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The Floating Press - Lester Chadwick

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127 pages

English

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"Lester Chadwick" was one of the many pen names used by Howard R. Garis, a remarkably prolific author of books geared to younger audiences. In Baseball Joe in the Central League, Joe reaches out to a down-on-his-luck retired player, Pop Dutton, and in return receives some top-notch tips on pitching.

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Children's

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Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 décembre 2015
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776595730
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

BASEBALL JOE IN THE CENTRAL LEAGUE
OR, MAKING GOOD AS A PROFESSIONAL PITCHER
* * *
LESTER CHADWICK

*
Baseball Joe in the Central League Or, Making Good as a Professional Pitcher First published in 1914 Epub ISBN 978-1-77659-573-0 Also available: PDF ISBN 978-1-77659-574-7 © 2014 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - Danger Chapter II - Off for the South Chapter III - An Accusation Chapter IV - In Training Chapter V - The Clash Chapter VI - A Straight Throw Chapter VII - The Girl Chapter VIII - A Parting Chapter IX - The First League Game Chapter X - Bitterness Chapter XI - Old Pop Consoles Chapter XII - The Queer Valise Chapter XIII - Mabel Chapter XIV - Bad News Chapter XV - Joe's Pluck Chapter XVI - A Slim Chance Chapter XVII - Old Pop Again Chapter XVIII - In Despair Chapter XIX - A New Hold Chapter XX - Joe's Triumph Chapter XXI - A Danger Signal Chapter XXII - Victory Chapter XXIII - The Tramp Again Chapter XXIV - On the Track Chapter XXV - Reggie's Auto Chapter XXVI - The Tramp Rendezvous Chapter XXVII - The Slow Watch Chapter XXVIII - The Race Chapter XXIX - A Diamond Battle Chapter XXX - The Pennant
Chapter I - Danger
*
"Why, here's Joe!"
"So soon? I didn't expect him until night."
The girl who had uttered the first exclamation, and her mother whosesurprise was manifested in the second, hurried to the door of thecottage, up the gravel walk to which a tall, athletic youth was thenstriding, swinging a heavy valise as though he enjoyed the weight of it.
"Hello, Mother!" he called gaily. "How are you, Sis?" and a moment laterJoe Matson was alternating his marks of affection between his mother andsister.
"Well, it's good to be home again!" he went on, looking into the twofaces which showed the pleasure felt in the presence of the lad. "Mightygood to be home again!"
"And we're glad to have him; aren't we, Mother?"
"Yes, Clara, of course," and Mrs. Matson spoke with a hesitation thather son could not help noticing. "Of course we just love to have youhome Joe—"
"There, now, Mother, I know what you're going to say!" he interruptedwith good-natured raillery. "You rather wish I'd stuck on there at Yale,turning into a fossil, or something like that, and—"
"Oh, Joe! Of course I didn't want you to turn into a fossil," objectedhis mother, in shocked tones. "But I did hope that you might—"
"Become a sky-pilot! Is that it, Momsey?" and he put his arm about herslender waist.
"Joe Matson! What a way to talk about a minister!" she cried. "Theidea!"
"Well, Mother, I meant no disrespect. A sky-pilot is an ancient andhonorable calling, but not for me. So here I am. Yale will have to worryalong without yours truly, and I guess she'll make out fairly well. Buthow is everything? Seen any of the fellows lately? How's father? How'sthe business?"
The last two questions seemed to open a painful subject, for mother anddaughter looked at one another as though each one was saying:
"You tell him!"
Joe Matson sensed that something disagreeable was in the air.
"What is it?" he demanded, turning from his mother to his sister. "Whathas happened?" It was not Joe's way to shrink from danger, or from adisagreeable duty. And part of his success as a baseball pitcher was dueto this very fact.
Now he was aware that something had gone amiss since his last visithome, and he wanted to know what it was. He put his arms on his mother'sshoulders—frail little shoulders they were, too—yet they had bornemany heavy burdens of which Joe knew nothing. What mother's shouldershave not?
The lad looked into her eyes—eyes that held a hint of pain. His ownwere clear and bright—they snapped with life and youthful vigor.
"What is it, Momsey?" he asked softly. "Don't be afraid to tell me. Hasanything happened to dad?"
"Oh, no, it isn't anything like that, Joe," said Clara quickly. "Wedidn't write to you about it for fear you'd worry and lose that last biggame with Princeton. It's only that—"
"Your father has lost some money!" interrupted Mrs. Matson, wishing tohave the disagreeable truth out at once.
"Oh, if that's all, we can soon fix that!" cried Joe, gaily, as thoughit was the easiest thing in the world. "Just wait until I begin drawingmy salary as pitcher for the Pittston team in the Central League, andthen you'll be on Easy Street."
"Oh, but it's a great deal of money, Joe!" spoke Clara in rather awedtones.
"Well, you haven't heard what my salary is to be."
"You mustn't make it so serious, Clara," interposed Mrs. Matson. "Yourfather hasn't exactly lost the money, Joe. But he has made a number ofinvestments that seem likely to turn out badly, and there's a chancethat he'll have to lose, just as some others will."
"Oh, well, if there's a chance, what's the use of worrying until youhave to?" asked Joe, boy-like.
"The chances are pretty good—or, rather, pretty bad—that the moneywill go," said Mrs. Matson with a sigh. "Oh, dear! Isn't it too bad,after all his hard work!"
"There, there, Mother!" exclaimed the lad, soothingly. "Let's talk aboutsomething pleasant. I'll go down to the works soon, and see dad. Justnow I'm as hungry as a—well, as a ball player after he's won out in theworld's series. Got anything to eat in the house?"
"Of course!" exclaimed Clara, with a laugh, "though whether it will suityour high and mightiness, after what you have been used to at college, Ican't say."
"Oh, I'm not fussy, Sis! Trot out a broiled lobster or two, half aroast chicken, some oysters, a little salad and a cup of coffee and I'lltry and make that do until the regular meal is ready!"
They laughed at his infectious good-humor, and a look of relief showedon Mrs. Matson's face. But it did not altogether remove the shadow ofconcern that had been there since Joe wrote of his decision to leaveYale to take up the life of a professional baseball player. It hadbeen a sore blow to his mother, who had hopes of seeing him enterthe ministry, or at least one of the professions. And with all hislight-heartedness, Joe realized the shattered hopes. But, for the lifeof him, he could not keep on at college—a place entirely unsuited tohim. But of that more later.
Seated at the dining-room table, the three were soon deep in a ratherdisjointed conversation. Joe's sister and mother waited on him as only amother and sister can serve a returned son and brother.
Between bites, as it were, Joe asked all sorts of questions, chieflyabout his father's business troubles. Neither Mrs. Matson nor herdaughter could give a very clear account of what had happened, or was indanger of happening, and the young pitcher, whose recent victory in thecollege championship games had made him quite famous, remarked:
"I'll have to go down and see dad myself, and give him the benefit ofmy advice. I suppose he's at the Harvester Works?"
"Yes," answered Mrs. Matson. "He is there early and late. He is workingon another patent, and he says if it's successful he won't mind aboutthe bad investments. But he hasn't had much luck, so far."
"I'll have to take him out to a ball game, and get the cobwebs out ofhis head," said Joe, with a laugh. "It's a bad thing to get in a rut.Just a little more bread, Sis."
"And so you have really left Yale?" asked his mother, almost hopingsomething might have occurred to change her son's mind. "You are notgoing back, Joe?"
"No, I've quit, Mother, sold off what belongings I didn't want to keep,and here I am."
"And when are you going to begin pitching for that professional team?"asked Clara, coming in with the bread.
"I can't exactly say. I've got to go meet Mr. Gregory, the manager andthe largest stockholder in the club. So far I've only dealt with Mr.James Mack, his assistant and scout. He picked me up and made a contractwith me."
"Perhaps it won't go through," ventured Mrs. Matson, half-hopefully.
"Oh, I guess it will," answered Joe, easily. "Anyhow, I've got anadvance payment, and I can hold them to their terms. I expect I'llbe sent South to the training camp, where the rest of the playersare. The season opens soon, and then we'll be traveling all over thecircuit—mostly in the Middle West."
"Then we won't see much of you, Joe," and his sister spoke regretfully.
"Well, I'll have to be pretty much on the jump, Sis. But I'll get homewhenever I can. And if ever you get near where the Pittston club isplaying—that's my team, you know—" and Joe pretended to swell up withpride—"why, just take a run in, and I'll get you box seats."
"I'm afraid I don't care much for baseball," sighed Mrs. Matson.
"I do!" cried Clara with enthusiasm. "Oh, we've had some dandy gameshere this Spring, Joe, though the best games are yet to come. The SilverStars are doing fine!"
"Are they really?" Joe asked. "And since they lost my invaluable servicesas a twirler? How thoughtless of them, Sis!"
Clara laughed.
"Well, they miss you a lot," she pouted, "and often speak of you. Maybe,if you're going to be home a few days, you could pitch a game for them."
"I wouldn't dare do it, Clara."
"Why not, I'd like to know," and her eyes showed her surprise.
"Because I'm a professional now, and I can't play in amateurcontests—that is, it wouldn't be regular."
"Oh, I guess no one here would mind, Joe. Will you have some of thesecanned peaches?"
"Just a nibble, Sis—just a nibble. I've made out pretty well. You canmake as good bread as ever, Momsey!"
"I'm glad you like it, Joe. Your father thinks there's nothing likeh