Rival Pitchers of Oakdale | Page 5

and
satisfaction of Sage. Eliot was just announcing that the team would
begin regular batting and base-running practice, and immediately Roy
asked the privilege of pitching.
"All right," agreed Roger, "but remember this is to be batting practice,
and not a work-out for pitchers. Start it off, Springer, and run out your
hit. You'll follow him. Grant. Come in from the field, Stone and Tuttle.
Let some of the youngsters chase the balls out there. We've got to have
four batters working."
Chub and Ben came trotting in as Springer took his place at the plate.
The captain requested two younger boys to back him up and return the
balls he chose to let pass, and then Hooker toed the slab, resolved to
show these fellows what he could do. He put all his speed into the first
ball pitched, a sharp shoot, which caught Springer on the hip, in spite of

Phil's effort to dodge it.
"Say, what are you tut-trying to do?" spluttered the batter, as he
hobbled in a circle around the plate.
"That one slipped," said Hooker. "I got more of a twist on it than I
intended."
Phil picked up the bat, which he had dropped, and resumed his position.
Three times Roy pitched wildly, and then when he finally got the ball
over, Springer met it for a clean single, and trotted to first.
"Now play the game, fellows," called Eliot, from behind the pan.
Hooker's small eyes glittered as Rodney Grant stepped to the plate.
Like a flash he pitched, again using an in-shoot.
Grant stepped back, held his bat loosely and bunted. As bat and ball
met, the Texan's fingers seemed to release the club, and it fell to the
ground almost as soon as the ball. Like a jack-rabbit he was off,
shooting down the line toward first, while Springer, who had known by
the signal just what was coming, romped easily to second.
Hooker had not intended for Grant to bunt that ball, having tried to
send it high and close; and now in his haste to secure the sphere, he
stumbled over it, and ere he could recover and throw, the speedy boy
from the Lone Star State was so near first that Eliot shouted, "Hold it!"
His face flushed, his under jaw outshot a bit further than usual, Roy
returned to the box, ignoring Chipper Cooper, who was cackling with
apparent great delight.
Tuttle waddled toward the pan, bat in hand.
"I'll strike him out easy enough," thought Roy. Instead of that, he
pitched four wide ones, all of which were declared balls by Sage, who
had been requested to umpire; and Chub jogged to first, complaining
that Hooker had been afraid to let him hit.

Then came Stone, who let a wide one pass, but reached a bit for the
next, caught it about six inches from the end of his bat, and laced it
fairly over the centerfield fence, a feat rarely performed on those
grounds.
"My arm isn't in shape yet," said Hooker, trying to remain deaf to the
laughter of the boys, as the runners trotted over the sacks and came
home. "I won't pitch any more to-day, Eliot."
CHAPTER III.
TWO OF A KIND.
Sitting alone on the bleachers, Roy Hooker sourly watched the
continuation of practice. He saw Springer take a turn at pitching, to be
followed finally by Rodney Grant, who laughingly warned the boys
that he intended to strike them all out.
Rodney Grant was a somewhat peculiar character, who, coming
unannounced to Oakdale, had at first been greatly misunderstood by the
boys there, not a few of whom had fancied him an impostor and a fake
Texan, mainly because of his quiet manners and conventional
appearance; for these unsophisticated New England lads had been led,
through the reading of a certain brand of Western literature, to believe
that all Texans, and especially those who dwelt upon ranches, must be
of the "wild and woolly" variety. Perceiving this at last, Rod had
proceeded to amuse himself not a little by assuming a false air of
bravado, and spinning some highly preposterous yarns of his
hair-lifting adventures upon the plains; a course which, however,
adopted too late to be effective, simply confirmed the doubters--who
could not realize that they were being joshed--in their belief that the
fellow was an out-and-out fraud.
Adding to Grant's unpopularity, and the growing disdain in which he
was held, although plainly a strong, healthy, athletic chap, he not only
refused to come out for football, but displayed an aversion for violent
physical contention of any sort, especially fighting; which caused him
to be branded as a coward. But the time came when, unable longer to

endure the insults heaped upon him, the restraint of the young Texan
snapped like