Baseball Joe of the Silver Stars Part 4

"Wow! It's a fight all right!" yelled another lad, and then Darrell and his antagonist were at it.

The crowd from the stands and bleachers now began thronging about the enraged players. There had always been more or less bad blood between the two rival nines and now, when the Resolutes had taken a game that was almost won away from the Silver Stars, the feeling broke out anew.

On all sides there were impromptu battles going on. Some of the lads were good-natured about it, and only indulged in wrestling contests, but others were striking viciously at each other and soon there were some b.l.o.o.d.y noses and blackened eyes in evidence.

"I'll show you whether I can pitch or not!" yelled Sam, as he aimed a hard blow at the lad with whom he had first had an encounter. He missed his aim, and went whirling to one side, to be met by a blow as he turned about, and almost sent down.

"Do you want anything?" suddenly demanded a lad stopping in front of Joe, who was standing near Tom. Joe recognized his questioner as the Resolute shortstop.

"No, he's a stranger here--he isn't on the nine," said Tom quickly.

"Well, can't he fight?" was the sneering demand.

"Yes, if I want to, but I don't want to," and Joe answered for himself.

"I'll make you want to," was the retort, and Joe was struck in the chest. He was not a lad to stand for that and he retaliated with such good effect that his opponent went down in a heap on the gra.s.s, and did not arise for some seconds. When he did stagger up, and saw Joe calmly waiting for him, the lad moved off.

"You can fight all right," he mumbled. "I've had enough."

Meanwhile Darrell had disposed of his lad, and Tom, who was engaged with a small lad who made a sneering remark, grabbed hold of the chap and shook him until the lad begged for mercy.

Sam and his opponent were still at it hot and heavy when there arose a cry:

"Cheese it--here come the cops!"

Riverside boasted of a small police force, and while it was not very formidable, most of the lads came from homes where a report of their arrest for fighting would meet with severe punishment. Their ardor suddenly cooled and, almost as soon as it had started, the impromptu battle was over. The victorious nine gathered up their belongings and moved off the diamond, jeering at their defeated rivals.

"It was their fault--they started the fights," declared Tom Davis.

"Yes, I guess it was," admitted Darrell. "Well come on, fellows. They beat us, and though I think it wasn't exactly square on some of the decisions, we can take our medicine. We'll do better next time."

"Do you mean me?" demanded Sam half fiercely.

"I mean--all of us," spoke Darrell slowly, "including myself."

"Some excitement; eh?" asked Tom, as he linked his arm in that of Joe Matson and walked along with him.

"Yes, but it was a good game just the same."

"You play, don't you?"

"I used to, at Bentville, where we moved from," answered Joe.

"Have a good team?"

"Pretty good."

"Where'd you play?"

"Well, mostly at pitching. I like that better than anything else."

"Hum!" mused Tom. "It takes a pretty good one to pitch these days. It isn't like it used to be. Pitching is a gift, like poetry I guess. You can't go in and pitch right off the reel."

"I know it," answered Joe quietly. "But it's my one ambition. I want to go to a good boarding school and get on the team as pitcher."

"Well, I hope you do," and Tom laughed frankly. "I wouldn't mind that myself, though I don't know as I care so much for pitching."

"It's the best part of the game!" cried Joe, and his eyes shone and he seemed to lose some of his usual quiet manner. "I'd like it above everything else!"

"Got any curves?" asked the practical Tom.

"Well, I don't know as I have--yet. I'm practicing though."

"Got any speed?"

"They used to say I had, back there in Bentville."

"Hum! Well, I don't believe there's much chance for you here. Sam has the Silver Stars cinched. But he was rotten the last half of to-day's game. That's what made us lose it. Yes, it takes some pumpkins to pitch now-a-days."

The boys walked on down the street after Tom had discarded his suit.

Before them and behind them were other players and spectators, talking of nothing but the game and the fight that had followed. The Resolutes, cheering and singing triumphantly, had departed in their big stages, and in the hearts of the Silver Stars was gloom and despair.

"Well, come over and see me sometime," invited Tom, as he parted from Joe.

"I will. You come over and see me."

The boys went their respective ways--Joe walking rather slowly and thinking of what had just taken place.

"How I would like to pitch--and go to boarding school!" he mused as he walked toward his house. As he entered the side door he saw his mother sitting at the dining room table. Something about her attracted his attention--aroused his fears. The cloth had been spread, and though it was supper time, for the game had lasted until late, there were no dishes on the table.

"Why mother!" exclaimed Joe, struck by a queer look on her face. "What is the matter? Has anything happened?"

"Oh Joe!" she exclaimed starting up, as though she had not heard him come in. "Oh, no, nothing is the matter," she went on, and she tried to smile, but it was only an attempt. "I forgot it was so late. Your father was home, but he went out again."

"Where?"

"I don't know. He said he had some business to attend to. But I must hurry with the supper. Where were you?"

"At the ball game. There was a fight. Our side lost. Oh, how I wish I had been pitching! If ever I go to that boarding school I'm going to try for the nine, first thing!"

"Oh yes, you're always talking about a boarding school, Joe. Well, I--I hope you can go."

"Mother, I'm sure something has happened!" exclaimed Joe, putting his arms around her and patting her on the shoulder, for she was a little woman.

"No, really," she a.s.sured him. "I'm just a little worried, that's all.

Now you can help me set the table if you will. Clara has gone to take her music lesson and isn't back yet."

"Of course I will!" exclaimed Joe. "But what are you worried about, mother? I wish you'd tell me."