[CHAPTER III]
UNDER COVER
Joe and Jim ate their lunch that day in a little more thoughtful mood than usual, and that mood still persisted as they prepared to go to the grounds.
But the ten minutes of brisk walking in the bracing air soon dissipated the somber shadow that had tried to settle down upon them. They were young and vital, the blood coursed strongly through their veins, and they were soon feeling the sheer joy of living that was natural to them.
And this feeling grew stronger as they drew near the Polo Grounds. That famous park held a strong place in their affections. It was the visible symbol of their profession, the place where they had won their spurs, where they had gained glorious victories that thrilled them to the marrow as they recalled them, where they had fought memorable battles in which every particle of their strength and manhood had been called into play, where they had listened to the plaudits of cheering thousands who had lauded them to the skies when they had pulled some hotly contested game out of the fire.
Soon they were in the midst of the procession that even at that early hour was wending its way towards the gates. It was not long before they were recognized, and admiring comments began to pass from one to another of the crowd.
“That’s Baseball Joe, the king of them all.”
“Did you see the game he pitched against the Brooklyns yesterday? It was a corker, all right.”
“Trust him to show those bimbos from over the bridge where they get off.”
“And that fellow with him is Barclay. There’s nothing slow about him, either. Has been going great guns all the season.”