Rival Pitchers of Oakdale | Page 7

his muscles, lacking exercise,
sadly undeveloped. For Rackliff took no part in outdoor sports of any
sort, protesting that too much exertion gave him palpitation of the
heart.
Hooker was still sitting hunched on the bleachers, when Rackliff,
having lighted a fresh cigarette, came sauntering languidly toward him.
"Hello, Roy, old sport," saluted the city youth. "You look lonesome."
"I'm not," retorted Hooker shortly.
"Well, you're not practicing, and you must be tired of watching the
animals perform. I came over to kill a little time, but it's grown
monotonous for me, and I'm going to beat it."
"I think I'll get out myself," said Hooker, descending from the
bleachers.
Rackliff accompanied him to the gymnasium, where Roy hastened to
strip off his baseball togs and get into his regular clothes.
"What made you quit pitching so soon?" questioned the city lad,
lingering near. "You don't mind being hit a little in batting practice, do
you?"

"That wasn't it," fibbed Hooker. "Didn't you hear those chumps cackle
with glee? That's what made me sore. Then what's the use for me to try
to pitch if Eliot isn't going to give me any sort of a show?"
"No use at all," said Rackliff cheerfully. "I've noticed that on all these
athletic teams there's more or less partiality shown."
"That's it," cried Roy savagely. "It's partiality. Eliot doesn't like me, and
he isn't going to let me do any pitching. Wants to bury me out in right
garden, the rottenest position on the team. A fellow never has much of
any chance out there."
"Oh, probably he knew you wouldn't accept the position, anyhow," said
Herbert. "He had to make a bluff at giving you something."
"I'll show him he can't impose on me."
"They're going to boost this individual from the alfalfa regions, it
seems. He's surely become the real warm baby around here. I heard
Barker confidentially admitting to your captain----"
"Not my captain," objected Roy.
"I heard Barker confidentially admitting to Eliot," pursued Rackliff
serenely, "that he was greatly surprised in the showing Grant had made
and was not at all sure but the fellow would eventually become a better
pitcher than Springer."
"Say, that would make Springer feel good, the blooming chump!" cried
Roy, rising to his feet. "He's coaching Grant, so the cowboy can act as
second pitcher and help him out; but, if he realized he might be training
a fellow to push him out of his place as the star twirler of the team, I
guess he'd quit in a hurry."
"Very likely he might," nodded Herbert. "No chap with real sense is
going to be dunce enough to teach some one to rise above him."
"That will make trouble between them yet, see if it doesn't," prophesied

Hooker in sudden satisfaction. "They're mighty thick now, but there'll
be an end to that if Phil Springer ever realizes what may happen."
"Somebody might carelessly drop a hint to him," smiled Rackliff.
Suddenly Roy's small, keen eyes were fixed inquiringly on his
companion.
"I don't see why you take so much interest," he wondered. "You must
have a reason."
Herbert shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps so," he admitted. "Are you
ready? Let's get a move on before the bunch comes over."
They left the gymnasium, and walked down the street together. Hooker
had conceived a sudden, singular interest in Rackliff.
"I always wondered how you happened to come to school here at
Oakdale," he confessed.
"Have a cigarette," invited Herbert, extending an open, gold-mounted
morocco case.
"Don't like 'em, thank you," declined Roy.
The other boy lighted a fresh one from the stub of the last.
"So you've been speculating as to the cause of my choosing this serene,
rural seat of knowledge, have you? Well, I'll own up that it wasn't my
choice. I'm not very eager about burying myself alive, and if ever there
was a cemetery, it's the town of Oakdale. My pater was the guilty
party."
"Oh, your father sent you here?"
"Correct. I would have chosen Wyndham, but Newbert's old man sent
him down there, and my governor thought we should be kept apart in
future."

"Newbert? Who's Newbert?"
"You'll hear from him later, I fancy. He's a chap who can really pitch
baseball. He's my partner in crime."
"Your what?"
"My chum. We hit it off together pretty well for the last year or so; for
Dade--that's his name--is a corker. Never mind the details, and the facts
concerning the precise nature of our little difficulty wouldn't interest
you; but we got into a high old scrape, and were both expelled from
school. When I found Dade's old man was going to send him to
Wyndham, I put it up to my sire to let me go there also, but he got wise
and