CHAPTER VIII

THE QUARREL

"Are we all here?"

"Oh, what a glorious night!"

"Did you ever see such a moon!"

"Looks about as big as a baseball does when you're far from first and the pitcher is heaving it over, to tag you out!"

This last observation from Joe Matson.

"Oh, what an unpoetical remark to make!"

That from Mabel Varley.

There came a chorus of laughter, shouts, good-natured jibes, little shrieks and giggles from the girls, and chuckles from the young men.

"Well, let's get started," proposed Joe.

It was the occasion of the sleigh ride that Joe had gotten up, ostensibly for the enjoyment of a number of his young friends, but, in reality for Mabel, who, with her brother, was still staying on in Riverside, for the Varley business was not yet finished.

It was a glorious, wintry night, and in the sky hung the silvery moon, lighting up a few fleecy clouds with glinting beams, and bringing into greater brightness the sparkling snow that encrusted the earth.

"Count noses," suggested Charlie Hill, who, with a young lady to whom Joe had introduced him a day or so before, was in the sleighing party.

"I'll help," volunteered Mabel, who, of course, was being escorted by Joe, while Reggie had Clara under his care. Mabel and Joe made sure that all of their party were present. They were gathered in the office of the livery stable, whence they were to start, to go to a hotel about twelve miles distant--a hotel famous for its oyster suppers, as many a sleighing party, of which Joe had been a member, could testify. Following the supper there was to be a little dance, and the party, properly chaperoned, expected to return some time before morning.

"Yes, I guess we're all here," Joe announced, as he looked among the young people. And it was no easy task to make sure, for they were constantly shifting about, going here and there, friends greeting friends.

Four sturdy horses were attached to a big barge, in the bottom of which had been spread clean straw, for it was quite frosty, and, in spite of heavy wraps and blankets, feet would get cold. But the straw served, in a measure, to keep them warm.

"All aboard!" cried Charlie Hill, who had made himself a general favorite with all of Joe's friends. "All aboard!"

"Why don't you say 'play ball'?" asked Mabel, with a laugh. "It seems to me, with a National Leaguer with us, the least we could do would be to make that our rallying cry!" Mabel was a real "sport."

"I'm not a big leaguer yet," protested Joe. "Don't go too strong on that. I may be turned back into the bushes."

"Not much danger," commented Charlie, as he thought of the fine work Joe had done in times past. Joe was a natural born pitcher, but he had developed his talents by hard work, as my readers know.

Into the sled piled the laughing, happy young folks, and then, snugly tucked in, the word was given, and, with a merry jingle of bells, away they went over the white snow.

There were the old-time songs sung, after the party had reached the open country, and had taken the edge off their exuberance by tooting tin horns. "Aunt Dinah's Quilting Party," "My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean," "Old Black Joe"--all these, and some other, more modern, songs were sung, more or less effectively. But, after all, it was the spirit and not the melody that counted.

On over the snowy road went the big sled, pulled by the willing horses, who seemed all the more willing because of the joyous party they were dragging along.

"Look out for this grade-crossing," remarked Joe to the driver, for they were approaching the railroad.

"I will, Joe," the man replied. "I have good occasion to remember this place, too."

"So have I," spoke Mabel, in a low voice to her escort. "There is where we were snowed in; isn't it?" she asked, nodding in the direction of Deep Rock Cut.

"That's the place," replied Joe.

"Yes, sir, I have occasion to remember this place," went on the driver. "And I'm always careful when I cross here, ever since, two years ago, I was nearly run down by a train. I had just such a load of young folks as I've got now," he went on.

"How did it happen?" asked Reggie, as the runners scraped over the bare rails, a look up and down the moon-lit track showing no train in sight.

"Well, the party was making quite a racket, and I didn't hear the whistle of the train," resumed the driver. "It was an extra, and I didn't count on it. We were on our way home, and we had a pretty narrow escape. Just got over in time, I tell you. The young folks were pretty quiet after that, and I was glad it happened on the way home, instead of going, or it would have spoiled all their fun. And, ever since then, whether I know there's a train due or not, I'm always careful of this crossing."

"It makes one feel ever so much safer to have a driver like him," spoke Mabel to Clara.

"Oh, we can always trust Frank," replied Joe's sister.

Laughing, shouting, singing and blowing the horns, the party went on its merry way, until the hotel was reached.

Everything was in readiness for the young people, for the arrangements had been made in advance, and soon after the girls had "dolled-up," as Joe put it, by which he meant arranged their hair, that had become blown about under the scarfs they wore, they all sat down to a bountifully-spread table.

"Reminds me of the dinner we had, after we won the pennant," said Charlie Hall.

"Only it's so different," added Joe. "That was a hot night."

Talk and merry laughter, mingled with baseball conversation went around the table. Joe did not care to "talk shop," but somehow or other, he could not keep away from the subject that was nearest his heart. Nor could Charlie, and the two shot diamond discussion back and forth, the others joining in occasionally.

The meal was drawing to an end. Reggie Varley, pouring out a glass of water, rose to his feet.

"Friends and fellow citizens," he began in a sort of "toastmaster voice."

"Hear! Hear!" echoed Charlie, entering into the spirit of the occasion.

"We have with us this evening," went on Reggie, in the approved manner of after-dinner introductions, "one whom you all well know, and whom it is scarcely necessary to name----"

"Hear! Hear!" interrupted Charlie, pounding on the table with his knife handle.

All eyes were turned toward Joe, who could not help blushing.

"I rise to propose the health of one whom we all know and love," went on Reggie, "and to assure him that we all wish him well in his new place."

"Better wait until I get it," murmured Joe, to whom this was a great surprise.

"To wish him all success," went on Reggie. "And I desire to add that, as a token of our esteem, and the love in which we hold him, we wish to present him this little token--and may it be a lucky omen for him when he is pitching away in the big league," and with this Reggie handed to Joe a stick-pin, in the shape of a baseball, the seams outlined in diamonds, and a little ruby where the trademark would have been.

Poor Joe was taken quite by surprise.

"Speech! Speech!" came the general cry.

Joe fumbled the pin in his fingers, and for a moment there was a mist before his eyes. This little surprise had been arranged by Reggie, and he had quietly worked up the idea among Joe's many young friends, all of whom had contributed to the cost of the token.

"Go on! Say something!" urged Mabel, at Joe's side.

"Well--er--well, I--er--I don't know what to say," he stammered, "except that this is a great surprise to me, and that I--er--I thank you!"

He sat down amid applause, and someone started up the song "For He's a Jolly Good Fellow!"

It was sung with a will. Altogether the affair was successfully carried out, and formed one of the most pleasant remembrances in the life of Baseball Joe.

After the presentation, others made impromptu speeches, even the girls being called on by Reggie, to whom the position of toastmaster particularly appealed.

The supper was over. The girls were in the dressing room, donning their wraps, and Joe and Reggie had gone to the office to pay the bill.

The proprietor of the hotel was in the men's room, and going there Joe was greeted by name, for the hotel man knew him well.

"Everything satisfactory, Mr. Matson?" the host asked, and at the mention of Joe's name, a rough-looking fellow, who was buying a cigar, looked up quickly.

"Yes, Mr. Todd, everything was fine," replied Joe, not noticing the man's glance. "Now we'll settle with you."

"No hurry," said the proprietor. "I hear you're going to leave us soon--going up to a higher class in baseball, Joe."

"Well, there's some talk of it," admitted our hero, and as he took out the money to make the payment, the rough-looking man passed behind him. Joe dropped a coin, and, in stooping to pick it up, he moved back a step. As he did so, he either collided with the man, who had observed him so narrowly, or else the fellow deliberately ran into Joe.

"Look out where you're walking! You stepped on my foot!" exclaimed the man in surly tones. "Can't you see what you're doing? you country gawk!"

"I beg your pardon," spoke Joe quietly, but a red flush came into his face, and his hands clenched involuntarily.

"Huh! Trying to put on high society airs; eh?" sneered the other. "I'll soon take that out of you. I say you stepped on me on purpose."

"You are mistaken," said Joe, still quietly.

"Huh! Do you mean to say I'm sayin' what ain't so?" demanded the other.

"If you like to put it that way; yes," declared Joe, determined to stand upon his rights, for he felt that it had not been his fault.

"Be careful," warned Reggie, in a low voice.

"Say, young feller, I don't allow nobody to say that to me!" blustered the fellow, advancing on Joe with an ugly look. "You'll either beg my pardon, or give me satisfaction! I'll----"

"Now here. None of that!" interposed the proprietor. "You aren't hurt, Wessel."

"How do you know? And didn't he accuse me of----"

"Oh, get out. You're always ready to pick a quarrel," went on the hotel man. "Move on!"

"Well, then let him beg my pardon," insisted the other. "If he don't, I'll take it out of him," and his clenched fist indicated his meaning only too plainly.