, "or I'll fan you. Don't make me tell youtwice."

  He emphasized the command by a poke in the back with his club that tookaway the last shred of Fleming's dignity, and he retreated, with onelast malignant look at Joe.

  "I know his kind," said the officer, complacently. "One of them richpapa's boys with more money than brains. Sorry he bothered you, Mr.Matson. Are youse boys goin' to lick them Bostons?"

  "We're going to make a try at it," laughed Joe.

  "You will if you can pitch all the games," rejoined the policeman,admiringly. "It cert'nly was a sin an' a shame the way you trimmed themChicagos. You own New York to-day, Mr. Matson."

  The chums bade him a laughing good-night and resumed their interruptedstroll.

  "Who was that fellow, anyway?" asked Jim in curiosity.

  "His name is Fleming," answered Joe. "That's about all I know of him."

  "How long have you known him?"

  "Since yesterday."

  "What was the row all about, anyway?"

  "Oh, nothing much," evaded Joe. "I guess we just don't like the color ofeach other's eyes."

  Jim laughed and did not press the question. But he had heard the warningto keep away from the Marlborough Hotel, and could hazard a vague guessas to the cause of the quarrel.

  At their hotel both Joe and Jim found a letter from the owners of theNew York Club waiting for them. In addition to the informal thanksconveyed to the team in general by McRae, they had taken this means ofthanking each player personally. It was a gracious and earnest letter,and wound up by inviting them to a big banquet and theatre party thatwas to be given by the management to the players in celebration of theirgreat feat in winning the National League championship for New York.

  But Joe's letter also contained a little slip from the Treasurer, towhich a crisp, blue, oblong paper was attached. Joe unfolded it in somewonderment and ran his eyes over it hastily.

  It was a check for a thousand dollars, and on the accompanying slip waswritten:

  "In payment of bonus as per contract for winning twenty games during the season."

  Joe grabbed Jim and waltzed him about the room, much to Barclay'sbewilderment.

  "What are you trying to do?" he gasped. "Is it a new tango step or what?"

  "Glory, hallelujah!" ejaculated Joe. "Yesterday and to-day are sure mylucky days."

  He thrust the check before his friend's eyes.

  "Great Scott!" exclaimed Jim. "It never rains but it pours. If you felloverboard, you'd come up with a fish in your mouth."

  "It sure is like finding money," chortled Joe. "Everything seems to becoming my way."

  "You'll be lending money to Rockefeller if this sort of thing keeps on,"Jim grinned. "But after all it can't be such a surprise. You must haveknown that you had won twenty games."

  "That's just it," explained Joe. "I wasn't sure of it at all. I figuredthat with yesterday's game I had nineteen. But there was that game inAugust, you remember, when I relieved Markwith in the sixth inning.We won the game, but there were some fine points in it which made itdoubtful whether it should be credited to Markwith or me. I had a tipthat the official scorers were inclined to give it to Markwith, and so Ihad kissed the game good-bye. But it must be that they've decided in myfavor after all and notified the New York Club to that effect."

  "That's bully, old man," cried Jim, enthusiastically. "And you can't saythat they've lost any time in getting it to you."

  "No," replied Joe. "Ordinarily, they'd settle with me on the regularsalary day. But I suppose they feel so good over getting the pennantthat they take this means of showing it."

  "They can well afford to do it," said Jim. "Your pitching has broughtit into the box office twenty times over. Still it's nice and whiteof them just the same to be so prompt. That's one thing that you haveto hand to the Giant management. There isn't a club in the league thattreats its players better."

  "You're just right," assented Joe, warmly, "and it makes me feel asthough I'd pitch my head off to win, not only for my own sake but fortheirs."

  "You certainly have had a dandy year," mused Jim. "With your regularsalary of forty-five hundred and this check in addition you've grabbedfifty-five hundred so far. And you'll get anywhere from two to fourthousand more in the World Series."

  "I haven't any kick coming," agreed Joe. "It was a lucky day for me whenI joined the Giants."

  "I suppose you'll soak that away in the bank to-morrow, you bloatedplutocrat," laughed Jim.

  "Not a bit of it," Joe answered promptly. "To-morrow night that moneywill be on its way to Riverside as fast as the train can carry it."