It required nerve to climb out on the narrow window sill and trust his life to that swaying rope, but Jim was plentifully equipped with that article, and he hesitated not a second. He twisted the rope several times about one leg, so as to take some of the strain off his arms, and then started sliding slowly down.

Down on the sidewalk, Joe held the lower end of the rope, to prevent its swinging, and gazed anxiously up at his friend. One false move or a moment of dizziness, and Jim would be dashed to death on the paving.

So engrossed was Joe in watching his chum that he forgot to watch for anything else, and he was not conscious of the presence of a man who had come out of the warehouse a moment before and who now stood gazing in stupefied silence at the sight that met his eyes.

His period of inaction, however, did not last long. With a startled shout he sprang into action and dashed back into the building, calling at the top of his lungs.

Jim was still less than half way down, and Joe gazed desperately about in the hope of assistance.

There was none in sight. Jim had heard the man’s shout, and, knowing that his actions were discovered, slid down the rope at increased speed. But he was still thirty or forty feet from the sidewalk when the man who had raised the alarm dashed out, followed by three others. They made furiously for Joe, and he let go the rope and rushed to meet them. He knew that he would have to beat them off until Jim could join him.

The fellows did not recognize Joe, and they were chiefly concerned lest Jim should escape them. They tried to get at the rope, but Joe would not have it so. Hot rage boiled up in him at the thought of the unprovoked attacks on him and his friend. He saw red, and the four ruffians were staggered by the force and fury of his onslaught. They gave back momentarily, then returned to the attack.

One of them had a club in his hand. He edged behind Joe, waiting for a chance to use it. The weapon was poised in readiness for a blow when its owner was sent sprawling to the ground. Jim stood at his friend’s side.

He also had the memory of recent wrongs and insults to avenge, and together the two friends charged into their assailants, striking right and left and feeling a fierce joy as their flailing fists smashed and battered at their shrinking opponents.

But reënforcements were at hand for the ball players’ opponents. With a yell, three more fellows dashed out of the warehouse and charged into the fray.

“Time for a getaway, Jim,” panted Joe, realizing that these odds were too great. As he spoke, he saw the club that one of the ruffians had dropped lying on the sidewalk. Like a flash he picked it up and laid about him like a madman. As his weapon landed with terrific force, the scoundrels momentarily gave ground.

“Come on, Jim!” shouted Joe, and the two friends charged through the ring of assailants like a couple of maddened bulls.

Then they took to their heels, with the rascals after them. But the latter were no match for fleet base runners like the two Giant ball players. Reaching the corner, the two boys raced up the avenue a block or so, but the ruffians appeared to have given up the pursuit, and they slowed down to a walk.

They kept up a rapid pace, however, and did not feel secure until they were seated in a subway train and speeding uptown.

Both of them bore signs of the struggle they had been through, but they little minded this nor the curious stares of the other passengers. They were both safe, after having gone through adventures that might well have ended in tragedy for one or both.

Joe looked at his friend, and Jim looked at him. Then they both grinned.

“I don’t blame people for looking at us as though we were a couple of freaks,” said Joe. “If I look as bunged up as you do, Jim, I must be a terrible sight.”

“You are,” said Jim frankly. “I guess I am too, though. And make out my hands aren’t sore!” and he exhibited two blistered palms. “After that gang came swarming out of the house I slid down that rope so fast that it smoked.”

“You didn’t get down a minute too soon,” answered Joe. “But your hands look pretty bad. I’m afraid you won’t be able to pitch for a week, at the least.”

“Well, if I hadn’t slid down fast, I’d probably never have pitched again at any time,” said Jim. “A few blisters are a cheap price to pay to get away from that gang.”

“Don’t forget the rope that I contributed,” Joe reminded him. “Not to mention the baseball.”

“That was some rock,” said Jim. “When it landed in the room I thought it would go through the floor. I’ve got to hand it to you for thinking up that scheme, Joe. Likewise, that was a wonderful throw you made, up to the window. When I saw you winding up for it, I never thought you’d make it.”

“It was a case of where I had to make it,” said Joe. “Anyway, I think I could have hoisted it a little higher if I’d had to. You can never tell what you can do till you try. But now tell me how you happened to get in that place. I’ll bet they had a scrimmage before they persuaded you to make them a visit.”

“Well, I can’t claim much of a battle, at that,” confessed Jim. “I trailed you to that house on the West Side, and I was trying to think up a plan to get inside when a big automobile came along and stopped right near me. I didn’t think much of it, but the next thing I knew a crowd of six or seven rascals landed on my devoted head and I went down for the count. They carried me over to that joint near the East River, and locked me in a little room on the top floor. I’d have had to be a human fly to get out, and I guess they thought they had me safely cooped up.”

“Did they want you to sign a framed-up paper that would have run you out of the game?” asked Joe. “That’s what they handed me.”

“That was the idea, all right,” replied his friend. “Of course I refused, and then they told me I could starve until I came around to their terms. I haven’t had anything to eat in twenty-four hours, and, believe me, a nice beefsteak would be mighty easy to take.”

“Good night!” exclaimed Joe. “Why didn’t you get something before we got on the sub train? They don’t run dining cars on this line.”

“I guess I was too excited to think about it,” said Jim. “I’m getting more starved every second, though. Let’s get off at the next station and hunt up a restaurant.”

“Fine! I could take a little nourishment myself,” said Joe, and at the next station they proceeded to put this plan into effect.

While Jim was ordering a meal that made the waiter gasp, Joe slipped out to a telephone and got McRae on the wire. The delight and excitement of the manager was manifest over the wire, and Joe promised to report with Jim as soon as they had eaten.

When he got back to the table Jim, unable to await his coming, had already started, and Joe was treated to an unusual exhibition of eating. His friend finished one large steak and called for another. The waiter looked scandalized, but he filled the order nevertheless.

When Jim at last finished and leaned back to drink a cup of black coffee, Joe solemnly extended his hand across the table.

“Shake, old man,” he said, with feeling. “I never knew any man could pack away food like that and live to tell the story. I used to think I was fairly good myself, but now I’ve got to admit that I’m not even in your class.”

“I always knew that, but I never thought you’d come around to my way of thinking,” answered Jim with a grin. “I feel now as though I could lick my weight in wildcats. Let’s go back and clean out that joint on Seventeenth Street.”

“You can go if you’re looking for a quick death,” said Joe. “Personally, I’d just as soon live a little longer. Besides, I’ve promised McRae that we’ll report to him as soon as possible. Those hands of yours need a doctor’s attention, too.”

“They can still handle a knife and fork,” said Jim complacently.

Joe and Jim found McRae at his hotel, but he would not listen to a word until he had taken Jim to a doctor and his hands were swathed in white bandages. Then they went back to the hotel, and the manager listened to Jim’s story, with many grunts and interjections and angry mutterings.