A large number of new pa.s.sengers had come on board at Honolulu, and among them was a man who soon attached himself to the baseball party. He was tall and distinguished in appearance, smooth and plausible in his conversation, and seemed to be thoroughly versed in the great national game.

His ingratiating manners soon made him a favorite with the women of the party also, and he spared no pains to deepen this impression.

Reggie liked him immensely, largely, no doubt, owing to the hints that Braxton, which was the stranger's name, had dropped of having aristocratic connections. He had traveled widely, and the names of distinguished personages fell from his lips with ease and familiarity.

"How do you like the new fan, Joe?" Jim asked, a day or two later.

"I can't say that I'm stuck on him much," responded Joe. "He seems to be pretty well up in baseball dope, and that in itself I suppose ought to be a recommendation, to a ball player especially, but somehow or other, he doesn't hit me very hard."

"I think he's very handsome," remarked Mabel, with a mischievous glance at Joe, and that young man's instinctive dislike of the newcomer became immediately more p.r.o.nounced.

"He seems very friendly and pleasant," put in Clara. "Why don't you like him, Joe?"

"How can I tell?" replied her brother. "I simply know I don't."

CHAPTER XX

IN MIKADO LAND

But if Braxton sensed the slight feeling of antipathy which Joe felt for him, he gave no sign of it, and Joe himself, who wanted to be strictly just, took pains to conceal it.

Braxton had a fund of anecdotes that made him good company, and the friendship that Reggie felt for him made him often a member of Joe's party.

"Fine fellow, that Mr. Matson of yours," he remarked one afternoon, when he and Reggie and Mabel were sitting together under an awning, which the growing heat of every day, as the vessel made its way deeper into the tropics, made very grateful for its shade and coolness.

"Indeed he is," remarked Mabel, warmly, to whom praise of Joe was always sweet.

"He's a ripper, don't you know," agreed Reggie.

"Not only as a man but as a player," continued Braxton. "Hughson used to be king pin once, but I think it can be fairly said that Matson has taken his place as the star pitcher of America. Hughson's arm will probably never be entirely well again."

"Joe thinks that Hughson is a prince," remarked Mabel. "He says he stands head and shoulders above everybody else."

"He used to," admitted Braxton. "For ten years there was n.o.body to be compared with him. But now it's Matson's turn to wear the crown."

"Have you ever seen Joe pitch?" asked Mabel.

"I should say I have," replied Braxton. "And it's always been a treat to see the way he did his work. I saw him at the Polo Grounds when in that last, heartbreaking game he won the championship for the Giants. And I saw him, too, in that last game of the World's Series, when it seemed as though only a miracle could save the day. That triple play was the most wonderful thing I ever beheld. The way he nailed that ball and shot it over to Denton was a thing the fans will talk over for many years to come."

"Wasn't it great?" cried Mabel, enthusiastically, at the same time privately resolving to tell all this to Joe and show him how unjust he was in feeling the way he did toward this generous admirer.

"The fact is," continued Braxton, "that Matson's in a cla.s.s by himself.

He's the big cog in the Giant machinery. It's a pity they don't appreciate him more."

"Why, they do appreciate him!" cried Mabel, her eyes opening wide with wonder. "Mr. McRae thinks nothing's too good for him."

"Nothing's too good except money," suggested Braxton.

"They give him plenty of that, too," put in Mabel, loyally.

"He gets a ripping salary, don't you know," put in Reggie. "And he almost doubled it in this last World's Series."

"A man's worth what he can get," returned Braxton. "Now, of course, I don't know and perhaps it might be an impertinence for me even to guess what his salary is, but I should say that it isn't a bit more than ten thousand a year."

"Oh, it isn't anything like that," said Reggie, a little chop fallen.

Braxton raised his eyebrows in apparent surprise.

"I didn't think the Giants were so n.i.g.g.ardly," he remarked, with a touch of contempt. "It's simply robbery for them to hold his services at such a figure. Mr. Matson could demand vastly more than that."

"Where?" asked Reggie. "He's under contract with the Giants and they wouldn't let him go to any other club."

"Why doesn't he go without asking leave?" asked Braxton.

"But no other club in the big leagues would take him if he broke his contract with the Giants," said Mabel, a little bewildered.

"I've heard there was a new league forming," said Braxton, carelessly.

"Let's see, what is it they call it? The All-Star League. There would be no trouble with Matson's getting an engagement with them. They'd welcome him with open arms."

"They've already tried to get him," cried Mabel, proudly.

"Is that so? I suppose they made him a pretty good offer. I've heard they're doing things on a big scale."

"It was a wonderful offer," said Mabel.

"It certainly was, 'pon honor," chimed in Reggie.

"Would it be indiscreet to ask the amount?" said Braxton.

"I don't think there's any bally secret 'bout it," complied Reggie. "They offered him twenty thousand dollars to sign a contract and fifteen thousand dollars a year for a three years' term. Many a bank or railroad president doesn't get that much, don't you know."

"And Matson refused it?" asked Braxton, incredulously.

"How could he help it?" replied Mabel. "His contract with the Giants has two years yet to run."

"My dear young lady," said Braxton, "don't you know that a baseball contract isn't as binding as the ordinary kind? In the first place, it's one-sided, and that itself makes it worthless."

"In what way is it so one-sided?" asked Mabel.

"Well, just to take one instance," replied Braxton. "A baseball club may engage a man for a year and yet if it gets tired of its bargain, it can let him go on ten days' notice. That doesn't seem fair, does it?"

"No-o, it doesn't," admitted Mabel slowly.

"It would be all right," continued Braxton, "if the player also could leave his club by giving ten days' notice. But he can't. That's what makes it unfair. The club can do to the player what the player can't do to the club. So the supposed contract is only a bit of paper. It's no contract at all."