Rival Pitchers of Oakdale, by 
Morgan Scott, 
 
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Scott, Illustrated by Elizabeth Colborne 
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Title: Rival Pitchers of Oakdale 
Author: Morgan Scott 
 
Release Date: October 11, 2007 [eBook #22948] 
Language: English 
Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) 
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIVAL 
PITCHERS OF OAKDALE*** 
E-text prepared by Al Haines 
 
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RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE 
by 
MORGAN SCOTT 
Author of "Ben Stone at Oakdale," "Boys of Oakdale Academy," Etc. 
With Four Original Illustrations by Elizabeth Colborne 
 
[Frontispiece: PHIL SENDS THE FIRST BALL.] 
 
New York Hurst & Company Publishers 
Copyright, 1911, by Hurst & Company 
 
CONTENTS 
CHAPTER 
I. 
THE BOY WHO WANTED TO PITCH II. BASEBALL PRACTICE 
III. TWO OF A KIND IV. LEN ROBERTS OF BARVILLE V. 
HOOKER'S MOTORCYCLE VI. A DEAD SURE THING VII. 
RACKLIFF FISHES FOR SUCKERS VIII. READY FOR THE 
GAME IX. THE FIRST INNING X. THE CRUCIAL MOMENT XI. A 
CHANGE OF PITCHERS XII. WON IN THE NINTH XIII. 
RACKLIFF'S TREACHERY XIV. JEALOUSY XV. PLAIN TALK
FROM ELIOT XVI. DREAD XVII. THE BOY ON THE BENCH 
XVIII. A LOST OPPORTUNITY XIX. POISON SPLEEN XX. 
FELLOWS WHO MADE MISTAKES XXI. A PERSISTENT 
RASCAL XXII. SELF-RESTRAINT OR COWARDICE XXIII. 
HOOKER BREAKS WITH RACKLIFF XXIV. ONCE MORE XXV. 
THE WYNDHAM PITCHER XXVI. THE PLUNGE FROM THE 
BRIDGE XXVII. A REBELLIOUS CONSCIENCE XXVIII. WHEN 
THE SIGNALS WERE CHANGED XXIX. PHIL GETS HIS EYES 
OPEN XXX. THE GREATEST VICTORY 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
Phil sends the first ball . . . . . . . . . . . . Frontispiece 
Ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, 
his hand had found the plate 
"Several prominent members of the great Oakdale baseball team, I 
observe," said Rackliff 
The local crowd "rooted" hard 
 
RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE 
CHAPTER I. 
THE BOY WHO WANTED TO PITCH. 
During the noon intermission of a sunny April day a small group of 
boys assembled near the steps of Oakdale Academy to talk baseball; for 
the opening of the season was at hand, and the germ of the game had 
already begun to make itself felt in their blood. Roger Eliot, the grave, 
reliable, steady-headed captain of the nine, who had scored such a 
pronounced success as captain of the eleven the previous autumn, was 
the central figure of that gathering. Chipper Cooper, Ben Stone, Sleuth
Piper, Chub Tuttle, Sile Crane and Roy Hooker formed the remainder 
of the assemblage. 
"The field will be good and dry to-night, fellows," said Roger, "and we 
ought to get in some much-needed practice for that game with Barville. 
I want every fellow to come out, sure." 
"Ho!" gurgled Chub Tuttle, cracking a peanut and dexterously nipping 
the double kernel into his mouth. "We'll be there, though I don't believe 
we need much practice to beat that Barville bunch. We ate 'em up last 
year." 
"We!" said Sleuth Piper reprovingly. "If my memory serves me, you 
warmed the bench in both those games." 
"That wasn't my fault," retorted Tuttle cheerfully. "I was ready and 
prepared to play. I was on hand to step in as a pinch hitter, or to fill any 
sort of a gap at a moment's notice." 
"A pinch hitter!" whooped little Chipper Cooper. "Now, you would 
have cut a lot of ice as a pindi hitter, wouldn't you? You never made a 
hit in a game in all your life, Chub, and you know you were subbing 
simply because Roy got on his ear and wouldn't play. We had to have 
some one for a spare man." 
"I would have played," cut in Hooker sharply, somewhat resentfully, "if 
I'd been given a square deal. I wanted a chance to try my hand at some 
of the pitching; but, after that first game, Ames, the biggest mule who 
ever captained a team, wouldn't give me another show. I wasn't going 
to play right field or sit around on the bench as a spare man." 
Hooker had a thin, sharp face, with eyes set a trifle too close together, 
and an undershot jaw, which gave him a somewhat pugnacious 
appearance. He was a chap who thought very well indeed of himself 
and his accomplishments, and held a somewhat slighting estimation of 
others. In connection with baseball, he had always entertained an 
overweening ambition to become a pitcher, although little qualified for 
such a position, either by temperament or    
    
		
	
	
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