“As pretty a three-bagger as I ever saw,” declared Robson. “That ties the score anyway. Now if Mylert can only bring him in, the game’s ours.”
Albaugh, though sore and enraged, still maintained perfect control of the ball. Twice in succession he sent it whizzing over the plate, and twice Mylert missed it by inches. Perhaps he was too anxious, but it was evident that his batting eye was off.
Albaugh sensed this, and felt so sure of his victim that he paid little attention to third. Suddenly, as Albaugh began to wind up for his pitch, Joe darted down the line for the plate. A warning cry from Menken and a roar from the crowd told Albaugh what was happening. He stopped his windup and threw to Menken, who was covering the rubber and yelling to him to throw. He threw high in his excitement. Menken caught the ball and bent down, just as Joe slid over the plate in a cloud of dust. Menken dabbed frantically at him, and they rolled on the ground together.
“Safe!” cried the umpire.
The game was won and the Giants had “got the jump.”
The crowd went mad. By thousands they rushed down from the stands and swarmed down over the field. Joe saw them coming and made a dash for the clubhouse. But before he had reached it, the crowd had closed in about him, and it was only by the assistance of his mates, who cleared a way for him, that he could get away from their wild enthusiasm and slip into its welcome shelter.
In a few minutes more the whole team had gathered there, laughing and shouting and going over the details of the game, while they took the showers and changed into their street clothes. There too came Robbie and McRae, as full of glee and happiness as the rest.
“You old rascal!” chortled Robbie, as he slapped Joe on the back. “What are you trying to do? Be the whole team—gyp the other fellows out of their jobs? Such pitching, such batting—and then to cap it all by stealing home! Joe, old boy, I’ve seen lots of ball games, but your work to-day takes the cake.”
McRae, though less demonstrative, was not a whit less delighted.
“Great work, Matson,” he said. “Keep that up and there isn’t a man in either league will be able to touch you.”