[CHAPTER XXVIII]
THE RACE
There was but one thing to do—make all speed back to the ball park. Already, in fancy, Joe could see his team trotting out for warming-up practice, and wondering, perhaps, why he was not there with them.
“This is fierce!” he gasped. “I had no idea it was so late!”
“Neither had I,” admitted Reggie. “It was such easy going that I kept on. It was my fault, Joe.”
“No, it was my own. I ought to have kept track of the time on such an important occasion. Of course I don’t mean to say that they won’t win the game without me, but if Gregory should happen to call on me and I wasn’t there it would look bad. I’m supposed to be there for every game, if I’m able, whether they use me or not.”
“Then I’ll get you there!” cried Reggie. “I’ll make this old machine hum, take my word for that! We’ll have a grand old race against time, Joe!”
“Only don’t get arrested for speeding,” cautioned the young pitcher. “That would be as bad as not getting there at all.”
He looked at his watch while Reggie turned the car around in a narrow street, necessitating some evolutions. Again Joe compared his timepiece with the clock in the window of the jewelry store. His watch was more than an hour slow.