CHAPTER XVI

THE GIANT TEAM

There was a mad scramble to gather their belongings together and by the time they were going down the aisle of the car Mabel had recovered something of her self possession.

“I’m going to steal this paper from you,” she said, “and I just want to tell you that it was one of the finest things I’ve ever heard or read about. There isn’t one man in a million that would have thought and acted so quickly and skillfully. So there now, Mr. Hero,” she added in a lighter tone, to conceal her real feeling.

Joe, whose head was in a whirl and who was not quite sure whether he was in Goldsboro or Heaven or a blending of both, was about to reply when a well-known voice fell on his ears:

“Hello, Sis! Why, Joe Matson, by all that’s lucky! What good wind blew you into Goldsboro? Welcome to our city.”

And the next minute Reggie had grasped his hand and was shaking it as though he would wring it off.

Joe returned the greeting with equal cordiality.

“How are you, Reggie, old man!” he exclaimed. “I’m awfully glad to find you at home. I was talking to Mabel about you and she wasn’t sure whether you would be here or not. I’m certainly in luck meeting two of the best friends I have on the same day.”

“It was a big surprise to me,” said Mabel, “when Joe seemed to rise up like a ghost out of the floor of the car.”

“A pretty substantial ghost, I take it,” laughed Reggie, as he took in the stalwart frame and perfect condition of his friend.

“Joe’s coming up to the house for dinner,” went on Mabel.

“You just bet he is,” declared Reggie. “He doesn’t get out of my clutches as long as he stays in Goldsboro. Hope you can make us a good visit, Joe.”

“About four hours or so,” laughed Joe.

“Four hours only!” Reggie stared at him blankly. “What’s the answer?”

“Joe’s on his way to the training camp at Marlin Springs,” explained Mabel. “The Giants pass through here this afternoon and Joe is going to join them when their train comes along.”

“If so soon I’m to be done for, I wonder what I was begun for,”

quoted Joe, with a smile.

“It’s too bad,” declared Reggie with unaffected regret. “But since the minutes are so precious we’ll make every one of them count. I’ve got my buzz wagon outside. Give me your traps and bundle in, both of you.”

Joe helped Mabel into the rear seat, holding her hand perhaps a wee bit longer than necessary in doing so, and then settled down beside her, while Reggie grasped the wheel and threw in the clutch. Reggie’s judgment in cars was good, however much it might go astray when it came to finance, and he was a skilled driver, so that it was not long before they had left the business part of the town behind them and were threading the more fashionable street that led to the Varley mansion.

“It’s a splendid day for motoring!” exclaimed Mabel. “I wish we were going further.”

“The end of the world wouldn’t be too far, if you were alongside of me,” affirmed Joe, trying to look into her eyes.

But because she was afraid perhaps to let him see just then what was written there, she kept them averted, though a tell-tale flood of color rioted from neck to brow.

They stopped before a large substantial house that bore every mark of solid prosperity. Reggie jumped out and threw open the door and Joe helped Mabel to alight. She ran lightly up the steps with a gay little wave of her hand.

“I suppose Reggie will want you to go with him while he puts the car into the garage,” she said. “In the meantime, I’ll prepare the folks inside for the great honor that has come upon them. It isn’t often that we have a chance to entertain a hero.”

Joe shook his finger at her menacingly, as with a laugh she entered the door that was opened by a servant.

“I suppose Mabel was referring to that scrap you had with Talham Tabbs,” said Reggie, as he guided the car to the garage in the rear of the house.

“Yes,” replied Joe, “as luck would have it, one of the New York papers got hold of that and played it up strong. Mabel happened to get hold of it on the train and she’s given it a good deal more importance than it is worth.”

“She can’t very well do that,” protested Reggie warmly, “for it was a good piece of work, don’t you know. I’d have told her of it myself before this, only I was afraid that she might get on to that wretched muddle of mine.”

“How about that, by the way?” asked Joe, eagerly. “Tell me now while you have a chance. Have you found any clue to the fellow’s whereabouts?”

“Not a thing,” replied Reggie, gloomily. “I’ve been following up tips ever since I left Riverside and I’m no nearer to him now than I was then.”

“It’s too bad,” consoled Joe. “It beats all how that fellow could have made such a getaway. It wasn’t half an hour after he had escaped before we were hot on his track. He didn’t have any hat or overcoat, and everybody was on the lookout for him. How on earth could he have managed it?”

“Search me,” said Reggie, disgustedly. “That fellow is as slick as greased lightning. He proved that by the way he got hold of my securities. All madmen are said to be cunning, but I’ll bet he could give cards and spades to the whole bunch and beat them out. I suppose there’s nothing left for me but to make a clean breast of it to the governor. As it is, I’m only sending good money after bad, running round the country as I do.”

“Don’t give up yet, old man,” cried Joe, clapping him heartily on the shoulder. “While there’s life there’s hope. The game isn’t over till the last man’s out in the ninth inning. Buck up. You may be happy yet. You can tell your father any time, but there’s no use doing it until your year is up and you have to. If there’s anything that I have learned from baseball it is never to stop trying. Get up on your toes and play the game.”

“By George, old man, it’s good to hear you talk that way!” cried Reggie, with a sudden accession of hope. “I get so moody and dopey mulling the thing over to myself that I lose heart. But you’re right. I’ll pull myself together and fight the thing out to a finish.”

“That’s the real stuff,” approved Joe. “The man can’t stay hidden forever, and any day may see the end of the chase. I have a feeling that you’re going to win out. But there’s one thing I’d do, old fellow. Tell Mabel all about it. As you said yourself one time, she’s a thoroughbred. She’ll stick to you through thick and thin. She’s worrying about you now because she knows there’s something wrong with you and you won’t tell her what it is. If you talk it over with her, it will take a load off your mind and hers too. Besides, you’ll have a better chance of winning. Two heads are better than one and what one doesn’t think of the other will. She was asking me about it today. Of course, I didn’t give you away, but I made up my mind then that I would ask you to tell her the whole story. It’ll clear the air, you’ll both be happier, and your chances will be vastly better.”

“Old top, I think you’re right,” replied Reggie, who had a great respect for Joe’s judgment. “She and I have always been great pals and we think the world of each other. I didn’t want to put my burden on her shoulders, but, as you say, she will worry more if she doesn’t know than if she does. I’ll tell her the whole thing before I sleep tonight.”

“That’s a go then,” said Joe, and they shook hands on it.

Reggie led the way into the house, and Joe received a most cordial greeting from Mr. and Mrs. Varley. He had met them before and they had always felt most warmly toward him since the day that he had rescued Mabel from being carried over a cliff by a runaway horse. All that they had seen and heard of him since had increased their favorable estimate of him. And Joe did all he could to deepen that impression, because some day he expected to ask these kindly people for one of their most precious possessions and he wanted the answer to be the right one.

The dinner was free from all formality, for despite their wealth, the Varley home life was as simple and unaffected as Joe’s own home at Riverside. Mrs. Varley beamed upon him and told him what she thought of his rescuing the baby, while Mr. Varley was especially interested in Joe’s contract and bonus, and his chance of getting into the World’s Series. It is more than likely that the shrewd business man already saw what way the wind was blowing and guessed pretty well the nature of the question that Joe hoped some day to ask him. Reggie was gayer than he had been for a long time, now that he had determined to share his secret with his sister. And Mabel, winsome, sweet, bewitching, worked such havoc with her smiles and eyes and dimples that poor Joe was more hopelessly enslaved than ever.

Before he knew it the time had come for him to go. For just a minute he had her alone while the rest were in another part of the room. She was laughing and toying restlessly with a pair of gloves that rested on the table near which they stood.

“I want the pay for that paper you took from me this morning,” he said, assuming a stern air.

“How are you going to get it?” she bantered. “Perhaps I’m bankrupt.”

“In that case, I’ll take this glove and hold it as security,” he returned, suiting the action to the word.

She flushed adorably but made no protest, and Joe’s fingers trembled as he put the absurdly little glove in his breast pocket.

Just then a warning “honk, honk!” came from Reggie’s car, drawn up at the curb outside.

Joe, half in a daze, said goodby to his hosts, last of all to Mabel. There was no chance for more than a formal leave taking, but Joe’s heart again became unruly, for in her eyes he had seen once more the look she had turned on him in the train.

The two young men made good time to the station, which they reached five minutes before the train from the north rolled in.

“Goodby, old top,” said Reggie, as he shook his hand in parting. “I’m no end glad that I’ve had these few hours with you, don’t you know. You’ve made a new man of me. I feel as though I’d taken a tonic, by Jove.”

“I’ll send you a bill,” laughed Joe, as he returned Reggie’s grip. “Be good to yourself, old man, until I see you again. And don’t forget that you promised to tell Mabel.”

“I’m game,” replied Reggie, as he stepped back into his car.

Joe passed through the station and out on the platform. It was a long train, composed mostly of Pullmans. Joe knew that the New York Club had two special cars chartered especially for their party, and he wondered which they were. He called to a porter.

“Which cars are the Giants traveling on?” he asked.

Into the eyes of the porter came a deep respect. He was a “fan” himself and he sized Joe up at once as a professional.

“Right over here, sah. This way, sah.” And with a deep bow he seized Joe’s bag and led the way to the first of the two cars located near the center of the train.

Joe sprang up the steps and passed into the corridor of the car. A few steps further and he was in the car proper and surrounded by members of the Giant team.