Hupft and McCarney had been members of the Giant team that year. They were good players, but had entered into a conspiracy with a gang of gamblers—who had bet heavily against the Giants—to lose the pennant. Lemblow was a minor-league pitcher who had long wanted to get a chance to play with the Giants. If Joe, their star pitcher, could be put out of the game, Lemblow figured that his chance for a berth would be better. He also, therefore, had fallen in with the plans of the gambling ring, and had, seemingly, stopped at nothing to bring Joe to grief. How their plans miscarried, how Hupft and McCarney had been put on the blacklist that debarred them forever from playing in organized baseball, how Lemblow had been exposed and disgraced, are familiar to those who have read the preceding volume of this series.
“Wonder what they’re doing here,” puzzled Joe.
“Rogues naturally drift together,” said Jim. “I heard some time ago that the bunch was playing with one of the semi-pro teams in the Pittsburgh district. But they usually play only on Saturdays and Sundays, so I suppose they’re choosing this way to spend their off time. I suppose if we could hear what they’re saying about us at this moment, our ears would be blistered.”
“Whatever it is doesn’t matter,” laughed Joe. “They made acquaintance with our fists once, and I don’t think they’re anxious to repeat the experience. But I guess we’d better pick out catchers and begin to warm up. I’ve a hunch that the Pirates are going to pitch Miles to-day, and if they do we’ll need the best we have in stock to turn them back.”
By the time the bell rang for the beginning of the game, the stands were black with spectators. The Giant supporters were comparatively few, but they made up in vehemence what they lacked in numbers.
From the beginning it was evident that the game would be a pitchers’ duel. Miles was in superb form, and up to the ninth inning had only given three hits, and these so scattered that no runs resulted.
But Joe was in the box for the Giants and was pitching for a no-hit game. Up to the ninth, not even the scratchiest kind of hit had been registered from his delivery.
Could he keep it up? The crowd waited breathlessly for the answer.