Rival Pitchers of Oakdale | Page 7

"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 chose this corner of the map for mine. You know, he came from here originally."
"I didn't know it."
"Yes, moved out of this tomb nearly thirty years ago. But he knew what it was like, and I presume he fancied I'd be good and safe down here, where there's absolutely nothing doing. Hence, here I am. Pity my woes."
"Oh, well, perhaps you might stir up something around here, if you tried hard enough," said Hooker. "If you took an interest in baseball----"
"What good would that do me, with your dearly-beloved friend, Roger Eliot, choosing his favorites for the team? Besides, I don't think I'd care to play if I could with a bunch that had a cow-puncher for a slab artist."
"You've got a grudge against Grant. You don't like him."
"Great discernment," laughed Rackliff, with a hollow cough that sent little puffs of smoke belching from his lips. "Confidentially, I'll own up that I'm not stuck on him."
"I'm with you. I don't go around blowing about it, but I haven't