Jimmy Kirkland and the Plot for a Pennant

"One of the women with the team, daughter of the secretary," he explained, striving to appear unconcerned.

"Is she pretty?"

"Why – yes – I don't know. She is very pleasant and nice looking."

"Rather odd, isn't it, a woman traveling with a lot of tough ball players?"

"You are unjust," he exclaimed indignantly. "She is with her father and Mrs. Clancy. Besides, the ball players are not tough – at least none of them is while she is with the club."

"You seem ready to rush to her defense," she remarked with jealous accents.

"Of course, I cannot let you think she is not a nice girl."

"Of course not" – her tone was sarcastic. "Traveling around the country with a crowd of men and eavesdropping in hotel parlors."

"She would not do such a thing. You must not speak of her in that way," he stormed indignantly.

"I congratulate her upon having captured so gallant a champion," she mocked.

They were verging upon a sharper clash of words when a big man, heavy of jaw and red of face, strolled into the parlor, not taking the trouble to remove his hat.

"Oh, here you are, Helen," he said. "I've been looking everywhere. Time to start or we'll be late to bridge."

"Uncle Barney," said the girl, rising, "this is Mr. – oh, I forget. What is it you call yourself now? – McCarthy. I knew him when he was at college. He plays on some baseball team – one of those we saw to-day. Mr. McCarthy, this is my uncle, Mr. Baldwin."

"I have heard of you often, Mr. Baldwin," said McCarthy coolly, although fearful that Baldwin might remember him.

"You're McCarthy, the new third baseman, eh?" asked Baldwin, without offering his hand and merely glancing at the boy. "Saw you play to-day. Too bad you threw that game away."

"I" – McCarthy started to offer defense.

"We must be going, Helen," said Baldwin.

The girl extended her hand carelessly.

"We hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again," she said.

Baldwin, with a curt nod to the player, turned to leave the parlor and McCarthy, seizing the opportunity, said:

"As a favor, Helen, do not reveal my identity. Your uncle did not recognize me as the boy he saw play on the Shasta View team."

"You need not fear," she responded rapidly. "And, Larry, please be sensible. Go home and make it up with Mr. Lawrence – and you may hope. And," she added in a low tone, "beware of that girl."

She hurried after her uncle, who had stopped and turned impatiently, leaving McCarthy staring after her and frowning. After all, he thought bitterly, his uncle was right. All she cared for was the money and not for him. He had quarreled with his uncle, his best friend, who had taken care of him since his childhood and who had made him his heir – on account of her. He was free. Yes, he was free.

He found himself wondering that he was happy instead of bitter over the loss of Helen Baldwin. He knew now he never had loved her. With a thrill of gladness came the thought of Betty Tabor. His jaw set, the fighting look came into his blue eyes and he saw his way clearly. He was not free. His duty was to the Bears.

CHAPTER VIII

In the Deeper Waters

Two defeats at the hands of the Maroons sent the Bears into the final game of the series desperately determined to win. Their pitching staff was exhausted from the effort to stop the team which they had expected to beat easily.

The game was a brilliant exhibition of defensive playing on the part of the Bears, who were driven back by the hard hitting of the Maroons. In spite of the fierce batting of the Maroons the magnificent defensive work of the Bears held their rivals to two runs, while by their brilliant and resourceful attack and skilful inside work they had scored three runs on five scattered hits, and at the start of the eighth inning were holding grimly to their lead of one run.

McCarthy, spurred by determination to redeem himself for the errors of the preceding games, was giving a wonderful exhibition of third-base play. The knowledge that Helen Baldwin, her uncle and a group of friends were sitting in one of the field boxes directly behind him urged him to greater efforts. It was his long hit in the sixth inning, followed by a clever steal of third, that had enabled the Bears to gain the lead which they were holding by their fast work on the infield.

The Bears failed to score in their half of the eighth, and the Maroons opened with a fierce assault upon Klinker that threatened to break down the Bears' inner wall of defense. Swanson's brilliant stop and throw of a vicious drive checked the bombardment, but a safe drive and a two-base hit went whizzing through beyond the finger tips of the diving infielders, and there were runners on second and third bases, one out and a hit needed to turn the tide in favor of the Maroons again.

The infield was drawn close in the hope of cutting off the runner from the home plate. It was desperate baseball, and, as the infielders advanced to the edge of the grass, each man knew that a line smash, a hard-driven bounder between them, or even a fumble, probably meant the destruction of their pennant hopes.

The ball was hit with terrific force straight at McCarthy, who threw up his hands and blocked desperately. The ball tore through his hands, struck his knee with numbing force and rolled a few feet away. He pounced upon it and like a flash hurled it to Kennedy at the plate, so far ahead of the runner who was trying to score that he turned back toward third, with Kennedy in pursuit. Swanson had come up to cover third, and the runner from second base stood at the third bag watching the play, ready to dash back if the runner, trapped between third and the plate, managed to elude the pursuers and regain third base. Kennedy passed the ball to Swanson, and as the runner turned back, Swanson threw to McCarthy, who had fallen in behind Kennedy, leaving the pitcher to cover the plate if the runner broke through in that direction. The runner started to dodge, but McCarthy, without an instant's hesitation, leaped after him and drove him hard back toward third base, so hard that the runner went on over the bag and ten feet beyond before he could stop. Like a flash McCarthy leaped sideways, touched the other runner who was starting back to second base, and, with a fierce dive, he threw his body between the base and the runner who had overslid it and tagged him.

Before he could scramble to his feet to claim the double play he heard Clancy, excited in spite of his long experience, shouting: "Good boy – nice work." As the umpire waved both runners out the crowd, bewildered for an instant by the rapidity with which McCarthy had executed the coup, commenced to understand and broke into a thundering round of applause as he limped toward the bench.

With that attack staved off, the Bears held the Maroons safe in the ninth and closed the final Western trip of the team with a hard-earned victory. They started homeward that evening with confidence renewed and the men hopeful.

The Bears were scheduled to stop en route to the home grounds to play a series of three games against the Travelers, a team low in the standing of the clubs, but one of the most dangerous of all. It was a slow but heavy-hitting aggregation, and at times more dreaded than were the stronger clubs. The series was a critical one for the Bears as, after that, they would return to the home grounds to play all the other games, with the exception of two against the Blues.

McCarthy was happier and more interested than he had been since he joined the Bears. Restlessly he awaited an opportunity to talk with Betty Tabor. Since his interview with Helen Baldwin he had been strangely jubilant for a young man who had just been discarded by the girl to whom he was engaged. He wondered how much of the conversation Betty Tabor had overheard, and worried about it. He wanted to explain to her who Miss Baldwin was and how he had happened to be talking with her, yet he knew it would seem presumptuous for him to broach the subject. Why should Betty Tabor think enough of him to be jealous? Yet, in spite of this, he decided that, at the first opportunity, he would mention meeting Helen Baldwin.

He went to bed annoyed and with an odd sense of being wronged. He determined to see the girl at breakfast and almost decided to confide in her the secret of his past life. But he did not see her at breakfast. After a restless night he was among the first in the dining car and he loitered, but the girl, usually one of the earliest risers, slept late, and when the train reached the city of the Travelers she went with Manager Clancy and his wife in a taxicab, while McCarthy was bundled with the other players into the big auto 'bus. He failed to catch a glimpse of her during luncheon and was in a bad humor when the team made an early start for the ball park.

The game was a runaway for the Bears. They piled up such a large score during the early innings that Manager Clancy was able to take out Morgan in the sixth and send Shelby, a second-string pitcher, to finish the game, saving up more strength and skill to use at the finish.

It was a jubilant crowd of players that returned to the hotel after the game. They sang and laughed and were happy again. They had won, and during the afternoon the Panthers, overconfident, had suffered two defeats by the Maroons, leaving the teams again practically tied for the lead.

McCarthy spent the evening loitering around the hotel lobbies, still hoping for an opportunity to see Miss Tabor, and she failed to appear at dinner and was not with Mr. and Mrs. Clancy when they started out for a car ride. He wandered aimlessly around until, abandoning his quest, he went to his room disconsolately. It was not yet eleven o'clock, but Swanson was preparing for sleep. As McCarthy came into the room he stopped to laugh. The giant shortstop was in his pajamas, on his back in the bed. With one bare foot he was holding a sheet of paper against the head board, and with a pencil grasped between the toes of the other foot he was laboriously striving to write.

"What was you trying to do, Silent?" asked McCarthy, laughing harder.

"Figuring my share of the World's Series receipts," responded Swanson, laboring harder. "Clancy said he'd fine any one of us caught with a pencil in his hand doping out these statistics," said Swanson, "and I just had to know."

They were ready to settle down for the night when the telephone rang in the connecting room. The door between the rooms was ajar, and Swanson sprang from bed to respond to the call.

"Hello!" he said. "Hello! Yes, this is Williams's room, but he isn't in just now. What? Oh, yes, I understand. I'll tell him. Hello – hold a minute, here he is now."

"Hey, Adonis," Swanson called to the pitcher, who was just entering the room from the hallway. "Someone wants you."

He handed the receiver to Williams carelessly and walked back into the room, where McCarthy was stretched upon the bed reading. His face was working rapidly as if trying to tell McCarthy something by lip signals.

"I'm tired," said Swanson in a loud tone; "let's sleep late in the morning." Then approaching McCarthy's bed he said in a whisper: "Listen. Try to catch what he says."

"Hello! Yes, this is Williams," said the pitcher brusquely. Then his voice changed suddenly. "Yes, Ed, I know you. To-night? Aw, say, Ed, I've got to have sleep! Can't it wait? I'll be there in a quarter of an hour."

He hurried out of the room, and before the door slammed behind him Swanson had leaped from bed and was dressing with great haste.

"Kohinoor, that was Easy Ed Edwards calling him."

"What are you going to do?" inquired McCarthy.

"Get a move on yourself," ordered the giant. "Something is up and I want to know what it is. Wait a minute," he added as if by sudden inspiration, and ran to the telephone.

"Hello," he said to the operator. "Can you tell me where that call for Mr. Williams came from just now? He has forgotten which hotel he is to meet his friend at. Thank you," he said after a moment's wait.

"Hurry. He's going to the Metropolis Hotel," he ordered. "We must catch up with him."

They dressed with the speed of men accustomed to changing clothing four or five times a day, and before Williams had been five minutes on his way they were racing for the elevator. Swanson, hastily leaping into a waiting taxicab, ordered the driver to make all possible speed to the corner nearest the Metropolis Hotel.

"What is up?" asked McCarthy, as they settled back in the cushions of the taxi as it lurched over the pavement.

"There is something funny going on in this ball club," said Swanson. "And I am going to find out what it is. Whatever it is, Williams is mixed up in it. I want to find out why he is meeting Edwards to-night and what is up."

"What do you think?" asked McCarthy.

"I haven't got it figured out," said Swanson, scratching his head. "There has been something wrong for two weeks. Ever since you joined the club Williams hasn't been natural. He acts mysterious off the field and worse than that on it. He has only won one of his last three games, and ought to have lost them all the way he pitched."

The taxi jerked to a stop at the corner opposite the hotel, and Swanson, after reconnoitering carefully, led the way across the street and into the café.

"I used to know this place like a book when I was hitting the booze," he said. "They'll be in here – or I don't know Williams. Let's take the corner booth so we can see who comes in and goes out."

Five minutes later two men came through the swinging doors from the hotel lobby. Swanson could see them, but McCarthy was out of the range of vision. Swanson drew back deeper into the booth.

"Who is it?" inquired McCarthy in a whisper.

"Sh – h! It's Williams and Edwards. They're going into the booth next to us. Put your ear close to the partition. I'd give a farm to hear them."

The players sipped their soft drinks, while in turn they strove to hear what was passing in the next booth. Occasionally they could distinguish a voice, but the words were unintelligible. Ten minutes of vain listening ensued. Then a heavy man in evening clothes hurried into the café, and after a hasty glance into the booths entered the one in which Edwards and Williams were waiting.

"I wonder who that fat man is?" whispered Swanson.

"It's a lucky thing he didn't recognize me," replied McCarthy in low tones. "That's Barney Baldwin, the broker and politician, one of the big men of this part of the country – and a crook."

"Whew," whistled Swanson. "Let's sneak. We can't hear anything – and the water is getting deep."

CHAPTER IX

Baldwin Gets into the Plot

The events that led up to the midnight conference between Barney Baldwin, Ed Edwards and Adonis Williams in the booth at the Metropolis Hotel that night would have been of vast interest to several millions of baseball enthusiasts had they known of them.

They started with the arrival of Easy Ed Edwards in the city of the Travelers. He had run down to watch the game between the Bears and the Travelers in rather a pleasant frame of mind. His plans for a huge gambling coup seemed to be working out well, and, with the Panthers holding a lead of a game and a half, with but eleven more games to be played, he was adding to his line of wagers. The double defeat of the Panthers and the easy victory of the Bears had placed a new aspect on the league race, with the Bears again favorites. Edwards had left the baseball park in the middle of the game in a frenzy of anger. It was too late now for him to attempt to lay off his bets, and he stood to lose more than $100,000 if his plans to have the Panthers win the pennant from the Bears went astray. It was in this mood that he returned to the hotel and commenced to make drastic plans. In the lobby of the hotel he encountered Barney Baldwin.

"Hello, Barney," he said, shaking hands with the broker. "What brings you down?"

"Hello, Ed," replied the big man cordially. "Let's have a drink. I've been away a month out West visiting the family. Brought my niece on East with me. Just got home and heard that things are going wrong, so I ran over here last night to see what sort of cattle have been breaking up my political fences while I've been gone. What brings you over here?"

"Baseball – ran down to see the game to-day. Rotten game."

"Didn't know you were interested in baseball," said the politician. "I'm pretty well satisfied with the situation – both my clubs up there fighting for the lead, and I'm getting it coming and going."

"Both your clubs?" ejaculated the gambler. "I knew you had some stock in some club. How much of the Bears and Panthers do you own?"

"Well, I can control both in a pinch. I don't pay much attention to them. I let the fellows I hire as presidents of the clubs do the worrying."

"If you own both these clubs you and I can do a little business," said the gambler, lowering his voice. "Come on up to my rooms and we'll have our drinks sent up there where we can talk."

"I haven't much time, Ed," protested Baldwin. "I want to meet some of the boys down here and learn how the political situation is stacking up."

They ascended to Edwards's rooms and when they were seated the gambler rang for wine, and, leaning forward, said:

"You want your man, Hoskins, to go to the Senate when the Legislature meets this winter?"

"Why – not exactly – my political plans are rather indefinite. Hoskins is an acceptable man" —

"Oh, chop it," said the gambler sharply. "There's no use for us to try to fool each other. You want to put Hoskins over and you know you're going to have a deuce of a time crowding him through."

"Admitting that to be the case, what then?"

"I think I can push it over for you," the gambler said easily. "Up home I've got four members of the Legislature where they will do what I say – and perhaps can handle two others. With those four your man would go over – if you've lined up as many members as the papers say you have."

"Rather early to count noses," Baldwin started to protest. "We may line up several others" —

"Nothing doing!" exclaimed Edwards sharply. "You've got all you can – the others are lined up either with the high brows or against you under Mullins. I can deliver four, possibly six, of Mullin's votes that he counts as sure."

"What do you want out of it?" The politician was interested at last.

"Does it make any difference to you whether the Bears or the Panthers win?" Edwards put the question as if casually.

"It don't make any difference to me," Baldwin retorted curtly. "I'm not a bit interested in baseball – except to make money out of the teams. I bought the stock as part of a political deal – to help someone out – and it turned out a good investment. What has that to do with it?"

"Baldwin," said the gambler, leaning forward again and speaking in low tones, "you see to it that the Panthers beat the Bears out in that pennant race, and I'll deliver you at least five votes for your man."

"That's easy," remarked Baldwin. "I can turn that quickly enough, but I don't see where you get off."

"You make it a sure thing and I'll tend to my own part of it," said the gambler. "I'll get mine, but I'm not so certain you can do it as easily as you think."

"Why not – don't both clubs belong to me?"

"Sure they do," said the gambler, "but baseball is a hard thing to monkey with. You've got to handle it carefully, for if the fact came out we'd be in such hot water we'd both scald."

"Nonsense," said Baldwin testily. "I'll call the presidents in, explain what I want and let them do it."

"Keep off that stuff," warned the gambler. "You don't seem to know much about this game. If you tried to tell Clancy to lose this pennant he'd run straight to some reporter, and the whole country would be up in arms. I shouldn't wonder if they'd lynch you."

"Then how do you propose having it done?" asked the political boss, for once willing to listen to advice. He had no qualms of conscience. To him baseball meant a game, and the fact that hundreds of thousands of persons in all parts of the country were vitally interested either in the Bears or the Panthers did not count with him. He only sought the easiest and safest way to accomplish his ends without arousing suspicion.

"I have one of the Bears fixed," said Edwards. "But I'm afraid of him. He is crooked and willing to deliver, but he is yellow – lacks courage – and he is likely to fail to deliver just when I need him most. The first thing I want you to do is to help stiffen this fellow's backbone. After that we'll try to get at someone else. If you say it's all right and promise to protect them we will find it easier."

"This must be a big thing for you, Edwards," suggested Baldwin as another drink was served and the waiter departed.

"I don't mind telling you that if the Bears win I'll almost be smashed," replied the gambler angrily. "I was fool enough to play the game myself. I picked the Panthers to win and made a lot of scattering bets all summer. Then Carson, the Bears' third baseman, broke a leg. They tried to keep it quiet as long as possible. I had a friend in the club who tipped off to me an hour after it happened that Carson's leg was smashed in two places. I jumped right in and plunged, thinking that without Carson the Bears hadn't a chance. Then along comes this blanked red-head and turns it all upside down."

"What red-head?"

"McCarthy – that kid third baseman. He's been winning games right along that they ought to have lost, and it looks as if the Bears will win out anyhow – unless you can stop them."

"McCarthy, eh?" Baldwin smiled patronizingly for the first time. "My boy, don't worry. You may know baseball better than I do – but you've hit something I know about. I think I can handle this McCarthy. I believe you can get ready to deliver those votes. I must be going now."

"I'm going to send for that pitcher I've got fixed, to-night," said Edwards.

"Have him down about ten, or a little later," suggested Baldwin genially as he arose to leave.

It was the arrival of Baldwin in the barroom to attend the meeting with Adonis Williams and Easy Ed Edwards that Silent Swanson and Kohinoor McCarthy saw – and it was well for McCarthy's peace of mind that he did not hear what transpired at that meeting.

CHAPTER X

Williams Caught in the Net

Baldwin, by nature, was pompous and patronizing. In his capacity as political boss, representing certain more or less questionable financial interests, he distributed political patronage with an air of one bestowing great favors personally.

Baldwin's rise to riches and to a certain degree of power had been a strange one. He had been a bartender, and had by a certain selfish economy and "touching the till" acquired sufficient money to purchase the saloon in which he was employed from the honest German who had trusted him almost to the verge of bankruptcy. Certain wealthy men and some others interested in public utilities had seen in Baldwin a proper catspaw, and, in a small way, had used him in politics. From that he had developed quickly into an official collector of graft money from disorderly houses, saloons, and gamblers.

Baldwin had become more and more independent financially and more powerful politically as he learned the game. He was shrewd and quick to learn. His share of the collections became larger and larger until in time he was admitted to the higher circle of graft, and, having served his apprenticeship, he had others to collect for him and take the greater risk of going to prison. Eventually, by cunning catering to big interests, he became the political boss of his city, stockholder in several public utilities, and head of a brokerage firm, which he maintained more to account for his possession of wealth than to do business, although favored in many instances in bond deals. His purchase of stock in baseball clubs had been incidental. He knew little of the game and cared less. He was satisfied with the large returns on the stock and avoided publicity in advertising himself as owner of either team through fear of causing an increase in the demand, "Where did you get it?"

Easy Ed Edwards, while waiting in the booth of the Metropolis Café, had told Adonis Williams the name of the man for whom they were waiting.

"Now get wise, Adonis," he advised, in friendly tones. "I'll tip you to something no one outside a few is on to. Baldwin owns this club you're pitching for, and he owns the Panthers. I had it from him to-night that he wants the Panthers to win the pennant this season. You toss off a game or two to help him and you'll be strong with him for life. You know he holds this State in his vest pocket."