"You're the boy to do it."

"Best pitcher in the world!"

Joe found himself the center of a joyous crowd when he reached his own bench. All were jubilant that they had escaped the humiliation of being whipped by a minor league team.

"You've brought home the bacon, Joe!" chortled McRae.

"We all did," replied Joe. "But we almost dropped it on the way!" he added, with a grin.

CHAPTER XII

A DASTARDLY ATTACK

The tourists' train was scheduled to leave Denver at eleven-thirty that night, so that there was ample time after the game for a leisurely meal and a few hours for recreation for any of the party that felt so inclined.

Some went to the theater, others played cards, while others sat about the lobby of the leading hotel and discussed the exciting events of the afternoon's game.

As for Joe and Jim, their recreation took the form of long letters to two charming young ladies whose address, by coincidence, happened to be Riverside. Both seemed to have much to write about, for it was nearly ten o'clock before the bulky letters were ready for mailing.

"Give them to me and I'll take them down to the hotel lobby and mail them," said Jim, as they rose from the writing table.

"I don't know," replied Joe, as he looked at his watch. "Perhaps the last collection for the outgoing eastbound mail has already been made. What do you say to going down to the post-office itself and dropping them in there? Then they'll be sure to go."

"All right," Jim acquiesced. "It's a dandy night anyway for a walk and I'd like to stretch my legs a little. Come along."

They went out into the brilliantly lighted streets, which at that hour were still full of people, and turned toward the post-office which was about half a mile distant.

As they were pa.s.sing a corner, Jim suddenly clutched Joe's arm.

"Did you see that fellow who went into that saloon just now?" he asked, indicating a rather pretentious cafe.

"No," said Joe, dryly. "But it isn't such an unusual thing that I'd pay a nickel to see it."

"Quit your fooling," said Jim. "If that fellow wasn't Bugs Hartley, then my eyes are going back on me."

"You're dreaming," Joe retorted. "What in the world would Bugs be doing in Denver?"

"Panhandling, maybe," returned Jim. "Drinking, certainly. But it isn't what he's doing that interests me. It's the fact that he's here."

"Let's take a look," suggested Joe, impressed by his friend's earnestness.

They went up to the swinging door, pushed it open and looked in. There were perhaps a dozen men in the place, but Hartley was not among them.

"Barking up the wrong tree, Jim," chaffed Joe.

"Maybe," agreed Jim a little perplexed, "but if it wasn't Bugs it was his double."

They reached the post-office and after mailing their letters turned back towards the hotel.

"It's taken us a little longer than I thought," remarked Jim, looking at his watch. "We won't have any more than time to get our traps together and get down to the train."

"This looks like a short cut," said Joe, indicating a side street which though rather dark and deserted cut into the main thoroughfare, as they could see by the bright lights at the further end. "We'll save something by going this way."

They had gone perhaps a couple of blocks when they reached a part of the street which had no dwelling houses on it. On one side was a factory, dark and forbidding, and on the side where the young men were walking was a high board fence enclosing a coal yard.

"Wait a minute, Jim," said Joe. "It feels as though my shoe lace had come untied."

He stooped down to fasten the lace, and just as he did so, a jagged piece of rock came whizzing past where his head had been a second before and crashed against the fence.

Joe straightened up with a jerk.

"Who threw that?" he exclaimed.

Jim's face was white at the peril his friend had so narrowly escaped.

"Somebody who knew how to throw," he cried, "and I can make a guess at who it was. There he is now!" he shouted, as he caught sight of a dim figure slinking away in the darkness on the further side of the factory.

They darted across the street in pursuit, but when they turned the corner there was no one to be seen. Several alleys branched off from the street, up any one of which the fugitive might have made his escape. Although they tried them one after the other they could find no trace of the rascal.

Baffled and chagrined, they made their way back to the scene of the attack. Joe picked up the piece of rock and weighed it in his hand.

"About half a pound," he judged. "And look at those rough edges! It would have been all up with me, if it had landed."

"Do you notice that that's about the weight of a baseball?" asked Jim significantly. "And it went for your head as straight as a bullet. It would have caught you square if you hadn't stooped just as you did. You can thank your lucky stars that your shoelace came untied. That fellow knew just how to throw, as I said before."

"You don't mean," replied Joe, "that Bugs----"

"Just that," affirmed Jim grimly. "Now maybe you'll believe me when I say that I saw him to-night. That skunk thought that I had seen him, and slipped into the saloon to get out of sight. Probably he went out through a rear door and has been following us ever since."

"But why----" began Joe.

"Why?" repeated Jim. "Why does a crazy man do crazy things? Just because he is crazy. He doesn't have to have a reason. If he thinks you've injured him he's just as bitter as though you really had. Hughson's tip was a good one, Joe. The fellow's deadly dangerous. It's only luck that he isn't a murderer this minute."

"It's good for him I didn't lay my hands on him," replied Joe. "I wouldn't have hit him, because I don't think he's responsible for what he does. But I'd have had him put where he couldn't do any more mischief for a while."

"It gives me the creeps to think of what a close call that was," said Jim, as they walked along.

"Don't say anything about it to the boys," cautioned Joe. "The thing would get out, and before we knew it the folks at home would have heard of it.

And they wouldn't have an easy minute for all the rest of the trip."

They made quick time to the hotel, and as most of their luggage had remained on the train, they had only to gather a few things together in a small hand bag and start out for the station.

Their special train had been standing on a side track a few hundred yards east of the main platform. They were picking their way toward it across a network of tracks, when, just as they rounded the corner of a freight car, they came face to face with Hartley.

They almost dropped their handbags at the unexpectedness of the meeting.