Gregory sent in most of his second string players against the amateurs, but kept Joe as a twirler, for he wanted him to see what he could do against some fairly good hitters.
And, to Joe’s delight, he seemed more like his old self. He had better control of the ball, his curves “broke” well and he was a source of dismay to the strong amateurs. Of course Pittston, even with her substitutes in the game, fairly walked away from the others, the right-handed batters occasionally doing left stick-work, on purpose to strike out.
But the little change seemed to do them all good, and when the next regular contest came off Pittston won handily, Joe almost equalling his best record.
It was at a hotel in Buffington, whither they had gone to play a series of games with that team, that, one afternoon, as Joe entered his room, after the game, he surprised a colored bell boy hurriedly leaving it.
“Did you want me?” asked the young pitcher.
“No, sah, boss! ’Deed an’ I didn’t want yo’all,” stammered the dusky youth.
“Then what were you doing in my room?” asked Joe, suspiciously.
“I—I were jest seein’, boss, if yo’all had plenty ob ice water. Dat’s whut I was doin’, boss! ’Deed I was.”
Joe noticed that the boy backed out of the room, and held one hand behind him. With a quick motion the young pitcher whirled the intruder about and disclosed the fact that the colored lad had taken one of Joe’s neckties. But, no sooner had our hero caught sight of it than he burst into a peal of laughter which seemed to startle the boy more than a storm of accusation.