“I’ll have to get you out another way,” whispered Joe’s guide.
He noiselessly descended the steps to the cellar, with Joe at his heels. They had not gone far when Joe’s guide stopped at a stout door set in the cellar wall and fitted a key into the lock. Cautiously he swung the door open and then for a full minute stood listening intently.
In the silence Joe could hear the wash and lap of water at no great distance, and the thought flashed across his mind that perhaps this man was leading him into some death trap. But he was totally in the power of the man, who had only to shout to bring members of the gang to his assistance. Joe resolved to follow him unhesitatingly, since, after all, it seemed his only chance.
After listening for some time, the ex-ball player apparently decided that the way was clear, for he motioned to Joe to follow him. They entered the black tunnel, for such it seemed to be, and went slowly forward, the path being dimly lighted by the little flashlight. The walls were wet and moldy, and there was hardly room for one man to pass along. Ever as they walked the splash and gurgle of running water came nearer, until, after rounding a corner, Joe saw the cause.
The tunnel ended at the river, only a foot or two above the high water mark. The tide was at flow, and the waters of the mighty Hudson raced and swirled past, moaning and gurgling about the piles of an old dock under which the tunnel had its exit. Joe could not repress a shudder as he gazed at the green water lapping past almost under his feet, for he reflected that possibly he had been close to an ignominious death in its cold depths.
“There are spikes driven into the far side of that pile,” said Joe’s rescuer, indicating a slippery green post to the right of the tunnel. “When you get to the top you’ll find a trap door that will let you out on the dock. From there you can easily enough reach the street. Then see how fast you can get away from this neighborhood. And one more thing: Take a little advice and don’t go around alone much for the rest of the baseball season.”
Joe extended his hand.
“I don’t even know your name,” he said, “but I know you’re a real man in spite of the set you’re running with. Why don’t you shake them and play the game on the level? If I can ever help you with cash or in any other way, all you’ll ever have to do is to say so. I owe my whole future to you.”
The other took the extended hand.
“Your dope sounds good, kid, and maybe I’ll do it,” he said. “But don’t think about me any more. Go in and bring your team out at the top of the heap, and I’ll be paid for my trouble. I used to belong to the Giants once.”