“What’s that?” cried Sam angrily, and turning back he seemed about to rush at the throng he faced.
“There now, that’ll do!” exclaimed Darrell, who was anxious to avoid a scene. “Forget it, fellows. Sam, you get your arm good and limber for Saturday. We want to beat the Red Stockings by a big score to make up for what the Resolutes did to us last Saturday. I’m going to arrange for another game with them soon, and maybe we can turn the tables.”
“Sure we can!” cried several.
“So limber up, Sam,” the manager went on, “and have your arm in good shape.”
“It will be in bad shape if I get run down by any more amateur cyclists,” sneered Sam as he looked meaningly at Joe, but no one made any further reference to the recent collision.
At practice the next day Joe took his place with the regular Silver Star team, and he showed up well in the impromptu contest against the scrubs. He made several good catches, and though his stick work might have been improved, still it was pretty good, for the scrub pitcher was not to be despised.
“I guess you’ll do,” complimented Darrell, at the close of the contest. “Keep it up, don’t get rattled, and you’ll be all right. I can see you’ve played before.”
“I guess I’ve got lots to learn yet,” admitted Joe cheerfully.
“Oh, we all have,” assented the manager with a laugh.
On the Saturday of the game with the Red Stockings, Joe was up early. He had overhauled his old uniform and gotten Clara to put a few needed stitches in it. He had it out on the clothes line in the back yard, beating some of the dust and dirt from it to freshen it up, when Tom hailed him from over the fence.