CHAPTER XVI

THE ATTACK ON THE ROAD

In an instant Baseball Joe brought the car to a stop.

But in that instant his brain worked like lightning.

Neither he nor Jim was armed. He must temporize. Resistance at the moment might be fatal. Shooting would result probably in the death of one or more of the party.

Before he had taken his hand from the wheel, he had formed a plan.

The women had screamed and Jim had jumped to his feet.

"Sit down, Jim," said Joe. "Don't you see they have the drop on us. I suppose it's money you want?" he went on coolly, addressing the leader of the gang.

"No," was the unexpected answer. "We're not after money this time. We want a man named Matson."

"I didn't know I was so popular," replied Joe jokingly, though the mention of his name in so ominous a way had sent a start through him. "My name is Matson, Joe Matson. What do you want of me?"

"Are you giving it to us straight?" asked the leader. "Are you Matson? How many men are there with you anyway?" he went on, peering into the tonneau.

"There are two of us," replied Joe.

"Then get down in the road, both of you," commanded the bandit. "I want to have a look at both of you so that there won't be any mistake. My orders are for the man named Matson. No monkey work now!"

Joe and Jim, inwardly boiling but outwardly cool, got down into the road. As they climbed down, Joe's hand nudged Jim ever so slightly. Jim knew what that meant. It meant to make no move until Joe gave the sign.

"Up with your hands!" ordered the leader curtly. "Bill, frisk them and see if they have guns."

The bandit called Bill ran his hands along their bodies and reported that they were entirely unarmed.

"Now strike a match and let's have a look at their faces," was the next order.

Bill obeyed, and as the light flared up, not only the leader but the rest of the band looked over the young men keenly.

"You're Matson, all right," said the leader to Joe, and the rest acquiesced. "I've seen your picture in the papers many a time, and I've seen you at the Polo Grounds too. All right. You get back in the car," he said to Jim, poking him in the side with his pistol, "and drive off."

"What do you want with me?" asked Joe steadily.

"Oh, we're not going to kill you," replied the leader, with an evil grin. "But," he muttered under his breath so low that only Joe could hear him, "by the time we're through with you, that pitching arm of yours will be out of business. Them's our orders."

"Who gave you those orders?" asked Joe.

"Never you mind who gave them," snarled the bandit. "I've got them, and I'm going----"

He never finished the sentence.

Like lightning Joe's foot shot up and kicked the weapon from the leader's hand. The next instant his fist caught another of the scoundrels a terrific crack on the jaw. The man went down as though he had been hit with an axe. At the same moment Jim's hard right fist smashed into another straight between the eyes. There was the snap of a breaking bone and the man toppled over. The fourth rascal, who had been paralyzed with astonishment, forgot to shoot and started to run, but Jim was on him like a tiger and bore him to the ground, his hands tightening on his throat until the rascal lay limp and motionless.

In the meantime, the leader, nursing his hurt wrist, had hobbled to the car, whose engine all this time had remained running. Joe made a dash for the car, but the chauffeur put on all speed and darted away into the darkness.

The first task of Joe and Jim was to gather up the weapons of the assailants. The three still lay dazed or unconscious. Under other circumstances, the boys would have waited until the trio had regained their senses. But their first duty now was to the girls, who were half hysterical with fright. Joe took Mabel in his arms, after assuring her again and again in answer to her frantic questions that he was unhurt, and Jim comforted Clara until she had recovered her composure.

They laid the bandits at the side of the road, so that they could not be run over, and then Joe took the wheel and drove on. To the first policeman they saw, Joe reported that he had seen some men who seemed to be hurt, alongside the road, and suggested that they be looked after. But he said nothing about the attempted holdup. Then he sped on, and soon they were in the precincts of the city.

The girls in their alarm had failed to gather the true significance of the affair. To them it was like a confused dream. Their general impression was that a holdup had been attempted for the purposes of robbery. Still Mabel did remember that they had asked specifically for Matson.

"Why was it that they asked for you especially, Joe?" she asked, snuggling closely to the arm that had so stoutly done its work that night. "Why was it?"

"How do I know, honey?" answered Joe. "Perhaps," he said jokingly, "they had heard of my increase in salary and thought I was rolling in money. Sometimes you know they kidnap a man, make him sign a check and then hold him prisoner until they cash it. No knowing what such rascals may do."

"Whatever it was, they've lost all interest in the matter now," said Jim, with a laugh, as he thought of the discomfited bandits by the roadside and the fleeing leader in the automobile.

Both Joe and Jim made light of it to the girls and laughed away their fears until they had seen them safely to their hotel. But later on two very sober and wrathful young men sat in their own room discussing the holdup.

Joe had told Jim what the bandit leader had said about putting his pitching arm out of business, and his friend was white with anger.

"The scoundrels!" he ejaculated. "That meant that they would have twisted your arm until they had snapped the tendons or pulled it from its socket and crippled you for life. If I'd known that when I had my hands on that rascal's throat, I'd have choked the life out of him."

"You did enough," returned Joe. "As it is they got a pretty good dose. I know I cracked the leader's wrist, and I heard a bone snap when you smashed that other fellow. Gee, Jim, you hit like a pile driver."

"No harder than you did," replied Jim. "That fellow you clipped in the jaw was dead to the world before he hit the ground."

"After all, those fellows were merely tools," mused Joe thoughtfully. "Did you hear the leader say that he had his orders? Who gave him those orders? If only the girls hadn't been there, I'd have trussed the rascals up, waited until they had got their senses back, and then put them through the third degree until I'd found out the name of their employer. But I wouldn't for the world have the girls know what those scoundrels were up to. They'd never have a happy moment. They'd worry themselves to death. We've got to keep this thing absolutely to ourselves."

"All the same, I can guess who the fellow was that employed them," said Jim.

"I think I can come pretty near it, too," affirmed Joe. "In the first place, it was a man who had money. Those fellows wouldn't have taken the job unless they had been well paid. Then, too, it was somebody who hated me like poison. There are two men who fulfil both of those conditions, and their names are----"

"Fleming and Braxton," Jim finished for him.

"Exactly," agreed Joe. "And knowing what I do of the two, I have a hunch that it was Braxton."