While Joe had been winning his spurs, the keen-eyed scouts of the big leagues had not been idle. The St. Louis team of the National League drafted him into their ranks and took him away from the "bushes." Now he felt that he was really on the highway to success. Almost from the start he created a sensation, and it was his pitching that brought his team into the first division.

A still wider field opened up before him when after one year with St.

Louis he was bought by the New York Giants. This had been his ambition from the start, but he had scarcely dared to hope that his dream would come true. He promised himself that he would "pitch his head off" to justify the confidence that McRae, the Giants' manager, had put in him.

How he came through an exciting season and in the final game won the championship for his team can be seen in the sixth volume of the series, ent.i.tled: "Baseball Joe on the Giants; Or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis."

Of course this brought him into the World's Series, in which that year the Boston Red Sox were the Giants' opponents. It proved to be a whirlwind series, whose result remained in doubt until the last inning of the last game. Joe had fearful odds to contend against since an accident to Hughson, the Giants' standby, put the bulk of the pitching burden on our hero's shoulders. Unscrupulous enemies also sought by foul means to keep him out of the Series, but Joe's indomitable will and magnificent pitching won out against all odds, as told in the volume preceding this, ent.i.tled: "Baseball Joe in the World Series; Or, Pitching for the Championship."

If ever a man had earned a rest it was Joe, and, as we have seen, he was taking it now in his home town. Jim Barclay, a fine young Princeton man and second-string pitcher on the Giants, had come with him, not so much, it is to be suspected, because of his fondness for Joe, though that was great, as to be near Clara, Joe's charming sister, who had been working all sorts of havoc with poor Jim's heart.

By the time the orchestra had finished the tune, the panic had about subsided. But Joe was taking no chances and he motioned for a repet.i.tion.

The leader obeyed, and at the end of this second playing the danger was entirely over. The audience was seated, with the exception of the man whom Joe had knocked down, who slunk shame-facedly out of the hall holding his hand on the place where the blow had landed.

And now that the peril had pa.s.sed, it was Joe who was panic-stricken.

Though brave as a lion and quick as a panther in an emergency, he was the most modest of men and hated to pose as a hero. He was wondering what he should say or do, when Altman solved the problem by coming up to him with both hands extended. That gave the audience its cue, and in a moment a tempest of cheers swept the hall.

"What's the matter with Matson?" someone shouted in a stentorian voice.

"He's all right!" came back in a roar.

"Who's all right?"

"Matson! Joe Matson! Baseball Joe!"

Men crowded forward, and in a moment Joe was surrounded by his friends and fellow townsmen, most of whom had known him when he was in knickerbockers and now were more proud of him than they had ever been, even when he returned to Riverside crowned with the laurels of his last great season.

Joe was mauled and pounded until he was almost out of breath, and it was a relief when at last he had made his way back to his mother and sister.

They were both crying openly with joy and pride, and the looks they turned on Joe were a greater reward than all the plaudits of his friends.

There was no going on with the performance after that. The nerves of the audience were too highly keyed by the great peril that had been escaped.

And they had a more dramatic scene to remember and talk about than anything that could be given them from the stage.

In the excitement, a great many of those present had lost track of the friends or relatives that had been with them, and from all sides came various calls.

"Where is Frank?"

"Did you see what became of my sister Bessie?"

"Oh, Bill! I say, Bill! Where are you?"

Many of the scenes were most affecting. Women would rush into each other's arms, crying with joy to find that the lost ones were safe.

"I can tell you it's a grand good thing that panic was stopped so quickly," remarked one man to another, as he gazed admiringly at the hero of the occasion.

As Joe and his folks were leaving, a tall, well-dressed man stepped up to Joe and extended his hand.

"Let me congratulate you, Mr. Matson," he said effusively. "That was a splendid thing you did to-night. I never saw anything finer."

"I'm afraid you exaggerate it," deprecated Joe.

"Not at all," said the stranger. "By the way, Mr. Matson, it's a coincidence that I came to town with the express purpose of seeing you on a business matter. But I didn't expect that my first meeting with you would be under such exciting circ.u.mstances."

He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Joe.

"My name, as you see, is Westland," he continued. "I'm stopping at the hotel, and I would be glad to see you there or at any place that may be convenient to you some time to-morrow."

"Suppose you call at my home to-morrow morning," said Joe. "It's only about five minutes' walk from the hotel."

"You needn't bother about giving me the directions," said Westland, with an ingratiating smile. "Everybody in Riverside knows where Baseball Joe lives. I'll be around at eleven o'clock."

He lifted his hat and departed, while Joe and the others walked toward home.

"What do you suppose he wants of you, Joe?" asked Clara, with lively curiosity.

"Oh, I don't know," answered her brother carelessly. "Some reporter probably who wants to get the sad story of my life."

"If it is, he'll have something to write about after to-night," put in Jim. "Great Scott! Joe, if that had happened in New York it would be spread all over the front page of to-morrow's papers."

"Oh, Joe, I'm so proud of you," sighed his mother happily.

"You're a brother worth having!" exclaimed Clara warmly.

Jim was on the point of saying that Joe was a brother-in-law worth having, but checked himself in time.

They had almost reached the house when Clara began to laugh.

"What's the joke?" inquired Jim.

But Clara only laughed the harder until they became a little alarmed.

"No, I'm not hysterical," she said, when she could speak. "I only happened to remember what tune it was the orchestra played. I suppose it was the first thing the leader thought of, and he didn't have time to pick out another. Do you remember what it was?"

They cudgeled their brains, but could not recall it.

"What was it?" asked Jim.

"'There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night!'"

CHAPTER III

THE STRANGER'S VISIT

Promptly the next morning at eleven, Westland put in an appearance at the Matson home. He was carefully groomed and everything about him indicated money. He fairly exuded prosperity.

He greeted Joe with a cordiality that seemed a trifle overdone, considering their brief acquaintance.