“Too bad!”
Joe felt an irresistible impulse to turn around and speak to the two men. But he refrained, perhaps wisely.
“And to think that I saved his life!” mused Joe. “No wonder he talked as he did. Pop Dutton! Why, I’ve often read of him. He pitched many a no-hit no-run game. And now look at him!”
As the train pulled out Joe saw the wreck of what had once been a fine man stagger across the platform. A railroad man had driven him from the truck. Joe’s heart was sore.
He realized that in baseball there were many temptations, and he knew that many a fine young fellow had succumbed to them. But he felt himself strong enough to resist.
If Joe expected to make the trip South with speed and comfort he was soon to realize that it was not to be. Late that afternoon the train came to an unexpected stop, and on the passengers inquiring what was the trouble, the conductor informed them that, because of a wreck ahead, they would be delayed at a little country station for several hours.
There were expostulations, sharp remarks and various sorts of suggestions offered by the passengers, all of whom seemed to be in a hurry. Joe, himself, regretted the delay, but he did not see how it could be avoided.
“The company ought to be sued!” declared a young man whose rather “loud” clothes proclaimed him for an up-to-date follower of “fashion.” He had with him a valise of peculiar make—rather conspicuous—and it looked to be of foreign manufacture. In fact, everything about him was rather striking.
“I ought to be in New York now,” this young chap went on, as though everyone in the train was interested in his fortunes and misfortunes. “This delay is uncalled for! I shall start suit against this railroad. It’s always having wrecks. Can’t we go on, my good man?” he asked the conductor, sharply.
“Not unless you go on ahead and shove the wreck out of the way,” was the sharp answer.