"Hold on!" cried Tom quickly. "Do you want me to go, old man?" and he looked sharply at Joe.

"Nonsense! Of course you know I don't."

"Then drop that kind of talk, unless you want a fight on your hands. You and I stick together, Hiram Sh.e.l.l or no Hiram Sh.e.l.l--and Luke Fod.i.c.k."

"Well, I didn't know," spoke Joe softly.

"Here, come on; let's have a catch," proposed Tom. "I've got an old ball that we used in one of the Star games. Get over there and sting some in to me. Wait until I get my glove on," and he adjusted his mitt.

"Jove! This is like old times!" exclaimed Joe, as he lovingly fingered the horsehide--dirty and stained as it was from many a clouting and drive into the tall gra.s.s and daisies. "I wish we could go and see a game, even if we couldn't play."

"Same here," came from Tom, as he crouched to receive the ball his chum was about to deliver. Joe wound up and sent in a "hot" one. It landed squarely in Tom's glove for the first-baseman (a position he sometimes had played on the Stars) was not a half bad catcher.

"How was that?" asked Joe.

"Pretty good. Not quite over the plate, but you can get 'em there. Let 'em come about so," and Tom indicated a stone that would serve for home.

"Watch this," requested Joe as he wound up again and let drive.

"A beaut!" cried Tom. "Give me some more that way, and you'll have the man out."

"Say, what are you fellows doing?" demanded a voice, and the two chums looked up to see Hiram Sh.e.l.l gazing at them with mingled expressions on his fleshy face.

"Oh, having a little practice," replied Joe easily. The feeling between himself and the bully had nearly worn off, and they were on speaking, if not on friendly terms.

"Practice for what?" demanded Hiram.

"Well, the baseball season opens pretty soon," went on Joe, "and Tom and I sort of felt the fever in our veins to-day. Want to have a catch?"

"No," half snarled Hiram. "Say, did you fellows play ball before you came here?" he demanded.

"Sure," put in Tom. "Joe was one of the best pitchers on the Silver Stars."

"The Silver Stars? Never heard of 'em!" sneered Hiram.

"Oh, it was only an amateur nine," Joe admitted modestly. "Tom here was first baseman, and we had some good country games."

"Huh! Maybe you came _here_ to play baseball!" suggested Hiram with a leer. "Seems to me I heard that you had some such notion."

"Well, I have," a.s.serted Joe confidently. "I like the game, and I'd give a good deal to get on the nine. So would Tom, I guess."

"First base is filled," snapped Hiram.

"How about pitcher," asked Tom eagerly, anxious to put in a good word for his chum. "I hear you need a new pitcher."

"Oh, you did; eh?" exclaimed the bully with an unpleasant laugh. "Well, you've got another 'hear' coming. Besides, if there wasn't another pitcher in the country, you wouldn't get a chance, Matson!"

"No?" queried Joe easily.

"No, and a dozen times no! What, you pitch? Say, you may have been all right on a sand-lots team, but there's some cla.s.s to Excelsior Hall. We don't want any dubs on our nine. You think you might pitch on _my_ team?

I guess nixy! We want some fellow who can deliver the goods."

"Joe can!" exclaimed Tom eagerly.

"Aw, forget it!" sneered Hiram. "Why, you'd be knocked out of the box first inning with some of the teams we play. You pitch! Ha! Ha! That's pretty rich. I'll have to tell the fellows about this!"

"I didn't ask you to let me pitch," said Joe quietly though an angry spot burned in either cheek.

"No, and you'd better not!" snapped Hiram. "You pitch! Ha! Ha! It makes me laugh," and with a sneering look at Joe the bully strode off, chuckling unpleasantly.

CHAPTER VII

A CLASH WITH LUKE

For several minutes Joe stood staring after the baseball manager. The young pitcher's arm hung listlessly at his side. There was a look on his face that would have been sad, had Joe been that kind of a lad--showing his feelings needlessly. But our hero was full of s.p.u.n.k and grit, and, though Hiram's unnecessarily cruel words hurt him grievously, Joe shut his teeth with a firmer grip, squared his shoulders, drew himself up, and then he smiled at Tom.

"Well, of all the mean, unmitigated, low-down, cantankerous, sneaking, bulldozing and----" sputtered the first baseman.

"Hold on!" exclaimed his companion. "You'll blow up if you go on that way, Tom. Besides, save some of those big words for a time when you may need 'em."

"Need 'em? Say if I don't need 'em now I never will. I wish I had thought to get rid of a few when that bully was here."

"You'd only gotten into trouble. Better keep still about it."

"I can't Joe. Just think of it! We came here to play ball, and the first crack out of the box that fellow goes and tells us we can't."

"Well, I don't know as I have any particular right to play on the nine here."

"Yes, you have, the best right in the world! I'll bet they haven't got a pitcher here who can stand up to you, and I'm going to tell that sneaking bully so, too," and Tom started off after the departing Hiram.

"No, don't!" cried Joe quickly. "It will only make matters worse."

"But you want to pitch; don't you?"

"Sure, but that would be the best way in the world to insure that I wouldn't. Hiram Sh.e.l.l is just the kind of a fellow who, if he thinks a chap wants anything, is going to do his best--or worst--to stop him."

"What are you going to do then?"

"I'm going to lie low and saw wood. The baseball season hasn't opened yet. The team isn't made up. n.o.body knows who is going to play and----"

"Well, Hiram as good as told us two fellows who weren't going to play,"

interrupted Tom. "That's you and I."

"Wait a bit," advised Joe. "I was going to say that when the season has started and several games have been played there may be a change. I may get a chance to play then, just as I did on the Stars. I'm willing to wait. The Summer is long, and there'll be more than one game. Just say nothing."