Baseball Joe Around the World; or, Pitching on a Grand Tour Read online

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  IT WAS A HAMMER-AND-TONGS CONFLICT FROM START TO FINISH._Baseball Joe Around the World_ Page 221]

  BASEBALL JOE

  AROUND THE WORLD

  or

  Pitching on a Grand Tour

  By LESTER CHADWICK

  AUTHOR OF

  "BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARS," "BASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUE,""THE RIVAL PITCHERS," "THE RIGHT-OARED VICTORS," ETC.

  ILLUSTRATED

  New York

  CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY

  BOOKS BY LESTER CHADWICK

  THE BASEBALL JOE SERIES12mo. Cloth. Illustrated

  BASEBALL JOE OF THE SILVER STARSBASEBALL JOE ON THE SCHOOL NINEBASEBALL JOE AT YALEBASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUEBASEBALL JOE IN THE BIG LEAGUEBASEBALL JOE ON THE GIANTSBASEBALL JOE IN THE WORLD SERIESBASEBALL JOE AROUND THE WORLD

  THE COLLEGE SPORTS SERIES12 mo. Cloth. Illustrated

  THE RIVAL PITCHERSA QUARTERBACK'S PLUCKBATTING TO WINTHE WINNING TOUCHDOWNTHE EIGHT-OARED VICTORS

  CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, New York

  Copyright, 1918, byCupples & Leon Company

  Baseball Joe Around the World

  Printed in U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I In Deadly Peril 1 II Quick As Lightning 12 III The Stranger's Visit 22 IV The Top Of The Wave 32 V Lucky Joe 40 VI Circling The Globe 49 VII The Gathering Of The Clans 60 VIII The Rival Teams 67 IX The Under Dog 75 X By A Hair 84 XI A Close Call 93 XII A Dastardly Attack 103 XIII Danger Signals 112 XIV A Weird Game 119 XV The Bewildered Umpire 128 XVI Putting Them Over 135 XVII "Man Overboard" 143 XVIII One Strike And Out 150 XIX Braxton Joins The Party 155 XX In Mikado Land 164 XXI Running Amuck 175 XXII Taking A Chance 183 XXIII An Embarrassed Rescuer 191 XXIV The Blow Falls 200 XXV The Cobra In The Room 207 XXVI In The Shadow Of The Pyramids 213 XXVII The Signed Contract 220 XXVIII Whirlwind Pitching 227 XXIX The Ruined Castle 234 XXX Brought To Book--Conclusion 240

  BASEBALL JOE AROUNDTHE WORLD

  CHAPTER I

  IN DEADLY PERIL

  "Great Scott! Look at this!"

  Joe Matson, or "Baseball Joe," as he was better known throughout thecountry, sprang to his feet and held out a New York paper with headlineswhich took up a third of the page.

  There were three other occupants of the room in the cozy home atRiverside, where Joe had come to rest up after his glorious victory in thelast game of the World's Series, and they looked up in surprise and somealarm.

  "Land's sakes!" exclaimed his mother, pausing just as she was about tobite off a thread. "You gave me such a start, Joe! What on earth hashappened?"

  "What's got my little brother so excited?" mocked his pretty sister,Clara.

  "Has an earthquake destroyed the Polo Grounds?" drawled Jim Barclay,Joe's special chum and fellow pitcher on the Giant team.

  "Not so bad as that," replied Joe, cooling down a bit; "but it's somethingthat will make McRae and the whole Polo Grounds outfit throw a fit if it'strue."

  Jim snatched the paper from Joe's hands, with the familiarity born of longacquaintance, and as his eyes fell on the headlines he gave a whistle ofsurprise.

  "'Third Major League a Certainty,'" he read. "Gee whiz, Joe! I don'twonder it upset you. That's news for fair."

  "Is that all?" pouted Clara, who had been having a very interestingconversation with handsome Jim Barclay, and did not relish beinginterrupted.

  Mrs. Matson also looked relieved and resumed her sewing.

  "Is that all?" cried Joe, as he began to pace the floor excitedly. "I tellyou, Sis, it's plenty. If it's true, it means the old Brotherhood days allover again. It means a fight to disrupt the National and the AmericanLeagues. It means all sorts of trickery and breaking of contracts. Itmeans distrust and suspicion between the members of the different teams.It means--oh, well, what doesn't it mean? I'd rather lose a thousanddollars than know that the news is true."

  "But perhaps it isn't true," suggested Clara, sobered a little by herbrother's earnestness. "You can't believe half the things you see in thepapers."

  "Will it hurt your position with the Giants, Joe?" asked Mrs. Matson, hermotherly instincts taking alarm at anything that threatened her idolizedson.

  Joe stopped beside his mother's chair and patted her head affectionately.

  "Not for a long time if at all, Momsey," he replied reassuringly. "Mycontract with the Giants has two years to run, and it's as good as gold,even if I didn't throw a ball in all that time. It wasn't the money I wasthinking about. As a matter of fact, I could squeeze double the money outof McRae, if I were mean enough to take advantage of him. It's the damagethat will be done to the game that's bothering me."

  "Perhaps it won't be as bad as you think," ventured his mother. "You knowthe old saying that 'the worst things that befall us are the things thatnever happen.'"

  "That's the way to look at it," broke in Jim heartily. "Let's take asquint at the whole article and see how much fire there is in all thissmoke."

  "And read it out loud," said Clara. "I'm just as much of a baseball fan aseither of you two. And Momsey is, too, after all the World's Series gamesshe's seen played."

  It is to be feared that Mrs. Matson's eyes had been so riveted on Joealone, in that memorable Series when he had pitched his team to victory,that she had not picked up many points about the game in general. Butanything that concerned her darling boy concerned her as well, and she lether sewing lie unheeded in her lap as Joe read the story from beginning toend.

  "Seems to be straight goods," remarked Jim, as Joe threw the paper aside.

  "They've got the money all right," rejoined Joe. "They've got two or threemillionaires who are willing to take a chance and put up the coin."

  "One of the names seems to be rather familiar," remarked Jim, with asidewise look at Joe. "Do you remember him?"

  "I remember him," replied Joe grimly, "but I'd bet a dollar against aplugged nickel that he remembers me better yet."

  "Who is it?" asked Clara with quickened interest.

  "Beckworth Fleming," replied Joe.

  "Rather a pretty name," remarked Mrs. Matson absently.

  "Prettier than he was when Joe got through with him," interposed Jim witha grin.

  Mrs. Matson looked up, shocked.

  "Oh, I hope Joe didn't hurt him!" she exclaimed.

  "Whatever Joe did was for the good of his soul," laughed Jim. "I can't sayas much for his body."

  "It's all right, Momsey," smiled Joe. "He was insolent to Mabel, and I hadto give him a thrashing. But that's neither here nor there. He's thespoiled son of a very rich man, and he's one of the men behind this newleague. 'A fool and his money are soon parted,' and he'll probably bewiser when he gets through with this than he is now."

  "But why shouldn't they start a new league if they want to?" asked Mrs.Matson. "I should think they had a right to, if they wanted to do it."

  "Of course they have a right to," agreed Joe. "This is a free country, andany man has a right to go into any legitimate business if he think
sthere's money in it. Neither the National League nor the American Leaguehave a mortgage on the game. But the trouble is that there aren't enoughgood players to go round. All the really good ones have been alreadygobbled up by the present leagues. If the new league started in withunknown players, it wouldn't take in enough money to pay the batboys. Theconsequence is that it tries to get the players who are already undercontract by making them big offers, and that leads to all sorts ofdishonesty. You take a man who is making three thousand a year and offerhim six if he'll break his contract, and it's a big temptation."

  "They'll be after you, Joe, sure as shooting," remarked Jim. "It would bea big feather in their cap to start off with copping the greatest pitcherin the game. They'd be willing to offer you a fortune to get you. Theyfigure that after that start the other fellows they want will be tumblingover themselves to get aboard."

  "Let them come," declared Joe. "I'll send them off with a flea in theirear. They'll find that I'm no contract jumper."

  "I'm sure that you'd never do anything mean," said his mother, looking athim fondly.

  "There isn't a crooked bone in his head," laughed Clara, making a face athim as he threatened her with his fist.

  "The contract is enough," said Joe; "but even if I were a free agent, Iwouldn't go with the new league and leave McRae in the hole. I feel that Iowe him a lot for the way he has treated me. He took me from asecond-string team and gave me a chance to make good on the Giants. Hetook a chance in offering me a three-year contract in place of one. I'mgetting four thousand, five hundred a year, which is a good big sumwhatever way you look at it. And you remember how promptly he came acrosswith that thousand dollars for winning twenty games last season."

  "We remember that, don't we, Momsey?" said Clara, patting her mother'shand.

  "I should say we did," replied Mrs. Matson, while a suspicious moisturecame into her eyes. "Will we ever forget the day when we opened thatletter from the dear boy, and the thousand-dollar bill fell out on thetable? It gave us all the happiest time we have had in all our lives."

  Jim, too, mentally blessed that big bill which had brought the Matsonfamily to witness the World's Series games and so had enabled him to meetJoe's charming sister. Perhaps that vivacious young lady read what waspassing in his mind, for her eyes suddenly dropped as they met Jim'seloquent ones.

  Joe flushed at this reference to his generosity, and Clara was quick tocover her own slight confusion by rallying her brother.

  "He's blushing!" she declared.

  "I'm not," denied Joe stoutly, getting still redder.

  "You are so," averred his sister in mock alarm. "Stop it, Joe, before itgets to your hair. I don't want a red-headed brother."

  Joe made a dash at his tormentor, but she eluded him and got into anotherroom.

  "Come along, Jim," said Joe, picking up his cap. "Let's warm up a little.We want to keep our salary wings in good condition, and maybe the openair will help to get the bad taste of the new league out of our mouths."

  They went into an open lot near by and had a half-hour's practice,pitching to each other at a moderate pace, only now and then unlimberingsome of the fast balls that had been wont to stand opposing batters "ontheir heads" in the exciting games of the season just ended.

  "How does the old soup bone feel?" inquired Jim.

  "Fine as silk," replied Joe; "I was afraid I might have strained it inthat last game. But it feels as strong now as it did at the beginning ofthe season."

  They had supper a little earlier than usual that night, for with theexception of Joe's father, who was busy on a new invention, they were allgoing to a show that evening at the Riverside Opera House. It promised tobe an interesting entertainment, for the names of several popular actorsappeared on the program. But what made it especially attractive to Joe andhis party was the fact that Nick Altman, the famous pitcher of the "WhiteSox" of Chicago, was on the bill for a monologue. Although, being in theAmerican League, Joe and Jim had never played against him, they knew himwell by reputation and respected him for his ability in their chosenprofession.

  "As a pitcher he sure is classy," remarked Joe. "They say that fastinshoot of his is a lulu. But that doesn't say that he's any good on thestage."

  "He's pulling in the coin all right," replied Jim. "They say that hiscontract calls for two hundred dollars a week. He won't have to eatsnowballs this winter."

  "Jim tells me that a vaudeville manager offered you five hundred dollars aweek the day after you won the championship for the Giants," said Clara.

  "So he did," replied Joe, "but it would have been a shame to take themoney."

  "Such a shrinking violet," teased his sister.

  "I'm sure he would make a very good actor," said his mother, who wouldhave been equally sure that he would make a good president of the UnitedStates.

  The night was fine, and the town Opera House was crowded to its capacity.There was a buzz and whispering as Joe and his party entered and madetheir way to their reserved seats near the center of the house, forRiverside regarded the famous pitcher as one of its greatest assets. Hehad given the quiet little village a fame that it would never have hadotherwise. In the words of Sol Cramer, the hotel keeper and villageoracle, Joe had "put Riverside on the map."

  There were three or four sketches and vaudeville turns before Altman,who, of course, was the chief attraction as far as Joe and his folks wereconcerned, came on the stage. He had a clever skit in which baseball"gags" and "patter" were the chief ingredients, and as he was a naturalhumorist his act went "big" in the phrase of the profession. Knowing thatJoe lived in Riverside and would probably be in the audience, Altmanadroitly introduced his name in one of his anecdotes, and was rewarded bya storm of applause which clearly showed how Joe stood in his home town.

  "You own this town, Joe," laughed Jim, who was seated between him andClara--Jim could be depended on these days never to be farther away fromClara than he could help.

  "Yes," mocked Clara. "Any time he runs for poundkeeper he's sure to beelected."

  Joe was about to make some laughing retort, when his quick eye caughtsight of something that made the flush fade from his face and his heartlose a beat.

  From the wing at the left of the stage _a tiny wisp of smoke wasstealing_.

  Like lightning, his quick brain sensed the situation. The house was oldand would burn like tinder. There were only the two exits--one on eachside of the hall. And the place was crowded--and his mother was there--andClara!

  His plan was formed in an instant. He must reach a narrow corridor, bywhich, out of sight of the audience, he could gain the back of the stageand stamp out whatever it was that was making that smoke.

  He rose to slip out, but at that moment a big bulk of a man sitting twoseats ahead of him jumped to his feet with a yell.

  "Fire! Fire!" he shouted wildly. "The house is on fire!"