ll park, after a final game with Boston.

"No."

"Then let's go to the Park Theatre. There's a good hot-weather show on."

"I'm with you."

"All right. I've got to go down town, but I'll be back before it's time
to go," Rad went on.

Joe dressed, and waited around the hotel lobby for his friend to return.
It grew rather late, and Joe glanced uneasily at the clock. He was
rather surprised, as he stood at the hotel desk, to hear his name spoken
by a messenger boy who entered.

"Matson? There he is," and the clerk indicated our hero.

"Sign here," said the boy, shortly. Joe wondered if the telegram
contained bad news from home. Giving the lad a dime tip, Joe opened the
envelope with fingers that trembled, and then he read this rather queer
message:

"If you want to do your friend Rad a good turn, come to the address
below," and Joe recognized the street as one in a less desirable section
of the city.

CHAPTER XXII

IN DANGER

"Bad news?" asked the hotel clerk, as he noticed the look on Joe's face.

"No--yes--well, it's unexpected news," hesitated Joe, as he made up his
mind, on the instant, not to tell the contents of the note. He wanted a
little time to think. Rapidly he read the message over again. The boy
was just shuffling out of the hotel.

"Wait a minute!" Joe called after him. "Where'd you get this note?" the
young pitcher asked.

"At de office."

"Yes, I know. But who brought it in?"

"I dunno. Youse'll have to see de manager."

"Oh, all right," Joe assented, and then he turned aside. He was still in
a quandary as to what to do.

Once more he read the note.

"'If you want to do your friend Rad a good turn,'" he repeated. "Of
course I do, but what does it mean? Rad can't be in trouble, or he'd
have sent me some word himself. That isn't a very good neighborhood at
night, but I guess I can take care of myself. The trouble is, though, if
I go out, and Rad comes back here in the meanwhile, what will happen?"

Joe was thinking hard, trying to find some solution of the mystery, and
then a flash came to him.

"Baseball!" he whispered to himself. "Maybe it is something to do with
baseball! Someone may be scouting for Rad, and want to find out, on the
quiet, if he's willing to help in making a shift to some other team.
They want me to aid them, perhaps."

Joe had been long enough in organized baseball to know that there are
many twists and turns to it, and that many "deals" are carried o