Rival Pitchers of Oakdale

Rival Pitchers of Oakdale, by Morgan Scott,

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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)
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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 acquired skill. True, he could throw the curves, and had some speed, but at his best he could not find the plate more than once out of six times, and, when disturbed or rattled, he was even worse. Like many another fellow, he erroneously believed