If Joe was to make the plate, he had to get a quick start and do some fast running. The fly was caught, and Joe broke from the bag just as Farley grabbed his belt. But not for a second did Joe slacken speed. He flew along the base path at a rattling clip and beat the ball to the rubber by an eyelash.
With the roar that went up from the crowd was mingled boisterous laughter.
Farley was standing at third with a ludicrous look of bewilderment on his face, holding in his hand Joe’s belt. He did not seem to know what to do with it, and shifted it from one hand to another as though it were a hot potato.
Joe had unfastened it on the sly as he stood at the bag, and when Farley grabbed it, it came away in his hand without Joe even feeling it. Farley had braced himself for the pull, and the lack of resistance nearly threw him to the ground. He had to stagger some steps before he could regain his balance.
Peal after peal of uproarious laughter at Farley’s foolish appearance rose from the spectators. If ever there was a case of being “caught with the goods,” Farley furnished it at that moment.
And the merriment swelled up anew when Joe walked out to third, and with his hand on his heart and a ceremonious bow, politely asked Mr. Farley to return his property. With his face flaming red from mortification, Farley threw it to him with a scowl and a grunt, and Joe with a tantalizing grin took his time in putting it on.
“Joe,” said McRae, as he shook his hand, “when it comes to outguessing the other fellow there’s nobody in the game that can compare with you. You spring things that nobody ever thought of before. To-day’s an instance. More power to you, my boy.”
Though the Giants had made an immense improvement over their previous recent showing, they were still far from the form they had showed on their last Western trip. And a great part of this, Joe had to admit to himself, was due to Jim’s indifferent showing.
It was not that Jim did not try. He was intensely loyal to the team, of which he had been one of the principal supports. But the old spontaneity was lacking. He had to force himself to his work, where formerly it had been a joy to him. And no man can do his best work under those conditions. Twice within the last few weeks he had been batted out of the box.
“Joe,” said McRae to his captain, “on the dead level, what is the matter with Jim? He isn’t the pitcher he was last season or in the early part of this. What ails him?”