As soon as Jim felt the bat connect with the ball he started down the base line at top speed, and top speed with Jim meant covering ground fast. Every bit of energy in him was concentrated on beating that ball to first base, and no sprinter could have made the distance more quickly. He was two-thirds of the way to first when Miles recovered the ball and straightened up for the throw. Fifteen feet from the bag Jim leaped through the air in a headlong dive for the sack, reaching it in a cloud of dust. A fraction of a second later he heard the smack of the ball in the first baseman’s glove, but it came too late. The umpire declared Jim safe, and he got to his feet, slapping clouds of dust from his uniform.

Miles really should have thrown the ball to second and tried to cut off Allen; but, as it was, the latter reached the second hassock safely, and a moment later stole third. Things now began to look brighter for the home team, especially as Mylert, who was always a dependable slugger, was next at bat.

Miles wound up and delivered a slow, elusive curve that would have fooled most batters. But Mylert judged it to a nicety and poled a safe one-base hit into right field. Allen and Jim sprinted around, the former crossing home plate with the tying run.

By this time the Pittsburgh fielder had recovered the ball. He shot it to third base, in the hope of catching Jim there. But the Giant pitcher had already reached this base and was making for home, covering ground like a frightened jack-rabbit. The grandstand and bleachers rose to their feet en masse and a roar of excited shouting swept over the field.

It looked as though Jim had ventured too much and would surely be thrown out at the home plate. But he ran as he had never run before, and slid for the bag like a human catapult. The ball actually reached the catcher ahead of him, but such was the force of the slide that when the catcher tried to touch him out, the ball was knocked from his hand and bounded over the grass several feet away. Jim was safe, and the score stood 2 to 1 in favor of the Giants!

At that the rooters went wild, and for five minutes the racket startled even the hardened residents of that neighborhood. Jim was surrounded by his team mates and pounded and thumped enthusiastically. But there was little time for this now as the game was not yet finished, and was far from being a certainty, as the Pittsburghs still had an inning at bat.

Mylert was still at first base, and Curry came to the bat next. He did his best, but hit into a fast double play, which cut short the Giant rally.

Now it was up to Jim to retain the one-run lead that he and his team mates had acquired. The Pittsburghs were wild at having the game snatched from their grasp so near the end, and went to the bat with determination writ large on their features.

Now everything depended on Jim. His support could not be relied on. He knew that if the ball were once delivered into the hands of either Hupft or McCarney they would manage in some way to mishandle it and let in a run or two. He realized that the only sure thing was to keep the opposing batsmen from even hitting the ball, and to this end he summoned all his resource and skill.

His arm still felt strong, and his control was little short of marvelous. The first man to face him was struck out on three pitched balls, the second fouled weakly to Mylert and was put out easily. The third man lifted a high fly toward third base. This ball really belonged to McCarney, but in an instant Jim resolved to take no chances. He started running for the ball at the same instant as McCarney.

“It’s my ball! Keep away!” shouted McCarney.

Jim paid no heed. He grabbed the ball as it descended and at the same instant collided with McCarney. The third baseman was hurled sprawling several feet away, but Jim kept his feet, although he was badly shaken. But the batter was out, and the Giants had won the game.

“Confound you!” growled McCarney, as he struggled to his feet. “What do you mean by taking that play out of my hands? I’ll get you for this, you see if I don’t!”

“You know blamed well why I took it,” retorted Jim. “I took it because I couldn’t trust you to make a straight play on it. And if you want to make a fuss about it I’ll tell the whole world the same thing.”

“Aw, you’ve got me wrong,” protested McCarney, his threat changing to a whine. “I’ve just been running in a streak of bad luck lately, and here you and your pal try to hang it on me that I’m throwing the games. Lay off, can’t you?”

Jim did not even take the trouble to answer this, but made the best of his way to the clubhouse. A mob of cheering fans was pouring down on to the field by this time, and he had to hurry his pace in order to escape their attentions.

In the clubhouse there was a hot discussion going on over the merits of Jim’s play. The general attitude was that “all’s well that ends well,” though some thought that Jim should have left the play to McCarney. However, the wiser ones had been suspicious of the new players of late, and could guess pretty accurately the motives that had impelled Jim to act as he did. But above all else was rejoicing that they had won the game, and Jim was the hero of the hour.

The one thought uppermost in the pitcher’s mind was to be off in search of his missing friend, and he was impatient of delay. As soon as possible he slipped out of the clubhouse and set off on his difficult quest.

In this he had little to guide him, and he had no other plan save to watch for McCarney and shadow him, as Joe had done the day before. But this was not so simple a matter now, for the recreant third baseman had been rendered wary by Joe’s discovery of the gamblers’ house, and when he came out of the clubhouse he glanced cautiously in every direction before he started off at a brisk walk in the direction of the nearest subway station.

The streets were so crowded, however, that Jim managed to escape detection, and in the subway boarded the same train as McCarney. The latter took a seat inside and Jim stuck to the platform, where he could keep an eye on his quarry without much likelihood of being seen himself.

At Ninety-sixth Street McCarney changed to an express, and Jim did likewise. They were whisked rapidly downtown. McCarney got off at Fourteenth Street, with Jim still on his trail.

From that point McCarney strode rapidly westward, and more than once Jim escaped detection by a miracle, as McCarney continually cast suspicious glances behind him. Eventually he reached the street where the gamblers’ house was located, and turned down it. Jim waited at the corner, as the street was deserted and McCarney would be almost certain to see him if he turned the corner.

From his post of vantage he saw McCarney ascend the steps of the house and ring the bell. The door was opened a few inches and the ball player held a short conversation with some unseen person inside, after which he descended the steps and walked rapidly toward the corner where Jim was observing his actions.

The latter had only time to dodge into a convenient hallway when McCarney passed the corner, apparently on his way back to the subway station. Jim gave him plenty of time to get well out of the way before he stepped into the street again. He had no definite plan in mind as yet, except to get inside the house someway and aid his friend to escape, provided he was there. But how to get in was the knotty problem.

He sauntered down the street and past the house, examining it from the corners of his eyes without seeming to take undue interest in it, as he did not know who might be on the lookout. He walked on to the next corner and stood there a few minutes, trying to think of a feasible plan. He then started back to have another look at the place, and had reached a point about opposite when a big automobile came sweeping around the corner and drew up at the curb only a few feet from where he was standing.

The car was filled with a crowd of rough looking men. Almost before he could realize what was happening, Jim was surrounded and attacked by these fellows. He fought desperately, but the odds were too great, and he was carried, still struggling, to the waiting automobile. Here he was pinned to the floor, a gag was stuffed into his mouth, and his hands and feet were securely tied.

It was hardly two minutes from the time that the car drew up before it was again on its way, and the dexterity of Jim’s captors spoke of much practice in similar episodes. The gamblers, finding that the removal of Joe from the team was not sufficient to cause its defeat, had not hesitated to go further and abduct the only other pitching ace the team possessed, thus making it practically impossible for it to win the pennant.

Meanwhile McRae, not knowing of this fresh disaster, was hiring detectives to find Joe and trying to plan a series of games in which he might employ Jim to the best advantage in the event that Joe was not found.

He called at Jim’s hotel that evening to talk over matters with him, and when told that Jim had not been there since leaving for the ball field, he became wildly excited. He hunted up Robson, and together they held a conference. In the end McRae called up the head of the most famous detective agency in the country and, after swearing him to secrecy, commissioned him to hunt for the missing ball players.

“Well, we’ve done all that we can do just now, and we might as well get a night’s sleep,” said Robson. “Don’t forget that both Matson and Barclay are resourceful lads and know how to handle themselves. I wouldn’t be surprised to see them both turn up in time for to-morrow’s game.”

“If they don’t we’ll lose,” predicted McRae gloomily. “The team can’t pull together when things like this are going on. It’s getting so that nobody trusts anybody else on the team, and I never yet saw an aggregation of ball players win a pennant under those conditions.”

The game next day proved the truth of this assertion. Both Joe and Jim were still missing, and while Bradley pitched a game that would ordinarily have been good enough to win, his team mates failed to support him in their usual masterly style, and the game was a walkover for their opponents, the score being 7 to 0 against them. Suspicion was rife on the team and the outlook for winning the pennant seemed gloomy indeed.