porters,
anxious to flash some word to their papers, asked who was to pitch.

"I'll let you know in a few minutes," was the manager's answer.

And then, as the time for calling the game approached, Mr. Watson handed
his batting order to the umpire.

The latter stared at it a moment before making the announcement. He
seemed a trifle surprised.

"Batteries!" he called through his megaphone. "For New York, Hankinson
and Burke--for St. Louis--Matson and Russell."

Joe was to pitch, and in the biggest game he had ever attempted!

There was a rushing and roaring in his ears, and for a moment he could
not see clearly.

"Go to it, Matson," said the manager. "I'm going to try you out."

Joe's lips trembled. He was glad his teammates could not know how he
felt. Nervously he walked out to the mound, and caught the new ball
which the umpire divested of its foil cover and tossed to him. Russell
girded himself in protector and mask, and the batter stepped back to
allow the usual practice balls.

Someone in a box applauded. Joe could not see, but he knew it was Mabel.

"Oh, Joe's going to pitch!" she exclaimed to her girl friends. "I hope
he strikes them all out!"

"Not much chance," her brother said, rather grimly.

Joe sent the first ball whizzing in. It went so wild that the catcher
had to jump for it. There was a murmur from the stands, and some of the
Giants grinned at one another.

Russell signalled to Joe that he wanted to speak to him. Pitcher and
catcher advanced toward one another.

"What's the matter?" Russell wanted to know, while some in the crowd
laughed at the conference. "Got stage fright?"

"Ye--yes," stammered Joe. Poor Joe, he had a bad case of nerves.

"Say, look here!" exclaimed Russell with a intentional fierceness. "If
you don't get over it, and pitch good ball, I'll give you the best
beating up you ever had when we get to the clubhouse! I'm not going to
stand being laughed at because you're such a rotten pitcher! Do you get
me!" and he leered savagely at Joe.

The effect on the young pitcher was like an electric shock. He had never
been spoken to like that before. But it was just the tonic he needed.

"I get you," he said briefly.

"It's a good thing you do!" said Russell brutally, and, as he walked
back to his place his face softened. "I hated to speak that way to the
lad," he murmured to himself, "but it was the only way to get him over
his fright."

CHAPTER XXI

A QUEER MESSA