The train moved off, and the boys leaned far out of the windows and waved to the girls as long as they were in sight. Then they settled back in their seats, and for a long time were engrossed in their thoughts. Usually they were full of chaff and banter, but to-day it was some time before they roused themselves from reverie and paid attention to the realities around them.
It was after they had come back from the dining car after supper that Joe told Jim about his interview with Reggie and the anonymous letter. Jim’s wrath was almost as great as that which had shaken Joe himself.
“And the worst of it is,” said Joe, “that there doesn’t seem the slightest chance of getting hold of the cowardly fellow that did it. You might as well look for a needle in a haystack.”
“Yes,” agreed Jim, “that’s the exasperating feature of it. It may be the work of gamblers who have bet against the Giants and want to worry you so that you won’t pitch your best ball. Some of those fellows will do anything for money. Or it may have been done by some enemy who chose that way of striking in the dark.”
“If it’s an enemy,” mused Joe, “that narrows it down. There’s old Bugs Hartley, but I don’t think he has intelligence enough to write a letter. Then there’s Fleming, with whom I’m just about as popular as poison ivy. Add to that Braxton and a few old-time enemies, and you’ve about completed the list.”
“I wouldn’t put it past Braxton,” remarked Jim thoughtfully. “That fellow’s a rattlesnake. He wouldn’t stop at anything to get even with you.”
“I hate to think he’d stoop as low as to try to strike me through a woman,” replied Joe. “But, by Jove!” he went on, as a thought struck him, “do you remember what Reggie said about meeting Braxton in Chicago? You know while we were on the trip he mentioned Chicago as his home town. And that letter had the Chicago postmark.”
“Oh, well, you couldn’t hang a yellow dog on that,” Jim replied. “But what struck me was what Reggie said about the speedy car that Braxton had. It must have been a mighty speedy car that got the fellow who laid that trap on the road from the training town to Hebron. Of course those things are only straws, of no value separately, though straws show which way the wind blows. One thing is certain. We’ve got to keep one man in our mind and guard against him. And that man’s name is Braxton.”
They reached New York without incident the day before the opening game, and found the city baseball mad. The front pages of the newspapers had big headlines discussing the opening of the season. The sporting pages overflowed with speculation and prophecy as to the way the different teams would shape up for the pennant race. In the street cars, in the subways, in the restaurants, in the lobbies of the theatres, wherever men congregated, baseball was the subject of discussion. The long winter had made the populace hungry for their favorite game.