Rival Pitchers of Oakdale | Page 8

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 any use

for that specimen from the cow country."
"He seems to be very popular, especially with the girls," murmured
Rackliff. "Now there's only one girl in this town that strikes me as
something outside the milkmaid class. Lela Barker is it--in italics. Still,
I'm going to admit that I don't think her taste and discernment is all it
should be. Of course, she's naturally grateful to Grant for that bath he
took on her account, but that's no reason why she should hand me the
frosty."
"Oh, I begin to see," muttered Hooker, grinning a bit for the first time.
"Jealous."
"Don't make me laugh; I might crack my face. Jealous of a cattle
puncher! Excuse me! All the same, it's a bit provoking to see people
slobbering over him, especially the girls, the same as if he's made of the
stuff found in heroes of fiction."
"I think," said Hooker, "there's a bond of sympathy between us."
CHAPTER IV.
LEN ROBERTS OF BARVILLE.
In front of the post office stood a boy with a faded pea-green cap, hung
rakishly over one ear. He had a crooked nose, which looked as if some
one had given it a violent twist to one side, and, perceiving Hooker
approaching, he smiled a crooked smile, that gave his features the odd
appearance of struggling desperately to pull his proboscis back into
place.
"Hello!" muttered Roy in surprise. "As I live, there's Len Roberts, of
Barville! What's he doing here?"
"Hi, there, Hooky!" called Roberts from the right-hand corner of his
mouth. "How they coming? Ain't seen you since the last time. Any fun
'round this metropolitan burg?"

"Howdy, Len," answered Roy. "What brought you over here, anyhow?"
"The old man's nag and buggy. He came over to buy a horse from Abe
Tuttle, and I asked him to fetch me along to lead or ride the critter back.
He'n Tuttle are dickering now. Thought perhaps I might see somebody
I knew if I hung 'round here."
"My friend, Herbert Rackliff, from Boston," said Hooker, introducing
his companion. "That hub of the universe and seat of knowledge
became too slow for him, so he migrated down here to Oakdale to
acquire learning at our academic institution."
"Glad to meet you," said Roberts, still speaking out of one side of his
mouth, in a way that somehow gave the impression that he did not wish
the other side of his face to know what he was saying. "From
Boston--and come to attend school in Oakdale. Jingoes!"
Rackliff smiled wryly, as his hand was given a squeeze by the wearer
of the green cap. "Don't wonder you're surprised," he murmured.
"Awful, isn't it? But then, I'm not to blame. Just been explaining to Roy,
that my governor is responsible for the fearful crime."
"Sent you down here, did he? Well, what did you do to lead him to
perpetrate such an outrage?"
"Got caught having a little fun, that's all. Expelled."
"Some fathers never can seem to understand that boys must have
amusement. How's baseball coming, Hooky?"
"Oh, after the same old style," growled Hooker. "Roger Eliot is running
the whole shooting match."
"He seems to be the high mogul in this town," chuckled Roberts.
"He makes me sick!" snapped Roy. "I don't care whether I play
baseball or not, but I'd like to see Oakdale have a captain who'd give
every fellow a square and fair show."

"Hasn't Eliot given you a square deal?"
"Not by a long shot. The bunch is practicing on the field now. He
wanted to pack me away into right garden, but I never was built to be a
nonentity in the outfield."
"I thought likely perhaps you'd do part of the pitching this year. Seems
to