[Pozarica-joel] st things that

[Jillian Aldava]

Onship." If ever a man had earned a rest it was Joe, and,

as we have seen,
he was taking it now in his home town. Jim Barclay, a fine young Princeton man and second-string pitcher on the Giants, had come with him, not so much, it is to be suspected, because of his fondness for Joe, though that was great, as to be near Clara, Joe's charming sister, who had been working all sorts of havoc with poor Jim's heart. By the time the orchestra had finished the tune, the panic had about subsided. But Joe was taking no chances and he motioned for a repetition. The leader obeyed, and at the end of this second playing the danger was entirely over. The audience was seated, with the exception of the man whom Joe had knocked down, who slunk shame-facedly out of

the hall holding his hand on the place where the blow had landed. And now that the peril had passed, it was Joe who was panic-stricken. Though brave as a lion and quick

as a panther in an emergency, he was the most modest of men and hated to pose as a hero. He was wondering what he should say or do, when Altman solved the problem by coming up to him with both hands extended.
That gave the audience its cue, and in a moment a tempest of cheers swept the hall. "What's

the matter with Matson?" someone shouted in a stentorian voice. "He's all right!" came back in a roar. "Who's all right?" "Matson!
Joe Matson! Baseball Joe!" Men crowded forward, and in a moment Joe was surrounded by his friends and fellow townsmen, most of whom had known him when he was in knickerbockers and now were more
proud of him than they had ever been, even when he returned to Riverside crowned with the laurels of his last great season. Joe was mauled
and pounded until he was almost out
of breath, and it was a relief when at last he had made his way back to his mother and sister. They were both crying openly with joy and pride, and the looks they turned on Joe were a greater reward than all the plaudits
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