CHAPTER VIII

A PARTING

"Why--er--that is--I'm awfully obliged to you, of course, for saving my sister," spoke the newcomer--his name must be Reggie Varley, Joe rightly decided. "Very much obliged, old man, and--er----"

He paused, evidently quite embarrassed.

"You two act as though you had met before," said Miss Varley, with a smile. "Have you?"

"Once," spoke Joe, drily. "I did not know your brother's name then." He did not add that he was glad to find that he was Mabel's brother, and not a more distant relation.

"How strange that you two should have met," went on Mabel Varley.

"Yes," returned Joe, "and it was under rather strange circumstances. It was while I was on my way down here to join the ball team, and your brother thought----"

"Ahem!" exclaimed Reggie, with a meaning look at Joe. "I--er--you'd better get in here with me, Mabel, and let me get you home. Perhaps this gentleman----"

"His name is Joe Matson," spoke the girl, quickly.

"Perhaps Mr. Matson will come home with--us," went on Reggie. Obviously it was an effort to extend this invitation, but he could do no less under the circumstances. Joe felt this and said quickly:

"No, thank you, not this time."

"Oh, but I want papa and mamma to meet you!" exclaimed Mabel, impulsively. "They'll want to thank you. Just think, Reggie, he saved my life. Prince was headed for the cliff, and he stopped him."

There were tears in her eyes as she gazed at Joe.

"It was awfully good and clever of you, old man," said Reggie, rather affectedly, yet it was but his way. "I'm sure I appreciate it very much. And we'd like--my sister and I--we'd like awfully to have you come on and take lunch with us. I can put the horse up somewhere around here, I dare say, and we can go on in my car."

"The carriage is broken Reggie," Mabel informed him.

"Too bad. I'll send Jake for it later. Will you come?"

He seemed to wish to ignore, or at least postpone, the matter of the valise and his accusation. Perhaps he felt how unjust it had been. Joe realized Reggie's position.

"No, thank you," spoke the young pitcher. "I must be getting back to my hotel. I was just out for a walk. Some other time, perhaps. If you like, I'll try and put the horse in some near-by barn for you, and I'll drop you a card, saying where it is."

"Will you really, old man?" asked Reggie, eagerly. "It will be awfully decent of you, after--well, I'd appreciate it very much. Then I could get my sister home, and to a doctor."

"Which I think would be a wise thing to do," remarked Joe. "Her wrist seems quite badly sprained. I'll attend to the horse. So now I'll say good-bye."

He turned away. He and Reggie had not shaken hands. In spite of the service Joe had rendered he could not help feeling that young Varley harbored some resentment against him.

"And if it's her jewelry that is missing, with his watch, and he tells her that he suspects me--I wonder how she'll feel afterward?" mused Joe. "I wonder?"

Mabel held out her uninjured hand, and Joe took it eagerly. The warm, soft pressure lingered for some little time afterward in his hardened palm--a palm roughened by baseball play.

"Good-bye," she said, softly. "I can't thank you enough--now. You must come and get the rest--later."

"I will," he said, eagerly.

"Here is my card--it has our address," spoke Reggie holding out a small, white square. "I trust you will come--soon."

"I shall try," said Joe, with a peculiar look at his accuser. "And I'll drop you a card about the horse."

Reggie helped his sister into the auto, and they drove off, Mabel waving a good-bye to Joe. The latter stood for a minute in the field, looking at the disappearing auto. Then he murmured, probably to the horse, for there was no other sign of life in sight:

"Well, you've gone and done it, Matson! You've gone and done it!"

But Joe did not admit, even to himself, what he had gone and done.

Prince seemed tractable enough after his recent escapade, and made no objection to Joe leading him out to the road. The young pitcher soon came to a farmhouse, where, when he had explained matters, the man readily agreed to stable the animal until it should be called for.

And, as Joe Matson trudged back to the hotel he said, more than once to himself:

"You've gone and done it, old man! You've gone and done it!"

And a little later, as Joe thought of the look on Reggie's face when he recognized the youth he had accused, our hero chuckled inwardly.

"He didn't know what to do," mused Joe. "I sure had him buffaloed, as the boys say."

Joe was welcomed by his fellow players on his return to the hotel. It was nearly meal time, but before going down to the dining room Joe wrote a short note giving the name of the farmer where he had left the horse.

"Let's see now," mused our hero. "To whom shall I send it--to him--or--her."

When he dropped the letter in the mail box the envelope bore the superscription--"Miss Mabel Varley."

Practice was resumed Monday morning, and Joe could note that there was a tightening up all along the line. The orders from the manager and his assistant came sharper and quicker.

"I want you boys to get right on edge!" exclaimed Gregory. "We'll play our opening game in Pittston in two weeks now. We'll cross bats with Clevefield, last season's pennant winners, and we want to down them. I'm getting tired of being in the ruck. I want to be on top of the heap."

Joe, from his study of the baseball "dope," knew that Pittston had not made a very creditable showing the last season.

The practice was sharp and snappy, and there was a general improvement all along the line. Joe was given several try-outs in the next few days, and while he received no extravagant praise he knew that his work pleased. Jake Collin still held his enmity against Joe, and perhaps it was but natural.

Wet grounds, a day or so later, prevented practice, and Joe took advantage of it to call on the girl he had rescued. He found her home, her wrist still bandaged, and she welcomed him warmly, introducing him to her mother. Joe was made to feel quite at home, and he realized that Reggie had said nothing about the articles missing from the valise--or, at least, had not mentioned the accusation against Joe.

"Will you tell me how, and when, you met my brother?" asked Mabel, after some general talk.

"Hasn't he told you?" inquired Joe, with a twinkle in his eyes.

"No, he keeps putting it off."

"Then perhaps I'd better not tell," said Joe.

"Oh, Mr. Matson, I think you're horrid! Is there some reason I shouldn't know?"

"Not as far as I am concerned. But I'd rather your brother would tell."

"Then I'm going to make him when he comes home."

Joe was rather glad Reggie was not there then. For, in spite of everything, Joe knew there would be a feeling of embarrassment on both sides.

"I have come to say good-bye," he said to the girl. "We leave for the North, soon, and the rest of the season will be filled with traveling about."

"I'm sorry you're going," she said, frankly.

"Are you?" he asked, softly. "Perhaps you will allow me to write to you."

"I'd be glad to have you," she replied, warmly, and she gave him a quick glance. "Perhaps I may see you play sometime; I love baseball!"

"I'm very glad," returned Joe, and, after a while--rather a long while, to speak the truth--he said good-bye.