McRae was all smiles, while Robbie, as Robson was usually called, fairly hugged him in his delight.
“Man, you’re a wizard in the box and at the bat!” Robbie cried. “Sure, it’s magic that you use. You’ve put a come-hither on the ball. You’ve got it bewitched. You go into the box and you put two men out with only one ball pitched. You whack the ball and it starts for Kingdom Come.”
McRae, though less exuberant, was none the less delighted.
“Once more you’ve pulled me out of a hole, Joe,” he said earnestly. “Many’s the time I’ve had to call on you in a tight pinch, and I’ve never been disappointed yet. You’re my standby and the standby of the team. You’ve only proved to me again, what needed no proving, that when the test comes you’re there.”
“I’m glad you feel that way, Mac,” returned Joe. “Although I think you make too much of what I’ve done. The team’s the biggest thing on earth to me outside of my home and folks, and it’s always a pleasure to give it my best efforts.”
There were two notable exceptions to the praise that was heaped on Joe by his mates. Hupft and McCarney stood aloof, not saying a single word, and their brows were so black that one might have thought that St. Louis had won instead of the Giants.
“How sore those spalpeens look,” remarked Larry to Wheeler, as he finished his dressing. “They’re like corpses at a wedding.”
“I’ve noticed that,” replied Wheeler. “I suppose they’re a little bit crabbed because they failed to come through in the ninth inning. They had their chances to send the boys in, but both fell down. I’ve felt that way myself more than once. They’ll be all over that by to-morrow.”
The grumpiness of the pair had not escaped Joe and Jim, although they gave no sign until they were clear of the clubhouse and on their way home.
“I’ll bet a nickel I know what you’re thinking of,” bantered Jim.