"Now we'll begin to do something!"
Thus cried his teammates.
And from then on the Phillies were allowed but one more tally. This could not be helped, for Joe was weakening, and could not control the ball as well as at first. But the run came in as much through errors on the part of his fellow players as from his own weakness.
Meanwhile the Cardinals struck a batting streak, and made good, bunching their hits. The ending of the eighth inning saw the needed winning run go up in the frame of the Cardinals, and then it was Joe's task to hold the Phillies hitless in their half of the ninth.
How he did it he did not know afterward. His arm felt as though someone were jabbing it with a knife. He gritted his teeth harder and harder, and stuck it out. But oh! what a relief it was when the umpire, as the third batter finished at the plate, called:
"You're out!"
The Cardinals had won! Joe's work for the day was finished. But at what cost only he knew. Pure grit had pulled him through.
"Say, did you pitch with that arm?" asked Boswell in surprise as he saw Joe under the shower in the clubhouse later.
"Well, I made a bluff at it," said Joe, grimly and gamely.
"Well, I'll be Charlie-horsed!" exclaimed the trainer. "Say, you won't do any more pitching for a week! I've got to take you in hand."