“Too easy,” laughed Joe. “Of course, we’re both thinking of the same thing and that is the sour looks of that precious pair of highbinders at the end of the game. Even the other fellows, who haven’t the reason we have to suspect them, were struck by it. You heard what Larry said to Wheeler.”
“If they were really foxy they’d have made a bluff at feeling good, no matter how they felt,” remarked Jim. “There were all the other fellows fairly out of their heads with delight, and they were as black as thunderclouds. If they don’t look out, other people will tumble to the fact that there’s something crooked going on.”
“What took place in the game itself showed that our previous suspicion was right,” observed Joe. “All the time Markwith was pitching they were fairly eating up every chance that came to them. See the way McCarney guarded third. Nothing was too hot for him and he tried for everything at right and left of him. And Hupft played like a miracle-man out in the field. Compare that with the way they played yesterday when I was in the box.”
“And the way their batting fell off in the ninth inning,” added Jim. “They had been clouting the ball for keeps in the early part of the game. But McCarney stood there like a wooden man when Leadows set him down on strikes, and that pop fly that Hupft lifted to the box was just peaches and cream for St. Louis. It’s lucky they didn’t have any fielding chances in the ninth or they’d probably have fallen down on those, too.”
“It wasn’t merely luck,” explained Joe. “I had that in mind when I toed the mound. I made up my mind that I’d work for strikeouts and nothing else. I was actually afraid to let the ball go to the infield because I believed that McCarney, if he had the chance, would deliberately fumble it. Nice, isn’t it, when a pitcher has to feel that way about any of the men behind him?”
“It’s an awful shame!” exclaimed Jim hotly.
“And here’s one other thing,” continued Joe. “You noticed that when I caught Blair napping at second, I ran over to the base line and shouted to Larry to throw the ball to me. Ordinarily I would have left it to McCarney to make that play and he and Mylert together could have run Nealon down. But I didn’t dare let McCarney take the throw for fear he would let it slip through his fingers on purpose. So I tagged Nealon myself and made sure of it.”
“Gee, but you’ve got a wonderful head on you, Joe!” was the admiring ejaculation wrung from Jim. “You think of everything.”
“One has to think of a lot of things when his reputation and perhaps his life is at stake,” replied Joe soberly. “I tell you, Jim, we’re up against a serious problem, and every day it seems to get more complicated. Even when we sleep, from now on we’ll have to do it with one eye open.”