“This is a thing we won’t be able to hush up, Mac,” he said. “The newspaper men know that we intend to pitch Matson to-day, and they’ll want to know the reason why he isn’t in the box. They’d soon find out the reason why, and if we tell them what we know, they may be able to help us find him.”
“That’s true, in a way,” said McRae slowly. “But we won’t tell them about our suspicions of McCarney—not yet. Remember, we haven’t any proof against him, and we don’t want to make any false moves.”
By the time this decision was reached it was almost time for the game to start, and the three hurried out on to the field, where the rest of the team had already congregated. They were warming up, one or two knocking flies to the others while a few were pitching balls back and forth to each other with that long, effortless swing of the arm characteristic of a good ball player. Jim started pitching to Mylert, taking it easy on the first few balls and gradually warming up to his regular speed and control. But it was hard for him to keep his mind on the work in hand, as his thoughts kept wandering to his missing friend while his heart was filled with gloomy forebodings. He knew that Joe would never have been absent from the ball field that afternoon unless he were actually in captivity, or perhaps worse yet, actually injured by his enemies to keep him from playing. The only thing that kept Jim from throwing down his glove and starting to search for his chum then and there was the knowledge that Joe would want him to pitch the game for the sake of the team and to frustrate the gamblers. Jim made up his mind that he would pitch such a game in the absence of his chum that the opposing team would not have even a look-in. His arm had never felt better, and he had an uncanny control over the ball that made him confident of winning.
There was little time for practice before the umpire called “Play ball” and the game was on.
The Giant fans were expecting a great battle that day, and they were not disappointed. The team was playing the Pittsburghs, and the latter were no mean adversaries. In addition to an all-around good team, they had a young pitcher who was one of the sensations of the season. He had been taken right from a high school team, where his phenomenal ability had earned him the attention of a big league scout. He had a big variety of curves, although a little erratic on control, a defect that time would probably remedy. He was considered the best pitcher the Pittsburghs had, and their manager had decided to work him that afternoon before he heard of Joe’s non-appearance. After learning of this, he decided to pitch him anyway, in order to “put the game on ice.” The Pittsburghs were close on the trail of the Giants; so close, that every game was important.
However, Jim was nothing daunted by this, and was confident that he could pitch his team to victory. He had never played in a game against Miles, the Pittsburghs’ star, but from the bench he had studied him closely and had a pretty good line on his offerings. In addition, he and Joe knew the weak points of every batter in the league, and just what kind of delivery was least to his liking. This counted for a tremendous lot in a tight place, and the two chums had worked it out to a science.
The Pittsburghs were disposed of in the first inning in quick order. Then the Giants came in for their turn with Curry as the first man in the batting order. He was a dependable batter as a rule, but he found himself helpless against the puzzling shoots dished up to him by the star pitcher of the Pittsburghs. He knew that Miles was short on control, and tried to wait him out, but after the pitcher had had three balls chalked against him, he sent over three strikes in succession, and Curry threw down his bat disgustedly and went over to the players’ bench to meet the gibes of his team mates. But Iredell, who followed him, was little more successful, popping up a high fly that Miles caught without moving from the mound. Burkett struck out in one-two-three order, and the Pittsburghs came trotting in from the field for their second turn at bat.
“Guess our kid has got you fellows eating out of his hand,” gibed O’Connor, the Pittsburgh captain, as he passed the Giants on their way out to the field positions. “You fellows haven’t a chance in the world of winning this game.”
“‘He who laugh last, irritates,’” retorted Mylert. “We’ve got as many runs as you so far.”
O’Connor grunted and went to the dugout to get his favorite bat. In a few seconds he was back at the plate with it, swinging it slowly back and forth as he waited for Jim’s delivery.