“Great Scott!” he said to himself, passing a shaking hand through his hair. “How am I going to play ball?”
Now he was out on the field once more with the sun beating down blindingly upon the newly marked diamond and the tremendous crowds in the grandstand and bleachers voicing approval of the husky home team. The bell had rung and McRae had been compelled to start the game with Markwith in the box.
Joe wondered what had become of the confident mood he had felt so short a time before when he had proclaimed that no one could beat him. As he thought of the telegram which had so completely changed everything for him, he spared a fleeting thought to the small messenger boy. He was probably squeezed in somewhere among that tight-packed mass of humanity, the freckles standing out on his snub nose and his shrill voice joyfully murdering the English language in an attempt to make his enthusiasm audible.
Joe smiled fleetingly, but instantly his face was grave again.
Mabel—Mabel lying sick and lonely, wanting him, and he was failing her! He had been a fool to say that he would wait for Reggie to find out what was wrong. He was the one who should be investigating, not Reggie.
Of course there was the chance—his reason told him it was a good chance—that the whole thing was a scheme to get him out of the way. At the thought his fists clenched and his mouth shut in a straight line. If it was a trick and he could find the identity of the player of it, that trick would be the last that fellow would play!
Now as he sat on the bench, he remembered certain small signs and tokens that up to that time had almost entirely escaped his memory.
He remembered having discovered a sort of triumphant hostility in McCarney’s gaze as it was fixed upon him, a look which had surprised and annoyed him only momentarily. He was used to the enmity of McCarney, but it was only at this moment that he remembered that triumph had outweighed hostility in the eyes of the man.
Was that triumph caused by the certainty in McCarney’s mind that he, Joe, would not play in that day’s game? At the thought Joe experienced a sharp thrill of gladness that he had not permitted himself to be tricked into abandoning his team.
Then came back the tormenting uncertainty again. Was it a trick? How could he be sure of that? What was wrong with Reggie? Why didn’t he let him know? Fool that he had been to trust to Reggie! Then he awoke to the unpleasant realization that the Bostons’ half of the first inning was ended and that the visitors had scored two runs.