Part 16 (1/2)

”It was all to the pepper-castor, old man,” complimented Darrell. ”We didn't put up a very good game, but you sort of stand out among the other Stars.”

”And I suppose the rest of us did rotten!” snarled Sam Morton as he walked past.

”Well, to be frank, I think we _all_ did,” spoke Darrell. ”I'm not saying that Joe didn't make any errors, for he did. But he made the only home run of the game, and that's a lot.”

”Oh, yes, I suppose so,” sneered the disgruntled pitcher. ”You'll be blaming me next for the loss of the game.”

”Nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Darrell quickly. ”I think we've all got to bear our share of the defeat. We ought to have played better, and we've got to, if we don't want to be at the tail end of the county league.”

”And that means that I've got to do better pitching, I suppose?” sneered Sam.

”It means we've _all_ got to do better work,” put in Captain Rankin.

”You along with the rest of us, Sam. You know you were pretty well batted to-day.”

”Any fellow is likely to be swatted once in a while. Look at some of the professionals.”

”I'm not saying they're not,” admitted the captain. ”What I do say is that we've all got to perk up. We've got to take a brace, and I'm not sparing myself. We're not doing well.”

”No, that's right,” admitted several other players. In fact there was a general feeling of discontent manifested, and it was very noticeable.

Darrell Blackney was aware of it, and he hoped it would not spread, for nothing is so sure to make a team slump as discontent or dissatisfaction.

”Oh, Joe!” exclaimed a girl's voice, and he turned to see his sister walking toward him over the field. ”That was a fine run you made.” She had two other girls with her and Joe, who was a bit bashful, turned to execute a retreat.

”I believe you never met my brother,” went on Clara, and there was a trace of pride in her tone. ”Miss Mabel Davis,” said Clara, presenting her to Joe, ”and Miss Helen Rutherford.”

”I've heard my sister speak of you,” murmured the young centre fielder.

”And I've heard my brother speak of _you_,” said Mabel, and Joe was conscious that he was blus.h.i.+ng.

”I've got to wash up now,” he said, not knowing what to talk about when two pretty girls, to say nothing of his own sister, were staring at him.

”Does your hand hurt you much?” asked Mabel.

”No--it's only a scratch,” said Joe, not with a strict regard for the truth.

”Oh, I thought I'd faint when I saw you lying there so still,” spoke Clara with a little shudder.

”So did I,” added Helen, and then Joe made his escape before they could ”fuss” over him any more.

There was considerable talk going on in the dressing room when Joe entered. He could hear the voice of Sam Morton raised in high and seemingly angry tones.

”Well, I'm not going to stand for it!” the pitcher said.

”Stand for what?” asked Darrell in surprise.

”Being accused of the cause for the loss of this game!”