out to some summer garden and cool off," proposed Rad
after supper. It was a hot night, and sitting about the hotel was
irksome.

"All right," agreed Joe, and they started for a car. The same "tough"
looking character who had been talking with Wessel and Shalleg took the
car as well.

Coming back, after sitting through an open-air moving picture
performance, Joe and Rad found all the cars crowded. It was an open one,
and Joe and Rad had given their seats to ladies, standing up and holding
to the back of the seat in front of them. Just beyond Joe was a burly
chap, the same one who had left the hotel at the time they did. He kept
his seat.

Then, as the car reached a certain corner, this man got up hurriedly.

"Let me past! I want to get off!" he exclaimed, in unnecessarily rough
tones to Joe, at the same time pressing hard against him.

"Certainly," the young pitcher replied, removing his hands from the seat
in front of him. At that moment the car stopped with a sudden jerk, and
the fellow grabbed Joe by the right arm, twisting it so that the ball
player cried out, involuntarily.

"'Scuse me!" muttered the fellow. "I didn't mean to grab youse so hard.
I didn't know youse was so tender," he sneered.

"Seems to me you could have grabbed the seat," objected Joe, wincing
with pain.

The other did not answer, but afterward Rad said he thought he saw him
wink and grin maliciously.

"Hurt much?" asked Rad of Joe, as the fellow got off and the car went on
again.

"It did for a minute. It's better now."

"It looked to me as though he did that on purpose," said Rad.

"He certainly was very clumsy," spoke one of the ladies to whom Joe and
Rad had given their places. "He stepped on my foot, too."

Joe worked his arm up and down to limber the muscles, and then thought
little more about the incident. That is, until the next morning. He
awoke with a sudden sense of pain, and as he stretched out his pitching
arm, he cried out.

"What's the matter?" asked Rad.

"My arm's sore and lame!" complained Joe. "Say, this is tough luck! And
maybe I'll get a chance to pitch to-day."

CHAPTER XXIV

A TIGHT GAME

Rad gave a look at his chum, and then, sliding out of bed, ran to the
window.

"No luck!" he exclaimed.

"What do you mean?" asked Joe.

"I mean it isn't raining."

"What has that got to do with it?" the young pitcher wanted to know, as
he moved his sore arm back and forth, a little frown of pain show