“Goldsboro; eh?” mused Joe. “That’s where that ‘R. V.’ fellow lives, who thought I robbed his valise. I wonder if I’ll ever meet him? I’ve a good notion to take a chance, and walk over that way. I can ask him if he found his stuff. Maybe it’s risky, but I’m going to do it.”
He set off at a swinging pace to limber up his muscles, thinking of many things, and wondering, if, after all, he was going to like professional baseball. Certainly he had started in as well as could be expected, save for the enmity of Collin.
Joe got out into the open country and breathed deeply of the sweet air. The road swept along in a gentle curve, on one side being deep woods, while on the other was a rather steep descent to the valley below. In places the road approached close to the edge of a steep cliff.
As the young pitcher strode along he heard behind him the clatter of hoofs. It was a galloping horse, and the rattle of wheels told that the animal was drawing a carriage.
“Someone’s in a hurry,” mused Joe. “Going for a doctor, maybe.”
A moment later he saw what he knew might at any moment become a tragedy.
A spirited horse, attached to a light carriage, dashed around a bend in the road, coming straight for Joe. And in the carriage was a young girl, whose fear-blanched face told that she realized her danger. A broken, dangling rein showed that she had tried in vain to stop the runaway.
Joe formed a sudden resolve. He knew something of horses, and had more than once stopped a frightened animal. He ran forward, intending to cut across the path of this one, and grasp the bridle.
But as the horse headed for him, and caught sight of the youth, it swerved to one side, and dashed across an intervening field, straight for the steep cliff.