A still wider field opened up before him when after one year with St. Louis he was bought by the New York Giants. This had been his ambition from the start, but he had scarcely dared to hope that his dream would come true. He promised himself that he would "pitch his head off" to justify the confidence that McRae, the Giants' manager, had put in him. How he came through an exciting season and in the final game won the championship for his team can be seen in the sixth volume of the series, entitled: "Baseball Joe on the Giants; Or, Making Good as a Ball Twirler in the Metropolis." Of course this brought him into the World's Series, in which that year the Boston Red Sox were the Giants' opponents. It proved to be a whirlwind series, whose result remained in doubt until the last inning of the last game. Joe had fearful odds to contend against since an accident to Hughson, the Giants' standby, put the bulk of the pitching burden on our hero's shoulders. Unscrupulous enemies also sought by foul means to keep him out of the Series, but Joe's indomitable will and magnificent pitching won out against all odds, as told in the volume preceding this, entitled: "Baseball Joe in the World Series; Or, Pitching for the Championship." If ever a man had earned a rest it was Joe, and, as we have seen, he was taking it now in his home town. Jim Barclay, a fine young Princeton man and second-string pitcher on the Giants, had come with him, not so much, it is to be suspected, because of his fondness for Joe, though that was great, as to be near Clara, Joe's charming sister, who had been working all sorts of havoc with poor Jim's heart. By the time the orchestra had finished the tune, the panic had about subsided. But Joe was taking no chances and he motioned for a repetition. The leader obeyed, and at the end of this second playing the danger was entirely over. The audience was seated, with the exception of the man whom Joe had knocked down, who slunk shame-facedly out of the hall holding his hand on the place where the blow had landed. And now that the peril had passed, it was Joe who was panic-stricken. Though brave as a lion and quick as a panther in an emergency, he was the most modest of men and hated to pose as a hero. He was wondering what he should say or do, when Altman solved the problem by coming up to him with both hands extended. That gave the audience its cue, and in a moment a tempest of cheers swept the hall. "What's the matter with Matson?" someone shouted in a stentorian voice. "He's all right!" came back in a roar. "Who's all right?" "Matson! Joe Matson! Baseball Joe!"