They were given with a will, too, for the crowd loved a plucky player, even if it was on the other side.
But Joe did not stay to hear this. He wanted to catch the first train for home, and hurried into the dressing room. He spoke to Gregory, saying that he was going, and would be back as soon as he could.
“Take your time, old man; take your time,” said the manager kindly. “You did a lot for us to-day, and now I guess we can hold our own until you come back.”
There were sympathetic inquiries from Joe’s fellow players when they heard what had happened. Joe wanted to say good-bye to Mabel, but did not quite see how he could do it. He could hardly find her in that crowd.
But chance favored him, and as he was entering the hotel to get his grip, he met her.
“Oh, it was splendid!” she cried with girlish enthusiasm, holding out her slim, pretty hand. “It was fine! However did you do it?”
“I guess because I knew you were watching me!” exclaimed Joe with a boldness that he himself wondered at later.
“Oh, that’s awfully nice of you to say,” she answered, with a blush. “I wish I could believe it!”
“You can!” said Joe, still more boldly.
“But you—you look as though something had happened,” she went on, for surely Joe’s face told that.