He dropped the subject then and talked of other things until Joe, stifling a yawn, excused himself and went to his cabin.

The reception of the party in Australia went far beyond their expectations. That remote continent has always been noted for its sporting spirit and although of course the English blood made cricket their favorite game, the crowds were quick to detect and appreciate the merits of the great American pastime.

As a rule they would not concede that the batting was any better than that shown by their own cricketers, but there was no question as to the superiority of the fielding.

The lightning throws, the double plays, the marvelous catches in the outfield and the speed shown on the bases were freely admitted to be far and away beyond that shown by their elevens. And the crowds grew larger and larger as the visiting teams made their triumphal progress through the great cities of Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide and Melbourne.

Inspired by their reception and put upon their mettle by the great outpouring of spectators, the teams themselves played like demons. One might almost have thought that they were fighting for the pennant.

They were so evenly matched that first one and then the other was on top, and by the time they reached Melbourne the Giants were only one game in the lead of the total that had been played since the trip began.

Melbourne itself with its romantic history and magic growth proved very attractive. But Joe was destined to remember it for very different reasons.

While walking with Jim one day outside the town near the Yarra Yarra river, they were startled by hearing a cry for help, and racing toward the sound they saw a young girl struggling in the water.

Trained by their vocation to act quickly, they threw off their coats, plunging into the water almost at the same instant. They swam fiercely, lashed on by that frantic wail, sounding fainter each time it was repeated.

The race for a life was almost neck and neck until Joe, showing his tremendous reserve strength, shot ahead at the very end, grasping the struggling figure as it was sinking for the last time.

Jim helped, and together they brought the rescued girl--the long dank black hair testified to her s.e.x--back to sh.o.r.e, where a group of the native blacks, attracted by the cries, had gathered to welcome them.

Dripping and exhausted, the two heroes of the occasion staggered up the bank while willing hands relieved them of their burden.

"Let's beat it," whispered Jim, as the crowd of natives closed around the unconscious object of their heroism, "while the going's good. If that girl ever finds out that you rescued her she'll want to attach herself to you for life. That seems to be the fool custom of these parts."

"She'd find it pretty hard work," said Joe, with a wry smile. "Besides, we don't even know that the girl's alive. It would be pretty heartless to clear out without learning."

"Oh, all right," said Jim, uneasily. "But remember, if there are any consequences you've got to take 'em."

At that moment the crowd opened and the boys saw a remarkably good-looking black girl standing dizzily and supported by another native who might have been her father.

She looked dazedly from one to the other of the young men and Jim promptly "stepped out from under."

"It's him," said Jim, neglecting grammar in his eagerness to shift the burden of credit to Joe's broad shoulders. "He did it all."

The girl walked unsteadily up to Joe and said, submissively: "My life is yours! Me your slave!"

Joe started, stared, and gulped, then turned to Jim to make sure he was awake, and not a victim of some bad dream. But Jim had suddenly acquired a peculiar form of hysteria, and with a choking sound turned his back upon his friend.

"N-no," stuttered Joe, gently pushing the girl away, "no want."

Another explosion from Jim did not serve to improve Joe's state of mind.

His face was fiery red, and his voice husky.

"Me slave!" persisted the girl stubbornly.

Then Joe turned and fled, manfully fighting a desire to shout with laughter one moment, and groan with dismay the next.

Two very much subdued baseball players crept in at the side door of the hotel, and scurried along the corridor toward their rooms, hoping ardently to meet no one on the way. It was with a sigh of relief that they slipped inside, locked the door, and repaired the ravages that the waters of the Yarra Yarra had made upon their clothing.

A few moments later, with self respect considerably improved, they sauntered down to the writing room, where they found the two girls looking more distractingly pretty than ever, engaged in folding the last of their letters.

"Oh, back so soon?" queried Mabel, looking up.

"Goodness, how the time has flown," said Clara. "It seems as though you had just gone. Have you another stamp, Mabel dear? I have used mine all up."

"Say, you're complimentary," remarked Jim, dryly. "It's great to be missed like that."

"Well, we'll miss something more if we don't get a move on," said Joe, practically. "How about some lunch, girls?"

After luncheon the quartette sauntered out for a walk up Elizabeth street to the post-office. The boys were just congratulating themselves that their uncomfortable, though piquant, experience of the morning was a thing definitely of the past, when it happened!

Joe felt a touch on his arm, and, looking down, saw, to his horror, the black girl.

"Me yours!" she cried, eagerly.

Joe muttered savagely beneath his breath, and held the girl off at arm's length, his misery increasing as, with a quick side glance, he saw the growing indignation in Mabel's eyes.

"Me yours!" repeated the girl, with the maddening monotony of a phonograph.

But just then, when Joe was at his wit's end, help came from an unexpected quarter. A big black man, glowering threateningly, elbowed his way through the curious group that had gathered about them, grasped the girl by the arm, and dragged her away. There was no mistaking the jealousy that prompted the action. Joe drew a deep sigh of deliverance, while Jim was crimson with suppressed laughter.

Mabel was the only one, except Joe himself, who could not see the joke.

There were two pink spots in her cheeks, her eyes were very bright, her head was held high, and poor Joe had some explaining to do before the party left Australia, which they did soon after, and started on their journey to Ceylon.

They reached Colombo in Ceylon, the island of spices, the richest gem in the Indian ocean, and disembarked late one afternoon. At the hotel in the English quarter, while the women of the party went to their rooms to refresh themselves and dress for dinner, the men, after a hasty toilet, went into the lobby of the hotel where, as always, their first thought was to get hold of the papers from home.

Joe's eyes fell on a New York paper and he s.n.a.t.c.hed it up eagerly and turned to the sporting page for the latest news of the diamond. He gave a startled exclamation as he saw the bold headline that stretched across the top of the page:

"_Joe Matson, the Pitching King, Signs with the All-Star League!_"

CHAPTER XXIV

THE BLOW FALLS

Baseball Joe's first sensation was one of unutterable surprise, followed a moment later by fierce indignation.

"What's the matter, Joe?" asked Jim, coming up behind him.

"Matter enough!" growled Joe, thrusting the offending paper under his comrade's nose. "Look at this!"

Jim looked and gave a long whistle of surprise.

"What does it mean?" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, as his eyes went from the headlines to the story, which covered the greater part of the page.