“Look out there!” cried the young pitcher, with sudden energy. “Look out for that freight, old man! You’re walking right into danger!”
A train of freight cars was backing down the rails, right upon the man who was staggering along, unheeding.
The engineer blew his whistle shrilly—insistently; but still the ragged man did not get off the track.
Joe sprinted at his best pace, and in an instant had grasped the man by the arm. The tramp looked up with bleary, blood-shot eyes—uncomprehending—almost unseeing.
“Wha—wha’s matter?” he asked, thickly.
“Matter—matter enough when you get sense enough to realize it!” said Joe sharply, as he pulled him to one side, and only just in time, for a second later the freight train thundered past at hardly slackened speed in spite of the fact that the brakes had been clapped on.
The man staggered at Joe’s sudden energy, and would have toppled over against a switch had not the young pitcher held him.