“Nothing more than usual,” said Joe absently. His mind was on the beating they were going to give Boston and in his eyes was the light of battle. At that moment he had no thoughts to waste on anything as insignificant as Hupft and McCarney.
But as Jim seemed to want to talk about them Joe listened absently, his eager eyes still on the diamond.
“They’ve been watching you all morning when you didn’t know it,” Jim said, and there was no mistaking the worried note in his voice. “Once I caught them whispering together, and Reddy looked toward you and laughed. I tell you, Joe, I’ll bet anything I own those two are cooking up mischief for this afternoon.”
“That seems to be their favorite outdoor sport,” returned Joe, with a grin. Then, seeing that his chum was still grave, he added, reassuringly, “Don’t worry, old man. There isn’t a thing in the world can stop me to-day.”
Some say it is bad luck to boast, and in this particular instance it certainly looked as though there was some truth in the saying. For the words were scarcely out of Joe’s mouth when McRae appeared with a small uniformed boy in tow.
“Here’s your man, Johnnie,” he said to the lad, indicating Joe, and the boy, with a look of utter adoration on his freckled face, handed Joe a yellow envelope.
“You’re Baseball Joe, ain’t you?” he queried eagerly, and when Joe nodded an amused assent he rattled on excitedly: “I knowed you wuz ’cause I’ve seen your pitchers in de paper. An’ onct in a while I have a grandstand seat. Gee, it’s swell! See dat hole in de fence?” He pointed with one small, grubby finger. “Dat’s him.”
“Sure,” said Joe, gravely. “You have the right idea, old man. Why, that’s where I began my first education in baseball—through a hole in the fence!”
“Didjou?” breathed the small fan devoutly. “Gee!”