[CHAPTER V]
AT THE JAIL
The rest of the evening following such an eventful day passed pleasantly. Joe had usually been in the habit of strolling down town for a chat with his friends at the hotel. But he knew that the whole town would be buzzing with the exciting adventure of the afternoon and that, if he made his appearance, he would be dragged into the center of the limelight. He shrank from the hero worship likely to be called forth and decided to remain in the home circle.
But he could not wholly cheat the village people of a chance to show their enthusiasm, and all that evening friends came trooping in, to rehearse the story of his exploit, so that it was very late when he finally was able to get to bed.
He rose early the following morning and after a hearty breakfast took his hat and left the house. At almost every step he had to stop and talk to some one who hailed him, so that it was considerably later when he stood in the lobby of the Park Hotel.
“By jiminy! that was a crack shot you made yesterday, Joe,” said Sol Cramer, the proprietor.
“It had to be,” laughed Joe. “If I hadn’t winged him that first time, I wouldn’t have had another chance. He’d have got suspicious and thrown the baby down on the tracks.”
“Was that what you call your ‘bean ball,’ Joe?” drawled Ed Wilson.
“I suppose you might call it that,” answered Joe with a grin. “It certainly ‘beaned’ him all right. I’ve had to send them in pretty close sometimes to keep some fresh batter from crowding the plate, but this is the first time I ever hit a man in the head. By the way, how is he getting on today? It isn’t the poor fellow’s fault that he’s crazy and I’m awfully sorry that I had to hit him at all. I hope he’ll soon be as well as ever.”