They kept their promise in the series of games with the Western teams that followed. Jackwell played at third with a skill that brought back the memory of Jerry Denny, and Bowen covered his territory splendidly in the outfield. It seemed as though Joe’s problem was solved, as far as they were concerned.
But the worry about them was replaced by another regarding Jim. There was no denying that the latter was not doing his best work. He was intensely loyal and wrapped up in the success of the team. But the opposing teams were getting to him much more freely than they had before that season. He was getting by in many of his games because the “breaks” happened to be with him, and because the Giants, with the new spirit that Joe had infused into them, were playing a phenomenal fielding game. But there was something missing.
There was nothing amiss in Jim’s physical condition. His arm was in perfect shape and his control as good as ever. But his mind was not on the game, as it had formerly been. He worked mechanically, sometimes abstractedly. He was always trying, but it was as though he were applying whip and spur to his energies, instead of having them act joyously and spontaneously.
Joe knew perfectly well what was worrying his chum. Ever since that involuntary hesitation of Mabel’s, when asked about Clara, Jim had been a different person. Where formerly he and Joe had laughed and jested together on the closest terms of friendship and mutual understanding, there was now a shadow between them, a very slight and nebulous shadow, but a shadow nevertheless. Jim’s old jollity, the bubbling effervescence, the sheer joy in living, were conspicuous by their absence.
It was a matter that could not be talked about, and Joe, grieved to the heart, could only wait and hope that the matter would be cleared up happily. To his regret on his chum’s account was added worry about the influence the trouble might have on the chances of the Giants.
For if there was any weak place in the Giants’ armor, it was in the pitching staff. At the best, it was none too strong. Joe himself, of course, was a tower of strength, and Jim was one of the finest twirlers in either League. But Markwith, though still turning in a fair number of victories, was past his prime and unquestionably on the down grade. In another season or two, he would be ready for the minors. Bradley was coming along fairly well, and Merton, too, had all the signs of a comer, but they were still too unseasoned to be depended on.
If the deal for Hays had gone through, he would have been a most welcome addition to the ranks of the Giant boxmen. But the Yankees had had a change of heart, and had decided to retain him for a while.
So Joe’s dismay at the thought of Jim, his main standby, letting down in his efficiency was amply justified.
The Cincinnatis came back, as Hughson had prophesied, and took the next game. But the two following ones went into the Giants’ bat bag, and with three out of four they felt that they had got revenge for the trimming that had been handed to them on their last trip to Redland.
St. Louis came next, and this time the Giants made a clean sweep of the series. They were not so successful with the Pittsburghs, and had to be satisfied with an even break. But when the latter went over the bridge the Brooklyns rose in their might and took the whole four games right off the reel, thus enabling the Giants to pass them and take second place in the race.