Men crowded forward, and in a moment Joe was surrounded by his friends and fellow townsmen, most of whom had known him when he was in knickerbockers and now were more proud of him than they had ever been, even when he returned to Riverside crowned with the laurels of his last great season. Joe was mauled and pounded until he was almost out of breath, and it was a relief when at last he had made his way back to his mother and sister. They were both crying openly with joy and pride, and the looks they turned on Joe were a greater reward than all the plaudits of his friends. There was no going on with the performance after that. The nerves of the audience were too highly keyed by the great peril that had been escaped. And they had a more dramatic scene to remember and talk about than anything that could be given them from the stage. In the excitement, a great many of those present had lost track of the friends or relatives that had been with them, and from all sides came various calls. "Where is Frank?" "Did you see what became of my sister Bessie?" "Oh, Bill! I say, Bill! Where are you?" Many of the scenes were most affecting. Women would rush into each other's arms, crying with joy to find that the lost ones were safe. "I can tell you it's a grand good thing that panic was stopped so quickly," remarked one man to another, as he gazed admiringly at the hero of the occasion. As Joe and his folks were leaving, a tall, well-dressed man stepped up to Joe and extended his hand. "Let me congratulate you, Mr. Matson," he said effusively. "That was a splendid thing you did to-night. I never saw anything finer." "I'm afraid you exaggerate it," deprecated Joe. "Not at all," said the stranger. "By the way, Mr. Matson, it's a coincidence that I came to town with the express purpose of seeing you on a business matter. But I didn't expect that my first meeting with you would be under such exciting circumstances." He took a card from his pocket and handed it to Joe. "My name, as you see, is Westland," he continued. "I'm stopping at the hotel, and I would be glad to see you there or at any place that may be convenient to you some time to-morrow." "Suppose you call at my home to-morrow morning," said Joe. "It's only about five minutes' walk from the hotel." "You needn't bother about giving me the directions," said Westland, with an ingratiating smile. "Everybody in Riverside knows where Baseball Joe lives. I'll be around at eleven o'clock." He lifted his hat and departed, while Joe and the others walked toward home. "What do you suppose he wants of you, Joe?" asked Clara, with lively curiosity. "Oh, I don't know," answered her brother carelessly. "Some reporter probably who wants to get the sad story of my life." "If it is, he'll have something to write about after to-night," put in Jim. "Great Scott! Joe, if that had happened in New York it would be spread all over the front page of to-morrow's papers."