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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Rival Pitchers of Oakdale</p> +<p>Author: Morgan Scott</p> +<p>Release Date: October 11, 2007 [eBook #22948]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Al Haines</h3></center><br><br> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<p> </p> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="PHIL SENDS THE FIRST BALL." BORDER="2" WIDTH="418" HEIGHT="607"> +<H4 CLASS="h3center" STYLE="width: 418px"> +PHIL SENDS THE FIRST BALL. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +MORGAN SCOTT +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR OF "BEN STONE AT OAKDALE,"<BR> +"BOYS OF OAKDALE ACADEMY," ETC.<BR> +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +<I>With Four Original Illustrations</I> +<BR> +<I>By ELIZABETH COLBORNE</I> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +NEW YORK +<BR> +HURST & COMPANY +<BR> +PUBLISHERS +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +Copyright, 1911, +<BR> +BY +<BR> +HURST & COMPANY +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">THE BOY WHO WANTED TO PITCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">BASEBALL PRACTICE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">TWO OF A KIND</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">LEN ROBERTS OF BARVILLE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">HOOKER'S MOTORCYCLE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">A DEAD SURE THING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">RACKLIFF FISHES FOR SUCKERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">READY FOR THE GAME</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">THE FIRST INNING</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">THE CRUCIAL MOMENT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">A CHANGE OF PITCHERS</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">WON IN THE NINTH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">RACKLIFF'S TREACHERY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">JEALOUSY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">PLAIN TALK FROM ELIOT</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">DREAD</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">THE BOY ON THE BENCH</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">A LOST OPPORTUNITY</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">POISON SPLEEN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">FELLOWS WHO MADE MISTAKES</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">A PERSISTENT RASCAL</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">SELF-RESTRAINT OR COWARDICE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">HOOKER BREAKS WITH RACKLIFF</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">ONCE MORE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">THE WYNDHAM PITCHER</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">THE PLUNGE FROM THE BRIDGE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">A REBELLIOUS CONSCIENCE</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">WHEN THE SIGNALS WERE CHANGED</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">PHIL GETS HIS EYES OPEN</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">THE GREATEST VICTORY</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +Phil sends the first ball . . . . . . . . . . . . <I>Frontispiece</I> +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-127"> +Ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades,<BR> + his hand had found the plate +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-251"> +"Several prominent members of the great Oakdale baseball team,<BR> + I observe," said Rackliff +</A> +</H3> + +<H3> +<A HREF="#img-307"> +The local crowd "rooted" hard +</A> +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BOY WHO WANTED TO PITCH. +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"We!" said Sleuth Piper reprovingly. "If my memory serves me, you +warmed the bench in both those games." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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 that the ability to throw a curved ball was a +pitcher's chief accomplishment. +</P> + +<P> +"It was lucky Springer developed so well as a twirler last year," +observed Eliot. +</P> + +<P> +"Lucky!" sneered Hooker. "Why, I don't recollect that he did anything +worth bragging about. He lost both those games against Wyndham." +</P> + +<P> +"We had to depend on him alone," said Roger; "and he was doing too much +pitching. It's a wonder he didn't ruin his arm." +</P> + +<P> +"You've got to have some one beside Springer this year, that's sure," +said Hooker. "He can't pitch much more than half the games scheduled." +</P> + +<P> +"Phil's tryin' to coach Rod Grant to pitch," put in Sile Crane. "I see +them at it last night, out behind Springer's barn." +</P> + +<P> +Roy Hooker laughed disdainfully. "Oh, that's amusing!" he cried. +"That Texan has never had any experience, but, just because he and Phil +have become chummy, Springer's going to make a pitcher out of him. +He'll never succeed in a thousand years." +</P> + +<P> +"Here they come now," said Ben Stone, as two boys turned in at the gate +of the yard; "and Phil has got the catching mitt with him. I'll bet +they've been practicing this noon." +</P> + +<P> +"Jinks! but they're getting thick, them two," chuckled Chub Tuttle. +</P> + +<P> +"As thick as merlasses in Jinuary," drawled Sile Crane whimsically. +</P> + +<P> +"Being thick as molasses, they're naturally sweet on each other," +chirped Cooper. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi! Hi!" cried Tuttle. "There you go! Have a peanut for that." +</P> + +<P> +"No, nut for me; I shell nut take it," declined Chipper. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a real case of Damon and Pythias," remarked Stone, watching the +two lads coming up the walk. +</P> + +<P> +"Or David and Jonathan," said Eliot. +</P> + +<P> +Phil Springer, the taller of the pair, with light hair, blue eyes, and +long arms, looked at a distance the better qualified to toe the slab in +a baseball game; but Rodney Grant was a natural athlete, whose early +life on his father's Texas ranch had given him abounding health, +strength, vitality, and developed in him qualities of resourcefulness +and determination. Grant had come to Oakdale late the previous autumn, +and was living with his aunt, an odd, seclusive spinster, by the name +of Priscilla Kent. +</P> + +<P> +Two girls, sauntering down the path with their arms about each other, +met the approaching boys, and paused a moment to chat with them. +</P> + +<P> +"Phil's sister is struck on our gay cowboy," observed Cooper, grinning. +</P> + +<P> +"I rather guess Lela Barker is some smit on him, too," put in Sile +Crane. "That's sorter natteral, seein' as how he rescued her from +drowndin' when she was carried over the dam on a big ice-cake in the +Jinuary freshet. That sartainly made him the hero of Oakdale, and us +fellers who'd been sayin' he was a fake had to pull in our horns." +</P> + +<P> +"The real hero of that occasion," declared Hooker maliciously, "was a +certain cheap chap by the name of Bunk Lander, who plunged into the +rapids below the dam, with a rope tied round his waist, and saved them +both." +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't sneer about Lander, if I were you, Roy," said Eliot in +grave reproof. "I wouldn't call him cheap, for he's shown himself to +be a pretty decent fellow; and Stickney, whose store he once pilfered, +has given him a job on his new delivery wagon. There's evidently more +manhood and decency in Lander than any of us ever dreamed—except +Grant, who took up with him at the very beginning." +</P> + +<P> +"And a fine pair people around here thought they were," flung back +Hooker exasperatedly. "Why, even you, yourself, didn't have much of +anything to say for Rod Grant at one time." +</P> + +<P> +"I was mistaken in my estimation of him," confessed Roger +unhesitatingly. "I believe Stone was about the only person who really +sized Grant up right." +</P> + +<P> +"And now, since he's become popular, this hero from Texas chooses +Springer for his chum instead of Stone," said Roy. +</P> + +<P> +"He has a right to choose whoever he pleases," said Ben, flushing a +trifle. "We are still good friends. If he happens to find Springer +more congenial than I, as a chum, I'm not going to show any spleen +about it." +</P> + +<P> +"It's my opinion," persisted Hooker, "that he has an object in his +friendliness with Phil Springer. He's got the idea into his head that +he can pitch, and he's using Phil to learn what he can. Well, we'll +see how much he does at it—we'll see." +</P> + +<P> +The girls having passed on, the two boys now approached the group near +the steps. Springer was beaming as he came up. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, Captain Eliot," he cried, "the old broncho bub-buster has got +onto the drop. He threw it first-rate to-day noon. I'll make a change +pitcher out of him yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm destined to become another Mathewson, I opine," said Rodney +Grant laughingly; "but if I do turn out to be a phenom, I'll owe it to +my mentor, Mr. Philip Springer." +</P> + +<P> +"The team is coming out for practice tonight," said Eliot, "and we'll +give you a chance to pitch for the batters. We've got to work up a +little teamwork before that game Saturday." +</P> + +<P> +The second bell clanged, and, still talking baseball, the boys moved +slowly and reluctantly toward the cool, dark doorway of the academy. +Roy Hooker lingered behind, a pouting, dissatisfied expression upon his +face. +</P> + +<P> +"So they're bound to crowd me out again, are they?" he muttered. +"Well, we'll see what comes of it. If I get a chance, I'll cook that +cowboy for butting in." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BASEBALL PRACTICE. +</H3> + +<P> +With the close of the afternoon session, many of the boys, palpitantly +eager to get out onto the field, went racing and shouting, down through +the yard and across the gymnasium, where their baseball suits were +kept. Eliot followed more sedately, yet with quickened step, for he +was not less eager than his more exuberant teammates. Berlin Barker, +slender, cold, and sometimes disposed to be haughty and overbearing, +joined him on his way. +</P> + +<P> +"We'll soon be at it again," said Barker. "The season opens Saturday, +and I have a feeling it's going to be a hot one. It wouldn't surprise +me if we had to play a stiff game in order to take a fall out of +Barville. You know, they developed a strong pitcher in that man +Sanger, the last of the season. Why, he actually held Wyndham down to +three hits in that last game, and Barville would have won only for the +blow-up in the eighth inning." +</P> + +<P> +Roger nodded. "Lee Sanger certainly did good work for Barville after +he hit his pace; but Springer ought to be in good shape for the +opening, not having been compelled to pitch his wing stiff, the way he +did last year." +</P> + +<P> +"Confidentially, Roger," said Berlin, "I've never regarded Springer as +anything great. I wouldn't say this to any one else, for we are good +friends; but I fancy you know his weak points. He's not a stayer; he +never was, and he never will be. With the game coming his way, he's +pretty good—especially so, as long as he can keep the bases clean; but +one or two hits at a critical moment puts him up in the air, and he's +liable to lose his head. Only for the way you steady him down behind +the pan, he'd never show up half as well as he does." +</P> + +<P> +Now, this was a truth which no one knew better than Eliot himself, +although he had never whispered it to a living soul. Springer owed his +success mainly to the heady work, good back-stopping, clever coaching +and steadying influence of Eliot, who did nearly all the thinking for +Phil while the latter was on the slab. This, however, is often the +case with many pitchers who are more than passably successful; to the +outsider, to the watcher from the stand or the bleachers, the pitcher +frequently seems to be the man who is pitting his brains and skill +against the brains and skill of the opposing batters and delivering the +goods, when the actual fact remains that it is the man at the +"receiving end" who is doing nine-tenths of the thinking, and without +whose discernment, sagacity, skill and directing ability, the twirler +would make a pitiful show of himself. There are pitchers who recognize +this fact and have the generosity to acknowledge it; but in most cases, +especially with youngsters, no matter how much he may owe to the +catcher, the slab-man takes all the credit, and fancies he deserves it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Springer's all right," declared Roger loyally; "but, of course, he +needs some one to do part of the work, so that he won't use himself up, +and I have hopes that he'll succeed in coaching Grant into a good +second string man. He's enthusiastic, you know; says Grant is coming." +</P> + +<P> +"Queer how chummy those fellows have become," laughed Barker shortly. +"I don't know whether Rod Grant can make a pitcher of himself or not, +but I was thinking that Hooker might pan out fairly well if only Phil +would take the same interest and pains with him as he's taking with +Rod." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps so," said the captain of the nine; "but I have my doubts. Roy +is too egotistical to listen to advice and coaching, and he entertains +the mistaken idea that curves and speed are all a pitcher needs. He +hasn't any control." +</P> + +<P> +"But he might acquire it." +</P> + +<P> +"He might, if he only had the patience to try for it and work hard, but +you know he's no worker." +</P> + +<P> +They had reached the gymnasium, and the discussion was dropped as they +entered and joined the boys in the dressing room, who were hurriedly +getting into their baseball togs. Hooker was there with the others, +for he had a suit of his own, which was one of the best of the +discarded uniforms given up at the opening of the previous season when +the team had purchased new suits. There was a great deal of joshing +and laughter, in which Roy took no part; for he was a fellow who found +little amusement in the usual babble and jests of his schoolmates, and +nothing aroused his resentment quicker than to be made the butt of a +harmless joke. He had once choked Cooper purple in the face in +retaliation for a jest put upon him by the audacious, rattle-brained +little chap; but later Chipper had accepted Roy's apologies and +protestations of regret, practically forgetting the unpleasant +incident, which, however, Roy never did. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah-ha!" cried Sile Crane, bringing forth and flourishing a long, +burnt, battered bat. "Here's Old Buster, the sack cleaner. Haowdy do, +my friend? I'm sartainly glad to shake ye again." +</P> + +<P> +"Up to date," said Cooper, tying his shoes, "I've never seen you do any +great shakes with Old Buster." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, ain't ye?" snapped Sile resentfully. "Mebbe yeou've forgot that +three-sacker I got with this club in the Clearport game." +</P> + +<P> +"Um-mum," mumbled Chipper. "Now you mention it, I do have a faint +recollection of that marvelous accident. You were trying to dodge the +ball, weren't you, Sile? You just shut your blinkers and ducked, and +Pitkins' inshoot carromed off the bat over into right field and got +lost in the grass. If we all hadn't yelled for you to run, you'd be +standing there now, wondering what had happened." +</P> + +<P> +"Yeou're another," flung back Crane. "I made a clean three-sacker, and +yeou know it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, anyhow, you got anchored on third and failed to come home when I +bunted on a signal for the squeeze. The Clearporters had barrels of +fun with you over that. I remember Barney Carney asking you if you'd +brought your bed." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, rats!" rasped Crane, striding toward the open gym door and +carrying his pet bat. "Some parts of your memory ought to be +amputated." +</P> + +<P> +"What a cutting thing to say!" grinned Cooper, rising to follow. +</P> + +<P> +The field, surrounded by a high board fence, was located near the +gymnasium, and in a few minutes all the boys were on it and ready for +business. Announcing that they would begin with a little plain +fielding practice, Eliot assigned them to their positions. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you care to go into right, Roy?" he asked, turning to Hooker as the +last one. +</P> + +<P> +"Not I," was the instant answer. "That's not my position. I'm no +outfielder. Right field, indeed!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, very well," said Roger. "Tuttle, go ahead out." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," said Chub agreeably, waddling promptly away to fill the +position assigned him. +</P> + +<P> +"Springer will bat to the outfield and Grant to the in," directed the +captain. "After we warm up a little, we'll try some regular batting +and base running, using the old system of signals." +</P> + +<P> +Hooker, who had a ball of his own, turned away, and found Fred Sage, +whose sole interest in the line of sports lay in football, and who, +therefore, had taken no part in baseball after making a decided failure +on one occasion when, the team being short, he had allowed himself to +be coaxed into a uniform. +</P> + +<P> +"There's an extra mitt on the bench, Fred," said Roy. "If you'll catch +me, I'll work a few kinks out of my arm." +</P> + +<P> +"Can't you find somebody else?" asked Sage reluctantly. "I came out to +look on." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, come ahead," urged Hooker. "Get your blood to circulating. Who +would ever think you were the quarter back of the great Oakdale eleven? +Here's the mitt, take it." +</P> + +<P> +"Come over by the fence," requested Fred. "I'll let that do most of +the backstopping." +</P> + +<P> +Over by the fence they went, and Hooker began limbering up, calling the +curves he would use before throwing them. He had them all; but, as +usual, he was wild as a hawk, and Sage would have been forced to do +some tall jumping and reaching had he attempted to catch the ball more +than half the time. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got some great benders, Roy, if you could ever put them over," +commented Fred. +</P> + +<P> +"I can put them over when I want to," was the retort. "It's only a +chump pitcher who keeps the ball over the pan all the time." +</P> + +<P> +Satisfied after a time, he decided to stop, not a little to the relief +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, what are you tut-trying to do?" spluttered the batter, as he +hobbled in a circle around the plate. +</P> + +<P> +"That one slipped," said Hooker. "I got more of a twist on it than I +intended." +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Now play the game, fellows," called Eliot, from behind the pan. +</P> + +<P> +Hooker's small eyes glittered as Rodney Grant stepped to the plate. +Like a flash he pitched, again using an in-shoot. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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!" +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +Tuttle waddled toward the pan, bat in hand. +</P> + +<P> +"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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TWO OF A KIND. +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +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 a bowstring, and the boys of Oakdale found that a sleeping +lion had suddenly awakened. Then it came to be known that Grant had +inherited a most unfortunate family failing, a terrible temper, which, +when uncontrolled, was liable to lead him into extreme acts of +violence; and it was this temper he feared, instead of the fellows he +had shunned whenever they sought to provoke him. Even now, although +baseball was a gentle game in comparison with football, he was not +absolutely sure he could always deport himself as a gentleman and a +sportsman while playing it. +</P> + +<P> +When the boys of the academy and the citizens of the town had joined in +praise of Grant's courageous efforts in the work of rescuing Lela +Barker from drowning, Hooker, who never had words of eulogy for anyone +save himself, remained silent. Not that he had not come, like others, +suddenly to regard the young Texan with respect; but for one of his +envious nature respect does not always mean liking, no throb of which +was awakened in his bosom. Indeed, he secretly disliked Rodney Grant +more than ever, and, now that Springer had taken Grant in hand to make +a pitcher of him, Roy's spleen was embittering his very soul. +</P> + +<P> +Elbows on his knees, projecting chin on his clenched fists, he sullenly +watched Rod pitch for the first time to batters. Several times he made +in his throat a faint sound like a muttered growl of satisfaction, as +he saw those batters hitting the ball to all parts of the field, and +finally he triumphantly whispered: +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't see that he's doing anything. They're pounding him all +over the lot." +</P> + +<P> +But, at the suggestion of Eliot, Rodney Grant was simply putting the +ball over, now and then using speed, of which he apparently had enough, +and occasionally mixing in a curve. Behind the pan Eliot would hold up +his big mitt first on one corner then the other, now high, now low, and +almost invariably the ball came whistling straight into the pocket of +that mitt, which caused Roger to nod his head and brought to his face a +faint touch of that rare smile seldom seen there. +</P> + +<P> +"Good control, Rod, old man," he praised. "That's one of the most +essential qualities a pitcher can have." +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" muttered the envious lad on the bleachers. "What's that amount +to, if a fellow hasn't the curves at his command?" +</P> + +<P> +Presently, with Barker stepping out to hit, Eliot called Grant, met him +ten feet in front of the plate, and they exchanged a few words in low +tones, after which Roger returned to his position and gave the regular +finger signals that he would use in a game. +</P> + +<P> +Barker slashed at a high one close across his shoulders and missed. He +let two wide ones pass, and fouled when a bender cut a corner. +</P> + +<P> +"Two strikes!" cried Sage, who was still umpiring. "Look out or he'll +strike you out, Berlin." +</P> + +<P> +With a faint smile, the batter shrugged his shoulders, and then he did +his best to meet the next pitched ball, which seemed to be the kind he +especially relished. To his surprise, he missed it widely, for the +ball took a sharp drop at the proper moment to deceive him. +</P> + +<P> +"You're out," laughed Sage. "He did get you." +</P> + +<P> +"He did for a fact," agreed Berlin. "That was a dandy drop, Grant. I +wasn't looking for it." +</P> + +<P> +Rodney put the next one straight over, and Berlin hit to Cooper at +short. +</P> + +<P> +Jack Nelson followed, and he was likewise surprised to be struck out, +Grant using his drop twice in the performance. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi there, you!" shouted Nelson. "What did you put on the old ball, +anyhow? Pitch? Well, I wouldn't be surprised if you could, some." +</P> + +<P> +"You bet he will," called Phil Springer delightedly. "I'll have him +delivering the goods before the season is half over." +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" again muttered Hooker. "You're a fool, Springer." +</P> + +<P> +Later he saw Eliot and Barker talking together not far from the bench, +and near them stood Herbert Rackliff, a city boy who had entered +Oakdale Academy at the opening of the spring term. +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff was a chap whose clothes were the envy of almost every lad in +town, being tailor-made, of the latest cut and the finest fabric. His +ties and his socks, a generous portion of the latter displayed by the +up-rolled bottoms of his trousers, were always of a vivid hue and +usually of silk. His highly-polished russet shoes were scarcely +browner than the tips of two fingers of his right hand, which outside +of school hours were constantly dallying with a cigarette. He had +rings and scarf pins, and a gold watch with a handsome seal fob. His +face was pale and a trifle hollow-cheeked, his chest flat, and 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. +</P> + +<P> +Hooker was still sitting hunched on the bleachers, when Rackliff, +having lighted a fresh cigarette, came sauntering languidly toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Roy, old sport," saluted the city youth. "You look lonesome." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not," retorted Hooker shortly. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I think I'll get out myself," said Hooker, descending from the +bleachers. +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff accompanied him to the gymnasium, where Roy hastened to strip +off his baseball togs and get into his regular clothes. +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"No use at all," said Rackliff cheerfully. "I've noticed that on all +these athletic teams there's more or less partiality shown." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, probably he knew you wouldn't accept the position, anyhow," said +Herbert. "He had to make a bluff at giving you something." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll show him he can't impose on me." +</P> + +<P> +"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——" +</P> + +<P> +"Not <I>my</I> captain," objected Roy. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody might carelessly drop a hint to him," smiled Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Roy's small, keen eyes were fixed inquiringly on his companion. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see why you take so much interest," he wondered. "You must +have a reason." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps so," he admitted. "Are you +ready? Let's get a move on before the bunch comes over." +</P> + +<P> +They left the gymnasium, and walked down the street together. Hooker +had conceived a sudden, singular interest in Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +"I always wondered how you happened to come to school here at Oakdale," +he confessed. +</P> + +<P> +"Have a cigarette," invited Herbert, extending an open, gold-mounted +morocco case. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't like 'em, thank you," declined Roy. +</P> + +<P> +The other boy lighted a fresh one from the stub of the last. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, your father sent you here?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Newbert? Who's Newbert?" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll hear from him later, I fancy. <I>He's</I> a chap who can really +pitch baseball. He's my partner in crime." +</P> + +<P> +"Your what?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't know it." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well, perhaps you might stir up something around here, if you +tried hard enough," said Hooker. "If you took an interest in +baseball——" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"You've got a grudge against Grant. You don't like him." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I begin to see," muttered Hooker, grinning a bit for the first +time. "Jealous." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I think," said Hooker, "there's a bond of sympathy between us." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LEN ROBERTS OF BARVILLE. +</H3> + +<P> +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. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello!" muttered Roy in surprise. "As I live, there's Len Roberts, of +Barville! What's he doing here?" +</P> + +<P> +"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?" +</P> + +<P> +"Howdy, Len," answered Roy. "What brought you over here, anyhow?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"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!" +</P> + +<P> +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." +</P> + +<P> +"Sent you down here, did he? Well, what did you do to lead him to +perpetrate such an outrage?" +</P> + +<P> +"Got caught having a little fun, that's all. Expelled." +</P> + +<P> +"Some fathers never can seem to understand that boys must have +amusement. How's baseball coming, Hooky?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, after the same old style," growled Hooker. "Roger Eliot is +running the whole shooting match." +</P> + +<P> +"He seems to be the high mogul in this town," chuckled Roberts. +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"Hasn't Eliot given you a square deal?" +</P> + +<P> +"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." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought likely perhaps you'd do part of the pitching this year. +Seems to me they must need you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, they'll need somebody, all right; but Springer's trying to coach +up our cattle puncher, Grant, to do part of the twirling. You don't +know Grant. He's a new man; came in last fall. He's from Texas." +</P> + +<P> +"Can he pitch?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pitch! Just about as much as an old woman." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't mind telling you that Oakdale is certainly going to need +a good man on the slab when she runs up against Barville this year. +Needn't think you'll have the same sort of a snap you had last season. +Lucky for you Lee Sanger hadn't developed when you played us. Gee! but +he did come toward the end of the season. Look how he held Wyndham +down; and he'd won that game, too, with proper support. He'll be +better this year." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope Barville beats the everlasting stuffing out of Oakdale." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really?" chuckled Roberts. "How's your friend feel about it? +Does he play?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nit," said Rackliff. "Draw poker is about the only kind of a game I +ever take a hand in." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Herbert knows they've given me a rotten deal," said Hooker +quickly. "He's got his opinion about it. Honestly and truly, we'd +both like to see Barville win." +</P> + +<P> +"If that is the case," whispered Roberts, with a secretively friendly +and confidential air, "you're just about dead sure to have your desire +gratified. We'll have the finest high school battery ever seen in +these parts. Got a new catcher, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"No. I didn't know." +</P> + +<P> +"Yep. He's a corker. Knows the game from A to Z, and he's coaching +Sanger. You should see them work together. By the way, he comes from +a town near Boston. Part of the city, isn't it—Roxbury? He knows +more baseball than any fellow in these parts." +</P> + +<P> +"What's his name?" asked Rackliff, lighting a fresh cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Copley." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" exclaimed Herbert, nearly dropping his cigarette. "Not Newt +Copley?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's him." +</P> + +<P> +"Great scott! Say, he is a catcher. He's the trickiest man who ever +went behind a bat. I know, for I've seen him play. He knows me, too. +Say, isn't it odd that I should have a chum pitching for Wyndham this +year and an acquaintance catching for Barville?" +</P> + +<P> +The face of Len Roberts wore a look of satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, we haven't seen Cop in a real game yet, but he brought his +credentials with him, and they were sufficient to satisfy everybody +that he was the real thing. Glad to meet somebody who knows about him. +With Sanger handing 'em up, and Cop doing the receiving, you can bet +Barville is going to take a fall out of Oakdale." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to bet on it," said Herbert, with a touch of eagerness; "but +I don't suppose I could find anybody down around here with sporting +blood enough to risk any real money on the game. Say, do me a favor; +tell Newt Copley that Herbert Rackliff is here in this town. He'll +remember the fellow they called 'the plunger,' and 'the dead-game +sport.' Even if I don't play baseball, I've sometimes made a few easy +dollars betting on the games." +</P> + +<P> +"And you'd bet against Oakdale?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure thing, if I felt certain she would lose." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid," grinned Roberts, "that neither you nor Hooker is very +loyal to his school." +</P> + +<P> +"Loyal!" snarled Roy. "Why should we be?" +</P> + +<P> +"When it comes to wagering money," observed Rackliff wisely, "the +fellow who bets on sympathy or loyalty is a chump. I always back my +judgment and try to use some common sense about it. I hope you don't +think for a fleeting moment that I contemplate finishing my preparatory +school education in this stagnant hole. Not for little Herbert. I'd +get paresis here in less than a year. I'm pretty sure the governor +simply chucked me down here for a term, as sort of a warning. I'll go +back for good when the term's over." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now if you fellows really want to see Oakdale surprised, and +enjoy the pleasure of witnessing Barville hand 'em a good trimming, +perhaps you won't say anything about our new catcher." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word," promised Hooker. +</P> + +<P> +"Not a whisper," assured Rackliff. "And perhaps I'll catch a sucker or +two if I fish around for them. Really, the prospect is inviting, for +it seems to promise a break in the deadly monotony." +</P> + +<P> +"Here come some of the fellows now," said Hooker, as two or three boys +were seen coming down Lake Street. "Practice is over. Let's sift +along, Rack. I don't care to see them. So long, Len. Good luck to +you." +</P> + +<P> +"So long, fellows," said the boy from Barville, as they turned up Main +Street. "You'll have a chance to be happy Saturday. Bet all you can +on it, Rackliff, old fel." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOOKER'S MOTORCYCLE. +</H3> + +<P> +Thus began the friendship between Roy Hooker and Herbert Rackliff. +Henceforth they were seen together a great deal. They came out to +watch the nine practice, but Hooker no longer wore his baseball suit, +and he sat on the bleachers with Herbert, the two talking together in +guarded tones. No one paid much attention to them, for most of the +boys held very decided opinions, which were far from favorable, of a +chap who would show the disposition Hooker had so plainly betrayed; and +Rackliff had never revealed an inclination to seek popularity among his +schoolmates. +</P> + +<P> +Roy was the owner of a second-hand motorcycle, which his father had +given him at Christmas time, a present that had filled him with keen +delight and intense satisfaction, in the knowledge that it would cause +him to be envied by less fortunate lads. It was necessary, however, to +tinker a great deal over the machine to keep it in running order, and +the joshing flung at him by the Oakdale lads whenever he had a +breakdown had been anything but balm to his irritable nature. +</P> + +<P> +"Confound the thing!" he cried, after fussing with it a long time one +night, while Rackliff, his creased trousers carefully pulled up to +prevent bagging at the knees, sat on a box near by, in the open door of +the carriage house, smoking cigarettes. "I don't believe it's any +good. The old man got soaked." +</P> + +<P> +"It seems harder work to keep the thing going than to pump an ordinary +bike," said Herbert, "and that's too strenuous for me—though I learned +to ride one once." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, regular bicycles are back numbers now. I could have a ripping lot +of fun if I could make this machine go. Never saw anything so +contrary. Sometimes it starts off and behaves fine for a little while, +and I think it's all right. Just when I get to thinking that, it kicks +up and leaves me a mile or two away from home, and I have to push or +pedal it back. That's what makes me sore. If I try to sneak in by +some back way somebody is sure to see me and give me the ha-ha." +</P> + +<P> +"Like automobiles," observed Herbert, after letting a little smoke +drift through his nose, "they're all right when they go, and a perfect +nuisance when they don't. Now look at yourself, Roy, old fellow. Your +hands are covered with grease, and you've got a black streak across +your nose, and you're all fretted up." +</P> + +<P> +"Drat the old thing!" snarled Hooker, giving the rear tire a kick. +"It's just simply contrary, that's all. There's only one person in +town who knows anything about gas engines, and he's Urian Eliot's +chauffeur. I suppose I could get him to tinker this contraption up if +I only was chummy with Roger." +</P> + +<P> +"Anyway," said Herbert, "I should think it would shake one up fearfully +riding over these rough country roads. We have some roads around +Boston." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, a fellow can pick his way along pretty well after our roads get +settled. Of course, they're no macadamized boulevards. It's lots of +sport, and one can get around almost anywhere he wants to go. As long +as I'm not going to be on the baseball team, I might use it to run over +to Barville or Wyndham or Clearport to see the games." +</P> + +<P> +"So you're going to chase the games up, are you?" laughed Rackliff. "I +thought perhaps you'd be so sore you'd keep away from them." +</P> + +<P> +"What, and lose the chance of seeing Oakdale beaten? Why, I wouldn't +miss that first game with Barville for anything." +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't have to go out of this town to see that game. Give it +to me straight, Roy, is that fellow Sanger really much of a pitcher? +Of course, I know Roberts would blow about him, but what do you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"He was green the first of last season, and with a poor catcher to hold +him he didn't show up very strong; but it's a fact that Wyndham, the +fastest team in these parts, only got three clean hits off him the last +game he pitched." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he'll have a catcher that can hold him this year," declared the +city lad. "Newt Copley is a bird. He can throw to bases, too; it's +rank suicide for runners to try to steal on him. Then you should see +him work a batter. Gets right under the man's club and talks to him in +a low tone, telling him how rotten he is and all that, until he has the +fellow swinging like a gate at every old thing that comes over. And +the way he can touch a bat with his mitt and deflect it on the third +strike without being detected by the umpire is wonderful. He's great +for kicking up a rumpus in a game; but he enjoys it, for he'd rather +fight than eat." +</P> + +<P> +"He hadn't better try anything like that on Rod Grant." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know," murmured Rackliff. "Copley's a scrapper, and he +can handle his dukes. He has science, and it's my opinion he'd eat +your cowboy alive." +</P> + +<P> +Hooker shook his head. "You never saw Grant when his blood was up. I +have, and he's a perfect fury. They say his old man was a great +fighter, and that he's been all shot and cut to pieces. <I>I</I> wouldn't +buck up against the Texan for anything." +</P> + +<P> +With which confession Hooker resumed his tinkering on the motorcycle. +After a while, with the switch on, he bestrode the thing and started to +pump it down the slight in-line toward the street. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly, to Roy's delight, the motor began to fire, and, with a shout +of satisfaction, he turned up the street and disappeared from view. +</P> + +<P> +In something like five minutes Rackliff, smoking his tenth cigarette +since seating himself on the box, heard the repeated explosions of the +motorcycle, and Roy, his face beaming with satisfaction, reappeared, +came triumphantly up the rise and leaped off. +</P> + +<P> +"She goes like a bird," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"What did you do to it?" asked Herbert. +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I knew. I just tinkered with the wires a bit. That was the +last thing I did, but I'd been at everything else I could think of, so +I don't know what it was that sent her off. If she'll only keep going, +I don't care, either. Never knew the thing to run better. Say, +Herbert, it's fine. Don't you want to try it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't believe I do. I'd break my neck." +</P> + +<P> +"Paugh! 'Tain't no trick at all. I can show you how to start her and +stop her, and, if you can ride an ordinary bicycle, you'll find it a +cinch to ride this. Come on. Afraid?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," said Rackliff, rising and snapping aside the butt of his +cigarette, "but I should hate to get very far away and have it stop on +me." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to go very far; just try her through Middle Street, up +Main, back along High, and down Willow, and here you are." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert looked dubious, but finally, after his companion had chaffed +him a while, he agreed to make the venture. Roy gave full and complete +directions about the manipulation of the motorcycle, and Rackliff, a +trifle pale, finally mounted it and started down the incline. +</P> + +<P> +"Turn the handles from you," shouted Roy. "Give her a little gas. +There she goes. Now you're off." +</P> + +<P> +"Now I'm on," muttered Herbert, as the engine began popping away +beneath him; "but I may be off directly." +</P> + +<P> +Turning into the street, he barely escaped the gutter at the far side, +and away he went, watched by Hooker, who had run out to the sidewalk. +Remembering instructions, and following them faithfully, Rackliff +speeded up the engine or slowed it down, as he desired, and soon his +confidence rose. One of the street crossings gave him a bump that +nearly threw him off, but he was prepared for the next, and took it +easily. In a brief time he had covered the course laid out for him by +his friend, and found himself back at Hooker's home, where he promptly +shut off the gas, switched the spark, and, a little flushed, swung +himself to the ground ere the machine fully stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"Say, it is rather nifty," he beamed. "It's got ordinary hiking beaten +to death. Don't know but I'd like to have one of the things myself. +Never supposed I could ride one, but it isn't such a trick, after all." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, it isn't," agreed Hooker, "and I suppose after I get onto +the knack of it I won't have any trouble keeping her running." +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't mind, I think I'll practice on it a little now and then. +Perhaps I might induce the governor to give me one, by way of atonement +for his heartless treatment in sending me down here to school." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes, you can practice up on mine," consented Roy slowly, a sudden +troubled look coming to his face; "but I suppose if you got one it +would be new and up to date, and make me feel ashamed of mine." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, come off," smiled Herbert soothingly. "If I had one we could pike +around to the baseball games together, and we might be able to pick up +a little easy money by betting on them—if we ever found anybody who +had the nerve to bet with us. I kept myself supplied with pocket money +in that fashion last year. Occasionally made a little something +playing poker, but the games were always so small a fellow couldn't do +much at them." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't you ever lose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, not very often. I didn't bet to lose." +</P> + +<P> +"I know, but how could you be sure of winning?" +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff winked languidly and wisely. "As I told that chap from +Barville, the fellow who bets on sympathy or loyalty is a chump. I +always investigate matters pretty thoroughly, and then pick the side I +believe has every prospect of winning. Sometimes it's possible to help +one team or another along on the quiet. I'd like to know what Newt +Copley thinks of the Barville nine. I'd depend on his judgment. I've +got a tenner I'd like to set to work to double itself." +</P> + +<P> +"You always have plenty of money," said Roy enviously. "I never had +ten whole dollars at one time in my life." +</P> + +<P> +"My poor, poverty-stricken comrade!" murmured Herbert, preparing to +light a fresh cigarette. "I sympathize with you. Follow my lead, and +you'll wear diamonds." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A DEAD SURE THING. +</H3> + +<P> +Thereafter Rackliff took great interest in Hooker's motorcycle—more +interest than the languid, indifferent fellow had seemed to show over +anything else except his cigarettes. Even one rather severe fall from +the machine, which sadly soiled his elegant and immaculate clothes, did +not deter him from continuing to practice upon it whenever it was not +being used by its owner and he could find the opportunity. To the +satisfaction of both lads, the machine behaved very well indeed, and +Roy decided that, without knowing how he did it, he had fortunately +succeeded in curing its "balkiness." +</P> + +<P> +It was Roy, taking an early morning spin on the machine, who saw Phil +Springer wearing the big catching mitt and coaching Rodney Grant to +pitch in Springer's dooryard. +</P> + +<P> +"You poor lobster!" muttered Hooker contemptuously, as he chugged past. +"If Grant really should pan out to be the better man, you'd feel like +kicking yourself. I'd like to tell you what I think of you." +</P> + +<P> +That night after supper, as usual, Rackliff strolled over to Hooker's +home, but he strolled with steps somewhat quickened by the prospect of +taking a turn on his friend's motorcycle. +</P> + +<P> +At first Roy was not to be found, and his mother said she did not know +where he had gone. The motorcycle was standing in the carriage house, +causing Rackliff to wonder a little. +</P> + +<P> +"Queer," muttered Herbert, rubbing his chin with his cigarette-stained +fingers. "When the old lady said he wasn't around I thought sure he +must be off with this machine." +</P> + +<P> +To his ears came the sound of a dull thump, repeated at quite regular +intervals. At first he thought it must be the horse stamping in the +near-by stable, but the regular repetition of that thumping sound +convinced him that such could not be the case and led him to +investigate. Within the stable he was surprised to hear the sound +coming like a blow upon the back of the building, round which he +finally sauntered. +</P> + +<P> +There was Hooker, coat and cap off, sleeves rolled up, face flushed a +little, throwing a baseball at the rear wall of the building, +recovering it when it rebounded, taking his place at a fixed distance, +and throwing again. +</P> + +<P> +Unperceived, so intent was Hooker, Herbert stood and watched for +several minutes. Finally he spoke up interrogatingly: +</P> + +<P> +"What are you trying to do, anyhow, old man? What in the name of +mystery do you mean by sneaking out here and trying to wallop your arm +off all by your lonesome?" +</P> + +<P> +At the sound of the city boy's voice Roy had given a start and turned, +ball in hand. He frowned a bit, then followed it with a rather +shame-faced grin, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with +the back of his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Just amusing myself a little," he answered. +</P> + +<P> +"Queer sort of amusement. Might satisfy a kid who couldn't find +anything else to do. I thought likely you'd be using your motorcycle; +and, everything considered, I didn't suppose you'd care a rap about +fingering a baseball." +</P> + +<P> +"If you could catch me," returned Roy, "I'd have you put on my glove +and see if I couldn't get 'em over a piece of plank the size of the +home plate; but you can't catch, and so I'm trying to see how often I +can hit that white shingle yonder. I actually hit it twice in +succession a few minutes ago." +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunted Herbert. "What's the good of that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm trying to get control, you know. They say that's what I lack. +Even Eliot has acknowledged that I might pitch some if I wasn't so +wild." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert burst into soft, half-mocking laughter. "'Hope springs eternal +in the human breast'," he quoted. "Nevertheless, good, plain, common +sense should teach you that you're wasting your time. You're not +wanted as a pitcher, and so you won't get a chance to do any twirling." +</P> + +<P> +"You never can tell what may happen," returned Roy. "I never thought +Springer was so much, and I haven't any great confidence in Grant. +What if they should both get theirs? Eliot might be forced to give me +a show, and if that happens I'll deliver the goods——" +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff snapped his yellow fingers. "You've got the baseball bug +bad," he said. "It's a disease. I suppose it has to have its run with +the fellows who become infected. All right, waste your time; but while +you're doing it, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a spin on your +motorcycle. There is some fun in that, I own up." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, don't be gone long," said Roy. "I guess I'll get enough of this +in ten or fifteen minutes more, and I want to ride some myself +to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Trundling out the machine, Rackliff heard the ball thudding again +against the back of the stable. +</P> + +<P> +Friday afternoon Herbert did not appear at school. Hooker looked for +him in vain and wondered why he had remained away. Alone he watched +the boys practice a while when school was over, Grant doing his full +share of pitching to the batters. Despite prejudice and envy, Roy +could see that Springer's pupil was gaining confidence and beginning to +carry himself with the air of a real pitcher. +</P> + +<P> +"But he hasn't had any experience," muttered the jealous and +unfortunate lad. "Wait till he gets into a game and they begin to bump +him. That temper of his will make him lose his head." Which was +evidence enough that Roy little understood Rodney Grant, who invariably +became all the more resolute and determined by opposition, and stood in +no danger of giving way to his fiery temper, except when met by buffets +of physical force in the form of personal violence. +</P> + +<P> +Reaching home, Hooker went out behind the stable and plugged away at +the white shingle until supper time, fancying he was gaining some skill +in accuracy, although it seemed almost impossible to score a hit or +come near it when he used a curve. +</P> + +<P> +Supper over, he looked for Rackliff to appear. "He'll be around pretty +soon, so I'll just take a short ride and come back." +</P> + +<P> +In the carriage house he stopped, his undershot jaw drooping; for the +motorcycle was missing from the stand on which it was always kept, when +not in use. "What the dickens——" he cried, and stopped short. +</P> + +<P> +After looking all around to make sure the machine was not there, he +rushed into the house and questioned his mother. +</P> + +<P> +"It <I>must</I> be there, Roy," she said. "I'm sure nobody has touched it. +I would have heard them." +</P> + +<P> +"But it isn't there," he shouted. "Somebody has stolen it." Then he +caught his breath, struck by a sudden thought. "Has Herbert Rackliff +been around here to-day?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't seen him, but I hope you don't think your friend would take +your motorcycle without——" +</P> + +<P> +He did not wait to hear any more. Rushing out of the house, he had +reached the sidewalk when, to his unspeakable relief, round the corner +from Willow Street came Rackliff, somewhat dust-covered and perspiring, +trundling the motorcycle. Hooker glared at him. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by taking my machine without asking?" he rasped. +"Where have you been with it?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear old pal," said Herbert soothingly, "do give me time to get my +breath, and then I'll seek to conciliate you with a full explanation. +I've had to push this confounded thing for at least five miles, and I'm +pretty near pegged out. It stopped on me on my way home." +</P> + +<P> +"Five miles?" snapped Roy, taking the machine from the limp and weary +city boy. "Where in blazes have you been with it?" +</P> + +<P> +But not until he had seated himself to rest in the carriage house, and +lighted a cigarette, did Rackliff offer any further explanation. +Finally, with a little cough and a tired sigh, he smiled on the still +frowning and outraged owner of the machine. +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't see me around school this afternoon, did you?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I wondered where you were." +</P> + +<P> +"I was out laying my pipes." +</P> + +<P> +"Doing what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Making sure that you and I could form a little pool and seek a few +wagers on the game to-morrow, with the dead certainty of winning. I've +been over to Barville to see Newt Copley." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" muttered Hooker. "And you put my machine on the blink!" +</P> + +<P> +"It simply quit on me, that's all. I didn't do a thing to it—on my +word, I didn't. There's nothing broken, old man. I'm certain you'll +be able to tinker it up again all right. You can bet your life I'd +never made that trip if I'd dreamed it would be necessary for me to +push the old thing so far. Still, I'm mighty glad I went. Say, Roy, +Copley is dead sure Barville will have more than an even show with +Oakdale to-morrow, and you know what I think of his judgment. Now, if +you've got any money, or can raise any, just bet it on Barville and +make a killing." +</P> + +<P> +"But I wouldn't want to be seen betting against my own school team." +</P> + +<P> +"Ho! ho!" laughed Herbert derisively. "Then let me have your cash, and +I'll place it for you. I haven't any scruples." +</P> + +<P> +"But you may be mistaken. Even Copley may be, for he hasn't seen +Oakdale play." +</P> + +<P> +"He says Sanger is a wiz. Look here, Roy, do you know Eliot's finger +signals to the pitcher?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Uses the old finger system, doesn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"One finger held straight, a straight ball. Two fingers close +together, an outcurve; spread apart, one on the inside corner. One +finger crooked like a fish-hook, a drop." +</P> + +<P> +"You've got 'em correct, but what's that got to do with——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I just wanted to know," chuckled Rackliff. "Get your loose change +together and let me handle it. If I don't double it for you to-morrow +I'll agree to stand any loss you may sustain. You won't be even taking +a chance. What do you say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if you're as confident as that," answered Roy, "I'm certainly +going to raise a little money somehow to bet on that game." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RACKLIFF FISHES FOR SUCKERS. +</H3> + +<P> +Saturday came, warm and balmy with springtime odors. Roy Hooker, +standing at the street corner near his home, seemed to be listening to +a robin calling joyously from the topmost branches of the elm that rose +above his head; but, truth to tell, the boy's ears were deaf to the +notes of the bird, and his eyes were being turned alternately along +Middle Street or down Willow. He was waiting for some one, and +presently that person appeared, leisurely approaching, with now and +then a thin wisp of smoke drifting over his shoulder. It was Rackliff, +dressed with his usual care, but looking, if possible, a little paler +and more languid than ever. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought it was about time for you to show up," said Roy a trifle +fretfully. "You said you'd be around by nine; it's twenty minutes +after by the clock in the Methodist steeple." +</P> + +<P> +"It is said," returned Herbert, "that the early bird catches the worm; +and, as we're all worms of the earth, I don't believe in taking any +chances with the bird. Didn't sleep very well last night. Fancy that +jaunt to Barville was too much for me; though, to tell the truth, I'm a +rotten poor sleeper anyhow. I wake up at the slightest noise in the +night, and, having some nerves of my own, usually get a case of heart +palpitation, which is deucedly unpleasant. Then perhaps I won't go to +sleep again for two hours or more. I envy any fellow who snoozes like +a log." He concluded with a short, hollow laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"The trouble with you is," said Roy, "that you smoke too much." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell it to Johnson," scoffed Herbert. "I've always been that way; +smoking doesn't have anything to do with it. Besides, if it did I +couldn't leave off. I've got the habit for fair." +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't like to say that; I'd hate to own up to it." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's nothing. Cigarettes never killed any one yet, old women and +moralizers to the contrary, notwithstanding. Well, chum, how are you +fixed? Did you make a raise so that you can bet a little cold cash on +the great contest to-day? You said you thought you'd have some money +this——" +</P> + +<P> +"'Sh!" hissed Roy, glancing around apprehensively toward the house. +"Don't talk about that here." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh? Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't want my folks to find out anything about it," whispered +Hooker. "Come on, let's walk up the street." +</P> + +<P> +At the corner above they turned into High Street, coming finally to the +white Methodist church. +</P> + +<P> +"Let's stroll around behind the church, where no one will see us," +proposed Hooker. +</P> + +<P> +"Like a pair of plotters on foul intentions bent," laughed Herbert. +"To watch you manoeuvre, one might get the fancy that you were involved +in some desperate and terrible piece of work." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, look here, Herb," said Roy, facing his companion behind the +church, "you're situated differently from me, and you can't seem to +understand my position. You don't belong in Oakdale, and you don't +care a rap what the fellows around here think of you or say about you." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a rap," nodded Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just it. Now this is my home, and I've got to be careful about +some things. I don't want to get everybody down on me." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't observed," said Rackliff unfeelingly, "that you're +particularly popular with the fellows of this benighted burg." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll make myself a blame sight more unpopular if they ever get onto it +that I bet against my own school team. You can do it, for you say you +don't expect to stay here more than one term, anyhow. Then if my folks +should know, they'd raise the merry dickens." +</P> + +<P> +"And that would break the monotony of a severely humdrum existence. +I've had more than one stormy session with the head of my family. How +much money did you scrape together?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't counted it yet," answered Roy, thrusting his hand into his +pocket and looking around, as if apprehensive that they were being +watched. "I say, Herb, are you really dead sure that Barville will win +this afternoon?" +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff sighed. "As sure as one can be of anything in this old world. +Hook, you've got cold feet." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I wouldn't want to lose this money. I can't afford to lose it. +I can't lose it." +</P> + +<P> +"You won't, old chap—you won't. I'm getting you in on this out of +pure friendliness, nothing else; and you must remember what I agreed to +do yesterday—if you lose, I'll stand for the loss." +</P> + +<P> +"That's generous; that's all right. Perhaps you can't get any bets, +anyhow. The fellows around here aren't given to betting real money on +baseball." Roy produced a closely folded little wad of bills and some +loose change. "Here's all I have," he went on. "I'm going to let you +take it and bet it on Barville, if you can." There was a two dollar +bill, two ones, and eighty-five cents in change. +</P> + +<P> +"Fifteen cents more would make an even five," said Herbert. "Can't you +dig that much up?" +</P> + +<P> +"This is all I have," repeated Hooker, "every last red cent. I'll have +to pay admission to the game, too, as long as I'm not on the nine. I +must keep a quarter for that." +</P> + +<P> +"And that leaves it forty cents shy of a fiver. Well, if necessary, +I'll make that up. I'm going to risk ten of my own money." +</P> + +<P> +"Risk it?" muttered Hooker, again troubled by qualms. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you know what I mean. There's no risk; that's simply a sporting +term. A fellow with sporting blood likes to pretend he's taking a +chance, whether he is or not. Where did you get——" He stopped +short, suddenly fancying it best not to inquire into the source of his +companion's money, and in the momentary silence that followed a slow +flush mounted to Roy's temples. +</P> + +<P> +"The team practices a little at ten o'clock," said Rackliff, glancing +at his handsome watch. "It's getting near that time. Come on over to +the field and watch me throw out a bait for suckers." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I will," said Hooker. "I believe I'd better keep away, +and there won't be any talk made." +</P> + +<P> +"Suit yourself," coughed Herbert, lighting another cigarette. "I've +got to get busy if I'm going to hook anything." +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later Rackliff strolled onto the field and took up a +position near one of the players' benches, where he watched the Oakdale +nine at practice. At times he smiled with a supercilious air of +amusement, and especially was this noticeable when Eliot complimented +the players or some one made some sort of a fumble or fluke. +</P> + +<P> +Practice was brought to a close with each member of the team taking a +turn at the bat, base running being cut out, however. Grant did the +pitching, for Springer was "saving his arm." +</P> + +<P> +Chipper Cooper hit the ball handsomely three times in succession, and +relinquished the bat with a whoop of satisfaction. +</P> + +<P> +"Got my eye with me to-day," he cried. "We've all got 'em peeled; +everybody has. Sanger'll have his troubles. We'll win like a breeze, +fellows." +</P> + +<P> +"How very confident you are," said Rackliff, moving slowly forward. +"You all seem to think this game is going to be a cinch for Oakdale, +but I've got an idea that you'll sing a different tune to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you have!" cried Chipper, turning on him. "Listen to Solomon, the +wise man, fellers." +</P> + +<P> +"I have a fancy that Barville is going to win," stated Herbert, not a +whit abashed. "In fact, I believe it so much that I'm willing to make +a little bet on it." +</P> + +<P> +"Bet you a pint of peanuts," gurgled Chub Tuttle. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ruin yourself by such recklessness. I've got some real money." +</P> + +<P> +"Dinged if he ain't a sport!" sneered Site Crane. "He wants to bet +real money on the game." +</P> + +<P> +"How does it happen you have the impression that Barville will beat us, +Rackliff?" inquired Roger Eliot mildly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, now, I don't mind answering that," beamed Herbert. "Barville +has got a surprise for you. I'm not supposed to mention it, but I +can't keep it any longer. They've got a new catcher, a friend of mine, +and——" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you think he can play the whole game," scoffed Phil +Springer. "A friend of yours, eh? Well, if he knows as much about +baseball as you do, he'll be of great assistance to Barville!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm backing my knowledge with cash, if I can find anybody who has sand +enough to bet with me," said Herbert. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet you a dollar," shouted Phil. +</P> + +<P> +"Only a dollar? Dear me! Can't you do any better than that? I've got +fifteen long green chromos that I'd like to wager on Barville." +</P> + +<P> +For a few moments this seemed to stagger the group that had gathered +about him. Fifteen dollars was a lot of money, and it seemed doubtful +if any other individual in the crowd, with the possible exception of +Eliot, could raise as much—and Eliot would not bet. +</P> + +<P> +"Wish I had fifteen dollars," muttered Crane. "I'd go him. It would +be jest like findin' money." +</P> + +<P> +Two or three of the boys drew aside and whispered together. Springer +was one of these, and in a moment he called some others from the +gathering near Herbert. There was more whispering and not a little +nodding of heads, and then of a sudden Phil turned and walked back +toward the city youth. +</P> + +<P> +"Rackliff," he said, "if you really mean business, if you've got +fifteen dollars you want to bet on Barville, meet me at the post office +at noon, and I'll have the money to go you." +</P> + +<P> +"Excellent," murmured Herbert, breathing forth a little thin blue +smoke. "I'll be there with my money. Don't forget the appointment, +Springer." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +READY FOR THE GAME. +</H3> + +<P> +Never before had the Barville baseball team brought such a crowd of +supporters into Oakdale. They came, boys and girls, wearing their +school colors, bearing banners, and bringing tin horns and cowbells. +The manner in which they swept into Oakdale and hurried, eager and +laughing, toward the athletic field, plainly betokened their high +confidence in the outcome of the contest. Even a few older persons +came over from Barville on one pretext or another, and found it +convenient to spend a portion of the afternoon watching the baseball +game. +</P> + +<P> +"Jinks!" chuckled Chipper Cooper, as he watched the visitors pour in +and fill up the generous section of bleachers reserved for them. "They +certainly act as if they thought they were going to have a snap to-day. +Barville must be depopulated. Never fancied so many people lived over +there." +</P> + +<P> +"Beyond question," said Roger Eliot quietly, "they believe their team +has at least an even chance for the game; otherwise, not half so many +would have made the journey to watch it." +</P> + +<P> +"It must be on account of their new ketcher," muttered Sile Crane. "I +cal'late they think he's the whole cheese; but mebbe they'll find aout +he ain't only a small slice of the rind. What's he look like, anyhaow?" +</P> + +<P> +"There he is," said Roger, as the visiting team came trotting onto the +field, led by Lee Sanger, its pitcher and captain, "that stocky, +red-headed chap. See him?" +</P> + +<P> +"My!" grinned Cooper. "He's a bird. Looks like he could eat hardware +without getting indigestion." +</P> + +<P> +The Barville crowd gave their players a rousing cheer, although they +did not yet venture to blow the horns or jangle the cowbells. Those +noise-producing implements were held in reserve, with apparent perfect +assurance that an especially effective occasion for their use must +arise during the game. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Eliot shook hands cordially with Sanger, and suggested that he +should at once take the field for practice. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello, Roger!" called Bob Larkins, the Barville first baseman. "Great +day for the game. We're going to make you fellows go some. You won't +have the same sort of a cinch you had last year." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope not," answered Eliot pleasantly. "There's a big crowd out +to-day, and I'd like to see you fellows make the game interesting." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, don't you worry, it will be interesting enough," prophesied +Larkins, getting his mitt and turning to jog down toward first. +</P> + +<P> +At Eliot's elbow Phil Springer remarked, with a short laugh, in which +there seemed to be a trace of nervousness: "They certainly have got +their pucker up. They're boiling over with confidence." +</P> + +<P> +"And it's a mistake to boil over with anything—confidence, doubt or +fear," said Roger. "When the kettle boils aver, the soup gets +scorched. Come, Phil, shake the kinks out of your arm with me, while +they're taking their turn on the field." +</P> + +<P> +His calm, unruffled manner seemed instantly to dissipate the +nervousness which Phil had felt a touch of. +</P> + +<P> +The practice of the visiting team was closely watched by nearly all the +spectators, and it became apparent that the Barville boys had profited +by the coaching of some one who had found it possible to train them +with good effect. They were swift, sure and snappy in their work, +displaying little of the hesitation and uncertainty usually revealed by +an ordinary country school team, even in practice. Copley, the stocky, +red-headed catcher from Roxbury, received the balls when they were +returned from the infield and the out, catching the most of them +one-handedly with the big mitt, although he seemed to do this without +flourish or any attempt at grand-standing. Now and then he grinned and +nodded over some especially fine catch in the outfield or clever stop +of a grounder or liner by an infielder; nevertheless, he let Sanger, +who was batting, do all the talking to the players. +</P> + +<P> +Roy Hooker, wearing the crimson colors of his school, sat on the +bleachers at the edge of the group of Oakdale Academy students, +endeavoring to mask his feelings behind a pretext of loyal interest in +the home nine; but, nevertheless, in spite of his inwardly reiterated +assertion that he had been used "rotten," he was annoyed by a +constantly recurring sense of treachery to his own team. The skill +displayed in practice by the visitors in a measure set at rest the +doubts he had continued to entertain concerning Rackliff's wisdom in +backing Barville. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll win some money to-day, all right," he thought; "but, really, I'd +rather be wearing an Oakdale suit, even if we lose." +</P> + +<P> +As the Barville nine came in from the field and Oakdale went out, Roy +saw Herbert Rackliff saunter forth and speak to Newt Copley, who shook +hands with him. Then Herbert drew Copley aside and began talking to +him in very low tones, and with unusual animation. Still watching, +Hooker beheld Copley nodding his head, and even at that distance Roy +could see that he was grinning. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, old Rack!" Chipper Cooper shouted from the field. "Brace him +up—that's right. Tell him he's got to win or you're financially +ruined." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert pretended that he did not hear, and, after a final word with +Copley, slowly sauntered back into the crowd. He was not wearing the +Oakdale colors. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad nobody knows that part of the money he put up was furnished +by me," thought Hooker. "He's got an awful crust. I couldn't do a +thing like that, and be so cheeky and unconcerned. Gee! but he'll get +the fellows down on him." +</P> + +<P> +And now, as the time for the game to begin was at hand, the umpire, +supplied with two new balls in their boxes, called the captains of both +teams and consulted with them for a moment or two. Directly Eliot +sought the body protector and mask, and Bert Dingley, standing at the +end of the bench on which the visitors had seated themselves, began +swinging two bats. There was a rustling stir among the spectators as +they settled themselves down to watch the opening of the contest. The +Oakdale players took their positions on the field, Rodney Grant going +into right, while Chub Tuttle remained on the bench as spare man. Phil +Springer had peeled off his sweater and was pulling on his light +left-hand glove as he walked toward the pitcher's position. +</P> + +<P> +"Ladies and gentlemen," called the youthful umpire, facing the crowd, +"this is the opening game of the high school league, Barville against +Oakdale. Battery for Oakdale, Springer and Eliot. Play ball!" +</P> + +<P> +With that command, he tossed a clean, new baseball to Phil, who caught +it with his gloved hand, glanced at it perfunctorily, gave it an +unnecessary wipe against his hip, made sure his teammates were ready, +and placed his left foot on the slab. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FIRST INNING. +</H3> + +<P> +A white streak went shooting through the air; something whizzed high +and close past Dingley, who dodged a bit. +</P> + +<P> +"Ball one!" called the umpire. +</P> + +<P> +"Spare him, Phil—don't hit him!" cried Chipper Cooper, moving about +nervously. +</P> + +<P> +"There's speed!" came from Sile Crane. "He can't see that kind." +</P> + +<P> +"Get 'em over—please get 'em over, if you can!" entreated Bob Larkins, +who had taken a position on the coaching line, near first base. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, Phil," said Roger Eliot quietly and reassuringly, returning +the ball. "You've got powder behind them." +</P> + +<P> +Springer's nervousness had returned with redoubled force. He seemed to +feel something quivering somewhere within himself, and, having +forgotten to get a chew of gum, he suddenly realized that his mouth was +dry as a chip. When Roger called for an out, he bent the ball so wide +of the plate that Eliot scarcely succeeded in stopping it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh—dear—me!" whooped Larkins. "He can't find the pan. Take a +ramble, Ding; wait and he'll walk you." +</P> + +<P> +To Springer's relief, Eliot did not seem disturbed. Roger signalled +next for a straight one, and held up his mitt behind the inside corner +of the plate. Doing his best to be steady, Phil responded by sending +one over that corner; and Dingley, waiting, heard the umpire call a +strike. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, he'll walk him—not," laughed Cooper. "Let him wait. He'll +have a chance to ramble to the bench in a minute." +</P> + +<P> +Phil saw Eliot smile a bit through the meshes of the catching mask, and +then, nodding at the signal for a drop, he started the ball high, but +gave it the proper twist to bring it shooting down across the batter's +shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +"Two strikes!" declared the umpire, at which Dingley shook his head +protestingly. +</P> + +<P> +"My eye! He is a good waiter," yelled Cooper gayly. "He's worked in a +restaurant some time. You've got him now, Phil." +</P> + +<P> +Trying to "pull" Dingley, Phil again used a curve that was too wide, +and the third ball was called. +</P> + +<P> +The batter gripped his club and stood ready, determination in his +manner. The infielders crouched on their toes, and the outfielders +were prepared to run in any direction. Springer leaned forward to get +the signal, then swung into an elaborate delivery which he had +practiced. Another drop was tried, but this time Dingley hit it. Up +into the air popped the ball, and Cooper, yelling "I'll take it!" raced +over behind second, to smother it surely when it came down. +</P> + +<P> +Something like a sigh of relief escaped Springer's lips when he saw the +ball held by the lively little shortstop, and in a measure his +confidence was restored.. +</P> + +<P> +"They can't hit that kind out of the infield, Spring, old dandy," +laughed Cooper. "You've got an elegant collection up your sleeve +to-day." +</P> + +<P> +The home crowd cheered, and Barville sent out Pratt, the second batter. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the next victim," cried Jack Nelson, from his position near +second. "He'll be easy, too." +</P> + +<P> +Pratt was clever at sacrificing, but without a runner ahead of him it +was up to him to try for a hit, and he fouled the first two balls. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, you've got him sure, Phil," said Cooper. "He's a regular +hen-roost robber; he loves fouls. Don't let him get away, for if he +does he'll crow." +</P> + +<P> +As two strikes and no balls had been called, Pratt apparently expected +Springer to waste the next one, and in that he made his mistake; for +Phil, growing steadier, put over a sizzler on the inside corner. +</P> + +<P> +"You're out!" shouted the umpire, and Pratt turned sadly and +disgustedly toward the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder what that Barville bunch is going to do with those horns and +cowbells," cried Cooper, as the Oakdale cheer died away. +</P> + +<P> +Whiting, the next batter, poked a hot one directly at Chipper, who +plunged forward to get it on the first bound and made a miserable +fumble. Chasing the ball, the little fellow snapped it up and threw +wild to Crane. +</P> + +<P> +Whiting improved his chance to take second, where he laughingly came to +anchor, chaffing Cooper, who was making some very uncomplimentary +remarks about himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Here we go! Here we go!" roared Larkins. "Now we score. On your +toes, Whiting! Here's the boy to drive you home." +</P> + +<P> +Springer shivered suddenly as he saw the stocky, red-headed catcher of +the visiting team step into the batter's box. Something told Phil that +Copley would hit the ball, and in keen apprehension he pitched the +first two so wide of the plate that Eliot was forced to stretch himself +to get them. Copley hunched his shoulders and grinned tauntingly at +the nervous fellow on the slab. +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, put one over," he urged. "Lost your nerve? Going to walk me? +You don't dare——" +</P> + +<P> +Apparently, he had relaxed and was holding his bat carelessly, so Phil +tried to push over a swift, straight one. With a smash Copley landed +on the horsehide, driving it toward right field. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" gasped the spectators. +</P> + +<P> +"Go!" yelled Larkins. "Score on it, Whiting! It's a two-bagger!" +</P> + +<P> +Out there in right garden Rodney Grant was sprinting after that ball +almost as it left Copley's bat. There seemed scarcely a chance for +Grant to reach the whistling sphere, but he covered ground with amazing +speed and leaped into the air, thrusting out his bare right hand. The +ball smacked into that unprotected hand and stuck there, as Grant +dropped back to the turf. +</P> + +<P> +A few too eager enthusiasts on the Barville bleachers had started to +blow horns and ring bells when they beheld Copley's drive shooting +safely, to all appearances, into that unoccupied portion of the field; +now, of a sudden, these sounds were drowned by the great yell—almost a +roar—of joyous relief and exultation which burst from the Oakdale +sympathizers. On those seats boys wearing the crimson colors jumped up +and down, shrieking wildly, while they pounded other boys, similarly +decorated, over their heads and shoulders; girls likewise screamed, +waving frantically the bright banners, on each of which was emblazoned +a large white letter O. +</P> + +<P> +At the smash of bat and ball Phil Springer's teeth had snapped +together, as if to guard his heart from leaping from his mouth; and +despairingly he had whirled around to watch the course of the ball, +perceiving out of the corner of his eye Whiting, with a long start off +second, fairly tearing up the ground as he flew toward third on his way +to the plate. +</P> + +<P> +Phil likewise saw Rod Grant stretching himself to get that whistling +white sphere, and even as a voice within the pitcher's brain seemed to +cry, "He can't touch it!" the Texan made that amazing leap into the air +and held the ball. +</P> + +<P> +"Mercy!" gasped Phil. "What a catch!" +</P> + +<P> +He waited for Grant, who came loping in from the field, his face +flushed, his eyes full of laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you dandy!" cried Phil, giving his chum a resounding open-handed +slap on the shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"That was reaching for it some." +</P> + +<P> +"I sure didn't think I could touch it," confessed Rod; "but I was bound +to try my handsomest for it." Which was characteristic of the young +Texan. +</P> + +<P> +"They're cheering for you," said Phil. Then jovially he reached and +lifted Rod's cap with one hand, at the same time using the other hand +to give his companion's head a push, thus forcing him to bow. +</P> + +<P> +Newt Copley surveyed Oakdale's right fielder disgustedly. "That was a +fearful blind stab," he said sourly. "Didn't know you had it, did you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not till I looked to see," acknowledged Rod pleasantly. +</P> + +<P> +Eliot gave the boy from Texas a look of approval. "That's the way to +get after them," he said. "That's playing baseball and supporting a +pitcher." +</P> + +<P> +"I was pretty rotten, wasn't I?" said Phil with a touch of dejection. +</P> + +<P> +"Far from it," returned the captain, "you were pretty good. Copley was +the only man who really made a bid for a hit." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," chipped in Cooper. "I was the real, rank thing, and if they'd +scored I'd been responsible for it. I should have nipped Whiting +without a struggle." +</P> + +<P> +Phil suddenly felt better, as it was true that none of the first four +men to face him, the pick of the enemy's batters, had hit safely; for +which, cutting out Grant's performance, he was immediately inclined to +take the credit, due quite as much, however, to Eliot as to him. +</P> + +<P> +Sanger warmed up a bit by whipping a few to Larkins at first, while +Copley was buckling on the body protector and adjusting the mask. +Oakdale had put her second baseman, Jack Nelson, at the head of the +batting order, and Jack did not delay the game by loafing on his way +into the batter's box. +</P> + +<P> +"Get the first one, Sang!" barked Copley, squatting behind the plate +and giving a signal. "He looks like a mark. Keep him off the pan, Mr. +Umpire; make him stay in his box." Then, under his breath, speaking +just loud enough for Nelson to hear, he added: "Not that it makes any +difference, for you couldn't hit a balloon." +</P> + +<P> +"Couldn't I!" muttered Jack, strangely annoyed, for there was something +indescribably irritating about the manner in which the red-headed +catcher had sneered those words. +</P> + +<P> +This irritation grew when Sanger warped over two zig-zags, and Nelson +missed them both. Copley made no further remark, but his husky +chucklings over the batter's failures, sent the blood to Nelson's head +and assisted him in finally misjudging a high one on the inside corner. +</P> + +<P> +"You're out!" pronounced the umpire. +</P> + +<P> +"That's the pitching, cap!" laughed Larkins. "They had their fun with +you last year; now it's your turn." +</P> + +<P> +Berlin Barker, regarded as an excellent batsman, was almost as easy for +Sanger. True, Barker did foul the ball once, but that was the only +time he touched it, and he likewise returned to the bench in a much +disturbed frame of mind. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. Umpire," called Eliot, "will you keep that catcher from talking to +the batters?" +</P> + +<P> +"Go on!" growled Copley. "Who's talking to them? I can talk to the +pitcher if I choose, and I've got a right to have a little conversation +with myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't pay any attention to him, Springer," warned Roger; "that's his +trick." +</P> + +<P> +Phil also missed the first ball delivered by Sanger. +</P> + +<P> +"This fellow thinks he can pitch," cried Copley. "He's had a dream." +</P> + +<P> +"There he goes, Mr. Umpire," cried Roger. "He's talking to the batter +again." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, say, forget it!" scoffed the red-headed backstop. "I'm talking +about our pitcher. He can't pitch a little bit—oh, no! He just +dreamed he could, that's all. Put another one right over the pan, cap; +there's no danger." +</P> + +<P> +But Sanger, taking Copley's signal, bent one wide, and Phil fouled it +off into the first base bleachers, where it was deftly caught by a +spectator. +</P> + +<P> +"He's in a hole," said Copley. "I wonder how these people ever got a +hit off you, Sang." +</P> + +<P> +The batter tried to steady himself. Two "teasers" he disdained, and +then bit at a drop and was out, Sanger having fanned the first three +men to face him; which seemed to justify the Barville spectators in +breaking forth with their horns and bells at last, and they did so +tumultuously. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CRUCIAL MOMENT. +</H3> + +<P> +On the bleachers Roy Hooker breathed easier. "Len Roberts certainly +told the truth," he thought. "Sanger is a crackerjack pitcher." +</P> + +<P> +"What did you say?" asked a fellow at Roy's elbow. +</P> + +<P> +"I?" gasped Hooker, startled. "I didn't say anything." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought you did. I thought I heard you mutter something about +Sanger. That fellow has developed, hasn't he? But we'll get onto him +yet. When these strike-out twirlers go to pieces, they're liable to +blow up completely. The boys will pound him before the game is over." +</P> + +<P> +"I hope they do," fabricated Roy. +</P> + +<P> +"If Springer only keeps steady," continued his seatmate, "it will be +all right; but I'm just a little bit afraid of Phil, for he lacks the +heart to stand punishment. If they get to hitting him—well, Eliot +will have to try Grant." +</P> + +<P> +"Grant's no pitcher," said Roy. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know about that. He hasn't had any experience, that's true; +but Springer himself has said that Rod's got the makings of one. +Wasn't that a corking catch he made?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was lucky for Springer." +</P> + +<P> +Larkins was now up, and he proceeded to wallop the second ball pitched +to him, driving it humming down the third-base line for two sacks, +which caused the horns and cowbells to break into a tumultuous uproar. +Sanger followed, and he straightened out a bender into a whistling line +drive to the left of Chipper Cooper; whereupon Cooper made up for his +error in the first inning by forking the sphere with his gloved hand +and snapping it to Nelson, who leaped on to second and caught Larkins +lunging hopelessly back for the sack. +</P> + +<P> +The horns and cowbells were suddenly silent, while the sympathizers +with the crimson frantically cheered this beautiful double play. +</P> + +<P> +"Great, Chipper—simply great!" cried Springer as soon as he could get +his breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, pretty good, pretty good," returned the little fellow, with mock +modesty. "A trifling improvement on my last performance, I'll admit." +</P> + +<P> +Tom Cline likewise hit the ball hard, but he lifted it into the waiting +hands of Ben Stone, who scarcely moved a step from his position in +center field. +</P> + +<P> +"Some people have great luck," cried Newt Copley, with his eyes on the +Oakdale pitcher, who was walking toward the bench. "Wait till the +streak breaks, and then we'll see the airship go up." +</P> + +<P> +Ben Stone got the first clean hit off Sanger, driving the ball zipping +through the infield. Eliot, who followed, signaled that he would bunt, +and Stone was well on his way toward second when the Oakdale captain +lay a dead one down a few feet in front of the pan. Roger came near +turning his attempted sacrifice into a hit, but Sanger managed to get +the ball and whip it to first in time to catch the runner by a margin +of the closest sort. +</P> + +<P> +"That's playing the game, all right," cried Nelson from the coaching +line. "Here's where we score." +</P> + +<P> +"In your mind," derided Copley. +</P> + +<P> +Sile Crane, trying hard to bring Stone home, made four fouls in +succession, and then struck out. +</P> + +<P> +"Two men, cap," grinned Copley. "Old Stoney will expire at the second +station. Here's the cowboy; take his pelt, hide, horns and hoofs." +</P> + +<P> +When Sanger had fooled Grant twice, it began to look as if he really +would succeed in "taking his pelt"; but, declining to reach for the +decoys, Rod finally met the ball on the trade mark, lining it over the +center fielder's head, after which he made third before he was stopped +by the wild gestures and cries of the delighted coacher, Nelson. +</P> + +<P> +Roy Hooker swallowed a lump in his throat. "Why, they're hitting +Sanger!" he muttered huskily. +</P> + +<P> +"Hitting him!" shouted the overjoyed fellow at Roy's elbow. "They're +hammering him for fair. Told you they might do it." +</P> + +<P> +"But he'll brace up," said Roy. "He's got to brace up." +</P> + +<P> +"Let's hope he won't till the fellows put this game on ice. Here's +Cooper. He's not a strong batter, but—— Oh, gee! look a' that! +Look a' that! A Texas leaguer! That scores Grant!" +</P> + +<P> +Indeed, Chipper had bumped a Texas leaguer over the head of the second +baseman, who made a desperate but futile effort to reach the ball; and +Oakdale had every reason to cheer as Rodney Grant easily scampered home +from third. +</P> + +<P> +Sanger really seemed to be off his feet, and Sleuth Piper, trying for a +hit, drove two fouls into the crowd on the bleachers. +</P> + +<P> +"Straighten 'em out a little, Pipe," pleaded Cooper, returning for the +second time to first. "You've got my tongue hanging out now." +</P> + +<P> +Copley, squatting, signaled for a straight ball. Sanger, apprehensive +and nervous, shook his head. Copley promptly repeated the signal, and +insisted on it. Finally Sanger obeyed, putting one straight over. +</P> + +<P> +Sleuth swung at that straight one, his heart full of confidence, but he +missed it cleanly. In a moment he was raging at the catcher, who had +promptly snapped off his mask and tossed it aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Somebody will break your head if you try that again," snarled Piper. +</P> + +<P> +"What's the matter with you?" flung back Copley belligerently. "You've +got bats in your belfry." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have a bat across your belfry if you repeat that trick," +threatened Sleuth stiffly. "That's all I've got to say. Don't you +touch my bat again when I'm hitting." +</P> + +<P> +Copley laughed derisively at the excited words of the slim, angry, +pale-faced fellow; and the umpire, not having seen the catcher's +prestigious interference, was unable to penalize the offender. +</P> + +<P> +His anxiety somewhat relieved by this termination of the home team's +batting streak, Roy Hooker looked around for Rackliff, and discovered +Herbert coolly sauntering down beside the ropes toward first base. As +if he felt the attraction of Roy's glance, the city youth turned his +head and smiled in an undisturbed manner, which was doubtless intended +to convey his unshaken confidence in the ultimate outcome of the game, +and really did much to soothe and reassure his agitated friend. +</P> + +<P> +As Oakdale took the field, Copley was seen speaking hurriedly to Len +Roberts, who was to lead off at bat in the third. Roberts, listening, +nodded, and his face was contorted by that crooked grin which always +seemed trying to pull his crooked nose back into its proper place. +Then, as he stepped into the box, he shot a glance toward the standees +back of first, who had pushed out close to the ropes, among whom +Herbert Rackliff was carelessly lighting a cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind, Barville," called Herbert in a low, yet singularly +distinct, tone of voice, while Eliot was signaling to Springer. "The +game is young, and I'll bet you'll win. That's <I>straight</I>." +</P> + +<P> +Eliot's past experience with the visitors had taught him that Roberts +rarely sought for a hit unless forced to do so, being the kind of a +batter who preferred to wait and walk whenever he could; therefore the +Oakdale captain signed for Springer to put the first ball over. +</P> + +<P> +Barely had Sile Crane flung over his shoulder the words, "Aw, go lay +down!"—directed toward Rackliff—when, to the surprise of very many +beside Eliot, Roberts landed hard on Springer's straight one, driving +it toward center field. Fortunately, Stone had little trouble in +reaching the ball and catching it. +</P> + +<P> +"Hard luck, Len," sounded the voice of Rackliff, as Oakdale's burst of +applause died down. "Hit 'em where they ain't; that's the way. Here +comes the huckleberry now," he added, as Berry, the visitors' +shortstop, took the place of Roberts. "He'll hit it <I>out</I>." +</P> + +<P> +"This Berry will be picked in a moment," cried Cooper instantly. "He's +ripe. Get him, Springer." +</P> + +<P> +Crack!—Berry planted the willow against Phil's outcurve, and again the +ball sailed toward the outfield, this time going toward right. Again +the fielder had no trouble in reaching it ere it fell to the ground, +and Grant scooped and held it while running lightly forward. +</P> + +<P> +"He hit it out, sure enough," chortled Cooper. "Rack, you're +ruined—financially busted wide open." +</P> + +<P> +Still Herbert seemed unruffled, continuing to smile. "If I lose," he +said, "I can stand it." +</P> + +<P> +"But <I>I</I> can't," muttered Roy Hooker beneath his breath. +</P> + +<P> +Springer, knowing Dingley, Barville's leading batter, who was again up, +was dangerous, tried two wide ones to start with; but the fellow did +not even wiggle his bat at them. +</P> + +<P> +"Get <I>into</I> it!" called Rackliff suddenly, as Phil swung into his +delivery for the third ball. +</P> + +<P> +Dingley seemed to fall back from the plate a little, and again bat and +ball met squarely, an inshoot being sent humming over the head of +Cooper, who made a ludicrously ineffective jump for it, the ball +passing at least ten feet above his outstretched hand. But Piper, +leaping forward and speeding up surprisingly, made a forward lunge at +the last moment, and performed a shoestring catch that brought the +entire Oakdale crowd to its feet with a shout of wonderment and delight. +</P> + +<P> +Eliot calmly removed the catching mask and swung the body protector +over his head. "Royal support, Phil," he observed, as Springer trotted +happily toward the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"The greatest ever," returned Phil. "If they can only keep it up——" +</P> + +<P> +"You'll do your part, all right," assured Roger. "Every fellow can't +hit you the way those three did. Now, boys, we'll lead off with the +head of the list. Let's get after Sanger again." +</P> + +<P> +But apparently Sanger had recovered his best form during the brief rest +on the bench, for again he fanned Nelson and Barker; and, although +Springer hit the ball, it was an easy roller to the Barville twirler +himself, who confidently and deliberately tossed Phil out at first. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime, one or two indignant Oakdaleites had gone at Herbert +Rackliff and driven him away from the ropes back of first base, Herbert +resenting their remarks concerning his loyalty, and rather warmly +asserting that he had a right to bet his money according to the +dictates of his judgment. +</P> + +<P> +In the fourth Springer's work justified the confidence Eliot had +expressed, for he followed Sanger's example by striking out Pratt and +Whiting and forcing the dangerous Copley to hit weakly to the infield. +</P> + +<P> +"Another goose egg for them," exulted Chipper Cooper. "It begins to +look like a shut-out. These two tallies of ours may be a-plenty." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't want to get any such an idea into your head," returned Eliot +promptly. "Two runs are mighty few; we must have more. Here's Old +Stone, who started us going before." +</P> + +<P> +Stone started it again with a cracking two-bagger, and, when Eliot +poked a daisy cutter into right, Ben scored on it. +</P> + +<P> +The efforts of the coachers to put Sanger off his feet, however, were +fruitless, Crane fanning, Grant expiring on a foul which Copley took +thirty feet behind the pan, and Cooper perishing in an effort to beat a +slow grounder to first. +</P> + +<P> +With the beginning of the fifth Rackliff again called encouragement to +the batters, having strolled back to the ropes a little further down +beyond first base. He urged them to "get into it," "hit it out," "drop +on it," "give it a rise," and, as if braced by his cries, they began +slaughtering Springer mercilessly. Sanger singled; Cline poked one +past Cooper; and Roberts, once more surprising everybody by smashing +the first ball, doubled and brought both runners home. +</P> + +<P> +And now once more Springer's nerves were a-quiver in every part of his +body. In his disturbed state he actually swallowed the chew of gum he +had procured. Rattled, he hit Berry in the ribs, and handed Dingley a +pass, filling the bases. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all off! It's all over but the shouting!" yelled Sanger, dancing +and waving his arms on the coaching line near third. "Got him going, +fellows! Don't let up! Here's where we win the game!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A CHANGE OF PITCHERS. +</H3> + +<P> +The green banners were fluttering like leaves in a furious tempest; +horns, cowbells and human voices sent a wild uproar across the diamond; +Springer, white as a sheet, his confidence totally shattered, was all +to the bad. Another clean hit would almost certainly permit two +Barville runners to score and put the visitors one tally in the lead. +</P> + +<P> +And not a man was out! +</P> + +<P> +Knowing something must be done at once or the game would doubtless be +lost in that inning, Eliot threw the ball to Barker, so that Berlin +might hold the man on third, and, calling Phil, stepped forward and met +him in front of the pan. +</P> + +<P> +"Play ball! play ball!" yelled Sanger. "Don't delay the game!" And, +"Play ball! play ball!" howled the Barville spectators. +</P> + +<P> +Coolly, calmly, soothingly, the Oakdale captain spoke in a low tone to +the unnerved pitcher. "Brace up, Phil, old fellow," he urged. "Take +your time; stop pitching as fast as you can soak the ball over. You're +not using your head. If you'll steady down we can pull out of this +hole. Now, go slow, and don't mind the racket." For a moment his +right hand touched Springer's left shoulder with a steadying pressure. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try," promised Phil huskily. "I'll do my best, captain." +</P> + +<P> +While the visitors still howled, "Play ball," Roger stood on the plate +and fussed with the strap of his catching mask, which did not need any +attention whatever to begin with, but somehow became strangely tangled +in the wire meshes. From his appearance one might have fancied Eliot +stone deaf to that babel of sounds, and he seemed utterly blind when +Larkins rushed out from the bench before him, flourishing his arms, and +demanding that he should get back into his position and let the game +proceed. +</P> + +<P> +Such a show of outward calm should have done much to restore the +equanimity of the pitcher; but, though Springer tried hard to get a +steadying grip on himself, his fear of what might happen if Pratt hit +him led him to pitch himself into a still worse predicament; and he +handed up three balls, one after another, in an effort to fool the +Barville boy. The shouts of the coachers, urging Pratt to "take a +walk" and asserting that it was "a dead sure thing," added in the +completion of Phil's undoing; for, even though he did his best to put a +straight one over, the ball was outside, and Pratt capered exultantly +to first, while Roberts, grinning all over one side of his face, jogged +home. +</P> + +<P> +"Take him out!" Some one in the Oakdale crowd uttered the cry, and +immediately a dozen others took it up. "Take him out! Take him out!" +they adjured. +</P> + +<P> +These appeals were unnecessary, for already Eliot had decided that Phil +could not continue, and was beckoning for Grant to come in, a signal +which Rodney did not at first seem to comprehend. Presently the Texan +started slowly in from the field, and Springer, at the umpire's call of +"time," turned, his head drooping, toward the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't you better take right, Phil?" suggested Eliot. +</P> + +<P> +The heartsick fellow shook his head. "I wouldn't be any good out +there—now," he muttered. +</P> + +<P> +So Tuttle was sent into right, while Grant limbered up his arm a bit by +throwing a few to Sile Crane. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's something still easier, fellows," called Newt Copley. "Perhaps +he can throw a lasso, but he can't pitch baseball. Keep it up. Don't +stop." +</P> + +<P> +"Play!" ordered the umpire. +</P> + +<P> +Rod Grant toed the pitcher's slab for the first time in a real game of +baseball, wondering a bit if he was destined to receive a continuation +of the unkind treatment that had put "the blanket" on his predecessor. +</P> + +<P> +In the meantime, Herbert Rackliff had been collared by Bunk Lander, a +big, husky village boy, whose face was ablaze with wrath and whose +manner betrayed an almost irresistible yearning to punch the city youth. +</P> + +<P> +"You keep your trap closed," rasped Lander, "or I'll knock your block +off! If you utter another peep during this game, I'll button up both +your blinkers so tight it'll take a doctor to pry 'em open. Get that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Take your hands off me!" cried Herbert indignantly. "How dare you!" +</P> + +<P> +"How dast I!" snarled Lander. "I'll show you how I dast if you wag +your jaw any more." +</P> + +<P> +"I've got a right to talk; everybody else does." +</P> + +<P> +"You double-faced, sneaking son of a sea-cook!" blazed Lander. "You +bet against your own school team, did ye? If you belonged in Barville +you might howl your head off; but as long's you camp around these +diggin's you won't do no rooting for them fellers. I'm going to keep +right on your co't-tail the rest of the time, and the first yip you +make I'll hand ye a bunch of fives straight from the shoulder. Now, +don't make no further gab to me unless you're thirsting to wear a mark +of my esteem for the next few days." +</P> + +<P> +Even as Lander uttered these words Grant pitched the first ball, and +Whiting hit it—hit it humming straight into the hands of Chipper +Cooper, who snapped it to third for a double play, before Berry could +get back to the sack. +</P> + +<P> +What a howl of joyous relief went up from the Oakdale crowd! They +cheered Chipper madly, and the little fellow, crimson-faced and happy, +grinned as he gave a tug at his cap visor. +</P> + +<P> +But now came the great Copley, the most formidable Barvilleite, and +there were still two runners waiting impatiently on the sacks, ready to +make the best of any kind of a hit. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about this chap, Grant," called Eliot quietly. "He's just +as easy as anybody. You'll get him." +</P> + +<P> +At this Copley laughed sneeringly, but he missed the first ball Rod +delivered to him, which happened to be one of the new pitcher's +wonderful drops. The uproar coming from the Barville bleachers seemed +to have no effect on Grant, something which Eliot observed with +satisfaction and rising hope. Rod pitched two balls which Copley +disdained, and then he fooled the fellow once more with a drop. +</P> + +<P> +"Two strikes!" shouted the umpire. +</P> + +<P> +"You've got him, Roddy—you've got him cold!" cried Cooper suddenly. +"Don't forget we're all behind you. Take his scalp, you old Injun +hunter of the Staked Plains." +</P> + +<P> +High and close to Copley's chin the ball whistled into Eliot's mitt. +For a moment there seemed some doubt as to its nature, but the umpire +pronounced it a "ball." +</P> + +<P> +"Close, Grant—close," said Eliot. "You should have had him. Never +mind, you'll get him next time." +</P> + +<P> +There was a hush. Involuntarily, the Barville crowd ceased its uproar. +Grant, taking Roger's signal, nodded and twisted the ball into the +locking grip of two fingers and a thumb. His arm swung back and +whipped forward, a white streak shooting with a twisting motion from +those fingers. It seemed like another swift one, shoulder high, and, +with confidence strong in his heart, the red-headed batter sought to +meet it. +</P> + +<P> +For the third time the ball took a most amazing shoot toward the +ground, and again Copley did not even graze it. The umpire shouted, +"You're out!" but the roar from Oakdale's side of the field drowned his +voice. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WON IN THE NINTH. +</H3> + +<P> +The cheer captain was leading them with wildly waving arms. "Grant!" +they thundered. "Rah! rah! rah! Grant! Grant! Grant!" +</P> + +<P> +"That sure was some lucky," said Rod, walking toward the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"Lucky!" rejoiced Cooper, jogging at his side. "It was ball playing! +It was pitching!" +</P> + +<P> +"You pulled me through by that catch and double play," said the young +Texan modestly. "That put me on my pins. I'm sorry Phil got his." +</P> + +<P> +Springer looked disconsolate enough as Rod took a seat beside him on +the bench. "Don't worry, old partner," begged Rodney. "It happens to +every pitcher sometimes. The best of them get it occasionally. +Perhaps I won't last." +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't," returned Springer, "the game is a goner. There's no +one else to put in. I gave it away when I lost my control. Queer I +couldn't get the ball over." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw that we couldn't keep you in any longer, Phil," said Eliot. "I +had to take you out." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's all right," muttered the unhappy fellow. "That's baseball." +</P> + +<P> +With the score tied, Barville showed a disposition to fight grimly for +the game. Piper fell a victim to the wiles of Sanger; Nelson's +scorching grounder was scooped by Roberts; and away out in left garden +Dingley made a brilliant running catch of Barker's splendid long drive. +The sixth inning opened with the two teams on even terms and Grant +pitching for Oakdale. +</P> + +<P> +Rodney's most effective ball was his drop, but Eliot, knowing it would +be poor judgment if the pitcher should use that particular ball too +often, called for it only in emergencies. The emergency rose when, +with only one man out, Sanger singled and stole second, Nelson dropping +Roger's throw. With Sanger playing well off the sack, there was a +chance for him to score if Cline banged out a long safety, so Eliot, +consulting hastily with Grant, urged Rod to use the drop every time he +put the ball over. Cline finally managed to hit one of those drops, +but he simply rolled a weak grounder into the diamond, and gave up the +ghost on his way to first, Sanger taking third on the throw. +</P> + +<P> +Ready to bat, Len Roberts' gaze wandered toward the spectators back of +the ropes near first base; but, if he hoped to receive any +encouragement from Herbert Rackliff, he was disappointed, as Bunk +Lander, true to his promise, was keeping within arms' length of the +irritated and uneasy city youth. Rackliff, having surveyed Bunk's +stocky figure from head to foot and taken a good look at the fellow's +grim, homely mug, smoked cigarettes and uttered no sound save an +occasional suppressed cough. +</P> + +<P> +It would be hard to describe the feelings of Roy Hooker. He had been +elated by Springer's misfortune and the success of Barville in tying +the score, but the failure of the visitors to get a lead left him still +worried and anxious. Especially was this true as he watched Rodney +Grant pitch with surprising steadiness and hold the crimson players +down. +</P> + +<P> +"But he can't keep it up," thought Roy; "it's impossible. They'll fall +on him the way they did on Springer." +</P> + +<P> +Roberts, who had hitherto batted with an air of confidence, now fell +into his old trick of waiting, the result being that two strikes were +called on him before he removed the bat from his shoulder. Then he bit +at a wide one, and was out. +</P> + +<P> +Tuttle, hitting in Springer's place, was a snap for Sanger, who +polished him off with three high, swift, straight ones. For the third +time in the game, Stone showed his mettle and went to first on a +safety. As one man was out, Eliot, thinking to test Copley's throwing, +signaled for Ben to steal. There was nothing the matter with Copley's +wing, for he nailed Stone fully five feet from the second sack. +</P> + +<P> +Roger batted a sizzler to the left of Sanger, who shot out his gloved +hand and deflected the ball straight into the waiting fingers of +Larkins at first. +</P> + +<P> +Grant pitched fairly well in the seventh, but it needed the errorless +support he received to prevent the enemy from scoring, Barville pushing +a runner round to third before being forced to give up. +</P> + +<P> +Sanger, working hard, disposed of Crane on strikes, forced Grant to pop +to the infield, and led Cooper into lifting an easy foul for Copley. +The red-headed catcher continued to talk to the batters, but, warned by +Eliot, they made no retort, and, seemingly, did not hear him. Since +the affair with Piper he had not, however, again offered to deflect a +bat. +</P> + +<P> +It was a great game to watch, a game in which those high school boys, +keyed to a keen tension, were really outdoing themselves, performing +more than once feats which would have been creditable to professionals. +It was the kind of baseball that makes the blood tingle, the heart +throb, and leaves many an enthusiastic spectator husky from howling. +The strain was so great that it seemed an assured thing that something +must give way. Oakdale had saved herself temporarily by changing +pitchers, but shortly after the opening of the eighth inning it began +to look as if the fatal downfall of the home team had simply been +delayed. +</P> + +<P> +Larkins led off by batting a dust scorcher against Cooper's shins, and +once more Chipper marred his record by booting the ball and throwing +wild to first when he finally got hold of it. This let the runner romp +easily to second. +</P> + +<P> +Copley was seen to whisper something in Sanger's ear as the Barville +captain rose from the bench, bat in hand. Then Lee walked into the box +and bunted beautifully along the line toward first. He was thrown out +by Grant, but his purpose had been accomplished, and Larkins was on +third, with only one man down. +</P> + +<P> +Fearing an attempted squeeze play, Eliot signaled for Rod to keep the +ball high and close on Cline. Roger had made no mistake in judgment, +and, despite the Texan's effort to baffle the hitter, Cline managed to +bump a roller into the diamond. Cooper, charging in, scooped the +sphere and snapped it underhand to Eliot; for Larkins, having started +to dig gravel with the first motion of Grant's arm, was doing his +utmost to score. +</P> + +<P> +"Slide!" shrieked the coachers. +</P> + +<P> +Larkins obeyed, and there might have been some dispute over the +umpire's decision had not the ball slipped out of Roger's fingers just +as he poked it onto the prostrate fellow. +</P> + +<P> +"Safe!" announced the umpire, with a downward motion of his outspread +hand. +</P> + +<P> +The coachers capered wildly, while Copley, leaping forward, met +Larkins, who had risen, and ostentatiously assisted in brushing some of +the dirt from his clothes. The Barville crowd behaved like a bunch +from a lunatic asylum. Roy Hooker told himself that Grant must surely +go to pieces now. "If Eliot had given me a show," he whispered to +himself, "I might go in there now and stop the slaughter." +</P> + +<P> +Apparently the Texan was confused, seeing which, Cline attempted to +purloin the sack behind his back, only to be caught easily when Rod +turned and snapped the ball to Nelson. +</P> + +<P> +This cheered the sympathizers with the home team, who were heartened +still more as, a few moments later, the amazingly calm Texan took the +crooked-nosed Roberts in hand and struck him out. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, let's play ball and hold this lead, fellows," shouted Copley. +"It's easy enough. We've got the game nailed." +</P> + +<P> +Sanger had no trouble in fanning Piper, and again Oakdale's hope ebbed, +as Nelson, who had not made a safety for the day, was sent by the whiff +route to join Sleuth on the mourners' bench. +</P> + +<P> +With two gone, Berlin Barker got his first hit. There rose a groan, +however, when it was seen that roly-poly Chub Tuttle was the next +sticker. Tuttle justified the hopeless ones by popping a dinky little +fly into Sanger's hands. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all off! It's all over!" crowed Copley, tossing the catching +mask spinning aside. "You've only got to get three more, cap. The way +you're pitching, it'll be like picking ripe fruit." +</P> + +<P> +"But let's get some more tallies if we can," urged Sanger. +</P> + +<P> +This, however, was not possible; for Grant gave his prettiest +exhibition in the ninth, striking out three fellows in succession with +that perplexing drop, which apparently he had mastered. +</P> + +<P> +"This is our last chance, boys," said Eliot, as the locals gathered at +the bench. "One run is a small margin, and no game is lost until it's +won." +</P> + +<P> +Ben Stone, his face as grim as that of a graven image, stood forth and +waited. Two balls he ignored, one of which was called a strike; and +then, seeming to get one to his liking, he planted the club against the +leather with a sharp, snapping swing. As in practice on the day Hooker +had pitched to him, Stone laced the ball straight over the center-field +fence for a home run, and pandemonium broke loose and continued while +he jogged slowly over the bases. +</P> + +<P> +The score was again tied. +</P> + +<P> +Roy Hooker had not been fully at ease, and his face turned almost ashen +as he saw the ball disappearing beyond the fence. He took no part in +the crazy demonstration of his schoolmates, declining even when some +one caught him by the shoulders and shouted in his ear, asking why he +did not cheer. +</P> + +<P> +At the bench Stone was surrounded and congratulated by his delighted +teammates. Even the disconsolate Springer aroused himself enough to +speak a word of praise. +</P> + +<P> +"We want another one—only one more," said Eliot, as he found a bat and +turned toward the plate. +</P> + +<P> +Without seeking to "kill" Sanger's speed, Roger did his best to poke +out a safety, and would have succeeded only for a surprising one-handed +stop by Roberts, who got the ball to first for an unquestioned put-out. +</P> + +<P> +"It's only a matter of an extra inning," cried Copley. "They've had +all their luck; it's over." +</P> + +<P> +Crane, following Eliot, made the mistake of trying for a long hit, and +Sanger fanned him. +</P> + +<P> +Grant came up with two men out. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the great cowboy twirler, cap," sneered Copley. "Put the iron +to him. Burn your brand deep." +</P> + +<P> +"Get a hit, Grant—do get a hit!" came the entreaty from the Oakdale +crowd. +</P> + +<P> +"If you do," muttered Copley, close under the bat, "I'll swallow the +ball." +</P> + +<P> +A moment later Rod swung at a corner cutter, whirled all the way round, +and sprang at Copley, a look of such blazing wrath in his eyes that the +red-headed catcher retreated with ludicrous haste. +</P> + +<P> +"You onery, sheep-herding skunk!" rasped the Texan. "If you touch my +bat again, I'll grease the ground with you! They'll sure carry you +home on a stretcher, and you can bet your life on that!" +</P> + +<P> +Again the umpire had not seen the interference, so cleverly had Copley +perpetrated the trick. Eliot dashed at Grant and seized him, shouting +for the Oakdale crowd to keep back; for at least twenty indignant +persons were moving toward the diamond. There was a temporary delay, +during which Roger spoke earnestly into Grant's ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't lose your head now, old fellow," pleaded the Oakdale captain. +"That's what he wants you to do. He thinks you can't hit the ball if +you're mad." +</P> + +<P> +"I reckon you're right," said Rodney, getting a grip on himself; "but +he'll sure have a broken head if he does it again." +</P> + +<P> +Having seen that look of rage in the Texan's eyes, Newt Copley was not +at all disposed to repeat the trick with him. Apparently Grant's +nerves had been somewhat unstrung, for when the game was again resumed +he missed one of Sanger's shoots by something like a foot, and the +second strike was called by the umpire. Then Rod smiled; it was barely +a faint flicker, but Sanger saw it and wondered. His wonderment turned +to dismay when the Texan skillfully poked a safety through the infield +and went romping to first, cheered by the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind, cap," encouraged Copley; "the weak ones follow. You won't +have any trouble with this undersized accident." A remark which +inflamed Cooper, in spite of Chipper's pretense that he did not hear it. +</P> + +<P> +On the very first ball handed up to the Oakdale shortstop, Grant, +having got a start, raced down the line to second, slid spikes first, +and was declared safe, Copley failing to get the ball to Roberts in +time for a put-out. +</P> + +<P> +But the Texan did not stop there. With Sanger's next movement of his +regular delivery, Rodney, having got a lead behind the pitcher's back, +went darting toward third. Copley, who had complained that Roberts was +slow about tagging the runner, uttered a yell, took the ball as it came +high above Cooper's shoulders, and lost no time in throwing to third. +</P> + +<P> +Pratt had not anticipated an immediate second effort to steal by the +runner, and he was a trifle slow about covering the sack. As a result, +he was forced to reach for the ball with his bare right hand, and he +dropped it. +</P> + +<P> +The home crowd was on its feet now, shouting wildly as the umpire's +downward gesture with both hands proclaimed the daring Texan safe at +third. +</P> + +<P> +Copley snarled at Pratt, and Sanger plainly showed that the performance +of Grant had put him on the anxious seat. +</P> + +<P> +The cheering now was incessant from both sides of the field, and this +was not calculated to soothe the nerves of the worried pitcher. +Nevertheless, had not Berry lost his head and forgotten that two were +out, the game would have gone into extra innings. Cooper finally drove +one toward the Barville shortstop, and Berry, leaping forward to catch +the ball, saw Grant dashing toward the plate. Berry should have thrown +to first, but, with his mind temporarily fogged, his only thought was +to stop that run, and he hurled the ball to the plate. Copley was not +prepared for this manoeuvre, and he leaped to get the whistling sphere, +which, however, came high and wide, forcing him to reach for it. +</P> + +<P> +The umpire had barely time to run forward a short distance ere he +stopped and crouched as Grant flung himself headlong in a slide. +Getting the ball, Copley swung back to tag the runner, but ere the +horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, his hand had +found the plate. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-127"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-127.jpg" ALT="Ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, his hand had found the plate." BORDER="2" WIDTH="414" HEIGHT="646"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 414px"> +Ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's<BR> +shoulder-blades, his hand had found the plate. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"Safe!" shouted the umpire. +</P> + +<P> +And the game was won by the pitcher who had taken Springer's place in +the fifth inning. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RACKLIFF'S TREACHERY. +</H3> + +<P> +Like one stunned Roy Hooker passed out through the gate and turned down +the street, dully conscious of the continued rejoicing uproar behind +him. Alternately buoyed by hope and weighted by fear, he had passed +the most trying hour of his life, and now in his bosom he carried a +heart that seemed sick and faint and scarcely able to pump the blood +through his veins. +</P> + +<P> +"I was a fool to listen to Rackliff," he muttered; and over and over he +kept repeating, "I was a fool, a fool!" +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly apprehensive lest he should be overtaken by some one who might +observe his all-too-evident wretchedness, he quickened his steps and +made straight for his home. He did not enter the house, and as he +slipped through the yard he cast sidelong glances toward the windows, +hoping his mother might not be looking out. In the carriage house he +sat down on the box beside his motorcycle. +</P> + +<P> +"I was a fool—an awful fool!" he kept repeating. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, his mind running over the game, feature by feature, he began +to realize that he had not felt as much elation as he would have +supposed might come to him on witnessing Springer's misfortune in the +fifth inning. He had imagined it would afford him unreserved +exultation to see Phil batted out of the box, but his rejoicing had +been most remarkably alloyed by an emotion of another sort, which even +now he could not understand. And, as he sat there, slowly but surely +he began to perceive the real reason for Springer's failure. +</P> + +<P> +"It was lack of control," he finally exclaimed. "That's just it. He +was pitching all right until they broke his nerve by three hits in +succession. After that he couldn't find the pan to save his life. If +he'd been able to put the ball where he wished and steady down a +little, he might have stopped that batting rally and had the +satisfaction of pitching the game through to a successful finish. Now, +Rod Grant gets all the glory." +</P> + +<P> +He was still sitting there, obsessed by his dismal meditations, when a +shadow appeared in the doorway, and he looked up to see Rackliff, the +stub of a cigarette in his fingers, gazing at him. For a full minute, +perhaps, neither boy spoke; and then Herbert, tossing the smoking stub +over his shoulder, sunk his hands deep in his pockets and uttered two +words: +</P> + +<P> +"Hard luck." +</P> + +<P> +"Rotten," said Roy. "But you certainly were all to the punk in your +judgment about that game." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know," objected Herbert, leaning against the side of the +doorway and crossing his tan-shod feet. "Barville should have won." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you make that out?" +</P> + +<P> +"They batted Springer out, didn't they? They sent him to the stable, +all right." +</P> + +<P> +"He lost his control, and Eliot had to take him out." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if you hadn't been mistaken in your judgment, that would have +settled the game." +</P> + +<P> +"If <I>I</I> hadn't been mistaken!" cried Roy resentfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I don't see——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you? Then you should consult an oculist. You said Springer was +the only pitcher the team had; you insisted that Grant couldn't pitch a +winning game." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I know," faltered Roy; "but I——" +</P> + +<P> +"You were mistaken—sadly mistaken. It's been an expensive blunder in +judgment for both of us." +</P> + +<P> +A flush rose into Hooker's pale cheeks, and he stood up. "Now, look +here, Mr. Rackliff," he said harshly, "don't you try to shoulder it all +on to me. I won't stand for that. You professed to be dead sure that +under any circumstances Barville could down Oakdale. As to the matter +of expense, it may have been expensive for you', but, according to our +distinctly understood agreement, I don't lose anything." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert lifted his eyebrows slightly, producing his cigarette case and +fumbling in it vainly, as it was empty. +</P> + +<P> +"Agreement?" he said. "What agreement?" +</P> + +<P> +Hooker choked. "You know; don't pretend that you don't know. I hope +you're not going back on your word. If you do——" He stopped, unable +to continue. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," said Herbert slowly, "I think I know what you mean. Of +course I'm not going back on my word to a pal." +</P> + +<P> +"Then give me the money I let you have to bet on Barville." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, that money's gone. We lost it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, but you pledged yourself to make good any loss I might sustain. +There are reasons why I must have that money back—right away, too." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry," murmured Herbert, regretfully returning the empty +cigarette case to his pocket; "but I'm afraid you'll have to wait a +while. I went broke myself—haven't got a whole dollar left in the +exchequer." +</P> + +<P> +"But I've <I>got</I> to have it," insisted Roy huskily. "I depended on +getting it back to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert laughed and snapped his yellow fingers. "When a thing is +impossible, it can't be done, old fellow. You don't need money in this +dead hole, anyhow. Why, a profligate couldn't spend ten dollars a week +here, if he tried. You'll simply have to wait until my old man coughs +up another consignment of the needful." +</P> + +<P> +Roy sat down again, his face wearing such a look of dismay that Herbert +was both puzzled and amused. +</P> + +<P> +"To see you now," observed the city youth, "any one might fancy you a +bank cashier who had speculated disastrously with the funds of the +institution. Four dollars and sixty-five cents—that was the amount of +your loss; and you look as if you had dropped a thousand." +</P> + +<P> +"I want to tell you something," said Hooker suddenly; but again he +stopped short and seemed to find it impossible to proceed. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm listening," encouraged Rackliff. "Let it come. Great Scott! I'd +like to have a cigarette." +</P> + +<P> +But Roy, after remaining silent a few moments longer, slowly shook his +head. "I won't tell you," he muttered; "I can't. But look here, Rack, +you've got to get that money for me as soon as you can. I need it—if +you only knew how I need it!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll drop my old pater a line to-night, informing him that I'm +financially ruined. Gee! that makes me think of that little runt, +Cooper! He certainly irritated me some by his insolent yapping." +</P> + +<P> +"You came pretty near getting into trouble trying to coach Barville. +You certainly had your nerve with you. I'd never had the crust to try +that." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert frowned. "It would have been all right, only for that big +stiff, Bunk Lander. He threatened to punch me up, and I knew he was +just the sort of a brainless fellow to do it. Only for his +interference, Barville would have taken the game, and we'd be on Easy +Street to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh?" exclaimed Roy, puzzled again. "I don't think I quite get you. I +don't see how Lander's interference with you had anything to do with +the result of the game." +</P> + +<P> +The city youth coughed and shrugged his shoulders, a singularly crafty +smile playing over his face. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, you don't see," he nodded. "I'll admit that I was somewhat +too hasty. I should have waited a while longer before I attempted to +put in my oar. That was where <I>I</I> blundered; but I didn't quite reckon +on Lander." +</P> + +<P> +"You've got me guessing. I wish you'd explain." +</P> + +<P> +"I will. Did you think I took that journey to Barville on your old +motorcycle merely for recreation?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not exactly; I had an idea you went over there to talk with Copley and +Roberts for the purpose of finding out how strong the Barville nine +really was." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, that was a part of the reason, but not the whole of it. I had +something else on my mind. In case I became satisfied that the two +teams were pretty evenly matched, I had a little plan through which I +felt confident I could make it a dead sure thing for Barville. I was +not off my base, either, and it would have worked out charmingly if +that big duffer, Lander, hadn't dipped in and messed it for us." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm still in the dark." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you remember that when I got back I asked you about Eliot's +signals to the pitcher?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I thought I knew them, but I wanted to be dead sure; for I'd made +arrangements with Copley to tip off certain Barville batters who could +be trusted to the kind of balls that would be pitched. This was to be +done in case the necessity arose, which it did when Oakdale took the +lead and Springer seemed to be going well, with every prospect of +holding them down. Then I proceeded to get down close to the ropes +back of first base, where, by watching, I could come pretty near +catching Eliot's signs. Sometimes I couldn't see them distinctly, but +almost always I could. I was tipping off the Barville batters when +they proceeded to fall on Springer and pound him beautifully. They did +so because they knew just the kind of a ball he was going to pitch." +</P> + +<P> +"Great Caesar!" muttered Roy, who was again standing. "You did that? +How——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm surprised at your dullness," laughed Rackliff. "You heard me +coaching. You heard me calling out for the batters to 'get into it,' +'hit it out,' 'drop on it,' 'give it a rise,' and so forth." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; well, there you are. When I said 'get into it,' it meant that +Springer would pitch an in-shoot. 'Hit it out,' meant that he would +use an outcurve, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Holy smoke!" gasped Hooker. "It's a wonder nobody got on. Do you +suppose Lander——" +</P> + +<P> +"Nit. That big bonehead didn't tumble. He was simply sore because I +was a student at Oakdale and seemed to be rooting for Barville. All +the same, he stuck to me like a leech, and I had to quit or get into a +nasty fight with him. I couldn't afford to have my face beaten up, +even to win ten dollars. By Jove! I've simply got to have a whiff." +</P> + +<P> +In silence Hooker watched the shifty, scheming, treacherous city youth +turn and search on the drive outside the door, recover the cigarette +stub he had tossed away, relight it, and inhale the smoke with a relish +that told of a habit fixed beyond breaking. Thus watching and thinking +of the fellow's qualmless treachery to his own school team, Roy felt +the first sensation of revulsion toward Rackliff. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JEALOUSY. +</H3> + +<P> +At the close of the game there was another boy on the field who was +quite as glum and downcast as Hooker himself. This was Phil Springer, +who remained seated on the bench while his team-mates and a portion of +the enthusiastic crowd swarmed, cheering, around Grant and lifted him +to their shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Presently he realized that this behavior on his part must attract +attention the moment the excitement relaxed, and he got up with the +intention of hurrying at once to the gymnasium. Barely had he started, +however, when something brought him to a halt, and beneath his breath +he muttered: +</P> + +<P> +"That won't do. They'd notice that, too, and sus-say I was jealous." +</P> + +<P> +He was jealous—bitterly so; but he forced himself to join the cheering +crowd and to make a half-hearted pretense of rejoicing. All the while +he was thinking that Grant owed everything to him, and that perhaps he +had been foolish in training a fellow to fill his shoes in such an +emergency. For Phil had long entertained the ambition of becoming the +first pitcher on the academy nine, and this year he had been fully +confident until the present hour that the goal he sought was his beyond +dispute. +</P> + +<P> +The victors did not forget to cheer courteously for the vanquished, and +Barville returned the compliment with a cheer for Oakdale. +</P> + +<P> +So many persons wished to shake hands with Rodney Grant that he +laughingly protested, saying they would put his "wing out of +commission." Suddenly perceiving Phil, the Texan pushed aside those +between them, sprang forward and placed a hand on Springer's shoulder, +crying: +</P> + +<P> +"Here's my mentor. Only for him, I'd never been able to do it. I owe +what little I know about pitching to Springer. Let's give him a cheer, +fellows." +</P> + +<P> +They did so, but that cheer lacked the spontaneous enthusiasm and +genuine admiration which had been thrown into the cheering for Grant, +something which Springer did not fail to note. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, thanks," said Phil, weakly returning the warm grasp of Rod's +strong hand. "I didn't do anything—except blow up." +</P> + +<P> +Under cover of the chatter, joking and laughter, while they were +changing their clothes in the dressing room of the gymnasium, Grant, +observing the dejection Springer could not hide to save himself, again +uttered some friendly words of encouragement. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you feel so bad about it, old partner," he said. "The best +professional pitchers in the business get their bumps sometimes, and I +might have got mine, all right, if I'd started the game on the slab, as +you did. You'll make up for that next time." +</P> + +<P> +"You're very kind, Grant," was Springer's only response. +</P> + +<P> +Phil got away from the others as soon as he could, and hurried home to +brood over it. It had been a hard blow, and he had stood up poorly +beneath it. Thinking the matter over in solitude, he was forced into a +realization of the fact that he lacked, in a great measure, the +confidence and steadiness characteristic of Rodney Grant, and he could +not put aside the conviction that it was Grant, the fellow he had +coached, who was destined to become the star pitcher of the nine. In +spite of himself, this thought, aided by other unpleasant +contemplations, awoke in his heart a sensation of envious resentment +toward Rodney. He was sorry now that he had ever spent his time +teaching the Texan to pitch, and it occurred to him that the same +amount of coaching and encouragement bestowed upon Hooker would not +have resulted in the training of a man to outdo him upon the slab and +push him into the background. +</P> + +<P> +That evening he was missing from the group of boys who gathered in the +village to talk over the game, and at school the following Monday he +kept away from Grant as much as it was possible for him to do so. When +practice time came after school was over, he put on his suit and +appeared upon the field, but soon complained that he was not feeling +well, and departed. +</P> + +<P> +The following morning, shortly after breakfast, Phil saw Rod turning +into the dooryard of his home. Instantly Springer sought his hat, +slipped hastily through the house and got out, unperceived, by the back +door. When he arrived at school, a few minutes before time for the +morning session to begin, Grant was waiting for him. +</P> + +<P> +"What became of you after breakfast, partner?" questioned Rod. "I +piked over to your ranch looking for you, but you had disappeared. +Your mother said you were around a few moments before, and she thought +you must be somewhere about; all the same, I couldn't find hide or hair +of you." +</P> + +<P> +"I—I took a walk," faltered Phil, flushing. "I've got a bub-bad +cold." In evidence of which, he coughed in a shamefully unnatural +manner. +</P> + +<P> +"Got a cold, eh?" said Rodney sympathetically. "You caught it sitting +on the bench during the last four innings of that game, I reckon. I +remember now that you didn't even put on your sweater." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I guess that's when I got it," agreed Phil. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you've got to shake it in time for the game with Clearport. +That's when you'll even things up." +</P> + +<P> +All that day Springer sought to avoid talking baseball with any of the +fellows, for invariably they spoke of Grant's surprisingly successful +performance; and when they did so something like a sickening poison +seemed to bubble within the jealous youth, who told himself that he +could not long continue to join in this praise, but must soon betray +himself by bursting forth into a tirade against the Texan. In a +measure he did relieve his feelings by expressing his opinion of +Herbert Rackliff, who was brazenly seeking to ignore the open disdain +of his schoolmates. He did not come out for practice that night, and +Grant explained to the others that Phil was knocked out by a cold, +whereupon Cooper chucklingly remarked that he thought it was Barville +that had knocked Springer out. +</P> + +<P> +Shortly before dark, Phil, chancing to take a cross cut from Middle +Street to High Street, observed Roy Hooker pelting away with a baseball +at the white shingle on the barn. Drawing near, Phil asked Roy what he +was doing, and the latter, startled and perspiring, looked round. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, is it you?" said Roy. "I thought perhaps it was Rackliff. I'm +practicing a little by my lonesome." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a hard way to practice," said Springer. "You can't get much +good out of that." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know. I'm getting so I can hit that shingle once in a +while, and use a curve, too. I couldn't seem to hit it with a straight +ball when I began." +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't given up the idea of pitching?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not quite. After watching your performance Saturday—seeing you soak +a batter in the ribs, and then hand out free passes enough to force a +run—I came to realize what control means. I'm trying to get it." +</P> + +<P> +Phil felt his face burn. "Control is necessary," he admitted; "but it +isn't everything. When I put the ball over, they pup-pounded it." +</P> + +<P> +"But they wouldn't if it hadn't been for——" Choking, as he realized +what he had so nearly said, Hooker bit his tongue. Then he hastened to +make an observation that snapped Springer's self-restraint. "They +didn't seem to pound Grant much, and he appeared able to put the ball +just about where he wanted to." +</P> + +<P> +"Grant!" snarled Phil furiously. "That's all I've heard since the +game! Grant, Grant, Grant! It makes me tired!" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, ho!" muttered Roy. "It does, does it? Well, say, didn't you +realize what you were doing while you were coaching that fellow? I +knew what would happen. I knew the time would come when you'd be +mighty sore with yourself. I'm going to talk plain to you. This +fellow Grant is practically an outsider; he doesn't belong in Oakdale. +He's a presuming cub, too—always pushing himself forward. Here I am, +an Oakdale boy, but you pick up with Rod Grant and coach him to pitch +so he can step into a game when you're batted out and show you up. You +won't be in it hereafter; he'll be the whole show." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know," returned Springer sourly. "He may get his some +time." +</P> + +<P> +"He may, and then again he may not; you can't be sure of it. If you'd +only spent your time with me, I would have been willing to act as +second string pitcher, and you would not have been crowded out. You +put your foot in it, all right, old man." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose I did. But let's not talk about it. You weren't at school +to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"How did that happen?" +</P> + +<P> +"Working." +</P> + +<P> +"Working? How careless! I didn't know you ever did such a thing." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," said Roy slowly, "this was a case of necessity, you see." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you needed the money, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; it wasn't that, though I earned a dollar and a quarter helping +shingle John Holbrook's barn. You see—my mother, she—she lost some +money recently." +</P> + +<P> +"Lost it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; lost it, or—or something," Roy replied stumblingly. "It wasn't +much, but it was all she had. She'd saved up a little at a time to buy +material for a new dress." +</P> + +<P> +"How did she happen to lul-lose it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tell. She doesn't quite know herself. She put it in a drawer +in the house, and when she went to look for it, it was gone." +</P> + +<P> +"That sounds like a robbery instead of a loss." +</P> + +<P> +"But it couldn't be a robbery," protested Hooker quickly and earnestly. +"Nobody would come into the house and take money out of that +drawer—nobody around here. You never hear of such a thing happening +around this town. Perhaps mother mislaid it somewhere. Anyhow, it's +gone, and I'm going to try to earn enough to replace it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, say, Hooker," exclaimed Phil, "you're all right! I didn't +suppose you'd stoop to work, even under such circumstances. Do you +know, lots of times we're liable to misjudge some one until something +happens to show us just the sort of a person he is." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; I suppose that's right," said Roy. But he did not look Phil in +the eyes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PLAIN TALK FROM ELIOT. +</H3> + +<P> +"How's your cold, Phil?" +</P> + +<P> +It was Eliot who asked the question, and Springer, pausing with one +foot on the academy steps, replied: +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's some bub-better, I think." +</P> + +<P> +"Glad to hear it," said Roger, slipping his arm through Springer's. +"Come on, let's walk over yonder to the fence. I want to have a little +chin with you. It will be ten minutes yet before school begins." +</P> + +<P> +Together they walked to the fence at the back of the yard, pausing +beneath one of the tall old trees which was putting forth tender green +leaves. Leaning against the fence, the captain of the nine faced his +companion. +</P> + +<P> +"As a rule," he began, "you've been a great enthusiast over baseball, +and I didn't think you'd let a slight cold keep you away from practice. +Exercise is one of the best remedies for a cold, if a person takes care +of himself when he's through exercising." +</P> + +<P> +"I know that," said Phil, poking his toe into an ant's nest and +declining to meet Roger's steady, level gaze; "but, really, I—I was +feeling pretty rotten, you know, and I didn't have mum-much heart for +practice." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said the captain, "I'm afraid that was the principal +trouble—you didn't have much heart for it. You lost heart in the +game, and you haven't braced up yet. I hardly thought it of you, Phil; +I didn't expect you to play the baby." +</P> + +<P> +"The baby!" exclaimed Springer resentfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; that's just what you've been doing. I made up my mind to speak +plainly to you, and I'm going to do so—for your own good. You've been +sulking, old fellow. It doesn't pay, Phil; you're hurting yourself far +more than any one else." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think you've got any right to call it sulking," objected +Springer in a low tone. "I own up that I did feel bad about the way +things went in that gug-game; but I caught a cold, and I decided to +take care of myself in order to get back into my best condition." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that the reason why you've been giving Rod Grant the cold shoulder?" +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't been giving him—— What has he said to you, Eliot? Has he +been tut-tut-talking about me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a word." +</P> + +<P> +"Then why should you say I'd given him the cold shoulder?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was apparent to the dullest, Phil. For some time before that game +you and Grant were very chummy; you were nearly always together, so +that everybody noticed it. Since the game you've not been together at +all, and I, myself, have plainly observed your efforts to avoid him. +Now, old man, there can only be one explanation for such conduct: +you're sore—sore because he succeeded in holding Barville down after +you had failed." +</P> + +<P> +Weakly Springer sought to protest against this, but stopped in the +midst of it, fully comprehending how feeble his words were. +</P> + +<P> +"It's folly, Springer," said Eliot, "sheer childish folly. We were all +sorry to see you get your bumps and lose control, and I don't believe +any one was any sorrier than Grant himself; for, somehow, I've come +firmly to believe that he's on the square. He was reluctant about +going on to the slab when I called him." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps that was because he was afraid he'd get his, too," muttered +Springer. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, that isn't generous, and you know it. If the score had been +heavy against us at the time, some fellows might have fancied Grant's +reluctance was prompted by fear and a disinclination to shoulder +another man's load in the first game he pitched. I've not sized it up +as anything of the sort. You and he were close friends, and, knowing +how you must feel to be batted out, he was loath to go in. You must +realize it was a mighty lucky thing for us that we had a pitcher to +take your place. Barville had you going, Phil, and you couldn't seem +to steady down. Even old stagers get into that condition sometimes +when pitching, and it's not an infrequent occurrence that a slabman who +is not thought so good steps in and stops the slaughter." +</P> + +<P> +"Every-bub-body seems to think Grant is pretty good," mumbled Springer. +</P> + +<P> +"He certainly did amazingly well, for which he generously gave you all +the credit." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose he'll be the whole shooting match, now." +</P> + +<P> +"Those words betray you, my boy. You've been trapped by the green-eyed +monster. Come, come, Phil, you're too manly for that." He put out a +hand and rested it on Springer's shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +The color mounted into Phil's cheeks and slowly receded, leaving him +pale, and still with downcast eyes. Eliot went on, steadily and +earnestly: +</P> + +<P> +"We need two pitchers—we must have them if we hope to make a decent +showing in the series. By and by we'll have to play two games a week, +and some of those games come so close together that one pitcher alone, +unless he has an arm of iron, can't do all the flinging. You've been +wonderfully successful in coaching Grant, and all the time you were +training him to relieve you in a measure when the hardest work should +come. Nobody wants to rob you of any credit; every one says you've +done a mighty good turn with him. But if you continue to sulk, as you +have for the past few days, you'll lose the sympathy of your teammates; +but you won't hurt Grant—otherwise than his feelings." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't believe it would hurt his feelings a great deal." +</P> + +<P> +Roger was vexed, but he continued to maintain his calm manner. "You +ought to know him better than any one else around here; you ought to +know whether he's at all sensitive or not. I'll tell you honestly, if +I were in his place to-day, I'd feel it. Now, I'm your friend, old +fellow, and I want you to listen to me and take my advice. Forget it. +Get out for practice, treat Grant the same as before, and make up your +mind you'll do your level best to redeem yourself in the next game you +pitch. You'll have plenty of chances to show the stuff you're made of." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't suppose the fellows have much confidence in me now." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense! Unless they're chumps, they know every pitcher has his off +days. There'll be a practice game to-night; we'll play against a +picked up scrub team. Now, I want to see you at the field in a suit +and ready to do your part." +</P> + +<P> +"All right," agreed Phil. +</P> + +<P> +But later, conscience-stricken and ashamed, he could not bring himself +to seek Rodney Grant and own up manfully to his silly behavior. And +Grant, having begun to feel piqued, made no further advances. +</P> + +<P> +At noon that day Roy Hooker returned to school, bringing a written +excuse from his mother. Having a chance to speak privately with +Springer, he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I hear Eliot has expressed his estimation of you and Rod Grant." +</P> + +<P> +Phil started. "You can near lots of things," he retorted sharply. +</P> + +<P> +"The fellows have been talking about it," returned Roy. "They say +Eliot has said Grant will make a better pitcher than you, because you +lack heart." +</P> + +<P> +It was a blow below the belt, and, in spite of himself, Phil could not +help showing the effect. +</P> + +<P> +"He's welcome to th-think what he chooses," he exclaimed hotly; "it +doesn't disturb me." +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless, he was so much disturbed that, in spite of his promise to +Roger, he was not with the team when it took the field that night for +the practice game. For he himself had vainly sought to put aside the +depressing and unnerving conviction that in steadiness, stamina and +self-confidence, Rodney Grant was his superior; something he had +determined never to breathe to any one else, but which the keen +judgment of the team captain had found out. +</P> + +<P> +Nevertheless, when he reached home by a roundabout course, and found it +impossible to dismiss thoughts of the boys engaged in that practice +game, he eventually decided that he was a fool. Having reached this +conclusion, he set off in great haste for the gymnasium, running the +greater part of the distance. +</P> + +<P> +Drawing near the gym, he could hear the boys engaged in the game beyond +the high board fence. It did not take him long to shed his outer +clothes and get into a baseball suit. +</P> + +<P> +The game was in the second inning, with the regular team at bat and +Hooker pitching for the scrub, which was made up partly of grammar +school boys. Everybody seemed to be watching Roy, and Phil walked on +to the field and toward one of the benches without attracting attention. +</P> + +<P> +"Look at Hook!" whooped Chipper Cooper. "He's actually trying to +strike Roger out!" +</P> + +<P> +Eliot was at bat, and the umpire had just called the second strike on +him. There were no runners on the sacks. +</P> + +<P> +"He struck aout Tut in t'other innin'," drawled Sile Crane. "I guess +that's got him puffed up some." +</P> + +<P> +Apparently not at all discomposed by these remarks, Hooker continued +steadily about his business, and presently, rousing a shout of +surprise, he succeeded in fanning the captain of the nine. Roger +stepped back from the plate, after striking out, and stood there gazing +at Roy, with one of his strange, rare smiles. +</P> + +<P> +Crane followed. "Dinged if I wouldn't like ter see him fan me!" he +said. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later Hooker pulled him handsomely on a wide one, and the +first strike was called, Cooper being again awakened to a wondering, +whooping state of merriment. +</P> + +<P> +"Look out! look out!" shouted the little fellow. "He'll get you if you +don't. Who said Hooky couldn't pitch? There's more pitch in him than +you can find in a big chew of spruce gum." +</P> + +<P> +Crane, setting his teeth, made two fouls, and then sent Chipper into +real convulsions by whiffing at a high one which Roy whistled across +his shoulders with surprising accuracy. +</P> + +<P> +"You wanted to see it," yelled Cooper. "You got a look, all right. +Oh, say! Where did this new Christy Mathewson come from, anyhow? Look +out for him, Roddy, or he'll add you to his list. List' to my warning." +</P> + +<P> +Rodney Grant did not strike out, but, nevertheless, he failed to meet +one of Hooker's shoots squarely, and the grammar school shortstop +gathered in an easy grounder and threw to first for the third put-out. +</P> + +<P> +Roger Eliot lingered to speak a word to Hooker, and Springer, still +unnoticed, plainly heard what he said. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps we've made a mistake in sizing you up, Roy, old fellow. It's +your work alone that has prevented us from scoring in either of these +innings. You've always had speed and curves, but now you seem able to +get the pill over. Keep it up, old fellow, and you'll make a pitcher +yet, We may need you before the season ends." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +DREAD. +</H3> + +<P> +"There's Phil," cried Grant, spying him. "I'll take the field. Let +him pitch." +</P> + +<P> +Eliot turned, saw Springer, and looked relieved. +</P> + +<P> +"Wondered where you were," he said pleasantly. "I see you're ready for +business. This is a five-inning game, and Grant has pitched two +innings already; you can hand 'em up the last three." +</P> + +<P> +"But I haven't warmed up any," said Phil. "I couldn't get around any +sooner." +</P> + +<P> +"There's no hurry," returned Roger. "You can have plenty of time to +limber your wing; the scrub won't object to that." +</P> + +<P> +"But I don't want to butt in and take Grant's place." +</P> + +<P> +"Shucks!" cried Rod genially. "Who's butting in, anyhow? What are you +talking about, partner? I want to get some field practice anyhow, and +perhaps I will if you're kind enough to let the scrub hit you once in a +while. They're putting up a right smart sort of a game, but Hooker's +mainly responsible, as he hasn't been letting us rap him to any great +extent. No scores yet on either side." +</P> + +<P> +"Come on, Phil," called Eliot decisively, as he slipped his left hand +into the big catching mitt, "get out there and wiggle your flinger. +Tuttle, maybe they'll let you play with the scrub, so Grant can occupy +the right-hand pasture." +</P> + +<P> +This arrangement was quickly made, the captain of the scrub team having +filled his outfield positions with youngsters who were even weaker than +Tuttle. Springer accepted the ball tossed to him, and walked out to +the pitcher's box, where he began warming up by throwing to Eliot, +while the scrub batters waited around their bench. He was not in the +most agreeable frame of mind, but he had no fear of the scrub players. +In a few moments he announced that he was ready, and began work with +the determination of striking out the first fellow who faced him. +Ordinarily, this would not have been such a difficult thing to do, but, +through some unusual freak of chance, the batter, swinging blindly, +succeeded in hitting out a most annoying little Texas leaguer that +sailed just beyond the eagerly reaching fingers of Jack Nelson. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, Spring, old wiz," cried the thoughtless Cooper, "you've got to +do better than that. If you don't, we'll have to put Grant back on the +slab to avert the disgrace of being beaten by this bunch of kid +pick-ups." +</P> + +<P> +A sudden gust of anger caused Springer to glare, speechless, at the +annoying shortstop; and he was so much disturbed that, in spite of all +he could do, the next batter, "waiting it out," was rewarded for his +patience by a pass. Within a few moments both these runners advanced +on a long fly to the outfield, dropped by Stone after a hard run. +</P> + +<P> +Springer forced a laugh. "Can't expect to hold the kids dud-down with +that sort of support," he cried. +</P> + +<P> +He did strike the following hitter out; and then came Hooker, who found +a bender and straightened it for a sizzling two-bagger that sent in +both runners. +</P> + +<P> +Springer longed to quit at this juncture, but, being ashamed to do so, +he relaxed his efforts and pitched indifferently, permitting the two +following scrubmen to hit the ball. It chanced, however, that neither +of these fellows hit safely, both perishing in a desperate sprint for +the initial sack. +</P> + +<P> +Rodney Grant, jogging in from the field, seated himself beside Springer +on the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"You were a little out of form that inning, son," he said; "but you'll +be all right next trip, I opine." +</P> + +<P> +Without replying, Springer got up and began pawing over the bats, as if +searching among them for some special favorite. +</P> + +<P> +Hooker again pitched very well, indeed, but poor support gave the +regulars a score, and they would have obtained more had not Roy risen +to the occasion, with one down and the bases full, and struck two +hitters out. +</P> + +<P> +Although Phil showed some improvement in the fourth inning, and the +scrub team did not succeed in securing another tally, he felt all the +while that his teammates were watching him closely and comparing or +contrasting his work with that of Hooker; nor did he forget that in the +first two innings Grant had performed more successfully. +</P> + +<P> +To the surprise of many, fumbles and bad throws behind Hooker in the +fourth did not seem to discourage him, and he persisted in pitching as +if the game was one of some importance and he had resolved to do his +part, no matter what happened. The errors gave the regular team three +runs and the lead, and it was Hooker's work alone that kept them from +obtaining several more. +</P> + +<P> +In the fifth and last, Phil whipped the ball over spitefully, and only +one batter hit it safely. Nevertheless, with the contest ended and the +fellows trooping toward the gymnasium, he noticed that no one had any +word of praise for him, while several expressed their surprise over the +showing Hooker had made. Even Grant, whose friendly advance had been +met with churlish spleen, commended Hooker. Phil felt as if the very +ground was slipping from beneath his feet, and it made him sore and +sick at heart. He paid little attention to the talk of the fellows +while dressing, until of a sudden the words of Nelson caught his ear. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course, you fellows have heard all about that Clearport-Wyndham +game? I had a talk to-day with a fellow who saw the whole of it. +Cracky! Clearport did come near pulling it out of the fire—actually +batted out a lead of one run in the first of the ninth. If Wyndham +hadn't come back in her half and made two tallies, she'd been stung." +</P> + +<P> +"I hear," said Berlin Barker, "that Clearport pounded Wyndham's +wonderful new twirler off the slab." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," said Nelson. "They got at Newbert in the seventh and +gave him fits. The score was eight to two in favor of Wyndham when the +'Porters began connecting with Newbert's twists, and they hammered in +three earned runs before the shift was made. Twitt Crowell was sent in +to save the day, but if he hadn't had luck, they'd kept right on. It +was his backing that checked the stampede." +</P> + +<P> +"The Clearporters always have been heavy batters," said Eliot. "If +they could play the rest of the game the way they bat, they'd be almost +sure to win the championship." +</P> + +<P> +"The fellow we put up against them for Saturday will have to have his +nerve with him," grinned Cooper. "If he weakens, they'll murder him." +</P> + +<P> +"Crowell got through the eighth all right," continued Nelson; "but in +the first of the ninth the 'Porters found him and bingled out four +runs. It looked as if they had the game tucked away; but Wyndham rose +to the emergency in the last half and got two, which let them out with +a victory." +</P> + +<P> +"If Clearport can play like that away from home," observed Sleuth +Piper, "my deduction is that she will be a terror to beat on her own +field." +</P> + +<P> +Springer, dressed, stowed his playing clothes in a locker and walked +out of the gymnasium unnoticed. This was the first time he had heard +the particulars concerning that game, although on Saturday the +surprising information had been telephoned to Oakdale that Wyndham had +been barely able to squeeze out a precarious victory on her own +grounds. As Eliot had stated, the Clearporters were batters to be +feared, and Phil was now in no condition to be unruffled by this menace +to his prowess. +</P> + +<P> +Once more Springer sulked; not until Friday night did he again show +himself for practice. Eliot, thoroughly disgusted, and realizing that +it was the worst sort of policy to coax such a fellow, let him alone. +He was given a chance to warm up and do a little pitching to the +batters, but, following Eliot's example, no one tried to coddle him. +</P> + +<P> +"Everybody be on time for the train to-morrow," urged Roger, as they +were dressing. "Trains won't wait for people who are late." +</P> + +<P> +But even when he went to bed that night Springer was undecided as to +whether he would be on hand or not. Had he been urged, it is doubtful +if he would have appeared; but, perceiving, in spite of his dudgeon, +that he could gain nothing by remaining away, he arrived at the station +just in time to board the train with his comrades. +</P> + +<P> +The day was disagreeable, rain threatening, and, deep in his heart, +Springer hoped it would pour all the afternoon. The menacing storm +holding off, however, at the appointed hour the two teams were on the +field ready for the clash. +</P> + +<P> +Phil, still agitated by poorly hidden alarm, could not fail to observe +the all too evident confidence of the Clearport players. The local +crowd was likewise confident, something indicated by their +encouragement of and cheering for their players. +</P> + +<P> +"If I'm batted out to-day it's my finish," thought the unhappy Oakdale +pitcher. +</P> + +<P> +"Cheer up," said a Clearporter, trotting past him. "We won't do a +thing to you. If you're sick and need some medicine, we'll hand you +some of the same kind we gave Newbert and Crowell." +</P> + +<P> +"Aw, go on!" growled Phil. "You're nothing but a lot of wind-bags." +</P> + +<P> +While the locals were practicing Eliot called Grant and Springer aside, +giving each a ball. +</P> + +<P> +"Warm up, both of you," he directed. "I'll catch you." +</P> + +<P> +So these rivals, who had only a short time before been friends, stood +off at the proper distance and pitched alternately to Eliot. Grant was +steady and serene, with good control and in command of some curves, of +which the drop taught him by Springer led Roger to nod his head +approvingly; seeing which, Phil, who had not been right to start with, +grew very wild indeed. +</P> + +<P> +Practice over, the Clearport captain trotted up to Roger, saying: +</P> + +<P> +"We're all ready. We'll take the field. Let's get to playing before +it begins raining." +</P> + +<P> +Phil sat down on the bench, throwing his sweater over his arm for +protection. The umpire called, "Play," and Nelson, cheered by the +little crowd from Oakdale, stepped out with his bat. +</P> + +<P> +The Oakdale captain found a place at Springer's side. "Phil," he said +in a low tone, "I want you to be ready to go in any time. I've decided +to start the game with Grant, but we may need you any moment." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BOY ON THE BENCH. +</H3> + +<P> +For a moment Phil was dazed; then a sudden feeling of relief flashed +over him. He would not have to face those dangerous Clearport batters +unless Grant should be knocked out, in which case, no matter what +happened after he went in, all the blame could be thrust upon Rodney. +</P> + +<P> +But this feeling of satisfaction lasted only a few seconds; gradually +resentment and wrath crowded it out, and he sat there eaten by the +bitterest emotion. Not for a moment had he dreamed Eliot would think +of starting the game with the Texan on the slab, for this day he, Phil, +was to be given the opportunity to redeem himself. It was an outrage, +an injustice of such magnitude that his soul flamed with wrath. What +if Grant were to succeed in holding the Clearporters down? In that +case, of course, Eliot would permit him to pitch the game through to +the finish, leaving on the bench the lad who had expected to do the +twirling. And that would mean further glory for the chap Springer had +thoughtlessly coached for the position of second pitcher; would mean +that, if he pitched at all in future games, Phil himself would be the +second string man. +</P> + +<P> +Feeling that he could not contain himself, he was turning to Eliot +when, to his amazement, he saw the fellows rising from the bench and +starting toward the field; for while he had been thus bitterly absorbed +the first three Oakdalers had faced Oakes, the Clearport pitcher, and +not one of them had reached first base. Phil could scarcely believe it +possible that the riotous condition of his mind had prevented him from +realizing that the game was in progress, but such had been the case. +</P> + +<P> +And now, hot and cold by turns, he saw Rod Grant fling aside his +brand-new crimson sweater and jog forth, smiling, to pit his skill and +brains against the local sluggers. +</P> + +<P> +"I hate him!" hissed the miserable lad beneath his breath. "I hope +they pound him to death right off the reel." +</P> + +<P> +A few moments later his heart gave a tremendous leap of joy, and he +almost shouted with satisfaction when Boothby led off by smashing the +first ball Grant handed up. It was a terrific long line drive to +center field, but Stone took the ball on the run, and the Clearport +sympathizers groaned and cried, "Hard luck!" +</P> + +<P> +"It <I>was</I> hard luck for Boothby," muttered Springer. "If he'd placed +that drive farther to the left it would have been good for three +sus-sacks. It was a fearful slam. Oh, they'll hand it to Mr. Grant, +all right!" +</P> + +<P> +The next batter, Long, likewise hit the ball, driving it buzzing along +the ground, and again the crowd groaned; for Nelson made a +hair-raising, one-hand, diving jab and got the sphere. He nearly +sprawled at full length upon the ground in doing this, but finally +regained his equilibrium in time to toss the ball to Crane for the +second put-out. +</P> + +<P> +"Right fine work, Jack," praised Grant. "That was just about as fancy +as anything I ever saw." +</P> + +<P> +"It was a fuf-fine thing for you, all right," whispered Springer to +himself. "Robbed Long of a hit. Oh, they're going to hand you yours!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're playing ball to-day, fellows," smiled Eliot, readjusting the +catching mask. "That's the stuff!" +</P> + +<P> +Barney Carney, Clearport's lively young Irishman, danced forth with a +bat. +</P> + +<P> +"Just be after letting me put me shillaly against one of them," he +chuckled. "Ye'll find it over in the woods yonder." +</P> + +<P> +After making three fouls, he hit the ball, hoisting it so high into the +air that it seemed to dwindle to a quarter of its usual size. Cooper, +coming into the diamond, gave no heed to the shouting of the crowd. +"I'll take it!" he yelled, as the ball fell swiftly. And take it he +did, freezing to the horsehide with a grip like grim death. +</P> + +<P> +"You're wearing horseshoes all over you to-day, Mr. Grant," growled the +watching lad on the bench. "But there'll come a change; this can't +keep up." +</P> + +<P> +It was impossible for him to wear a pleasant face as his teammates +gathered about him, even though he tried, in a measure, to hide his +chagrin. Silently he watched Stone lead off with a safety, and saw +Eliot unhesitatingly sacrifice Ben to second. Nor did he move a muscle +when Sile Crane slashed one into right field and Stone won the approval +of his comrades and awakened the enthusiasm of the little crowd of +Oakdale rooters by making a marvelous sprint over third and a slide to +the plate that brought him to the rubber ahead of the ball. +</P> + +<P> +Oakes, taking a brace, disposed of Cooper and Piper in double-quick +time; and the visitors were forced to remain content with a single +tally in the second. +</P> + +<P> +Clearport again came to bat in a business-like manner, and in almost +every detail the home team duplicated the performance of Oakdale. +Butters, picking out a bender to his fancy, straightened it for a +single. +</P> + +<P> +"Good bub-boy!" mumbled Springer. +</P> + +<P> +Stoker bunted, letting Butters down to second while he was being thrown +out at first. Merwin got a Texas leaguer, on which Butters took a +chance—foolishly, it seemed—and was saved by a wild throw to the pan +that let him slide under the catcher. +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Mr. Grant is getting his mum-medicine," grinned Springer joyfully. +</P> + +<P> +But Grant, resorting to his wonderful drop, struck out both Ramsdell +and Oakes. "That's the form, Grant!" approved Eliot; and Springer +chewed his tongue with envy. +</P> + +<P> +The third inning gave neither side the advantage, but Grant seemed to +be swinging into shape; for, of the four hitters to face him, he +retired three with an ease that made them look foolish. +</P> + +<P> +Rain was now threatening any moment, and it seemed hardly probable that +the downpour would hold off long enough for the game to be played +through. "We must get into it as soon as we can, fellows," said +Captain Eliot; "for if it does rain after the fifth inning, we should +have the lead. Come on; take that pitcher's measure." +</P> + +<P> +Whether or not his words had an effect, they proceeded to go after +Oakes in a manner that might have discouraged any pitcher. Eliot, +himself, started it with a screaming two-bagger, scoring on Crane's +single. Sile took second on the throw to the plate, and stole third a +moment later, romping to the pan after Cooper's fly to the outfield was +caught. +</P> + +<P> +With the sacks clean, Oakes' comrades were hopeful that he would check +the enemy. It was not his fault that Piper reached first, as Hutt, at +third, fumbled the grounder batted at him and followed this with a +wretched throw. This seemed to put the home pitcher off his feet, for +he passed Tuttle, to the great joy of the visitors. +</P> + +<P> +"Great Caesar!" muttered Springer. "If they get a big lead, Grant may +pitch it through and win. Why doesn't Merwin take Oakes out?" +</P> + +<P> +But Oakes remained on the slab, and Nelson, seeking to drive the ball +through an infield opening, batted straight at Carney, who winged the +sphere across for a put-out. +</P> + +<P> +"Only one more," said Merwin encouragingly. "Get Barker, Oakesie." +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't get him, your goose is cooked—and mine, too!" whispered +Springer. +</P> + +<P> +Barker stood second on the list because he was a good waiter, but could +hit well if necessary, and was, perhaps, the best bunter and sacrifice +batter Oakdale had. With two down, he surprised the Clearporters by +dropping a soggy one in front of the pan and beating it to first. +</P> + +<P> +The corners were filled, and, "Here's Grant!" was the cry. Phil +Springer's teeth chattered and his eyes almost glared as the Texan, +with whom he had been on such friendly terms only a short time before, +stepped out to face Oakes. +</P> + +<P> +"If he'll only strike out!" thought Phil. +</P> + +<P> +When Rod had swung at two balls, and missed both, it began to seem that +he was destined to strike out. A few seconds later, however, he caught +the ball fairly on the trade mark and drove it over the head of Carney, +who made an amusingly ineffective leap for it. +</P> + +<P> +Three runners chased one another over the pan, and Grant arrived at +third base before the ball was returned to the diamond. +</P> + +<P> +Springer was ill; at that moment, he thought, he would have given +almost anything to be far from that field. It was all Grant, Grant, +and never had he heard a more hateful sound than the shrill and frantic +cheering of the small Oakdale crowd. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep it up! keep it going!" entreated Eliot, as Stone went to bat. +</P> + +<P> +Ben did his best, and he did pound out a long fly, but Boothby, in +left, pulled it down after a hard run. +</P> + +<P> +"The game is as gug-good as settled," muttered Springer, when his +elated teammates had galloped off to the field and left him alone. +"Unless rain stops it, Oakdale is the winner." +</P> + +<P> +The Clearporters seemed to realize this, for they resorted to many +obvious expedients to delay the game, casting imploring eyes toward the +threatening heavens. The storm, however, perversely held off, and the +locals found Grant too much for them in the last of the fourth. +</P> + +<P> +"We're five runs to the good, fellows," said Eliot, as the Oakdale +players gathered at the bench. "It's going to rain soon, and this +inning must be played through complete. Let every man who goes to bat +now strike out." +</P> + +<P> +They followed instructions, Roger setting the example. Crane and +Cooper made a pretense of trying to hit, but they did not even foul the +ball. +</P> + +<P> +A few straggling drops of rain, falling in the last of the inning, +encouraged Clearport to dally until Eliot demanded of the umpire that +he compel them to play or give the game to Oakdale by forfeit, and at +last Grant struck out the third man. +</P> + +<P> +While the boys were rejoicing in a victory they considered as +positively assured, Phil Springer slipped away and left the field. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A LOST OPPORTUNITY. +</H3> + +<P> +But the game was not to end there, for, although it continued to +sprinkle slightly at intervals, not enough rain fell to lead the umpire +into calling time. The playing continued, with both teams fighting +hard and wasting no opportunities after the conclusion of the fifth +inning. +</P> + +<P> +Unaware of this, Springer, who had noted that by hurrying he might +possibly be able to catch the mid-afternoon train for the west, ran all +the way to the hotel, where a room had been provided for the use of the +visitors in changing their clothes, tore off his baseball suit, yanked +on his regular garments, and arrived, panting, at the station just in +time to swing onto the last car as the train was pulling out. +</P> + +<P> +By this foolish action Phil lost a golden opportunity to put himself +"right" with his teammates. +</P> + +<P> +For in the eighth inning, with the score 7 to 2 in favor of the +visitors, Clearport seemed at last to take Rodney Grant's measure, and, +aided by errors on the part of Oakdale, they went after him with a +fierceness that threatened to drive him off the slab. Eliot, becoming +alarmed, looked round for Springer, desiring him to warm up and make +ready. +</P> + +<P> +All along the Oakdale captain had supposed Phil to be somewhere near at +hand, but now not a trace of him was to be discovered. Making an +excuse to do something to the catching mask, Eliot ran to the bench and +called Bunk Lander, who was watching the game from a position near by. +</P> + +<P> +"Lander," said Roger swiftly, as he fussed with the mask, "where is +Springer? We need him—bad." +</P> + +<P> +"I gotter idea," said Bunk, "that he's skipped. Saw him go out through +the gate in a mighty hurry at the end of the fifth." +</P> + +<P> +"Skipped!" muttered Roger, paying no heed to the demands of the +Clearport crowd that he should play ball. "It can't be possible that +he—— Say, Lander, find Roy Hooker, quick. Tell him I want him on +the bench. If he's loyal to his school he'll come. I'll set him to +warming up, anyhow." +</P> + +<P> +Bunk went searching for Hooker, and discovered him at the far end of +the right-field bleachers, talking with Herbert Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey, you, Hook!" called Lander. "Roge Eliot wants you to warm up, for +it looks like they're going to knock Grant into a cocked hat. They got +him goin' somethin' fierce. You gotter save this game for us—if you +can." +</P> + +<P> +Hooker's face flushed and he caught his breath. Was it possible he was +to have an opportunity to pitch in that game? Eagerly he started, but +Rackliff's stained fingers gripped his coatsleeve. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to be an easy mark?" asked Herbert scornfully. "Are you +going to let them run you in after a game is lost by another pitcher? +Have you forgotten the sort of rotten, shabby treatment you've had to +stand by this very bunch that wants to put you up for sacrifice now?" +</P> + +<P> +Roy hesitated. +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, you pale-faced, sneaky, cigarette-suckin' pup," rasped Bunk +furiously, "you take your claws off his arm and let him alone, or I'll +grasp the occasion to hand you the dose of medicine I come so nigh +givin' ye at the game last Satterday. Mebbe he can save this game, and +it's up to him to try, anyhow. I s'pose you've bet some more money +ag'inst your own school team, and want to see it beat. Somebody's +goin' to give you all that's coming some day pretty soon. Come on +quick, Hook." +</P> + +<P> +Roy did not permit Herbert to detain him longer, but he heard and +understood some words which were hastily whispered into his ear by the +fellow as he was starting away. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Grant had pulled himself together at last, despite the +howling of the Clearport crowd, and, with the bases full and the enemy +only one tally behind, he struck out two men, bringing the rally to an +end. +</P> + +<P> +Rod's face wore an unusually serious expression as he walked to the +bench, at one end of which Eliot stood unbuckling the body-protector. +</P> + +<P> +"That sure was a right rotten exhibition of pitching," said the Texan +humbly. "Why didn't you yank me out, captain?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because," answered Roger, "there was no one else to put in." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Phil——" +</P> + +<P> +"Has disappeared; can't find hide nor hair of him. I sent for Roy +Hooker as a last resort and—here he is!" +</P> + +<P> +Roy came up, his face flushed. Eliot spoke to him quietly in a low +tone: +</P> + +<P> +"Springer has deserted us," he said. "If I'd had you on the bench and +ready, I'd surely sent you onto the firing line to relieve Grant. Get +somebody to catch you and limber your arm up. I may let you finish the +game." +</P> + +<P> +So Hooker peeled off and went at it warming up while Oakdale made a +desperate but futile effort to gather some more tallies. While his +players were striving to solve Oakes' delivery Captain Eliot had a +brief talk with Grant. +</P> + +<P> +"You were not wholly to blame for that streak, Rod," said Roger. +"Those two bad errors helped things along; they sort of got your goat. +You ended strong by mowing down Butters and Stoker, and I think perhaps +you can go back and finish it out." +</P> + +<P> +"But you sent for Hooker. He's warming up now." +</P> + +<P> +"I sent for Hooker as a last resort when you were performing at your +worst. Just then I'd tried almost anybody in your place, hoping that +the change might put an end to the slaughter; but now, unless you have +lost your nerve——" +</P> + +<P> +Rodney gave Roger a resentful look. "I reckon I've still got my nerve +with me," he said warmly. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'm going to let you try to hold them. If they get another run +the game will be tied, and two more runs gives them the victory. +You've got to hold them right where they are." +</P> + +<P> +"I certain will do my level best to hold them." +</P> + +<P> +And so it happened that Hooker did not get the chance to pitch in that +game, after all. Eliot explained to him that Grant was willing to try +to pitch it through, but added that he should bench Rod instantly in +case he betrayed any bad symptoms. The Texan, however, was cool as a +cucumber and steady as a mountain, not even seeming to hear the howling +of the crowd, which resumed its uproar in an effort to put him off his +feet again. Captain Merwin was the first victim, retiring by the +strike-out route; and then Ramsdell hit weakly on the ground, being +thrown out long ere he could sprint to first; the game ending 7 to 6 in +Oakdale's favor when Eliot pulled down a high foul from Oakes' bat. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm much obliged to you, Hooker, old chap," said Eliot cordially, +after the cheering was over and the boys had started from the field. +"It was fine and loyal of you to answer my call promptly, as you did; +but as long as Rod still had his nerve I thought it best to let him try +to finish it out. Come along with us. We've got to have two pitchers, +and if Springer has taken a huff you'll likely get chances enough to do +some twirling." +</P> + +<P> +Although disappointed because he had not been permitted to pitch in the +final inning of the present game, the prospect of possible +opportunities in the future cheered Hooker, and he marched from the +field with the other players, feeling almost as if he was one of them. +</P> + +<P> +Roy was standing on the steps of the hotel, waiting for the boys to +dress, when Herbert Rackliff approached at a languid saunter, smoking, +as usual, and looking rather dejected and cast down. +</P> + +<P> +"I say, Hook," said Herbert, "lend me the price of a ticket back to +Oakdale, will you. I've gone clean broke over here, thanks to the +rotten luck. You know I told you at the field that I'd bet my last red +on Clearport. Why didn't Eliot put you in to pitch? If he had, you +could have saved my money for me without——" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, Rack," interrupted Roy hotly, "if that's the kind of a chap +you think I am you've got me sized up wrong. I know I gave you money +once to bet against Oakdale, but I'd never throw a game for you or +anybody else." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, well," sneered Herbert, "it isn't likely you'll have a chance. I +notice Eliot didn't let you pitch, after all. He doesn't take any +stock in you. Now don't get hot with me, for we're friends. If I'd +bought a return ticket I'd be all right, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going back on the train with the team," said Hooker. "Came over +on my motorcycle. I'll let you have that. It will take you home all +right." +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff looked still more weary. "I detest the thing," he said. +"Come, old chap——" +</P> + +<P> +"I've got only money enough for my own fare," said Roy. "You'll find +riding my motorcycle better than walking." +</P> + +<P> +"That's right," sighed Herbert resignedly. "I'll take it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +POISON SPLEEN. +</H3> + +<P> +Phil Springer returned to Oakdale in a wretched frame of mind. Barely +had the train carried him out of Clearport before he began to regret +his hasty action in running away, but it was then too late to turn back. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose some of the fellows will think it rotten of me to sneak," he +muttered, "but the game was practically over, and there was no reason +why I shouldn't get back home as soon as I could. Why should I hang +round just for the pleasure of making the return trip with the rest of +the bub-bunch and being forced to listen to their praise of Rod Grant +for his fine work! They'll slobber over him, all right. He's the star +now, and I—I who taught him everything he knows about pitching—I am +the second string man! I won't be that! I won't be anything! I'm +done!" +</P> + +<P> +He was not a little surprised as he stepped off the train to find it +was not raining, although the sky was still heavy and threatening, as +if the downpour might come at any moment. +</P> + +<P> +"It certainly is coming down in Clearport, just the same. It had begun +before I hiked. Hiked! I hate that word; Grant uses it. Clearport is +nineteen miles away, and it frequently rains there when it doesn't +here." +</P> + +<P> +He hurried over the bridge and up through the village toward his home. +</P> + +<P> +"Hi, there, Phil!" cried a voice as he was passing the postoffice, and +a wondering looking youngster came running out. "What are you doing +here—at this hour? Saw you start for Clearport with the team, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Game's over," cut in Springer. "Rain sus-stopped it." +</P> + +<P> +"Rain? Why——" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; it's raining over at the Port." +</P> + +<P> +"Rotten! How many innings——" +</P> + +<P> +"Five; just finished the fif-fifth when the clouds started to leak." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, then it counts as a game," palpitated the interested boy. "How +did the score stand? Who was ahead?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oakdale, six to one," answered Springer over his shoulder as he +hurried on up the street. +</P> + +<P> +"Hooray!" came the elated shout of the rejoicing lad. "Then you +trimmed 'em! Jinks! that's fine. But, say—say, who pitched?" +</P> + +<P> +Springer quickened his stride, seemingly deaf of a sudden. He had felt +the question coming, and he had no heart to answer it. It would be +asked by every fellow in Oakdale who had not attended the game, and, on +learning the truth, they would join in one grand chorus of acclamation +and praise for the Texan. For the time being Grant would be the king +pin of the town. +</P> + +<P> +Reaching home, Phil slipped in quietly without being seen by his mother +and tiptoed up to his room, where, in sour meditation, he spent the +intervening time until supper was ready. In a vague way he realized +that he had, by deserting the team, betrayed himself to all his +comrades as a fellow swayed by petty jealousy; but this thought, which +seemed trying to force itself humiliatingly upon him, he beat back and +thrust aside, persisting in dwelling on the notion that he had been +most shabbily treated by Captain Eliot. +</P> + +<P> +"He led me to believe he meant to give me a chance to-day, and then he +let me warm the bench while Grant went out to win all the glory. It +wasn't a square deal. I'll show him he can't treat me that way! I'll +never pitch again as long as he is captain." +</P> + +<P> +This resolution, however, gave him anything but a feeling of +satisfaction; it was poor retaliation, indeed, for him, who loved the +game so dearly and had looked forward so confidently to this season +when he would be the star pitcher of the nine, to "get square" with +Eliot by refusing to play at all. It would have seemed somewhat better +had he felt certain that his withdrawal must seriously cripple the +nine, but, judging by recent events, it appeared that Oakdale could get +along very well without him—might, indeed, succeed fully as well as it +could with him on the team. +</P> + +<P> +Grant was to blame for it all. No, not Grant; he himself was to blame. +Had he not been such a blind fool he might have foreseen what would +happen, for had not Rodney Grant displayed beyond doubt since appearing +in Oakdale the natural qualifications of mind and body which would make +him a leader at anything he might undertake with unbridled vim and +enthusiasm? The fellow who had been so completely misjudged by almost +everyone during his early days at the academy, had demonstrated later +that he was a thoroughbred, with nerve, brains, courage and the will to +step into the front ranks wherever he might be. His one great fault, a +fiery and unreasoning temper, he was fighting hard to master, and in +this, as in other things, he had already shown that he was destined to +succeed. +</P> + +<P> +"I was a Jack!" growled Phil, walking the floor of his room and +savagely kicking an inoffensive chair out of his way. "I should have +known. If I had taken Hooker in hand and coached him, instead of +Grant—— But I never did like Roy very much, and somehow Rod Grant +got on my sus-soft side." +</P> + +<P> +His mother, hearing him prowling around, called up the stairs and was +somewhat surprised to find him home. +</P> + +<P> +At supper he tried to hide the disturbed state of his mind, but his +father, who seldom took any interest at all in such matters +unexpectedly attempted to joke him a bit. +</P> + +<P> +"Got beat to-day, I see," said Mr. Springer. "Did you up pretty bad, +didn't they?" +</P> + +<P> +"How did you get that idea?" asked Phil evasively. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I can tell by the way you act. You're broke up, though you're +making a bluff not to show it. Let's see, played Clearport, didn't ye? +I s'pose they give you an awful hammering? Oakdale'll have to get +another pitcher after this." +</P> + +<P> +"They didn't beat us; we won." +</P> + +<P> +"Whew! Is that a fact? Well, what's the matter with you, then? I +thought by your looks that you'd been done up brown. What went wrong +with the game, anyhow? Didn't you get good backing up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't pitch." +</P> + +<P> +"So <I>that's</I> it, eh? How did it happen? The way you've been blowing +around the house every time you could get anybody to listen, I thought +you were the whole thing in that particular department." +</P> + +<P> +Phil's cheeks burned and his hands shook nervously, although he fought +hard to appear unconcerned and indifferent. In replying the slight +impediment in his speech became more pronounced. +</P> + +<P> +"The gug-game only went fuf-five innings; it commenced to rur-rain +then, so they didn't finish it out. You see I—I cuc-can't do all the +pitching, and Eliot put in Grant for the first pup-part of this game." +He was intensely annoyed because of his unusual halting and stammering +over this explanation. +</P> + +<P> +"Humph! Rained, eh? That was odd; just began to rain here about half +an hour ago." +</P> + +<P> +"It began to pour at Clearport right in the middle of the game," +declared Phil. "I was just ready to relieve Grant, for he—he was sort +of—sort of sus-showing signs of weakening. Eliot had sus-started me +to warming up, but it—it began to rain, and that sus-settled it." +</P> + +<P> +His wounded pride, his wretched jealousy of Grant, had led him into the +telling of an untruth, and he left the table feeling very contemptible +indeed. Certainly it was not a malicious falsehood that was liable to +do any one particular harm, but it was a falsehood just the same, and +he was ashamed. +</P> + +<P> +His room was like a cage, and he found he could not read or study. +What were they saying about the game in town? What were they saying +about the pitching of Rodney Grant? Despite the rain, some of the +fellows would gather after supper at the postoffice or Stickney's store +to talk it over. This talk after a victorious game had ever held a +keen delight for Phil, and it was rarely that he missed being on hand +to take part in it. +</P> + +<P> +"I must get out!" he cried suddenly. "I'll just wander down street; +maybe I'll meet some fellow who won't be all done up in Grant." +</P> + +<P> +Putting on an old raincoat and securing an umbrella, he left the house +and started down the street. At the first corner he paused, for if he +continued straight down Main Street he would have to pass Roger Eliot's +home, and surely he had no desire by any chance to run upon Roger. A +drizzling rain was falling, and twilight was coming on. Turning, he +cut through Cedar Street and down Willow to avoid passing Urian Eliot's +fine house. +</P> + +<P> +On his way he passed a house no less pretentious than that of the +Eliots; it was the home of Lemuel Hayden, whose only son, Bernard, had +been compelled to leave Oakdale because of his jealous efforts and +lying and plotting to injure Ben Stone, whom he bitterly hated. The +boys of the town had talked that matter over many times, and it was +universally conceded that Bernard's unrestrained hatred of Stone and +plotting for the boy's injury had led him at last into a pit of his own +digging and brought upon him nothing more than just retribution. +</P> + +<P> +A strange and most unpleasant thought struck in upon Springer; in +almost every particular, save a deliberate underhand effort to injure +Grant, he was not a whit better than Bern Hayden, who now had not a +single boy friend left in Oakdale. +</P> + +<P> +That thought staggered Phil a bit. Why, in a vague way he had +contemplated seeking some surreptitious method of accomplishing the +overthrow of Grant! +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I guess I'm rotten!" he growled. "But it's dirty luck that's made +me so!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FELLOWS WHO MADE MISTAKES. +</H3> + +<P> +Roy Hooker lived one block further down the street. The popping +explosions of an approaching motorcycle greeted Phil's ears as he +walked on, and up the street came a chap astride such a machine, the +lamp of which had not yet been lighted. The motorcycle swerved into +Hooker's yard and nearly ran Springer down. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey!" cried Phil, dodging. "What are you trying to do, Hooker?" +</P> + +<P> +But it was not Hooker who shut off the motor and tumbled off the +machine as it slackened speed. It was Herbert Rackliff, soaked, +mud-bespattered, limp and in a temper. +</P> + +<P> +"Why in the dickens don't you get out of a fellow's way?" snapped +Herbert, supporting the machine and glaring round at Phil. He bore +little resemblance to the usual dapper, immaculate, self-possessed +young fellow from the city whose tailored clothes and swagger manners +had aroused the envy and admiration of a number of country lads +thereabouts. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, is it you?" said Springer. "I thought it was Hooker. What are +you doing out in this rain with his machine?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just getting back from Clearport," answered Herbert, with a sour +laugh. "If I owned this old mess of junk I'd pay somebody to take it +away. She stopped twice on me and skidded me into the ditch once. +Came mighty near leaving her there and hoofing it." +</P> + +<P> +In truth, Rackliff was a sight, and Springer restrained a laugh with +some difficulty as he observed: +</P> + +<P> +"It must have taken you a deuce of a while to get back on that thing, +for the game was over by three o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +"Half past three," corrected Herbert, turning to trundle the motorcycle +toward the carriage house, the door of which, seen through the +twilight, was standing open. +</P> + +<P> +"I caught the three-twelve train from Clearport," said Phil, +unconsciously starting to follow Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +"Huh!" grunted the other. "Know you did, but you didn't wait to see +the finish. If you had——" +</P> + +<P> +By this time Springer was at the speaker's side and had seized his +mud-spattered, rain-soaked sleeve. +</P> + +<P> +"What are you talking about?" he cried. "Rain stopped the game right +after the fifth. Saw I had barely time to get into my togs and catch +that three-twelve, so I hustled." +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff started to laugh, but finished with a hollow cough. "Bet I've +caught a rotten cold," he gasped. "The game went for the full nine +innings. Didn't begin to rain until I was pretty near halfway home." +</P> + +<P> +Phil was struck dumb for the moment, and before he could recover +Hooker, having heard their voices, came running out to the carriage +house, calling to Rackliff. Springer followed the drenched and +complaining city youth into the shelter of the building, where Roy +recognized him and seemed to betray embarrassment. +</P> + +<P> +"Take your old machine," said Rackliff, "and I hope it may be my +everlasting finish if I ever ride another rod on it. Look at me! I'm +a complete wreck, and all because you were too blamed stingy to lend me +the price of carfare from Clearport. This suit is ruined, and I'm +soaked to the bone. You ought to use an axe on the thing next time it +gets out of order, Hooker." +</P> + +<P> +"And these are the thanks I get for furnishing some means of +transportation," said Roy resentfully. "Well, I don't know that I +should expect anything else." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert, producing his cigarette case, gave a little half-muttered sigh +of relief when he found that the contents of the case had escaped a +wetting. +</P> + +<P> +"Gimme a match, one of you fellows," he coughed. "I'm just crazy for a +smoke. This has been the rottenest day I've seen in a long time." +</P> + +<P> +Hooker, having seen that the motorcycle was placed on its rack, +supplied the match, and Rackliff fired up, the light seeming to shine +through his thin, cupped hands as he protected the blaze from the light +draught that came in through the open door. He looked tired, and the +first whiff or two set him coughing again. +</P> + +<P> +By this time Springer had recovered, and he ventured to ask: +</P> + +<P> +"What's this Rackliff tells me about the gug-game going nine innings? +It began to rain in the fifth and, wishing to get home as soon as I +could, I ducked when that was over. I didn't have an idea——" +</P> + +<P> +"It didn't rain any to speak of until long after the full game was +over," said Hooker. "You should have stayed, Phil; they wanted +you—bad—in the eighth. Eliot was simply tearing things up in his +frenzy to find you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why—why, what happened?" faltered Springer, a sickening feeling +stealing over him. "Tut-tell me what ha-happened, Roy." +</P> + +<P> +"The Porters got after Grant and bumped him to beat the band. Came +within one tally of tying the score. If you'd been there Eliot would +have shoved you in, and you'd had a chance to win all sorts of glory +saving the game." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps he would, and perhaps he wouldn't," muttered Phil. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, it's a dead sure thing he would have done it." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't I tell you he tried to find you! Why, he even sent for me; he +was going to put me in." +</P> + +<P> +"You?" breathed Springer incredulously. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, me; and I didn't have on a playing suit. If Grant hadn't managed +to steady down at the last moment, I'd gone onto the slab. What made +you skin out, Phil?" +</P> + +<P> +After a few moments of silence, Springer forced himself by a great +effort to speak: +</P> + +<P> +"I tut-told you I thought the game was o-over." +</P> + +<P> +"You might have waited for the rest of the bunch. If you'd done that +you'd known it wasn't over. The fellows are pretty sore on you, for +they say you deserted." +</P> + +<P> +Phil flushed and flared. "Let them be sore, I don't care! I'm the one +to be sore! I got a rotten deal to-day. I had every reason to suppose +I was going to pitch that game, but Roger Eliot ran Grant in. I want +him to understand he can't play that sort of fuf-funny business with +me; I won't sus-stand for it. I'm glad they hammered Grant! Did they +win?" +</P> + +<P> +"No; we pulled through by the skin of our teeth—seven to six. It was +an awful snug rub. I believe I could have stopped the Porters if I'd +got the chance; I'm dead sure you could. That's why I say you made a +big mistake by scooting." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert Rackliff, smoking, laughed sneeringly. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't blame Springer a bit," he said. "He did get a rotten deal, and +he has a right to resent it. What ails you, Hook; are you going to let +Eliot softsoap round you? He'll do it if you'll let him, for he's got +to have some sort of a scrub pitcher to fall back on for part of the +work. Of course, this wild and woolly Texan will be the star and get +all the glory, but somebody must do the dirty work. Hook, you're a +lobster. I didn't think you'd fall for taffy like that. You give me a +cramp." He coughed behind a thin hand as he finished, his flat chest +torn and his stooping shoulders shaken by the effort. +</P> + +<P> +"Now that will about do for you!" blazed Roy, turning on his erstwhile +chum. "I want you to know that, at least, I'm no traitor to my school +team, and, though you hinted for me to favor you to-day, I'd done my +level best to win for Oakdale if I'd ever got the chance." +</P> + +<P> +"You're a fool," returned Herbert coldly. "Springer is a fool, too. +He made a chump of himself when he taught Grant to pitch. In this +world the fellow who looks out for himself and lets others do the same +for themselves is the one who gets along. You can bank on that every +time. Think it over and see if I'm not right. Good night." With +which expression of selfish wisdom, he turned up his coat collar, +snapped aside his half-smoked cigarette and took his departure, leaving +Phil and Roy staring at each other in uncomfortable silence. +</P> + +<P> +After a time Springer succeeded in forcing a laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"That's just about what you told me a few days ago, Hook," he said, +"but I really didn't need anyone to point out that I had made a fool of +myself. Sorry I didn't wait to make sure rain was going to stop the +game to-day. What makes it worse, I told my folks a lie about that +game. I'll feel cheap enough when they fuf-find out the truth. Guess +I'll be going, too. So long, Hook." +</P> + +<P> +"Good night," said Roy. +</P> + +<P> +He stood at the open door and watched Phil's figure disappear into the +gloom of the rainy night that was coming on. +</P> + +<P> +"Told your folks a lie, did you?" he muttered after a time. "Well, +that wasn't half as bad as stealing from them, and I——" Without +finishing the sentence, he closed the door of the carriage house. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A PERSISTENT RASCAL. +</H3> + +<P> +Nearly always it is false pride that spurs on the naturally decent +fellow who realizes he has made a mistake and knows deep down in his +heart that the course he is pursuing is wrong. Thus it was with Phil +Springer. Time and again his conscience condemned him and his judgment +bade him come forth like a man and own up to his error, but his pride +would not let him yield. +</P> + +<P> +And so Phil found himself sulking at school, seeking to bear the +atmosphere of one who had been treated outrageously, and growing more +and more resentful and sullen as time passed and none of the fellows +came around to coddle and coax him. He had felt certain that he would +be approached by some of them, and repeatedly he had rehearsed the +speeches by which he would let them know exactly how he felt about it, +resolved carefully to avoid uttering a word which might convey the +impression that he regarded himself as a single whit at fault. +</P> + +<P> +But no one—not even Cooper or Tuttle—approached him, and he began to +believe that the time he had spent in constructing and committing those +speeches of mingled defense and accusation had been wasted. He had +once been deeply concerned in a plan by which Rodney Grant had been +practically ostracized by the academy boys, and now, to his deepening +rage, while Grant floated high on the wave of popularity, he found +himself ignored. +</P> + +<P> +Phil was naturally a sociable fellow, and a very little of such +treatment was sufficient to make him suffer keenly. Nevertheless he +sought to hide the fact beneath a haughty and disdainful air, which was +a course his disposition and temperament hardly qualified him to do. +</P> + +<P> +His sister, who had not attended the game at Clearport, was the first +of his family to learn that he had fibbed about that game, and this she +did not discover until the following Monday morning, when her chum, +Lela Barker, told her everything. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Phil," Sadie had said when she found a chance to speak with him +privately, "what made you tell father such a whopper about the game? +Why, it wasn't stopped by rain at all, and they say you ran away right +in the middle of it, and that Roger wanted you after that when they got +to hitting Rodney, and that you couldn't be found anywhere, and that +all the fellows are sore on you because you skipped out, and that——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, cut it!" interrupted Phil. "What do I cuc-care what they say! +Let them talk their heads off." +</P> + +<P> +"But, Phil," persisted the girl, "what made you do it? You don't want +to get everybody down on you, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"They can get down on me or not, just as they pup-please!" he flung +back. "I know when I get a rotten deal, and Roger Eliot, or Rod Grant, +or anybody else can't wipe his feet on me more than once—that's all!" +</P> + +<P> +On Monday, when school was over for the day and the fellows hurried +over to the gym to dress for practice, Phil walked stiffly out of the +yard and turned his steps toward home. It is true that he longed and +almost hoped to hear some one of those fellows calling after him, but +not a soul seemed to observe which way he went, and resentful anger +blazed yet more fiercely in his soul. +</P> + +<P> +Thus it was upon Tuesday night, when he observed that Roy Hooker was +one of the fellows who hastened toward the gym, which was enough to +convince him that Roy had practically been taken onto the team to do a +portion of the pitching. +</P> + +<P> +When his sister again tried to talk with him about baseball that night +he cut her off in such a snappy, savage manner that she was really +frightened. +</P> + +<P> +The next night, however, he did not walk down the path to the gate in +view of the scholars, so that they might take notice that he declined +to accompany the baseball squad. Instead of that, he dodged back round +the corner of the academy, crossed the yard at the rear, and took the +footpath across the field to High Street. +</P> + +<P> +He was lonely and cast down and bitterly disappointed; for had he not +sounded the professed friendship of his chums of yesterday and found it +very shallow! Not one of them had shown the decency to give him a word +of cheer; they were willing that he, who but a short time ago they were +regarding as their star slabman, should slide back into shadows and +forgetfulness, while a practical stranger from a distant part of the +country filled his place. It was hard to believe of them, but he told +himself he was glad to find out just what they were. +</P> + +<P> +Had Grant himself shown a further inclination to friendly advances Phil +might have met him halfway, but the Texan had some pride of his own, +and he was not the kind to seek continued rebuffs. Had he known that +Springer was ready and yearning to yield, doubtless Rod would have lost +not a minute in again putting forth the hand of friendship; but, being +unaware of what was passing in Phil's heart, and feeling that already +he had tried to do the right thing, the boy from the Lone Star State +remained aloof with the others. +</P> + +<P> +Halfway across the field, as the path curved round some bushes, +Springer came upon Herbert Rackliff, sitting on a stone, manicuring his +nails with the file blade of a pearl-handled knife, a cigarette +clinging to his moistened lower lip. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello," said Herbert, with no intonation of surprise, as he looked up. +"How do you happen to be dodging across this way, Springer?" +</P> + +<P> +Phil was annoyed. He had never liked Rackliff. Still here was some +one to whom he could talk, and desire to "chin" was strong upon him. +He stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a short cuc-cut for me," he explained. "What are you doing +here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Trimming my nails a bit. Have to do my own manicuring down in this +jumping-off place, and I never have time for it mornings; barely get to +the old academy soon enough to escape the tardy record—sometimes I +don't escape. Never knew you to come this way before, even if it is a +short cut. In a hurry?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ye-yes—no, not exactly; but this was as good a way as any." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't seem to be practicing with the great Oakdale nine," said +Herbert, bringing forth a fresh cigarette. "I'm surprised at that." +</P> + +<P> +"Are you? Well, you needn't be." +</P> + +<P> +In lighting the cigarette Rackliff was seized by a choking fit of +coughing, which led him to wipe his eyes with a dainty silk +handkerchief. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew I'd catch a beastly cold coming home through the rain the other +night on that old lemon of Hooker's," he said when he could get his +breath. "I hate a cough; it always seems to tear my lungs out. Next +thing I know I'll be throwing one of 'em up." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't look well." +</P> + +<P> +"I have felt better. Never mind, I'll get over it; but, oh! you bet +your life you'll never catch me on a motorcycle again. They are rotten +dirty things anyhow; simply cover you with dust when they don't paste +you with mud. Have a smoke?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't care if I do," said Phil, accepting the proffered cigarette case +and selecting one. "I don't make a practice of using the things, but I +need something to cheer me up." +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff also supplied a match, and then motioned toward a near-by +stone, urging Phil to sit down and make himself comfortable. +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't looked hilariously cheerful of late," said the city youth. +"Sort of taken your downfall to heart, haven't you?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dud-downfall?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Oh, you're down and out, all right, and you must realize it—you +do, too. Your proficient pupil, Mr. Rodney Grant, has tumbled you off +the pedestal and taken your place." +</P> + +<P> +"I wish you wouldn't tut-talk about him!" cried Phil. +</P> + +<P> +Herbert shrugged his narrow shoulders and smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't like him any better than I do, that's plain. You thought +you liked him once, but you've found him out. He's a conceited pup. +Strange how everybody seems to fall for him, even Lela Barker. Now +she's just about the nicest little clipper around these parts, but +she's got country ideas, and she can't see the difference between a +gentleman and a common cowpuncher—which latter Grant is, and mighty +common, at that. Your sister is Lela's chum; I should think you might +get your sister to open Miss Barker's eyes to that fellow. Couldn't +you show him up somehow and fix it so your sister would put Lela wise +to him?" +</P> + +<P> +"If I could, I wouldn't take all that trouble," replied Phil, who had +seated himself and was puffing at the cigarette in a way that +threatened to demolish it in short order. "He isn't worth it." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps not, but I should think you'd want to get back at him after +the turn he's done you. I never saw anything dirtier—never. After +you coached him he simply wormed his way into Eliot's favor and crowded +you out as soon as he could. He's got everybody saying that he's a +better pitcher than you ever were or ever could be. You bet he doesn't +miss a chance to sneer about you behind your back; that's him. I'm +glad you've shown spirit enough to resent it, and not to go crawling +around after him or any of the rest of that bunch." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll never see me cuc-crawling after anybody!" cried Springer +fiercely; "and Grant better keep a decent tut-tongue in his head! He +needn't think because he happens to have an ugly temper and belongs to +a fighting family that everybody is afraid of him. I can stand a lot, +but there's a limit." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert turned his head away for a moment to conceal the gleam of +satisfaction that sprang into his eyes, coughing behind his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You're made of different stuff from that soft slob Hooker," he said. +"I did think that Hook had some sand and spirit, but I've changed my +mind; he has just about as much backbone as a jellyfish. He can talk +and blow, but it's all wind. You're a fellow with genuine spirit and +pride; nobody wipes his feet on you." +</P> + +<P> +"Not if I know it," growled Phil, flattered by the words of the crafty +fellow. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not; and that's the way to be. It's only the marks who let +themselves be used for footmats; Hooker's a mark. They'll use him, all +right. He'll do the dirty work they would have given you if you'd let +them, while Grant will get all the glory." +</P> + +<P> +Springer laughed. "Perhaps he won't get as much glory as he expects. +Clearport came near batting him out. Wait until he goes against +Wyndham next Saturday." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you're talking!" exclaimed Rackliff with enthusiasm. "There will +be something coming to him then. I fancy it may be possible that you +would enjoy seeing Wyndham beat Oakdale?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shu-surest thing you know," answered Phil, who had been cleverly led +into making such a confession. "I hope Wyndham eats them up alive!" +</P> + +<P> +"Your desire will be gratified. Wyndham will make monkeys of them." +</P> + +<P> +"You're confident." +</P> + +<P> +"Dead sure." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't just see how you can be." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you've heard how Wyndham actually buried Barville last +Saturday. The score was seventeen to three—something awful." +</P> + +<P> +"But Clearport came mum-mighty near beating Wyndham the week before." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert winked wisely. "Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't," he +said. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, but they did! They batted Wyndham's new pitcher, Newbert, off the +slab." +</P> + +<P> +At this Rackliff laughed. "Tell it to the marines. I happen to know +Dade Newbert; we were chums. I own up I was surprised when I heard how +the Porters had biffed him. Wrote him asking about it. He'd been out +the night before the game—out with a hot bunch playing poker till +daylight. He didn't want to pitch anyhow, but the captain just shoved +him in; so when he got tired and Wyndham seemed to have a safe lead, he +just lobbed the ball over and let Clearport hit. Of course he was +taken out, and that gave him a chance to look on while Twitt Crowell +did the heavy work." +</P> + +<P> +"If that's right," said Phil, "Newbert can't be trusted. Why, he might +have thrown the game away." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, he reckoned Crowell was good enough for the Porters, that's all. +The result proved his judgment correct." +</P> + +<P> +"Still a fellow who'll tut-take such chances is liable to do anything. +He cuc-can't have any real loyal interest in his team. If he took a +notion, he'd throw a game." +</P> + +<P> +"You must remember," reminded Rackliff, "that Newbert doesn't belong in +Wyndham, and it really doesn't make any great difference to him whether +that team wins or not. Of course, if he's pitching, ordinarily he'll +do as well as he can on his own account. And let me tell you, Spring, +old fel, he's a lulu; there's nothing down in this neck of the woods +that can pitch with him. I'm betting that he makes the Oakdale batters +look like monkeys." +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't had very good lul-luck betting, have you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Might have done better," admitted Herbert, shrugging. "I'll even it +all up next Saturday, though, if these pikers around here have sand +enough to give me another show." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you will, and, then again, perhaps——" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bet you five or ten, even money, that Wyndham wins." +</P> + +<P> +"Thought you went bub-broke last Saturday." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll have some more money by to-morrow." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I don't want to bet. I hope Wyndham does win. It will make me +happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Then you'll be happy, all right, Bo." +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like the fight for the championship will be between Wyndham and +Oakdale. If Wyndham takes the first game from Oakdale, the chances for +this town will be mum-mighty slim." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert rose to his feet. +</P> + +<P> +"Oakdale hasn't one chance in a hundred to win next Saturday," he +declared in a manner which seemed to denote that he positively believed +what he was saying. "It's dead lucky for you, old man, that you're not +going to pitch. Your dear friend Grant is enjoying great popularity +just at present, but even the dummys will realize that he's a +fourth-rater after they see him pitch against Newbert. Dade knows what +I want him to do, and for old times sake he'll do his prettiest. And, +by the way, if you want to coin some easy money, just find a sucker who +is ready to back Oakdale for a little bet." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +SELF-RESTRAINT OR COWARDICE. +</H3> + +<P> +Rackliff had succeeded in doubling Springer's hatred for Rodney Grant. +So the fellow Phil had befriended and taught to pitch was sneering +about him behind his back! And everybody was saying that Grant was +already a better pitcher than his instructor ever could hope to become! +Springer wondered how it was possible that, even for a moment, he had +ever taken a fancy to such a chap. +</P> + +<P> +"He'd better not say too much about me," Phil growled to himself. "I +know he is a fighter. I know he has a fearful temper. But he'll find +out I'm not afraid of him." +</P> + +<P> +That very night Lela Barker, coming to the post office to mail some +letters, was followed and annoyed by Rackliff when she started to +return home. Herbert persisted in forcing his unwelcome company upon +her until, catching sight of a familiar figure passing on the opposite +side of the street, she called for assistance. +</P> + +<P> +Rodney Grant came running across, giving Rackliff a look, cap in hand, +as he inquired the cause of the girl's alarm. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Rod," she said, "I do wish you would walk home with me. +This—this fellow has persisted in following me and forcing his company +upon me." +</P> + +<P> +"The onery, conceited, unmannerly cad!" exploded the Texan, evidently +itching to put hands on Herbert, who bluffed the situation through with +insolent effrontery, laughing as he lighted a cigarette. "What he +needs is a good thrashing, and, if he wasn't a sickly, insignificant +creature, it would give me a right good heap of satisfaction to hand +him one." +</P> + +<P> +"Bah!" said Herbert. "You're a big blowhard, that's all. It betrays +lamentably poor taste on Miss Barker's part to prefer the company of a +lout like you to that of a gentleman." +</P> + +<P> +It was lucky for Rackliff that Lela was there and her hand fell on the +arm of the boy from Texas, for otherwise Rodney might have forgotten +himself. Fearing his lack of self-restraint, the girl urged him away, +and they left Herbert leaning against a tree and still laughing, his +cigarette in the corner of his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +Half an hour later Grant, having returned, was talking baseball with +several fellows who had gathered in a group near Stickney's store, when +Rackliff sauntered up. +</P> + +<P> +"Just a word with you, Mr. Cowpuncher," said Herbert in a loud voice. +"You applied several objectionable adjectives to me a while ago, and +now I want to tell you just what I think about you. You're nothing but +a common, low-bred, swaggering bluffer, as the blind dubs around here +are due to find out. You think you're a baseball pitcher. Excuse me +while I laugh in my sleeve. You're the biggest case of egotistical +jackassism it has ever been my luck to encounter. Next Saturday, when +you get up against a real pitcher who can pitch, you'll look cheaper +than thirty cents." +</P> + +<P> +Grant surveyed the speaker with mingled amusement and disdain. +</P> + +<P> +"Have you got that dose of bile out of your system?" he asked. "If +it's all over, go lie down somewhere and forget yourself. That will be +a relief. Being ashamed all the time sure must get tiresome." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert lost his head at once. "You're a duffer and a bluffer!" he +shouted shrilly. "How any decent, refined girl can have anything to do +with you I can't imagine. It just shows that Lela Barker is——" +</P> + +<P> +He got no further, for, brushing one of the fellows aside, Grant caught +the speaker by the throat and stopped him. His face dark, the Texan +shook Rackliff until his teeth rattled. +</P> + +<P> +"Shoot your mouth off about me as much as you please, you miserable +sneak," he grated; "but don't you dare ring in the name of any decent +girl unless you are thirsting to get the worst walloping of your life!" +</P> + +<P> +Rod's eyes blazed and he was truly terrible. Once before the boys had +seen him look like that, and then they had realized for the first time +that it was the young Texan's uncontrollable temper that he feared and +which had made him, by persistent efforts to avoid personal encounters, +appear like a coward. There was not a cowardly drop of blood in +Grant's body, but experience and the record of his fighting father had +taught him to fear himself. +</P> + +<P> +Even now the fact that he let himself go sufficiently to lay hands on +Rackliff seemed to spur him on, and, still shaking the limp and +helpless fellow, he maintained his hold on the city youth's neck until +Herbert's eyes began to bulge and his face grew purple. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly another lad pushed his way through the circle and seized Grant +by the shoulders: +</P> + +<P> +"Lul-let up on that!" he cried, his voice vibrant with excitement. +"What are you trying to do, choke the lul-life out of a fellow that you +know isn't any match for you? If you want to ch-choke somebody, let +him alone and take me." +</P> + +<P> +It was Phil Springer. His head jerked round toward his shoulder, +Rodney Grant looked into the eyes of his friend of a short time past, +and suddenly he released his hold on Rackliff, who, gasping and ready +to topple over, was supported by one of the other boys. +</P> + +<P> +"If you want to choke somebody, take me!" repeated Phil savagely. "You +ought to be ashamed of yourself!" +</P> + +<P> +Grant took a long breath. "That's right, Springer," he admitted, "I +reckon I ought. I allow I clean forgot myself." +</P> + +<P> +Somehow this quiet admission, which was wholly unexpected, seemed to +enrage Phil still more. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you think everybub-body around here is afraid of you now +that they've found out your father was a genuine bad man," Springer +sneered. "Well, you'll discover there's one person who isn't afraid. +I'll fight you." +</P> + +<P> +To the amazement of all present, the boy from Texas shook his head, +something like a conciliatory smile appearing on his face. +</P> + +<P> +"You won't fight <I>me</I>, Phil," he retorted, "for I won't fight." +</P> + +<P> +Phil himself could not understand why this refusal simply added fuel to +the flame of his wrath. He felt himself a-quiver with the intensity of +his emotions, and, seeing Grant so calm and self-possessed, he was +obsessed by a yearning to strike him in the face. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, so you won't fight, eh? Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"We have been friends." +</P> + +<P> +"We have been, but aren't any more, and we never will be again; for +I've found out just what sort of a fellow you are. You think yourself +a better pitcher than I am or ever can be, do you? Oh, I've heard what +you've been blowing around here about me, and you needn't deny it. +You've had some luck in one or two games, but you're due to get your +bumps. If you've got any fuf-further talk to make about me, come and +make it before my face. It's a sneak who goes round shooting off his +mouth behind another fellow's back—and that's what you are, Rod Grant!" +</P> + +<P> +"Now there'll be something doing, sure!" breathed Chipper Cooper, +agitated by great expectations. +</P> + +<P> +Still, to the increasing wonderment of the boys, Grant held himself in +hand. +</P> + +<P> +"I couldn't take that off you, Phil," he said, a bit huskily, "if we +hadn't been friends and I didn't realize that you sure would never say +it in your right mind. I'm right sorry——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," scoffed Phil derisively, "you're sus-sorry you can't work me +for a chump any more. You know what I think of you, and if you've got +any real sand you'll pick it up. All I ask is a square show, and I'll +give you the scrap of your life. You can't frighten me with your +savage looks, and I've got my bub-blinkers on you so you can't catch me +off my guard and hit me. That's the way you've won your reputation as +a fuf-fighter around these parts. You've never faced anybody in a +sus-square stand-up scrap, but you've grabbed and ch-choked fellows +like Bunk Lander and Herbert Rackliff when they weren't expecting it. +I know a little something about handling my dukes, and I'll bet I can +lick you in less than tut-ten minutes." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you can," said Grant. +</P> + +<P> +"Gee whiz!" spluttered Chipper Cooper. "What do you know about that, +fellows?" +</P> + +<P> +It was true that Grant had never engaged in a real fist fight since +coming to Oakdale, but he had once stretched an enemy prone and stiff +with a single sudden blow, and since the brave part he had played in +rescuing Lela Barker from drowning Phil was the first to question his +courage. +</P> + +<P> +Herbert Rackliff, having recovered his breath and found sufficient +strength to stand without assistance, was looking on and listening in +the greatest satisfaction. "Soak him, Phil!" he whispered faintly. +"Go for him!" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you're right," said Grant again, as Springer surveyed him with +marked contempt. "Anyhow, I certain am not going to fight you." +</P> + +<P> +Springer seemed genuinely disappointed. "I have a mind to punch you," +he declared. "Perhaps you'd brace up then and show a little manhood." +</P> + +<P> +Rod retreated a step, which added to the impression that he was afraid. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be sorry some time, old chap," he said, "just as I would be if +I permitted you to lead me into a wretched fight. You don't +understand——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes I do; I understand everything. I've gug-got you sized up for +just what you are, a big case of bluff. I've cuc-called you, and your +show-down is mighty rotten. Bah! If the fellows around here want to +think you the whole shooting match after this, they're welcome to do +so. But in order to keep your reputation as a dangerous character +you'll have to do something besides jump on fellows like Rackliff and +Lander." +</P> + +<P> +Disdainfully he turned his back on Grant. +</P> + +<P> +"You chaps can sus-see just what sort of a creature your fine hero is," +he said. "Now hang around him as much as you like, and worship him. +You all make me sick!" +</P> + +<P> +He walked away, followed hastily by Rackliff. At the corner above the +square Herbert overtook Phil, who seemed surprised as he came up. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, say," chuckled the city youth, "you did bore it into him fine! +And he didn't dare put a hand on you, either. That was queer, for, my +word! he's strong as Sandow. He handled me as easy as if I wasn't out +of knickerbockers." +</P> + +<P> +"Paugh!" said Phil. "Anybody could do that. You've sus-sucked +cigarettes until you haven't as much strength as a sick kitten." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I don't know about that," retorted Rackliff resentfully. "I guess +I'm about as strong as the average fellow; but I tell you he's a holy +terror—a perfect Hercules. I thought every minute he'd open on you. +I don't see why he didn't, for you rubbed it in to the limit." +</P> + +<P> +"He didn't dare, that's the reason why," declared Springer. "I've got +him sized up now; he's the kind that strikes when the other chap isn't +lul-looking." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you're right. I called him a bluffer, too. It was first rate +of you to step in and take my part." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't do it on your account." +</P> + +<P> +"No?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. I was itching for an excuse to get at him, and you +provided one, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert was somewhat taken aback by this frank confession. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he said slowly, "anyhow, you showed him up to that bunch of +lickspittles. They were surprised." +</P> + +<P> +"I fuf-fancy so. This whole town has got the notion that Rod Grant is +simply it. They thought he would fight at the drop of the hat." +</P> + +<P> +"What would you have done if he'd taken you up?" +</P> + +<P> +"Whipped him," answered Phil confidently. "I've taken boxing lessons. +What does he know about scientific fighting? I had made up my mum-mind +to take care that it was a regular fight by rounds, with seconds and a +referee to see fair play. I'd certainly fixed him that way, all right." +</P> + +<P> +Still, to his annoyance, Rackliff seemed doubtful. "Perhaps you would, +but if he'd ever got in one wallop——" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you make me tut-tired!" exclaimed Springer. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, even if you didn't butt in on my account, I'm much obliged, just +the same. You're all right, Spring, old fel, and if I can do you a +good turn I will. Perhaps I'll have the chance. Gee! I want a whiff. +Have a smoke?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," declined Phil. "I'm going home. Good night." +</P> + +<P> +He left Herbert there, lighting a cigarette and coughing hollowly. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HOOKER BREAKS WITH RACKLIFF. +</H3> + +<P> +Passing Hooker's home on his way down into the village Thursday +evening, Rackliff saw a light in the carriage house, which led him to +fancy he might find Roy there. In this he was not mistaken; Hooker was +puttering over his motorcycle by the light of a lantern. Hearing a +footstep on the gravel outside, he looked up and perceived the visitor +entering by the open door. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello," said Herbert. +</P> + +<P> +"Hello," grunted Hooker, without any effort at cordiality or welcome. +</P> + +<P> +"Tinkering with that old thing again, I see," coughed Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks to you, I am." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; it has been out of order ever since you used it last. Baseball +practice doesn't give me much time to work on it by daylight, and so +I'm trying to get her running now." +</P> + +<P> +"Take my advice and pay somebody to remove the thing. It's the biggest +old lemon I ever saw. All it's worth is its price as junk. Gee! I'm +feeling rotten." He sat down on a box, coughing again. +</P> + +<P> +Indeed Herbert did not look well, and there seemed to be something of +an alarming nature in the sound of his cough. His thin cheeks were +flushed and feverish. +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to worry yourself about it," returned Roy warmly. +"It's mine, and I presume I can do anything I please with it." +</P> + +<P> +"Awful touchy to-night," muttered Rackliff. He lighted a cigarette, +but the first whiff threw him into a most distressing fit of coughing +and he flung it out through the open door. "Can't seem to get anything +out of a smoke," he complained. "Cigarettes don't taste good, and they +raise the merry dickens with this old cough of mine. I've got a +beastly headache, and I suppose I ought to be in bed, but I've got to +go down to the postoffice. Expect a letter from Newbert to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"So you're corresponding with him, are you?" said Roy, wiping his +greasy hands on some cotton waste. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. Why not? We were chums, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"And of course you still think him the greatest pitcher that ever +happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's just about the greatest in his class; you'll find that out +Saturday. Watch how he shows Cowboy Grant up. Say, Springer rather +showed that fellow up, too, didn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"You know; the way he made him pull his horns and take water." +</P> + +<P> +"Who says Phil Springer made Rod Grant take water?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do. I was there and saw it. Your Texan hasn't got any nerve. He's +the biggest case of fake to be found in seven States. He's strong, I'm +not denying that; but when he saw that Springer really meant business +he didn't dare do a thing." +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard the fellows talking about it," said Hooker, "but I don't +believe Grant was afraid of Phil Springer. A fellow who would take the +chances he did to save Lela Barker from drowning couldn't be frightened +by Springer." +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard about that, too, and, as near as I can make out, Grant took +those chances because he had to." +</P> + +<P> +"Had to? Why——" +</P> + +<P> +"He had to after he got caught by the current and carried over the dam +with the girl. There couldn't be any backing out then. I'll bet he +never would have jumped into the water at all if he'd stopped a moment +to consider the danger. According to the story I've heard, it was +really that big lout, Bunk Lander, who did the great act of heroism and +saved both Grant and the Barker girl; but of course Grant got most of +the credit. Anyway, I know that some fellows have lost a bit of their +confidence in the cowpuncher since Springer faced him down; they're due +to get the rest of it shaken out before the game ends Saturday." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you're mighty confident again that Oakdale will get beaten?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a certainty this time, Hook. Let me give you a little tip. You +lost some money on that game with Barville, and this is the chance to +win it back. Bet on Wyndham Saturday and you'll even up your mistake +before." +</P> + +<P> +"My mistake! It wasn't my mistake; it was yours. Besides, you didn't +keep your word about making good any loss I might suffer. You put me +in a nasty hole, Rackliff." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't see why. To hear you talk, anybody might think you were +ruined instead of merely getting hit for less than a fiver. Never knew +a fellow to put up such a squeal over a little money." +</P> + +<P> +Hooker's cheeks were flushed and he faced Herbert, his undershot jaw +seeming to project still further than usual. +</P> + +<P> +"I lost more than that," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"What? You did? Why, you only gave me four dollars and——" +</P> + +<P> +"I lost something more than money." +</P> + +<P> +"You didn't tell me about it." +</P> + +<P> +"I haven't told anyone—but my mother. I had to tell her the other +day. When you wanted me to bet on that game I told you I didn't have +any money." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"But I knew where my mother had some money put away in a drawer—some +money she had been saving up a little at a time to buy the material for +a new dress. I went into that drawer and took that money. You were so +positive that I could not lose that I—well, I stole the money." +</P> + +<P> +"Dear me!" said Herbert, grinning and coughing behind his thin hand. +"What did the old girl say when she found it out?" +</P> + +<P> +"She never suspected me," said Roy. "She couldn't think I would do +such a thing. And I—I lied about it. When she discovered the money +was gone and became distressed over its loss, I lied." +</P> + +<P> +"You would have been a fool if you'd owned up." +</P> + +<P> +"I was a fool to touch a cent of that money, in the first place. I was +a fool to listen to your blarney, Rackliff. Just because I was idiot +enough to believe in you, I made myself a thief and a liar. Oh, I've +been punished for it, all right. Never knew I had a conscience that +could make me squirm so much. Some nights I slept mighty mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Paugh! You make me laugh. It wasn't anything to take a few paltry +dollars like that. You're mother'll never know." +</P> + +<P> +"She knows now." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"I told her." +</P> + +<P> +"You did?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you are a big chump! What made you do that?" +</P> + +<P> +"I had to. You can't understand how rotten I felt when I saw her +crying over the loss of that money. I was ashamed and sick—oh, sick +as a dog! I made up my mind I'd pay it back, every cent." +</P> + +<P> +"And so you can if you'll just get hold of another fiver and bet it on +Wyndham." +</P> + +<P> +"I've paid it back already, all but fifty cents. Why do you think I +stayed out of school to work at any old job I could get? I'm not +particularly stuck on work, but I couldn't go on feeling that I was a +thief—that I had stolen from my own mother. That's what you brought +me to, Rackliff." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert sneered. "That's right, blame it all on me and let yourself +out entirely. Now let me tell you something, my bucko: it was your +over-weening conceit, your jealousy of Springer and Grant, your itching +desire to see them get their bumps, that led you, as much as anything +else, to bet against Oakdale in that first game. You were sore on +Eliot, too, because he didn't put you in to pitch—and you couldn't +pitch a little bit. When I bet against Oakdale, I did so on judgment; +you did so because of prejudice and spite. Now, don't put on any +virtuous frills with me, for I'm not feeling good to-day, and you make +me tired." +</P> + +<P> +The insolence of the fellow infuriated Hooker, who, nevertheless, knew +there was no little truth in what he had been told. Restraining +himself with an effort, Roy attempted to retort sarcastically. +</P> + +<P> +"So you bet on <I>judgment</I>, did you? Well, you must confess your +judgment was mighty poor. And, to make the thing safe, you made +arrangements to betray Oakdale's pitching signals to Barville. <I>I</I> +didn't know anything about that—until after the game. If I had known +in advance——" +</P> + +<P> +"Now what would you have done?" asked Herbert, snapping his fingers. +"If you had found out about that after your money was wagered on +Barville, I presume you would have warned your dear friend Eliot and +sacrificed everything! I've noticed that you have kept mighty still +about it since you did find out." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I've kept still, because you failed in your crooked scheme, and +because—well, because I wasn't anxious to have it known that I bet the +way I did, and I knew you'd retaliate by peaching on me if I breathed a +word concerning you." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert laughed and coughed at the same time. "Just so. Wise boy. I +certainly should have done just that. Let me tell you now that things +will be fixed doubly solid for the game next Saturday, and——" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here," cried Roy, facing the visitor threateningly, "if you +attempt to repeat that trick in Wyndham I'll expose you sure as +shooting. I mean it. You can't frighten me. You can tell that I bet +against my own team if you want to, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"I presume you're perfectly willing that I should tell how you came by +the money? Oh, I guess you'd keep still even if I tried the same trick +over again." +</P> + +<P> +"I wouldn't. Try it and see! I've paid the money back, and you can't +keep me still that way. I'm pitching on the team now, and I want to +see it win." +</P> + +<P> +"Too bad you're going to be so keenly disappointed. You won't do any +pitching against Wyndham, that's a cinch. Eliot has been forced to +take you up as a makeshift since losing Springer, but you'll be used +only in the minor games. Grant will do all the heavy work in the big +games, and get all the glory. The first time I heard you talk, Hook, I +thought you had some real spirit; but I've found out that you're just a +common weak-kneed, aspiring sycophant, ready to feed on crumbs and lick +the hand that flings them to you." +</P> + +<P> +"I've heard about enough from you!" snarled Hooker. "I think you'd +better get. I don't want to put my hands on you, but I shall if you +stay any longer and shoot off your face. I think you and I will call +it quits, Rackliff; I want no further dealings with you. And let me +tell you before you go that if I find out you're up to any of your +tricks Saturday I'll put the fellows wise. You can't frighten me into +keeping still." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert rose and walked to the door. "You poor, fawning dub!" he said. +"You'll be blacking Eliot's boots next. I'm glad to be done with you. +But don't forget what I said, it's fixed so Wyndham's dead sure to win +Saturday. I'm going to bet every cent I can raise on it." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I'm glad I'm done with him!" muttered Roy, closing the door as +Herbert went coughing down the gravel drive. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ONCE MORE. +</H3> + +<P> +Rackliff turned through Lake Street toward the square in the center of +the village, muttering to himself about Hooker, whom he now thoroughly +despised as a "soft thing" and a "quitter." As he approached the Town +Hall a low whistle like a signal reached his ears, and he saw a dark +figure standing in the shadows near one corner of the building. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be Springer," said Herbert. "Now we'll find out if he has any +sand or is a quitter, too." +</P> + +<P> +It was Springer, who spoke in a low tone as Herbert turned and drew +near. "I thought it just as well for us not to meet where we would be +seen," said Phil, "so I watched for you here, being pretty sure you'd +come this way. There's a bub-bunch of the fellows down at Stickney's." +</P> + +<P> +"Good!" returned Herbert. "I hope they've got their mazuma with them, +for I've got my cash at last, and I'm on the warpath. It'll be just +like finding money for me if they'll only give me a chance at them." +</P> + +<P> +"You're just as confident as ever that Wyndham will win?" +</P> + +<P> +"My boy, I tell you it's a cold cinch; it's fixed so that Wyndham can't +lose." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by 'fixed'?" +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff hesitated; recalling his late interview with Hooker, he +decided that it would be unwise to tell Springer too much. +</P> + +<P> +"Never you mind what I mean, old sport," he returned. "Leave it to me. +I wasn't born yesterday. What these Joshuas around here have won off +me already will serve nicely as bait. I'm bound to get them this time, +and, as we're friends, I'm letting you in on the deal. After the +rotten way you've been treated, it should make you feel well to get the +chance. I'll place your loose coin on Wyndham, and not a soul need +know about it until you're ready for him to know. Perhaps by and by, +when this old baseball team is all to the punk, you'll feel like coming +out openly and informing them that you've added to your bank account by +betting against them; but, if you don't happen to feel that way, you +can keep still and enjoy the fruits of your cleverness—which should be +some satisfaction for the raw deal that's been handed out to you." +</P> + +<P> +The fellow's words and manner were suave and seductive, and, if Phil +had wavered, he now put his hesitation aside. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, I'm ready to take a ch-chance," he declared. "I want to see them +done up, and I'm not at all averse to winning some money through their +defeat. Wyndham has always had rather the better team at baseball or +football, and I see no reason to believe she won't have this year." +</P> + +<P> +"And every reason for believing she will have, considering the fact +that a dandy like Dade Newbert is going to pitch for her. Wait till +you see him in action; it will open your eyes. How much money have you +got?" +</P> + +<P> +Springer moved until the light of the street lamp in front of the +postoffice over the way shone upon him, plunging his hand into his +pocket and bringing up a lot of silver. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's five dollars in ten-cent pieces," he said; "and I've got two +dollars besides." +</P> + +<P> +"Seven plunks, all told. But say, I hope you didn't get this chicken +feed the way Hooker got his that he let me have to bet on the Barville +game." +</P> + +<P> +"Eh? How did he get it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Stole it; swiped it off his own mother. What do you know about that, +Bo?" +</P> + +<P> +"Stole it!" cried Phil. "Well, you nun-needn't think I got mine that +way! I'm no thief!" +</P> + +<P> +"I should hope not. I'm not eager to chum with a fellow of that sort, +and I've cut Hooker out; told him what I thought of him and quit him +for good. He's too cheap for me." Herbert coughed behind his hand, +his air one of great virtue and uprightness. +</P> + +<P> +"These dimes came from my ten-cent bank," explained Springer. "I've +been saving them one at a tut-time as I could spare them, and I had it +pretty near full. When I mum-made up my mind to bet—or let you bet +for me—I got enough to fill the bank and break it open; and that's why +there are so many of them. Here they are; you can count them if you +want to. And here's two dollars more." +</P> + +<P> +Rackliff accepted the money and pocketed it "Don't suppose you want a +receipt?" he asked, laughing. +</P> + +<P> +"Nun-no," faltered Phil, suddenly realizing that Herbert could deny the +whole transaction if he saw fit to do so, and that there would be no +way of proving it had ever taken place. In spite of the fact that +circumstances and mutual sympathies had led him into taking up with the +city boy, he did not feel that a fellow of Herbert's stamp was wholly +to be trusted. +</P> + +<P> +"Nun-no," mocked Rackliff with an intonation of resentment. "I swear +that was weak! I believe you are shaky. If so you'd better take your +money back—quick." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," objected Springer. "It's all right. It was ju-just my +rotten stammering, that's all. I wish I could break myself of it." +</P> + +<P> +But suddenly Herbert grew very dignified. "We'll do this thing in a +business-like way," he declared. "You don't know much about me, and a +really square chap never gets haughty when he's asked to give some +proof of his squareness. Just come over under the lamp." +</P> + +<P> +Protesting, Phil followed; and the city boy, heedless of those +protests, brought forth a pocket-notebook and pencil, scribbled an +acknowledgement of the money on a leaf of the book, dashed his name at +the bottom, tore the leaf out and handed it over. +</P> + +<P> +"I insist," he said. "Now everything's all right. This is a wicked +world, and every fellow who's dead wise has a right to take +precautions. You say there's a bunch down by Stickney's, eh? Well, I +think I'll meander down that way and see if I can't prod them into +making a few wagers. Good night, old fel; sleep tight and don't worry +about the chink you've let me handle. It will be an investment that'll +pay a hundred per cent. in double-quick time." +</P> + +<P> +It was a delightfully warm spring night, and there on the platform of +Stickney's store, where the softened light from within shone upon them +through a huge window, the boys had gathered. They were chatting, +jesting, chaffing one another, and occasionally playing pranks, which +once or twice started a squabble. As Rackliff sauntered up Chub Tuttle +was complaining that nearly a pint of peanuts had been stolen from his +pocket. +</P> + +<P> +"Why don't you put Sleuth onter the case?" laughingly drawled Sile +Crane. "He'll ketch the thief, for he's sartainly got Sherlock Holmes +beat to a frazzle." +</P> + +<P> +"My deduction is," said Piper, loudly shuffling his feet to drown the +noise as he stealthily cracked a peanut, "that there are scoundrels in +our very midst who would feel no compunction in swiping plugged money +from a contribution box. Doubtless," he continued, deftly snapping the +shelled kernels into his mouth, "the hands of those scoundrels are even +now at work." +</P> + +<P> +"Sleuthy's right," said Chipper Cooper, swiftly stowing away a handful +of the peanuts which he had skillfully removed from Piper's coat pocket +while the latter was speaking; "there are villyuns among us. Anyhow, +there's liable to be one in a minute, unless we move." Apparently this +concluding remark was caused by the appearance of Rackliff, who came +strolling into the light of the window and paused. +</P> + +<P> +Herbert looked them over. "Several prominent members of the great +Oakdale baseball team, I observe," he said. "Been talking of the +coming game, I presume." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-251"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-251.jpg" ALT=""Several prominent members of the great Oakdale baseball team, I observe," said Rackliff." BORDER="2" WIDTH="412" HEIGHT="622"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 412px"> +"Several prominent members of the great Oakdale <BR> +baseball team, I observe," said Rackliff. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +"You're presuming, as usual," returned Cooper. +</P> + +<P> +"That remark is very stale; I think I've heard you use it before. Your +efforts at wit are painful. I suppose you're pretty confident, after +beating both Barville and Clearport? Now I'm confident myself; I have +confidence——" +</P> + +<P> +"You look like a confidence man," interrupted Chipper. +</P> + +<P> +"I have confidence," pursued Herbert, trying to ignore the little chap, +"that Wyndham will win; and I'm ready to back my conviction with real +money." +</P> + +<P> +"Dinged if I didn't think yeou'd got abaout enough of it bating against +Oakdale!" exclaimed Crane. +</P> + +<P> +"Wonder where he gets so much money?" said Fred Sage. +</P> + +<P> +"He's bluffing," was the opinion of Jack Nelson. "He's dead broke, but +he wants to make believe that he's a dead game sport, and so——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you think I'm dead broke," said Herbert, "and you can raise five or +ten bones to wager on Oakdale, just produce the currency and watch me +cover it. I have about twenty-five dollars I'd like to put up on +Wyndham." +</P> + +<P> +"Twenty-five dollars!" spluttered Tuttle. "That's some wealth for one +fellow to be packing around." +</P> + +<P> +"Go on," advised Crane, waving his long arm at Herbert; "don't bother +us. We're tired takin' your spondulicks away from ye; it's too easy." +</P> + +<P> +"You're quitters," declared Herbert with a cutting sneer. "There isn't +one of you who has a real drop of sporting blood in his veins, that's +what's the matter. You've won my money, and now, being pikers and +quitters, you don't propose to give me a chance to win it back. You +know Wyndham's going to put it all over you Saturday, and you're +shivering in your shoes. I don't blame you for being frightened, as +you haven't one chance in a hundred to take that game. It wouldn't +surprise me if you were beaten about twenty or thirty to nothing; I +sincerely hope it won't be worse than that." +</P> + +<P> +Crane rose to his feet in the midst of this speech, which was far more +provoking and insulting than cold type can convey. +</P> + +<P> +"Looker here, yeou," cried Sile; "I've got some money I won batin' with +you, and, by thut-ter! you'll find I ain't afraid to give ye all the +chance you want on that Wyndham game. If you've really got twenty-five +dollars, mebbe we can raise a pool, same as we done before, and cover +the whole of it. I'll put in my share anyhaow. Who's the next feller?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am!" +</P> + +<P> +"Count me in!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm another!" +</P> + +<P> +"Same here!" +</P> + +<P> +"Me, too!" +</P> + +<P> +It seemed that they were all eager to contribute to the pool, and +Herbert, smiling with self-complaisant satisfaction, felt that he had +cleverly accomplished his purpose. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WYNDHAM PITCHER. +</H3> + +<P> +Shortly before nine o'clock on Saturday morning a touring car, +containing three youths, not one of whom was over eighteen years of +age, whirled up before the door of Mrs. Conway's boarding house in +Oakdale and stopped. +</P> + +<P> +The occupants of the car did not belong in Oakdale; they came from +Wyndham, and the machine was the property of the father of the oldest +one, who was at the wheel. This was Orville Foxhall, second baseman of +the Wyndham nine. At Foxhall's side sat a husky, raw-boned, long-armed +chap, Dade Newbert, the pitcher on which Wyndham placed great +dependence. The chap in the tonneau was Joe Snead, too fat and +indolent to take part in any game of an athletic nature. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the house, Dade," said Foxhall; "this is where your friend +boards, all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Humph!" grinned Newbert. "It doesn't look swell enough to suit Herb's +style. He's the real warm article, as you'll realize when you see him. +When it comes to cutting a dash—well, Rack can cut it, you bet. I'll +see if he's around." +</P> + +<P> +Springing out, Newbert strode to the door and rang. After a time, as +he was growing impatient and had prepared to ring again, the door +opened a foot or so, and a tall, thin, hopeless-looking woman surveyed +him inquiringly. +</P> + +<P> +Newbert asked for Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he boards here," answered the woman in a mechanical tone of +voice; "but he isn't up yet." +</P> + +<P> +"Ho, ho!" laughed Newbert. "Isn't up? Well, that's like him; won't +pull himself away from the mattress until he has to. He's a luxurious +brat." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid Mr. Rackliff may not be feeling very well this morning," +said the woman. "He has a very bad cold and coughs terribly. I told +him last night that he should consult a doctor, and I heard him +coughing the greater part of the night." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well! Sorry to hear it. I'm an old friend of his, and I've +come over by appointment to take him back to Wyndham with me. You tell +him that——" +</P> + +<P> +A harsh cough came echoing down the stairs and a voice called: +</P> + +<P> +"That you, Dade? Come right up. It's all right, Mrs. Conway; let him +come, please." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert, in silk pajamas, was standing at the head of the stairs, +looking ill indeed. He put out a limp hand, which Newbert grasped, +crying: +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove! you are sick. Now, that's tough." +</P> + +<P> +"Come into my room," invited Herbert, leading the way. "It's a pretty +bum joint, but it's the best in the house—the best I could find in +this wretched hole of a town. I'm mighty glad to see you, old pal, +though I may not appear to be. Oh, blazes! but I have got a headache!" +</P> + +<P> +"What have you been doing?" asked the visitor, as Herbert keeled over, +with a groan, on the bed. "Been hitting the pace? Been attending too +many hot suppers? Oh, but you're sure to sport wherever you go!" +</P> + +<P> +"Hitting the pace around this graveyard!" mumbled Herbert dismally. +"What are you talking about, old fel? Why, everybody dies here nights +at nine o'clock; there's not a thing doing after that. It's the most +forsaken, dismal place imaginable after that hour. I'm dying of dry +rot, that's what's the matter." He finished with a cough that seemed +to wrack him from head to feet. +</P> + +<P> +"You're sick," said Newbert, with a show of sympathy. "You've got a +cold, and it has settled on your lungs. You're none too strong, Herb, +and you'd better look out. I guess you won't be able to take in the +game to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I will!" cried Rackliff suddenly. "I wouldn't miss it for a +fortune. Oh, I've got money bet on that game, Dade." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Orv Foxhall is outside with old man Foxhall's bubble. Great +car, that. And you should see Orv drive her. Oh, he does cut it out +some! He had 'em staring when he ripped up through the center of this +old town. We nearly ran a team down back on the road; was going better +than fifty when we came round a curve and grazed the old jay's +wheel-hubs. I'll bet that Reuben's hair stood on its hind legs. Ho! +ho! ho!" +</P> + +<P> +Herbert sat up. "It won't take me long to dress," he said. "I'll go +back to Wyndham with you." +</P> + +<P> +"You haven't had any breakfast." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't want any. Haven't had an appetite for three days. I caught +this rotten cold riding a motorcycle back here from Clearport after the +game last Saturday. I wouldn't mind if this cough didn't tear me so." +</P> + +<P> +"It's tough," said Newbert. "Can I help you? Going to take a dip?" +</P> + +<P> +"Boo! No, I won't bathe this morning; haven't got the nerve for a cold +plunge, and a warm one might fix me so I'd catch more cold. Just you +make yourself comfortable as you can while I'm getting into my duds." +</P> + +<P> +Three times while dressing Herbert was compelled to sit down to rest, +and Newbert declared that his friend seemed to be pretty nearly "all +in." +</P> + +<P> +"I certainly am," agreed Rackliff; "I'm up against it. Never was +knocked out like this before. Why, I can't even smoke a cigarette, it +makes me bark so. You can imagine how tough that is on me. Sometimes +I'm half crazy for a smoke—I'm shaking all over; but when I try it I +just have to quit by the time I've taken three whiffs." +</P> + +<P> +"You've smoked too many of those things, that's what's the matter. +Used to hit 'em up myself; thought it real devilish. Never took any +real satisfaction in it, though." +</P> + +<P> +"That was because you didn't inhale; they're no good unless you do." +</P> + +<P> +"They're no good if you do; give me a cigar every time." +</P> + +<P> +"You got my last letter all right?" asked Herbert, selecting a necktie +from his abundant supply. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, sure. I've put all the bunch wise, too. They're wondering how I +got hold of the information, but I didn't give you away, old pal. I +reckon mebbe Foxy and Snead suspect now, but they won't say anything." +</P> + +<P> +"You've got to win," said Herbert, carefully knotting his tie at the +mirror. "My old man is kicking over being touched up for cash so +often; says he can't see how I spend so much in this quiet place. I've +bet every sou of the last amount he sent me on your old baseball team, +and if you don't take this game——" +</P> + +<P> +"We will, don't worry about that. We could have done so anyhow, but of +course you've helped make it a dead-cold certainty. If you've got any +friends here who——" +</P> + +<P> +"Friends!" sneered Rackliff; "friends among these country yokels! +Don't make me laugh, for it might start me coughing again." +</P> + +<P> +"But you said you let a chap in on the Barville deal. He——" +</P> + +<P> +"He wasn't a friend of mine," said Herbert scornfully; "he was only a +chap I wanted to use. I've let another dub into this deal, but I +didn't do so simply to befriend him—not on your natural. Perhaps +you've heard of him—Phil Springer. He expected to be the star slab +artist on the great Oakdale nine this season, but he unwisely coached +another fellow to assist him as second-string pitcher, and now the +other man has pushed him into second place—and he has quit, dead sore. +He's an egotistical yap, and it simply killed him to death to have his +pupil step right over his head." +</P> + +<P> +"What's your idea in boosting him by putting him next to a winning +proposition?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps I can use him, too. At any rate, he can pitch some, and by +keeping him raw and working him the way I am, I'm weakening the +pitching staff. See?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes," muttered Newbert. "I swear you're a clever schemer, Herb." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks. You see, I induced this man Springer to let me have seven +bones to bet against Oakdale, and now, no matter how much they may +happen to need him, as long as he has his money at stake, they can't +coax him into the game to-day. They may try to do that if you fellows +get to batting Grant good and plenty. Oh, I've taken pains to +forestall in every direction, for I've simply got to make a killing on +this go. How's the weather?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fine, but you'll need to wear an overcoat in the auto. I didn't take +one, but it's rather cool whistling through the air at the rate Foxy +drives. Besides, you've got to look out for that cold. Better wear a +cloth overcoat now than a wooden one by and by." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk that way," shivered Herbert. "I'm not anxious to shuffle +off." +</P> + +<P> +He brought his overcoat from the wardrobe, and Newbert helped him into +it, after which they descended the stairs together. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE PLUNGE FROM THE BRIDGE. +</H3> + +<P> +Herbert was introduced to Foxhall and Snead. The former, with goggles +pushed up on his forehead, pulled off his gauntlet glove to shake +hands, saying he was mighty glad to meet Dade Newbert's chum, of whom +he'd heard so much from Newbert's lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," gurgled Snead, as he also shook hands; "according to Dade, +you're a warm old scout. Get right in here with me, and hang on when +Foxy turns on the juice, for there'll be something doing. I imagine +we'll touch only a few of the very elevated spots on our way back, +judging by the way he cut it out coming over. If you're nervous——" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't worry about me," said Rackliff, as he settled himself beside the +fat fellow. "I'm simply dying for something to stir up my blood and +set it circulating." +</P> + +<P> +Foxhall adjusted his goggles, switched on the current, and pressed a +button that started the engine. +</P> + +<P> +"Ho! ho! We're off!" cried Newbert. "Just watch 'em rubber when we +zip down through town. There's a bump this side of the bridge; hang on +when we strike it, Herb." +</P> + +<P> +Foxhall turned the car, yanking it round in a see-saw that was hard on +transmission and brakes and tires, and started with a jerk that gave a +snap to the necks of his three companions, cutting out the muffler as +he shifted swiftly through the gears into direct drive. When the main +street was reached the reckless youth scarcely slowed down at all to +take the turn, and the car came near skidding into the gutter. +</P> + +<P> +"Isn't he the careless creature!" laughed Snead. "He always drives +this way, and he's never had an accident." +</P> + +<P> +Past Roger Eliot's home and the white Methodist church they whizzed, +the automobile gathering speed on the down grade and obtaining enough +momentum to carry it a considerable distance even though the power +should be cut off and the brakes applied sufficiently hard to lock the +rear wheels. With the discordant electric horn snarling a demand for a +clear road, the foolish young driver tore up the dust through the very +heart of the village, regardless of his own safety and absolutely +ignoring the safety or rights of others. The postoffice spun by on the +left; the machine shot across the small square; down the steepest grade +of the hill it flew toward the bridge. +</P> + +<P> +Despite the fact that he pretended to be as serene and unconcerned as +his companions, who, perhaps, did not realize the danger, Herbert +Rackliff was not fully at his ease; for he knew that such driving +through a place where there were intersecting streets with blind +corners was folly indeed. +</P> + +<P> +As the bridge was approached the road swung to the left. At the very +end of the bridge an old building cut off the view of the greater part +of the structure from any one approaching from the main portion of the +village. +</P> + +<P> +The "bump" of which Newbert had given warning was struck with +sufficient force to send the boys bouncing from their seats, and the +shock seemed to disturb Foxhall's hold on the steering wheel, for the +car swerved unpleasantly. The young driver brought it back with a +yank, and then—— +</P> + +<P> +"Look out!" screamed Herbert, jumping up in the tonneau. +</P> + +<P> +A woman of middle age, seated in a rickety old wagon, with a child on +either side of her, was driving a young and half-broken horse into +Oakdale. The young horse snorted, attempted to turn round, and then +began to back up, cramping the wagon across the bridge. The woman +struggled vainly with the reins, in a perfect panic of terror, and the +children screamed, clinging to her. +</P> + +<P> +Foxhall knew he could not stop the car, and to his credit let it be +said that he did his best to avoid striking and smashing the wagon—and +succeeded. Success, however, was costly; for, in attempting to turn +aside and shoot past, the wheel was pulled too sharply, and the machine +struck the wooden railing of the bridge, through which it cut as if the +railing had been built of cardboard. +</P> + +<P> +Dade Newbert was the only one who managed to leap from the machine ere +it crashed through that railing and shot off in a clean leap for the +water below. Unimpeded by any barrier, Newbert jumped, struck the +ground, plunged forward, and went sliding at full length almost beneath +the wheels of the old wagon. Rackliff tried to jump, but he was on the +wrong side, and the tonneau door bothered him; however, as the machine +fell, with Snead sitting paralyzed in his place and Foxhall clinging to +the wheel, Herbert succeeded in flinging himself out over the side. +</P> + +<P> +Surprising to relate, Dade Newbert was not seriously hurt, and, still +retaining a certain presence of mind, he scrambled back from the wagon +wheels and sat up on the bridge, covered with dirt, a rather woe-begone +spectacle. He was still sitting thus when the horse, having turned +about at last without upsetting the wagon, went galloping away across +the bridge; and he continued to sit there until some boys came running +down from the village, shouting as they ran, and asked him if he was +hurt. +</P> + +<P> +Then Dade scrambled up. "Oh, mercy!" he gasped. "Don't mind me. I'm +all right. The other fellers—they'll be drowned!" +</P> + +<P> +He ran to the side of the bridge and looked over. Foxhall was swimming +toward the nearest bank, with Snead puffing and blowing behind him; but +Rackliff, who had struck on his stomach sufficiently hard to have the +breath knocked out of him, was being carried away by the current, +struggling feebly. +</P> + +<P> +With the idea of leaping in to help Herbert, Newbert pulled off his +coat; but before he could make the plunge some one flung him aside with +the sweep of a muscular arm and went shooting headlong like an arrow +toward the surface of the river. +</P> + +<P> +People were running toward the bridge from various directions. Some of +the boys started down to help the swimmers out when they should reach +the shore; but no one else ventured to plunge into the river. +</P> + +<P> +The one who had made that unhesitating plunge was Rodney Grant. +Springer, who had reached the spot a moment ahead of Rod, saw Grant as +he shot downward with hands outstretched and palms pressed together. +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-why didn't I do it?" muttered Phil. "I didn't th-think quick +enough." +</P> + +<P> +He saw Grant's head appear above the surface and beheld the Texan +striking out toward Rackliff with strong strokes that sent him forging +through the water. The gathering crowd on the bridge began to cheer +the rescuer. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course!" whispered Phil savagely. "It's another feather in his +cap! He'll help the chap out of the drink, and everybody in town will +say it was a nervy and daring piece of heroism. Oh, I'm slow! I lost +my chance!" +</P> + +<P> +At that moment his bitterness toward Grant was so intense that he felt +he could unhesitatingly go to any extreme to injure him. His lips +curled back from his teeth in a semblance of a snarl; he watched the +Texan reach the spot where Rackliff's head had an instant before +disappeared from view, saw him likewise plunge beneath the surface, and +beheld him rise, farther down the stream, with the still weakly +struggling fellow secured by a grip upon his coat collar at the back of +the neck. Deftly the rescuer swung Herbert round, face upward, upon +his back, and, holding him thus, with mouth and nose above the water, +began swimming toward the nearest shore. +</P> + +<P> +The rapidly increasing crowd of spectators on the bridge cheered still +more vociferously. +</P> + +<P> +"It's getting to be a regular sus-stunt of his, this rescuing people +from drowning," muttered Springer. "Hear them yell! Bah! What fools +people are! Why didn't I think quick enough to get ahead of him!" +</P> + +<P> +A short distance below the bridge Foxhall was wading out of the water, +disdaining assistance. Snead, however, did not spurn the hands +extended to him when he came floundering and gurgling toward dry ground. +</P> + +<P> +A dozen persons were running down toward the point for which Rodney +Grant was heading, all eager to take some part in the exciting rescue. +Of the boys who had rushed to the scene, Springer was the only one who +remained on the bridge. He waited until he beheld Grant stand on his +feet in shallow water and wade toward the bank, bearing Rackliff in his +arms. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't propose to hang around and see them slobber over him," he +whispered hoarsely; "so I think I'll beat it, get a move on, dig." +</P> + +<P> +As he turned away his eyes fell on a folded sheet of paper lying at his +feet, and within three feet of the paper he discovered a pocket +notebook. He picked up the paper and the notebook. +</P> + +<P> +"Some one of that bunch dropped these," he decided. "Oh, but they were +lucky to come out of this scrape alive! I think this will cuc-cure +that idiot Foxhall of doing fancy stunts with his old man's gas cart." +</P> + +<P> +Mechanically he unfolded the paper. There was writing upon it, and +Phil was suddenly chained in his tracks as his senses took in the +meaning of those several short sentences, each of which was written on +a separate line: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Bat held in right hand means hit and run. +</P> + +<P> +"In left hand, try the steal. +</P> + +<P> +"In both hands, perpendicular, play safe. +</P> + +<P> +"In both hands, horizontal, will sacrifice. +</P> + +<P> +"In right hand, handle down, squeeze play." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +This was as far as Phil read, but the list covered the entire page, +being condensed, with the lines very close together, at the bottom, +evidently in order to get everything on that side of the sheet. +Springer's eyes threatened to pop out of his head and his under jaw +sagged. +</P> + +<P> +"Great snakes!" he gasped. "These are our playing signals!" +</P> + +<P> +For a short time he stood there dazed, unconscious of the excitement +near at hand, deaf to the cheering of the crowd. He had thought at +first that the paper, like the notebook, must be the property of one of +those boys who had occupied the automobile, but, with the discovery of +what was written on that paper, he slowly arrived at the conclusion +that his original conviction was erroneous. The writing looked +familiar, too, although at that time he could not seem to recall the +person whose chirography it resembled. +</P> + +<P> +"The notebook," he finally decided; "that may tell who it belongs to, +for doubtless the same chap dropped both." +</P> + +<P> +On the fly leaf of the notebook he found the name of Dade Newbert. He +had refolded the paper, and was still staring at the name written in +the notebook when Newbert himself, greatly excited, rushed toward him, +crying: +</P> + +<P> +"I say, that's mine! Dropped it out of my coat pocket when I pulled +the coat off. Give it to me." +</P> + +<P> +He was still carrying his coat in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you're Nun-Newbert, are you?" questioned Springer, who until this +day had never set eyes on the chap. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes. Gimme that! The paper, too. Have you——" +</P> + +<P> +"Just picked them up," said Springer coolly, as he surrendered the +folded paper. "Lul-looked in the book to see who it belonged to, +that's all." +</P> + +<P> +Newbert seemed to take a breath of relief. "I didn't know but you had +been—— Oh, fudge! I dropped them only a minute ago. Say, we've +kicked up a rumpus around here, haven't we? That fellow who pulled +Rack out of the drink saved me from getting a soaking, as I was just +going overboard after Herb. Rack thought he wouldn't take a bath this +morning, but he did, just the same. Ho! ho! ho!" The cause for the +laugh seemed to be nervousness and excitement rather than mirth. +</P> + +<P> +"Rackliff!" muttered Springer, struck by sudden conviction. +</P> + +<P> +"Old chum of mine. Don't suppose this little experience will do his +cold any good, I got Orv Foxhall to come over here for Herb this +morning with old man Foxy's bubble that's down there at the bottom of +the canal, where it's liable to stay for some time. I reckon we'll all +travel back to Wyndham by steam cars." He turned and ran toward the +crowd that was coming up from the scene of the rescue. +</P> + +<P> +"Rackliff!" muttered Springer once more. +</P> + +<P> +He knew now who had written those signals on that sheet of paper. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A REBELLIOUS CONSCIENCE. +</H3> + +<P> +The game between Oakdale and Wyndham was in progress, and, wretchedly +miserable, Phil Springer sat watching from the bleachers. Never before +in all his life had he felt so much like a contemptible criminal, a +dastardly traitor to his team, against which, through the agency of +Herbert Rackliff, he had wagered money. It was not, however, the fact +that he had made such a wager that troubled him most, although at this +moment, deep down in his heart, he was sincerely ashamed of that. +</P> + +<P> +The principal cause of his misery, the reason why he kept telling +himself over and over that he was a cowardly sneak, was his knowledge +that the playing signals of the visitors had been betrayed to the home +team, and that, taking advantage of the knowledge thus obtained, +Wyndham was prepared to block Oakdale's every play, and was doing this +in a manner which appeared to the average spectator like almost uncanny +foresight and cleverness at the game. +</P> + +<P> +In the very first inning, with only one out and a runner on third, the +Oakdale batter, taking his instructions from Captain Eliot, had walked +out to the plate with the bat held in his right hand, handle downward, +which was the signal for the squeeze play. But Wyndham had known what +was coming quite as well as Oakdale, and Newbert, pitching the ball +beyond the batsman's reach, gave the catcher every chance to get the +runner as he came lunging hopelessly toward the pan. +</P> + +<P> +The second inning, also, had opened promisingly for Oakdale, but the +enemy's knowledge of the meaning of those signals had made it a simple +matter to bring that auspicious opening to a fruitless and discouraging +close. +</P> + +<P> +Meanwhile Wyndham got a run in the first, and in the third she pushed +two more happy fellows over the rubber, aided by errors; for Grant was +pitching in excellent form, and not a tally of the three was really +earned. +</P> + +<P> +The sight of Roy Hooker, wearing Springer's own suit and sitting on the +bench as a spare pitcher, did not serve in any way to make Phil more +comfortable. He knew that by every bond of loyalty and decency he +should be there himself when he was not working on the slab. Like some +other fellows, in the past he had occasionally laughed and joked about +Roy's aspirations to become a pitcher; but now, at last having gotten +his eyes open to some of his faults, and having succeeded in +restraining his jealousy of others who were in some respects his +superiors, Hooker was pursuing a course that had already led him to be +accepted in place of the deserter. +</P> + +<P> +Phil held himself aloof from the crowd of sympathizers with the team +who had come over from Oakdale to root for the crimson; he did not even +wear the school colors. When he saw them waving their bright banners +and heard them cheering he thought, with a heavy heart and no feeling +of satisfaction, that they little knew how utterly useless their +enthusiasm was. The game was fixed; the cards were stacked, and there +was no chance for Oakdale to win. +</P> + +<P> +He bit his lip as he saw Grant working steadily and coolly on the slab, +doing splendidly, little dreaming that, as the situation stood, he +might "wallop his wing off" with scarcely a ghost of a prospect that +Oakdale could overcome the lead the locals had already obtained. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad—as far as <I>he</I> is concerned," Springer whispered to himself; +"but I'm sus-sorry for the rest of the fellows. It's a rotten piece of +business, and Rackliff ought to be ashamed of himself." +</P> + +<P> +Where was Rackliff? He knew Herbert had come to Wyndham after changing +his clothes for dry ones, following his rescue from the river by Grant, +but Phil had not put eyes on the fellow since his arrival on the scene +of the game. It seemed very strange that Rackliff should not be +somewhere on hand to watch the progress of the contest. +</P> + +<P> +"One thing is sure," was the promise the unhappy youth made himself, +"I'll tell him just what I think of him when I get a good chance, and I +won't mum-mince my words. Oh, I wish I'd never let him have that money +to bet on Wyndham! If I hadn't done that——" +</P> + +<P> +He stopped short, thinking that, even though he had not wagered his +money, his hatred for Rod Grant and his desire to see the fellow pitch +a losing game would be sufficient to keep him silent concerning the +betrayal of the signals. He sought to convince himself that, as he was +not concerned in that wretched piece of work, he was in no way +responsible. His rebellious conscience, however, kept prodding him +with the knowledge that he was "an accessory to the crime." +</P> + +<P> +Again and again he longed to rise and shout a warning to Eliot—yearned +to tell him loudly, that all might hear, that Wyndham knew Oakdale's +signals. If he were to do such a thing as that—do it dramatically +before that great crowd—would it not serve to restore him to sudden +popularity with the fellows who now held him in contempt because of the +petty, peevish, jealous course he had pursued? +</P> + +<P> +"I wish they'd ha-hammer Grant out," he muttered. "If they'd only do +that, I'd warn Eliot. Of course I wouldn't give it away that I knew +abub-bout the crookedness all the time, for that would queer me worse +than ever. I've got to kuk-keep that a dark secret, sure enough." +</P> + +<P> +He wondered what explanation he could make if he should warn Eliot; +surely he would have to tell how he came to believe that Wyndham was +wise to the signals of her opponents. There seemed only one reasonable +story for him to put forward: he would be compelled to claim that he +had overheard some persons in the crowd telling each other that such +was the case. +</P> + +<P> +And that would be a lie! +</P> + +<P> +"I lied once on account of that fellow Grant, and got caught at it," +thought Phil. "If I should tell Eliot now, Rackliff might—— But he +doesn't know that I know he gave our signals to Wyndham. Still, if I +come out publicly and warn Roger, Rackliff may get sore and blow around +that part of the money he bet on Wyndham belonged to me." +</P> + +<P> +Thus, wavering, tortured and miserable, he followed the progress of the +game, realizing more and more as it went on that Oakdale had absolutely +no chance at all while the players of the other side could see and +understand every batting and base-running signal that was given. +Fighting against such odds without knowledge of the fact seemed to Phil +to be a most outrageous thing, and he pledged himself that, from this +day forward, he would have no more dealings with Rackliff. +</P> + +<P> +As it was not necessary for the first batter in an inning to signal, +Wyndham could not "lay for him" by the aid of knowledge gained in +advance, and to open the fourth Sile Cane strode forth and fell on one +of Newbert's slants, straightening it out handsomely for two sacks. +</P> + +<P> +Grant, following, took his cue from Eliot and signalled Crane that he +would bunt, on which sacrifice the lanky fellow was to take third. +</P> + +<P> +Springer's teeth grated together as he beheld the entire Wyndham +infield prepare to handle Rod's bunt, while Newbert drove Josh back and +held him as close as possible to the second sack. Suddenly the ball +was whipped over the pan, high and close, in spite of which the batter +succeeded in sending it rolling heavily into the diamond. But Newbert, +racing forward as soon as the sphere left his fingers, scooped it +cleanly with one hand and snapped it across to third without +straightening up. The baseman was covering the sack in a position to +get the long-geared runner, and, catching the ball, he put it on to +Crane with considerable viciousness as Josh slid. +</P> + +<P> +"Out at third!" shouted the umpire, with up-flung hand. +</P> + +<P> +The attempted sacrifice had been turned into a miserable failure solely +because the locals had known precisely what their opponents would try +to do. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't stand much more of this!" groaned Springer aloud. "It's worse +than robbery! I'll have to get out." +</P> + +<P> +Hearing the words, a rejoicing Wyndham sympathizer slapped him heavily +on the shoulder. "Don't take it so hard," laughingly advised the +familiar fellow. "It's just what everybody expected." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, is that so?" snapped Phil resentfully, turning his head to look up +at the chap. "Well, if this was a square game they might get their +expectations stepped on." +</P> + +<P> +"A square game!" retorted the other. "What do you mean by that? +What's the matter with it? So far, it's the cleanest game I've seen +this year. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the dirtiest game I ever saw! It's cuc-crooked from the start. +Oakdale hasn't a sus-show." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course she hasn't; she's outclassed. You Oakdalers are poor +losers; you always squeal." +</P> + +<P> +"Outclassed—nothing!" fumed Phil. "Oakdale is playing just as good +baseball as Wyndham—and playing it on the level." +</P> + +<P> +"And by that I suppose you mean that Wyndham isn't playing on the +level?" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't have to gug-guess twice; that's what I mean." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, go crawl into your hole! There hasn't been a kick. Anybody can +see that we're playing all round you simply because we've got the best +team. Dade Newbert is a dandy." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, he's a dandy at this sort of baseball. I happen to know just +what he is, and a fellow who'll do what he's dud-done to win this game +hasn't any right to pitch on a respectable nine." +</P> + +<P> +"You're dotty. Look here, you better be careful about shooting off +that sort of talk, or you may have a chance to prove it." +</P> + +<P> +"I can bub-back up anything I've said," declared Phil, now thoroughly +aroused. "I'm dead onto the whole dirty deal. If I should tell Roger +Eliot what I know you'd sus-see a change in the complexion of this game +in short order." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, really!" scoffed the incredulous Wyndhamite. "If you know so +much, why don't you tell it? If you know anything that amounts to +anything, you'll tell it—unless you're crooked yourself." +</P> + +<P> +That cut deeply, and Springer choked back further heated words which +were boiling to his lips. What right had he to rail against Newbert? +Under the circumstances, his failure to warn his former teammates made +him fully as dishonest and deserving of contempt as the Wyndham +pitcher—far more so. The white anger of his face turned to a crimson +flush of shame. +</P> + +<P> +Silenced, he saw Wyndham, ready to block the hit and run, take Cooper's +zipping grounder and turn into a double play what possibly might +otherwise have been a safety. In that moment Springer's mind was made +up, and he immediately left his seat on the bleachers. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll tell Eliot the truth at any cost," he muttered. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +WHEN THE SIGNALS WERE CHANGED. +</H3> + +<P> +While Phil Springer was making his way round to the Oakdale side of the +field an accident took place. The first Wyndham batter to face Grant +in that inning hit the ball squarely and hard, driving it on a dead +line toward the pitcher, but a trifle to his right. Grant might have +dodged, but, instead of that, he tried to catch that red-hot liner with +his bare right hand, and the ball split two of his fingers. +Nevertheless, he stopped it, caught it up with his left hand when it +fell to the ground, and tossed it to Sile Crane at first in time for a +put-out. +</P> + +<P> +Rod showed his blood-streaming hand to the umpire, who promptly called +"time." Then the Texan walked toward the bench, Eliot running to join +him. +</P> + +<P> +"How bad are you hurt, old man?" asked the captain anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know," was the answer. "Didn't know I was hurt at all until I +saw the claret spouting; reckoned my paw was benumbed a bit, and that +was all." +</P> + +<P> +But when water was poured over those bleeding fingers and Roger saw +just what had happened to them, he turned quickly to Hooker, saying in +a low tone: +</P> + +<P> +"Get a ball, Hook, and warm up. You'll have to pitch the game out." +</P> + +<P> +A doctor pressed through the crowd that had surrounded the injured +player. +</P> + +<P> +"Fix these busted fingers up quick, doc," urged Grant, "so I can get +back into the game without delaying things too long." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll play no more baseball to-day, my boy," said the physician; "nor +for some days to come. You're out of it, and you may as well accept +the alternative with good grace." +</P> + +<P> +And so Springer saw Hooker go in to pitch, aware that only for his +jealousy and blind folly he would have been the one called upon to +replace the injured chap. +</P> + +<P> +"Serves me right," he muttered. Which was proof sufficient that he was +getting his eyes open. +</P> + +<P> +Naturally, Hooker was very nervous, although secretly elated by the +opportunity to pitch in this most important game. Eliot talked with +him a moment or two about signals, finishing by placing a hand on his +shoulder and saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Now, keep cool, Hook, and take your time. Mind my signals, and do +your best for control. It's your chance to show the stuff that's in +you. Don't be afraid of Wyndham, and don't listen to the crowd. Close +your ears and eyes to everything outside of the game. You may surprise +yourself and everybody else, if you keep your head." +</P> + +<P> +There was something in Roger's words and manner that proved very +steadying to Roy, and he toed the slab with an outward show of +confidence, whether or not he was inwardly perturbed. The majority of +the Oakdale players were much cast down, however, and it was a rather +feeble and heartless cheer that the rooters with the crimson banners +gave the substitute pitcher. +</P> + +<P> +Hooker pitched two balls wide, and then put one over; which the batsman +hit, rolling a grounder into the diamond for Chipper Cooper to handle. +Chipper managed to get it and wing it across to Crane for a clean +put-out. +</P> + +<P> +"Two gone, fellows," called Eliot. "We'll keep right on playing +baseball. Get this next man, now." +</P> + +<P> +The next man hoisted a long fly to center, where Ben Stone, sure as +fate, took charge of it; and Hooker, now really quite calm and +confident, jogged to the bench. +</P> + +<P> +"See if you can't start something, Sleuth," urged Roger as Piper found +his bat. "We've got to make some runs pretty soon, and we may as well +begin now." +</P> + +<P> +Springer, walking swiftly out to the bench, spoke Eliot's name. "I +want a few words with you, Roger," he said; "I've gug-gug-got +something—something important to—to tell you." He stumbled more than +usual over his words, and his face was very pale; but his manner was +resolute and determined. +</P> + +<P> +A slight frown fell on the face of the Oakdale captain as he turned his +eyes upon the speaker. "What is it, Springer?" he asked almost +repellantly. +</P> + +<P> +"Just sus-step one side a bit so I can tell you without anybody else +hearing," begged Phil. +</P> + +<P> +Roger complied, lending an ear to the startling information Springer +had to impart, but, after his usual composure, retaining his +self-possessed atmosphere to such a degree that scarcely any one who +chanced to be watching them could have dreamed how disturbing that +information really was. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you happen to know about this, Phil?" Eliot asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't ask me. I can't tut-tell you now. But it's dead straight, +Roger, and Oakdale hasn't a ghost of a show as long as you continue to +stick by those signals." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll change them right away." +</P> + +<P> +Piper had succeeded in bumping a slow grounder into the diamond, on +which he scudded for first with amazing speed, for he was really a +splendid sprinter. The ball was handled a bit too slowly, giving the +Oakdale lad time to reach the sack by the narrowest margin. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind that, fellows," grinned Orv Foxhall from his position at +second. "I'll get him when he comes down this way. He may be pretty +speedy, but——" +</P> + +<P> +"He won't run off the bridge," cried Cooper, on the coaching line. +"Your speed has made you pawn things more than once, and now you've +gone and soaked your daddy's automobubble." +</P> + +<P> +"Bright boy," scoffed Foxhall. "I always enjoy it when you make a +choke, but I'd enjoy it more if you'd make one that would finish you." +</P> + +<P> +Sile Crane came running down from the bench, catching Cooper by the +shoulders and whispering something into his ear. Chipper looked +surprised, and then, as Crane was jogging back, in violation of the +rules, the coacher ran out to first, grabbed Piper and whispered to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Hey?" gasped Sleuth, staring at Chub Tuttle, who was walking to the +plate with his bat held in a manner which seemed to indicate that he +would bunt the ball. "What's the——" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up!" hissed Chipper. "Mind! Get a lead now! Be ready!" Then +he skipped back over the chalk-mark before the umpire could order him +back. +</P> + +<P> +The Wyndham infielders crept forward, crouching and ready. Newbert, +contemptuous of Tuttle's skill as a batter, handed up an easy one. +Instead of bunting, the fat lad rapped out a little fly, that sailed +over the heads of the in-drawn infielders, and Cooper, having obtained +a good start, went twinkling over second and on to third. +</P> + +<P> +Wyndham had been deceived, much to the annoyance of the local players, +who looked at one another inquiringly. It was rather remarkable that +Tuttle had not followed his own signal, plainly given. It was +possible, however, that, seeing the infielders prepared to take his +bunt, the fellow had decided at the last moment to do something else. +</P> + +<P> +Nelson followed Tuttle, and he held his bat in a manner that seemed to +proclaim he would "take one," giving Chub a chance to try to steal +second on the first ball pitched. Believing this was the program, +Newbert whipped over a beautiful straight ball for a called strike. +</P> + +<P> +But Nelson did not let that handsome one pass; it was just the kind he +liked, and he fell on it with great glee, smashing a liner into the +outfield, between right and center. +</P> + +<P> +Piper, laughing, scored at a jog trot; while Tuttle, his fists +clenched, his eyes glaring, his cheeks puffed out like toy balloons, +galloped over the sacks with all the grace of a frightened elephant. +</P> + +<P> +"Score, Chub—score!" shrieked Crane, who had pranced down onto the +coaching line back of third, and who was waving his long arms +grotesquely. "Make it or bust! You kin do it!" +</P> + +<P> +Tuttle continued to the plate, where, raising a great cloud of dust, he +arrived on an attempted slide, a moment ahead of the ball, being +declared safe. +</P> + +<P> +The Wyndham crowd was filled with dismay; the Oakdalers with the +crimson banners were leaping and shrieking on the bleachers. The local +players knew something was wrong, and they showed the greatest +confusion and consternation. Dade Newbert was making some remarks that +would not look well in print. +</P> + +<P> +Captain Eliot had instructed his players to abandon the use of signals +for the time being, and to bat and run bases wholly as their judgment +might dictate, and this sudden change threatened totally to demoralize +the Wyndhamites. +</P> + +<P> +Not a man was out, and the visitors, having already secured two +tallies, had a runner moored at third. Berlin Barker stepped forth +briskly, urging the umpire to keep the game in motion, his bat held as +if he intended to try for a safe bingle. As matters stood, it seemed +logical that he should do this, and the Wyndhamites got ready for him. +</P> + +<P> +But Berlin, trusting the speedy Nelson to take advantage of it, bunted +the first ball. His confidence in Nelson was not misplaced, Jack +sprinting to the plate, while the baffled home players bestirred +themselves too late even to get Barker, whose bunt went for a safe hit. +</P> + +<P> +The score was tied. +</P> + +<P> +Foxhall, rushing up to Newbert, whispered excitedly: +</P> + +<P> +"They've changed their signals! That's what's fooling us. We've got +to——" +</P> + +<P> +There was a yell. Observing that second base was left practically +unguarded, Barker scooted down from first, and he got there ahead of +the shortstop, who made an effort to cover the sack. +</P> + +<P> +"This is a great year for high flying," laughingly whooped Cooper. +"Ten thousand feet in an aeroplane isn't so much; why, this whole +Wyndham bunch is up in the air higher than that this very minute. +They're liable to come down hard, too." +</P> + +<P> +Like Foxhall, the Wyndham captain had decided that Oakdale was no +longer using the known code of batting and base-running signals, and he +made haste to warn his players to place no further reliance upon the +information they had obtained concerning those signals. +</P> + +<P> +"We want another run to take the lead, Stoney," said Eliot as Ben +stepped into the batter's box. +</P> + +<P> +Stone took in the situation and also did the unexpected, dropping +another bunt in front of the pan. The catcher got the ball in time to +throw Stone out, but the batter's object was obtained, for Barker had +sailed along to third. +</P> + +<P> +The Oakdaleites on the seats implored Eliot to get a hit, and Roger +responded by cutting a grounder through into short right field, which +let Barker score and placed the visitors in the lead. +</P> + +<P> +Newbert's face was white as chalk. Up to this inning he had been +insolent in his self-confidence and contempt for the visitors, but the +strain now put upon him proved too much, and he hit Crane in the ribs, +following with a pass to Hooker, which filled the corners. +</P> + +<P> +Then, amid the tumultuous cheering and laughter of the Oakdale crowd. +Captain Holley sent Newbert to the bench and called Twitt Crowell forth +to take his place. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PHIL GETS HIS EYES OPEN +</H3> + +<P> +"Too bad little Herbie Rackliff isn't here to witness the fate of his +chum, the wonderful pitcher from Boston," laughed Jack Nelson. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is Rackliff?" questioned Stone. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, don't you know? He's sick abed; just went down flat after +reaching this town, and had to have a doctor." +</P> + +<P> +With the bases full, Chipper Cooper longed for a handsome clean drive; +but fortune seemed to favor Crowell, for when Chipper did hit the ball +he simply rolled it straight at the man on the slab, who scooped it and +snapped it back to the catcher with Eliot only a little more than +halfway down the line from third. Taking the ball, with one foot on +the plate, the catcher hummed it past Cooper's ear to first, completing +a double play. +</P> + +<P> +Of course the downcast Wyndhamites awoke and cheered, but the visitors, +although disappointed by the abrupt ending of their "streak," felt very +well satisfied. +</P> + +<P> +"Now keep steady and play the game, boys," called Eliot. "This is the +game we want to win." +</P> + +<P> +Springer, literally a-tingle with joy over the turn the game had taken, +watched Hooker, who was given excellent support, pull through the fifth +without letting more than one man reach first base. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm glad," muttered Phil. "I don't care if it does cost me seven +dollars, for Wyndham deserves to be beaten." +</P> + +<P> +Eliot, removing his cage at the end of the inning, looked for Springer +and found him. "Come here, Phil," he called, beckoning. +</P> + +<P> +Phil hesitated, more than half disposed to pretend that he did not hear +and to get away from that locality at once; but, realizing he would +find it necessary to face Roger's questions sooner or later, he finally +plucked up courage to answer the summons. Greatly to his relief, the +captain of the nine did not question him then; instead of that, Roger +said: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm much obliged to you, old fellow, for putting me wise, although I'm +ashamed that I didn't tumble to the fact myself. I hope we can win +this game now; we must win it somehow. Grant is knocked out for some +time to come, and there's only Hooker left to depend on. If anything +happens to Hook, it's all off; there's no one to take his place." +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly Phil understood what Roger was driving at, and his pale face +flamed with color. "If I can——" he began eagerly, and then stopped, +choking a bit. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought so!" exclaimed Roger, with great satisfaction; "I thought +you must be still loyal and true. I've got to pay close attention to +the run of the game. Won't you find Grant and ask him to let you have +his suit? Get into it as soon as you can, and hurry back here; for +Wyndham is liable to solve Hook's delivery any minute. Hustle, old +chap—do." +</P> + +<P> +With this admonition, he turned to give his attention to his players. +</P> + +<P> +"Still loyal and true!" muttered Phil. "If he only knew the truth! +Well, I suppose he'll find out before long, for Rackliff will blow on +me. I'll have to face it, that's all. I wonder wh-where Grant is." +</P> + +<P> +A few moments later he found the fellow he was seeking, the doctor +having just finished bandaging Rod's injured fingers. Springer +hesitated, feeling that it was almost impossible for him to approach +the Texan, and, as he was wavering, Grant, still wearing his playing +suit, started for the Oakdale bench. +</P> + +<P> +"I—I bub-beg your pardon," stammered Phil as Rodney was passing. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" exclaimed the young Texan, stopping short. "Is it you—Phil? +What's the matter?" +</P> + +<P> +"I—want—your—suit." Springer could not meet Rod's eyes, and he +could feel his cheeks burning; for over him had swept a full and +complete understanding of his own folly in permitting jealousy to lead +him into the course he had been pursuing. +</P> + +<P> +"My—my suit?" said Rod, as if he did not quite understand. "You——" +</P> + +<P> +"Eliot sus-sent me for it," Phil hastened to explain. "You know he +hasn't a spare man on the bench now, and if anything should happen to +another pup-player——" +</P> + +<P> +"Come on," said Rod, turning sharply. "The dressing room is over back +of the seats here." +</P> + +<P> +In the dressing room Grant got out of the playing suit as quickly as +possible, while Springer stripped off his street clothes and +unhesitatingly donned each piece as it was tossed to him. Both were +silent, for the situation was such that neither could seem to find +words to fit it. However, having put on Rod's clothes down to the +brass-clipped pitching shoes and being on the point of leaving the +Texan struggling slowly into his everyday garments, Phil stopped and +half turned, after taking a step toward the door. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sus-sorry you got your fingers busted," he stated in a low tone. +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," returned Rod, without looking up. +</P> + +<P> +"He despises me," whispered Springer, as soon as he was outside. +"Well, perhaps I deserve it." +</P> + +<P> +At the end of the tiered seats he came upon Herbert Rackliff, who had +just arrived at the field. Herbert's eyes widened on beholding +Springer in that suit. His face was pale save for two burning spots +upon his hollow cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +"What the dickens does this mean?" exclaimed Rackliff, his wondering +eyes flashing over Phil from head to heels. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing," was the answer, "only Grant's hurt, and I'm going onto the +bub-bench as spare man—at Eliot's request." +</P> + +<P> +An odd smile twisted Rackliff's lips. "Now wouldn't that kill you +dead!" he coughed. "At Eliot's request! Ha! ha! ha! If he only knew! +But of course he doesn't suspect, for I haven't given you away. Well, +this is a joke!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm in a hurry, so I'll hustle along." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a jiffy. I've just got here. Sort of went to pieces after +landing in this town, and they stowed me in bed, with a pill-slinger +looking at my tongue, taking my pulse and asking a lot of tiresome +questions. He even sounded my lungs, though I protested against it. +And then he told me I was to stay in bed, and left a lot of nasty +medicine for me to take. I stayed in bed as long as I could, knowing +this game was going on. Now that I'm here, how does it stand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your great pup-pitcher, Newbert, was batted out in the fifth inning." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that? I don't believe it!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a fact." +</P> + +<P> +"The score—what's the score?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was four to three in Oakdale's favor at the end of the fifth." +</P> + +<P> +"Rotten!" snarled Herbert, and a tempestuous burst of coughing shook +him frightfully. +</P> + +<P> +When Phil started away the still coughing lad grasped his arm and +restrained him. +</P> + +<P> +"You—you wait!" gasped Rackliff. "Wyndham must win this game—she +just must, that's all. Did you say Grant was hurt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"How much?" +</P> + +<P> +"Enough to knock him out; he got two fingers busted by a liner hot from +the bub-bat." +</P> + +<P> +"Good! Then I suppose that dub Hooker is pitching now?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, if I had any more money I'd be willing to bet the limit that +Wyndham gets to him, all right. He'll get his." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps not. He fuf-finished the fifth in style." +</P> + +<P> +"He'll get his," repeated Herbert positively. "Then you'll be run in. +That's why Eliot wants you. That will fix things beautifully. You +know what to do." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, I know what to do," said Phil slowly, "and I shall do it if I get +the chance." +</P> + +<P> +"That's the talk! You can do it cleverly enough so no one will suspect +that you're throwing the game, and we'll win——" +</P> + +<P> +"If I'm put in to pitch," said Springer, still uttering his words in +that slow and positive manner, "I shall do my level best to hold +Wyndham down and give Oakdale a chance to win the game." +</P> + +<P> +"You—you'll what?" spluttered Rackliff incredulously. "Why, you're +joking! Your money, seven dollars which you gave me, is bet on +Wyndham. If Oakdale wins you lose the seven." +</P> + +<P> +"If I could do anything to help Oakdale win, I'd do it, even if I stood +to lose seven hundred dollars by it," declared Phil. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX. +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GREATEST VICTORY. +</H3> + +<P> +The sixth inning was over before Springer reached the Oakdale bench. +He found the boys in high spirits, for they had gathered two more +tallies by taking Crowell's measure, while again Hooker had pulled +through without being scored upon, which made the scorers' record six +to three in favor of the visitors at the beginning of the seventh. +Oakdale seemed to have the game bagged. +</P> + +<P> +When the seventh passed with the score unchanged on either side and +Hooker apparently "still going strong," it began to look as if Springer +would get no chance to do any pitching in that game. But baseball is +sometimes most uncertain, which is one reason why the game is so +popular in America. In the last of the eighth, with one man gone, the +locals finally took Hooker's measure and began batting him to all +quarters of the field. Almost before the gasping, excited spectators +could realize it, Wyndham had made one run and the bases were all +occupied, with one of the strongest hitters of the home team at bat. +</P> + +<P> +Springer had limbered up, with Stone catching him, in the first of the +seventh while Oakdale was at bat, and now Eliot stepped upon the plate, +giving a signal which meant that Roy was to retire and Phil was to take +his place. +</P> + +<P> +Phil was sorry for Hooker, who showed that he was fearfully upset and +chagrined, and, as he passed the unlucky pitcher on his way out to the +firing line, he said in a low, sympathetic tone: +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you care, old ch-chap. It happens to the best of us; I got mine +in that Barville game, you know. Next time you'll make good." +</P> + +<P> +But could he now "make good" himself? That was the question, of a most +disturbing sort, which insinuated itself upon Springer as he stepped +into position and received the ball from Captain Eliot. The anxious +Oakdale crowd gave him a cheer. +</P> + +<P> +"There's Springer!" he heard a voice shout. "He'll stop it. Hold 'em, +Phil—hold 'em!" +</P> + +<P> +"I must, and I will," thought Phil. +</P> + +<P> +Eliot smiled on him encouragingly as he adjusted the cage and stepped +back into position, crouching to give a signal. The Wyndham coachers +began chattering, and the local crowd "rooted" hard. Surely it was a +moment to test the nerve of any young pitcher. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-307"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-307.jpg" ALT="The local crowd "rooted" hard." BORDER="2" WIDTH="416" HEIGHT="612"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 416px"> +The local crowd "rooted" hard. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Phil caught Roger's signal, nodded, and bent the first ball over. The +batter hit it to the left of the pitcher, and Springer, shooting out +his gloved hand, simply deflected the ball enough to prevent Nelson, +who was almost directly in line, from getting it. The Wyndham crowd +yelled madly as another runner scored and the hitter reached first +safely. +</P> + +<P> +"This pitcher's the easiest one yet!" shrieked one of the coachers. +"Nail the game right here, fellows. It's easy! it's easy!" +</P> + +<P> +Fear sought to fasten its benumbing clutch upon Springer. What if he +could not stop Wyndham? Rackliff would hear that he had warned Eliot +about the signals, and, seeking retaliation, would betray the fact that +he had likewise wagered money that Wyndham would win. To everybody it +must seem that Phil had at last shown himself thoroughly despicable and +untrustworthy by betraying his own team on the field. This thought +actually made him sick and giddy for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Never mind, Spring—never mind," Eliot was saying. "That was an +accident; it wasn't a hit. Get the next man; get this fellow. You can +do it." +</P> + +<P> +"I must, and I will!" thought Phil once more. +</P> + +<P> +He shook off the touch of fear and steadied himself. Again Eliot gave +a signal, and again he nodded. Strangely enough, the next batter hit a +liner to the left of Springer, almost precisely as the other had done; +but this time the pitcher's gloved fingers caught and held the ball, +following which he instantly turned and snapped it to first base before +the runner, who had started down the line, could get back. +</P> + +<P> +It was a double play, and a mighty shout of joy was flung forth from +beneath the fluttering crimson banners of the Oakdale spectators. +Again Phil was cheered. +</P> + +<P> +"Well done, Spring," complimented Eliot quietly, as Phil reached the +bench. +</P> + +<P> +Then Herbert Rackliff, pale and desperate, rushed forth to the bench, +catching Eliot's arm and saying: +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps you're not aware that Mr. Springer has bet money on this game. +He has bet money that Wyndham will win. If you don't believe me, ask +him." +</P> + +<P> +Roger turned to Phil. "Is this true?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," was the husky answer, "it's true. I gave this sus-sneaking +blabber seven dollars to bet on Wyndham, and I'll never gug-get over +being ashamed of it as long as I live. He's the creature who gave away +our signals to Wyndham. I hope I lose that mum-money, and, if you'll +trust me, I'll do my level best to make myself lose it." +</P> + +<P> +The Oakdale captain turned on Rackliff. "Get off the field," he +ordered sternly. "Get back where you belong, and be quick about it." +</P> + +<P> +Herbert retired, his last remaining hope being that Phil would go to +pieces in the ninth. +</P> + +<P> +But Springer was strengthened and steadied by a great desire, and, +although Oakdale's lead was not increased, he pitched so well that the +slender margin was sufficient to give the visitors the victory. Not a +Wyndhamite reached first, and two of the three who faced Springer were +mowed down on strikes. +</P> + +<P> +The overjoyed Oakdale crowd charged onto the diamond and surrounded the +winners as they were giving Wyndham a cheer. Springer was swept off +his feet and caught up on the shoulders of the crowd, who bellowed his +name again and again. Looking downward, he saw that his right leg +rested on the shoulder of Rodney Grant, who was cheering madly. +</P> + +<P> +In the dressing room, a little later, Grant came up quietly and put +forth his uninjured left hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Put it there, partner," he begged. "You sure turned the trick, and +you held them down handsomely. It was a great victory." +</P> + +<P> +Springer seized the proffered hand, laughing to hide the fact that joy +threatened to blind his eyes with tears. +</P> + +<P> +"It was a great victory," he agreed, thinking, however, of the victory +he had won over himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," beamed the Texan. "And now Oakdale ought to win the +championship; she ought to win it with you and me—and Hooker, for +pitchers." He said this laughing in a way that robbed his words of any +touch of egotism. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Oakdale did win the championship, without the loss of a single game. +Grant and Springer did the greater part of the pitching, the work being +divided almost equally between them; but Hooker was not wholly +forgotten, and he obtained some opportunities, actually pitching one +complete game in a most creditable manner. +</P> + +<P> +Herbert Rackliff saw no more baseball after the Wyndham game, for his +parents were notified that he had contracted a pronounced case of +pulmonary trouble, and, this being confirmed later by the family +physician, he was hurriedly shipped to Colorado, in hopes that the dry +and bracing atmosphere of that State might restore him to health. +Although the boys of Oakdale charitably refrained from making much talk +about him, he was little missed by them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> +<hr class="full" noshade> + +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 22948-h.txt or 22948-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/4/22948">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/2/9/4/22948</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +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) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 22948-h.htm or 22948-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/4/22948/22948-h/22948-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/4/22948/22948-h.zip) + + + + + +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 that the ability to throw a curved ball was a +pitcher's chief accomplishment. + +"It was lucky Springer developed so well as a twirler last year," +observed Eliot. + +"Lucky!" sneered Hooker. "Why, I don't recollect that he did anything +worth bragging about. He lost both those games against Wyndham." + +"We had to depend on him alone," said Roger; "and he was doing too much +pitching. It's a wonder he didn't ruin his arm." + +"You've got to have some one beside Springer this year, that's sure," +said Hooker. "He can't pitch much more than half the games scheduled." + +"Phil's tryin' to coach Rod Grant to pitch," put in Sile Crane. "I see +them at it last night, out behind Springer's barn." + +Roy Hooker laughed disdainfully. "Oh, that's amusing!" he cried. +"That Texan has never had any experience, but, just because he and Phil +have become chummy, Springer's going to make a pitcher out of him. +He'll never succeed in a thousand years." + +"Here they come now," said Ben Stone, as two boys turned in at the gate +of the yard; "and Phil has got the catching mitt with him. I'll bet +they've been practicing this noon." + +"Jinks! but they're getting thick, them two," chuckled Chub Tuttle. + +"As thick as merlasses in Jinuary," drawled Sile Crane whimsically. + +"Being thick as molasses, they're naturally sweet on each other," +chirped Cooper. + +"Hi! Hi!" cried Tuttle. "There you go! Have a peanut for that." + +"No, nut for me; I shell nut take it," declined Chipper. + +"It's a real case of Damon and Pythias," remarked Stone, watching the +two lads coming up the walk. + +"Or David and Jonathan," said Eliot. + +Phil Springer, the taller of the pair, with light hair, blue eyes, and +long arms, looked at a distance the better qualified to toe the slab in +a baseball game; but Rodney Grant was a natural athlete, whose early +life on his father's Texas ranch had given him abounding health, +strength, vitality, and developed in him qualities of resourcefulness +and determination. Grant had come to Oakdale late the previous autumn, +and was living with his aunt, an odd, seclusive spinster, by the name +of Priscilla Kent. + +Two girls, sauntering down the path with their arms about each other, +met the approaching boys, and paused a moment to chat with them. + +"Phil's sister is struck on our gay cowboy," observed Cooper, grinning. + +"I rather guess Lela Barker is some smit on him, too," put in Sile +Crane. "That's sorter natteral, seein' as how he rescued her from +drowndin' when she was carried over the dam on a big ice-cake in the +Jinuary freshet. That sartainly made him the hero of Oakdale, and us +fellers who'd been sayin' he was a fake had to pull in our horns." + +"The real hero of that occasion," declared Hooker maliciously, "was a +certain cheap chap by the name of Bunk Lander, who plunged into the +rapids below the dam, with a rope tied round his waist, and saved them +both." + +"I wouldn't sneer about Lander, if I were you, Roy," said Eliot in +grave reproof. "I wouldn't call him cheap, for he's shown himself to +be a pretty decent fellow; and Stickney, whose store he once pilfered, +has given him a job on his new delivery wagon. There's evidently more +manhood and decency in Lander than any of us ever dreamed--except +Grant, who took up with him at the very beginning." + +"And a fine pair people around here thought they were," flung back +Hooker exasperatedly. "Why, even you, yourself, didn't have much of +anything to say for Rod Grant at one time." + +"I was mistaken in my estimation of him," confessed Roger +unhesitatingly. "I believe Stone was about the only person who really +sized Grant up right." + +"And now, since he's become popular, this hero from Texas chooses +Springer for his chum instead of Stone," said Roy. + +"He has a right to choose whoever he pleases," said Ben, flushing a +trifle. "We are still good friends. If he happens to find Springer +more congenial than I, as a chum, I'm not going to show any spleen +about it." + +"It's my opinion," persisted Hooker, "that he has an object in his +friendliness with Phil Springer. He's got the idea into his head that +he can pitch, and he's using Phil to learn what he can. Well, we'll +see how much he does at it--we'll see." + +The girls having passed on, the two boys now approached the group near +the steps. Springer was beaming as he came up. + +"Say, Captain Eliot," he cried, "the old broncho bub-buster has got +onto the drop. He threw it first-rate to-day noon. I'll make a change +pitcher out of him yet." + +"Oh, I'm destined to become another Mathewson, I opine," said Rodney +Grant laughingly; "but if I do turn out to be a phenom, I'll owe it to +my mentor, Mr. Philip Springer." + +"The team is coming out for practice tonight," said Eliot, "and we'll +give you a chance to pitch for the batters. We've got to work up a +little teamwork before that game Saturday." + +The second bell clanged, and, still talking baseball, the boys moved +slowly and reluctantly toward the cool, dark doorway of the academy. +Roy Hooker lingered behind, a pouting, dissatisfied expression upon his +face. + +"So they're bound to crowd me out again, are they?" he muttered. +"Well, we'll see what comes of it. If I get a chance, I'll cook that +cowboy for butting in." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +BASEBALL PRACTICE. + +With the close of the afternoon session, many of the boys, palpitantly +eager to get out onto the field, went racing and shouting, down through +the yard and across the gymnasium, where their baseball suits were +kept. Eliot followed more sedately, yet with quickened step, for he +was not less eager than his more exuberant teammates. Berlin Barker, +slender, cold, and sometimes disposed to be haughty and overbearing, +joined him on his way. + +"We'll soon be at it again," said Barker. "The season opens Saturday, +and I have a feeling it's going to be a hot one. It wouldn't surprise +me if we had to play a stiff game in order to take a fall out of +Barville. You know, they developed a strong pitcher in that man +Sanger, the last of the season. Why, he actually held Wyndham down to +three hits in that last game, and Barville would have won only for the +blow-up in the eighth inning." + +Roger nodded. "Lee Sanger certainly did good work for Barville after +he hit his pace; but Springer ought to be in good shape for the +opening, not having been compelled to pitch his wing stiff, the way he +did last year." + +"Confidentially, Roger," said Berlin, "I've never regarded Springer as +anything great. I wouldn't say this to any one else, for we are good +friends; but I fancy you know his weak points. He's not a stayer; he +never was, and he never will be. With the game coming his way, he's +pretty good--especially so, as long as he can keep the bases clean; but +one or two hits at a critical moment puts him up in the air, and he's +liable to lose his head. Only for the way you steady him down behind +the pan, he'd never show up half as well as he does." + +Now, this was a truth which no one knew better than Eliot himself, +although he had never whispered it to a living soul. Springer owed his +success mainly to the heady work, good back-stopping, clever coaching +and steadying influence of Eliot, who did nearly all the thinking for +Phil while the latter was on the slab. This, however, is often the +case with many pitchers who are more than passably successful; to the +outsider, to the watcher from the stand or the bleachers, the pitcher +frequently seems to be the man who is pitting his brains and skill +against the brains and skill of the opposing batters and delivering the +goods, when the actual fact remains that it is the man at the +"receiving end" who is doing nine-tenths of the thinking, and without +whose discernment, sagacity, skill and directing ability, the twirler +would make a pitiful show of himself. There are pitchers who recognize +this fact and have the generosity to acknowledge it; but in most cases, +especially with youngsters, no matter how much he may owe to the +catcher, the slab-man takes all the credit, and fancies he deserves it. + +"Oh, Springer's all right," declared Roger loyally; "but, of course, he +needs some one to do part of the work, so that he won't use himself up, +and I have hopes that he'll succeed in coaching Grant into a good +second string man. He's enthusiastic, you know; says Grant is coming." + +"Queer how chummy those fellows have become," laughed Barker shortly. +"I don't know whether Rod Grant can make a pitcher of himself or not, +but I was thinking that Hooker might pan out fairly well if only Phil +would take the same interest and pains with him as he's taking with +Rod." + +"Perhaps so," said the captain of the nine; "but I have my doubts. Roy +is too egotistical to listen to advice and coaching, and he entertains +the mistaken idea that curves and speed are all a pitcher needs. He +hasn't any control." + +"But he might acquire it." + +"He might, if he only had the patience to try for it and work hard, but +you know he's no worker." + +They had reached the gymnasium, and the discussion was dropped as they +entered and joined the boys in the dressing room, who were hurriedly +getting into their baseball togs. Hooker was there with the others, +for he had a suit of his own, which was one of the best of the +discarded uniforms given up at the opening of the previous season when +the team had purchased new suits. There was a great deal of joshing +and laughter, in which Roy took no part; for he was a fellow who found +little amusement in the usual babble and jests of his schoolmates, and +nothing aroused his resentment quicker than to be made the butt of a +harmless joke. He had once choked Cooper purple in the face in +retaliation for a jest put upon him by the audacious, rattle-brained +little chap; but later Chipper had accepted Roy's apologies and +protestations of regret, practically forgetting the unpleasant +incident, which, however, Roy never did. + +"Ah-ha!" cried Sile Crane, bringing forth and flourishing a long, +burnt, battered bat. "Here's Old Buster, the sack cleaner. Haowdy do, +my friend? I'm sartainly glad to shake ye again." + +"Up to date," said Cooper, tying his shoes, "I've never seen you do any +great shakes with Old Buster." + +"Oh, ain't ye?" snapped Sile resentfully. "Mebbe yeou've forgot that +three-sacker I got with this club in the Clearport game." + +"Um-mum," mumbled Chipper. "Now you mention it, I do have a faint +recollection of that marvelous accident. You were trying to dodge the +ball, weren't you, Sile? You just shut your blinkers and ducked, and +Pitkins' inshoot carromed off the bat over into right field and got +lost in the grass. If we all hadn't yelled for you to run, you'd be +standing there now, wondering what had happened." + +"Yeou're another," flung back Crane. "I made a clean three-sacker, and +yeou know it." + +"Well, anyhow, you got anchored on third and failed to come home when I +bunted on a signal for the squeeze. The Clearporters had barrels of +fun with you over that. I remember Barney Carney asking you if you'd +brought your bed." + +"Oh, rats!" rasped Crane, striding toward the open gym door and +carrying his pet bat. "Some parts of your memory ought to be +amputated." + +"What a cutting thing to say!" grinned Cooper, rising to follow. + +The field, surrounded by a high board fence, was located near the +gymnasium, and in a few minutes all the boys were on it and ready for +business. Announcing that they would begin with a little plain +fielding practice, Eliot assigned them to their positions. + +"Do you care to go into right, Roy?" he asked, turning to Hooker as the +last one. + +"Not I," was the instant answer. "That's not my position. I'm no +outfielder. Right field, indeed!" + +"Oh, very well," said Roger. "Tuttle, go ahead out." + +"Sure," said Chub agreeably, waddling promptly away to fill the +position assigned him. + +"Springer will bat to the outfield and Grant to the in," directed the +captain. "After we warm up a little, we'll try some regular batting +and base running, using the old system of signals." + +Hooker, who had a ball of his own, turned away, and found Fred Sage, +whose sole interest in the line of sports lay in football, and who, +therefore, had taken no part in baseball after making a decided failure +on one occasion when, the team being short, he had allowed himself to +be coaxed into a uniform. + +"There's an extra mitt on the bench, Fred," said Roy. "If you'll catch +me, I'll work a few kinks out of my arm." + +"Can't you find somebody else?" asked Sage reluctantly. "I came out to +look on." + +"Oh, come ahead," urged Hooker. "Get your blood to circulating. Who +would ever think you were the quarter back of the great Oakdale eleven? +Here's the mitt, take it." + +"Come over by the fence," requested Fred. "I'll let that do most of +the backstopping." + +Over by the fence they went, and Hooker began limbering up, calling the +curves he would use before throwing them. He had them all; but, as +usual, he was wild as a hawk, and Sage would have been forced to do +some tall jumping and reaching had he attempted to catch the ball more +than half the time. + +"You've got some great benders, Roy, if you could ever put them over," +commented Fred. + +"I can put them over when I want to," was the retort. "It's only a +chump pitcher who keeps the ball over the pan all the time." + +Satisfied after a time, he decided to stop, not a little to the relief +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 a bowstring, and the boys of Oakdale found that a sleeping +lion had suddenly awakened. Then it came to be known that Grant had +inherited a most unfortunate family failing, a terrible temper, which, +when uncontrolled, was liable to lead him into extreme acts of +violence; and it was this temper he feared, instead of the fellows he +had shunned whenever they sought to provoke him. Even now, although +baseball was a gentle game in comparison with football, he was not +absolutely sure he could always deport himself as a gentleman and a +sportsman while playing it. + +When the boys of the academy and the citizens of the town had joined in +praise of Grant's courageous efforts in the work of rescuing Lela +Barker from drowning, Hooker, who never had words of eulogy for anyone +save himself, remained silent. Not that he had not come, like others, +suddenly to regard the young Texan with respect; but for one of his +envious nature respect does not always mean liking, no throb of which +was awakened in his bosom. Indeed, he secretly disliked Rodney Grant +more than ever, and, now that Springer had taken Grant in hand to make +a pitcher of him, Roy's spleen was embittering his very soul. + +Elbows on his knees, projecting chin on his clenched fists, he sullenly +watched Rod pitch for the first time to batters. Several times he made +in his throat a faint sound like a muttered growl of satisfaction, as +he saw those batters hitting the ball to all parts of the field, and +finally he triumphantly whispered: + +"Well, I don't see that he's doing anything. They're pounding him all +over the lot." + +But, at the suggestion of Eliot, Rodney Grant was simply putting the +ball over, now and then using speed, of which he apparently had enough, +and occasionally mixing in a curve. Behind the pan Eliot would hold up +his big mitt first on one corner then the other, now high, now low, and +almost invariably the ball came whistling straight into the pocket of +that mitt, which caused Roger to nod his head and brought to his face a +faint touch of that rare smile seldom seen there. + +"Good control, Rod, old man," he praised. "That's one of the most +essential qualities a pitcher can have." + +"Bah!" muttered the envious lad on the bleachers. "What's that amount +to, if a fellow hasn't the curves at his command?" + +Presently, with Barker stepping out to hit, Eliot called Grant, met him +ten feet in front of the plate, and they exchanged a few words in low +tones, after which Roger returned to his position and gave the regular +finger signals that he would use in a game. + +Barker slashed at a high one close across his shoulders and missed. He +let two wide ones pass, and fouled when a bender cut a corner. + +"Two strikes!" cried Sage, who was still umpiring. "Look out or he'll +strike you out, Berlin." + +With a faint smile, the batter shrugged his shoulders, and then he did +his best to meet the next pitched ball, which seemed to be the kind he +especially relished. To his surprise, he missed it widely, for the +ball took a sharp drop at the proper moment to deceive him. + +"You're out," laughed Sage. "He did get you." + +"He did for a fact," agreed Berlin. "That was a dandy drop, Grant. I +wasn't looking for it." + +Rodney put the next one straight over, and Berlin hit to Cooper at +short. + +Jack Nelson followed, and he was likewise surprised to be struck out, +Grant using his drop twice in the performance. + +"Hi there, you!" shouted Nelson. "What did you put on the old ball, +anyhow? Pitch? Well, I wouldn't be surprised if you could, some." + +"You bet he will," called Phil Springer delightedly. "I'll have him +delivering the goods before the season is half over." + +"Bah!" again muttered Hooker. "You're a fool, Springer." + +Later he saw Eliot and Barker talking together not far from the bench, +and near them stood Herbert Rackliff, a city boy who had entered +Oakdale Academy at the opening of the spring term. + +Rackliff was a chap whose clothes were the envy of almost every lad in +town, being tailor-made, of the latest cut and the finest fabric. His +ties and his socks, a generous portion of the latter displayed by the +up-rolled bottoms of his trousers, were always of a vivid hue and +usually of silk. His highly-polished russet shoes were scarcely +browner than the tips of two fingers of his right hand, which outside +of school hours were constantly dallying with a cigarette. He had +rings and scarf pins, and a gold watch with a handsome seal fob. His +face was pale and a trifle hollow-cheeked, his chest flat, and 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 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 me they must need you." + +"Oh, they'll need somebody, all right; but Springer's trying to coach +up our cattle puncher, Grant, to do part of the twirling. You don't +know Grant. He's a new man; came in last fall. He's from Texas." + +"Can he pitch?" + +"Pitch! Just about as much as an old woman." + +"Well, I don't mind telling you that Oakdale is certainly going to need +a good man on the slab when she runs up against Barville this year. +Needn't think you'll have the same sort of a snap you had last season. +Lucky for you Lee Sanger hadn't developed when you played us. Gee! but +he did come toward the end of the season. Look how he held Wyndham +down; and he'd won that game, too, with proper support. He'll be +better this year." + +"I hope Barville beats the everlasting stuffing out of Oakdale." + +"Do you really?" chuckled Roberts. "How's your friend feel about it? +Does he play?" + +"Nit," said Rackliff. "Draw poker is about the only kind of a game I +ever take a hand in." + +"Oh, Herbert knows they've given me a rotten deal," said Hooker +quickly. "He's got his opinion about it. Honestly and truly, we'd +both like to see Barville win." + +"If that is the case," whispered Roberts, with a secretively friendly +and confidential air, "you're just about dead sure to have your desire +gratified. We'll have the finest high school battery ever seen in +these parts. Got a new catcher, you know." + +"No. I didn't know." + +"Yep. He's a corker. Knows the game from A to Z, and he's coaching +Sanger. You should see them work together. By the way, he comes from +a town near Boston. Part of the city, isn't it--Roxbury? He knows +more baseball than any fellow in these parts." + +"What's his name?" asked Rackliff, lighting a fresh cigarette. + +"Copley." + +"What?" exclaimed Herbert, nearly dropping his cigarette. "Not Newt +Copley?" + +"That's him." + +"Great scott! Say, he is a catcher. He's the trickiest man who ever +went behind a bat. I know, for I've seen him play. He knows me, too. +Say, isn't it odd that I should have a chum pitching for Wyndham this +year and an acquaintance catching for Barville?" + +The face of Len Roberts wore a look of satisfaction. + +"Of course, we haven't seen Cop in a real game yet, but he brought his +credentials with him, and they were sufficient to satisfy everybody +that he was the real thing. Glad to meet somebody who knows about him. +With Sanger handing 'em up, and Cop doing the receiving, you can bet +Barville is going to take a fall out of Oakdale." + +"I'd like to bet on it," said Herbert, with a touch of eagerness; "but +I don't suppose I could find anybody down around here with sporting +blood enough to risk any real money on the game. Say, do me a favor; +tell Newt Copley that Herbert Rackliff is here in this town. He'll +remember the fellow they called 'the plunger,' and 'the dead-game +sport.' Even if I don't play baseball, I've sometimes made a few easy +dollars betting on the games." + +"And you'd bet against Oakdale?" + +"Sure thing, if I felt certain she would lose." + +"I'm afraid," grinned Roberts, "that neither you nor Hooker is very +loyal to his school." + +"Loyal!" snarled Roy. "Why should we be?" + +"When it comes to wagering money," observed Rackliff wisely, "the +fellow who bets on sympathy or loyalty is a chump. I always back my +judgment and try to use some common sense about it. I hope you don't +think for a fleeting moment that I contemplate finishing my preparatory +school education in this stagnant hole. Not for little Herbert. I'd +get paresis here in less than a year. I'm pretty sure the governor +simply chucked me down here for a term, as sort of a warning. I'll go +back for good when the term's over." + +"Well, now if you fellows really want to see Oakdale surprised, and +enjoy the pleasure of witnessing Barville hand 'em a good trimming, +perhaps you won't say anything about our new catcher." + +"Not a word," promised Hooker. + +"Not a whisper," assured Rackliff. "And perhaps I'll catch a sucker or +two if I fish around for them. Really, the prospect is inviting, for +it seems to promise a break in the deadly monotony." + +"Here come some of the fellows now," said Hooker, as two or three boys +were seen coming down Lake Street. "Practice is over. Let's sift +along, Rack. I don't care to see them. So long, Len. Good luck to +you." + +"So long, fellows," said the boy from Barville, as they turned up Main +Street. "You'll have a chance to be happy Saturday. Bet all you can +on it, Rackliff, old fel." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +HOOKER'S MOTORCYCLE. + +Thus began the friendship between Roy Hooker and Herbert Rackliff. +Henceforth they were seen together a great deal. They came out to +watch the nine practice, but Hooker no longer wore his baseball suit, +and he sat on the bleachers with Herbert, the two talking together in +guarded tones. No one paid much attention to them, for most of the +boys held very decided opinions, which were far from favorable, of a +chap who would show the disposition Hooker had so plainly betrayed; and +Rackliff had never revealed an inclination to seek popularity among his +schoolmates. + +Roy was the owner of a second-hand motorcycle, which his father had +given him at Christmas time, a present that had filled him with keen +delight and intense satisfaction, in the knowledge that it would cause +him to be envied by less fortunate lads. It was necessary, however, to +tinker a great deal over the machine to keep it in running order, and +the joshing flung at him by the Oakdale lads whenever he had a +breakdown had been anything but balm to his irritable nature. + +"Confound the thing!" he cried, after fussing with it a long time one +night, while Rackliff, his creased trousers carefully pulled up to +prevent bagging at the knees, sat on a box near by, in the open door of +the carriage house, smoking cigarettes. "I don't believe it's any +good. The old man got soaked." + +"It seems harder work to keep the thing going than to pump an ordinary +bike," said Herbert, "and that's too strenuous for me--though I learned +to ride one once." + +"Oh, regular bicycles are back numbers now. I could have a ripping lot +of fun if I could make this machine go. Never saw anything so +contrary. Sometimes it starts off and behaves fine for a little while, +and I think it's all right. Just when I get to thinking that, it kicks +up and leaves me a mile or two away from home, and I have to push or +pedal it back. That's what makes me sore. If I try to sneak in by +some back way somebody is sure to see me and give me the ha-ha." + +"Like automobiles," observed Herbert, after letting a little smoke +drift through his nose, "they're all right when they go, and a perfect +nuisance when they don't. Now look at yourself, Roy, old fellow. Your +hands are covered with grease, and you've got a black streak across +your nose, and you're all fretted up." + +"Drat the old thing!" snarled Hooker, giving the rear tire a kick. +"It's just simply contrary, that's all. There's only one person in +town who knows anything about gas engines, and he's Urian Eliot's +chauffeur. I suppose I could get him to tinker this contraption up if +I only was chummy with Roger." + +"Anyway," said Herbert, "I should think it would shake one up fearfully +riding over these rough country roads. We have some roads around +Boston." + +"Oh, a fellow can pick his way along pretty well after our roads get +settled. Of course, they're no macadamized boulevards. It's lots of +sport, and one can get around almost anywhere he wants to go. As long +as I'm not going to be on the baseball team, I might use it to run over +to Barville or Wyndham or Clearport to see the games." + +"So you're going to chase the games up, are you?" laughed Rackliff. "I +thought perhaps you'd be so sore you'd keep away from them." + +"What, and lose the chance of seeing Oakdale beaten? Why, I wouldn't +miss that first game with Barville for anything." + +"But you don't have to go out of this town to see that game. Give it +to me straight, Roy, is that fellow Sanger really much of a pitcher? +Of course, I know Roberts would blow about him, but what do you think?" + +"He was green the first of last season, and with a poor catcher to hold +him he didn't show up very strong; but it's a fact that Wyndham, the +fastest team in these parts, only got three clean hits off him the last +game he pitched." + +"Well, he'll have a catcher that can hold him this year," declared the +city lad. "Newt Copley is a bird. He can throw to bases, too; it's +rank suicide for runners to try to steal on him. Then you should see +him work a batter. Gets right under the man's club and talks to him in +a low tone, telling him how rotten he is and all that, until he has the +fellow swinging like a gate at every old thing that comes over. And +the way he can touch a bat with his mitt and deflect it on the third +strike without being detected by the umpire is wonderful. He's great +for kicking up a rumpus in a game; but he enjoys it, for he'd rather +fight than eat." + +"He hadn't better try anything like that on Rod Grant." + +"Oh, I don't know," murmured Rackliff. "Copley's a scrapper, and he +can handle his dukes. He has science, and it's my opinion he'd eat +your cowboy alive." + +Hooker shook his head. "You never saw Grant when his blood was up. I +have, and he's a perfect fury. They say his old man was a great +fighter, and that he's been all shot and cut to pieces. _I_ wouldn't +buck up against the Texan for anything." + +With which confession Hooker resumed his tinkering on the motorcycle. +After a while, with the switch on, he bestrode the thing and started to +pump it down the slight in-line toward the street. + +Suddenly, to Roy's delight, the motor began to fire, and, with a shout +of satisfaction, he turned up the street and disappeared from view. + +In something like five minutes Rackliff, smoking his tenth cigarette +since seating himself on the box, heard the repeated explosions of the +motorcycle, and Roy, his face beaming with satisfaction, reappeared, +came triumphantly up the rise and leaped off. + +"She goes like a bird," he cried. + +"What did you do to it?" asked Herbert. + +"I wish I knew. I just tinkered with the wires a bit. That was the +last thing I did, but I'd been at everything else I could think of, so +I don't know what it was that sent her off. If she'll only keep going, +I don't care, either. Never knew the thing to run better. Say, +Herbert, it's fine. Don't you want to try it?" + +"Oh, I don't believe I do. I'd break my neck." + +"Paugh! 'Tain't no trick at all. I can show you how to start her and +stop her, and, if you can ride an ordinary bicycle, you'll find it a +cinch to ride this. Come on. Afraid?" + +"Oh, no," said Rackliff, rising and snapping aside the butt of his +cigarette, "but I should hate to get very far away and have it stop on +me." + +"You don't have to go very far; just try her through Middle Street, up +Main, back along High, and down Willow, and here you are." + +Herbert looked dubious, but finally, after his companion had chaffed +him a while, he agreed to make the venture. Roy gave full and complete +directions about the manipulation of the motorcycle, and Rackliff, a +trifle pale, finally mounted it and started down the incline. + +"Turn the handles from you," shouted Roy. "Give her a little gas. +There she goes. Now you're off." + +"Now I'm on," muttered Herbert, as the engine began popping away +beneath him; "but I may be off directly." + +Turning into the street, he barely escaped the gutter at the far side, +and away he went, watched by Hooker, who had run out to the sidewalk. +Remembering instructions, and following them faithfully, Rackliff +speeded up the engine or slowed it down, as he desired, and soon his +confidence rose. One of the street crossings gave him a bump that +nearly threw him off, but he was prepared for the next, and took it +easily. In a brief time he had covered the course laid out for him by +his friend, and found himself back at Hooker's home, where he promptly +shut off the gas, switched the spark, and, a little flushed, swung +himself to the ground ere the machine fully stopped. + +"Say, it is rather nifty," he beamed. "It's got ordinary hiking beaten +to death. Don't know but I'd like to have one of the things myself. +Never supposed I could ride one, but it isn't such a trick, after all." + +"Of course, it isn't," agreed Hooker, "and I suppose after I get onto +the knack of it I won't have any trouble keeping her running." + +"If you don't mind, I think I'll practice on it a little now and then. +Perhaps I might induce the governor to give me one, by way of atonement +for his heartless treatment in sending me down here to school." + +"Why, yes, you can practice up on mine," consented Roy slowly, a sudden +troubled look coming to his face; "but I suppose if you got one it +would be new and up to date, and make me feel ashamed of mine." + +"Oh, come off," smiled Herbert soothingly. "If I had one we could pike +around to the baseball games together, and we might be able to pick up +a little easy money by betting on them--if we ever found anybody who +had the nerve to bet with us. I kept myself supplied with pocket money +in that fashion last year. Occasionally made a little something +playing poker, but the games were always so small a fellow couldn't do +much at them." + +"Didn't you ever lose?" + +"Well, not very often. I didn't bet to lose." + +"I know, but how could you be sure of winning?" + +Rackliff winked languidly and wisely. "As I told that chap from +Barville, the fellow who bets on sympathy or loyalty is a chump. I +always investigate matters pretty thoroughly, and then pick the side I +believe has every prospect of winning. Sometimes it's possible to help +one team or another along on the quiet. I'd like to know what Newt +Copley thinks of the Barville nine. I'd depend on his judgment. I've +got a tenner I'd like to set to work to double itself." + +"You always have plenty of money," said Roy enviously. "I never had +ten whole dollars at one time in my life." + +"My poor, poverty-stricken comrade!" murmured Herbert, preparing to +light a fresh cigarette. "I sympathize with you. Follow my lead, and +you'll wear diamonds." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A DEAD SURE THING. + +Thereafter Rackliff took great interest in Hooker's motorcycle--more +interest than the languid, indifferent fellow had seemed to show over +anything else except his cigarettes. Even one rather severe fall from +the machine, which sadly soiled his elegant and immaculate clothes, did +not deter him from continuing to practice upon it whenever it was not +being used by its owner and he could find the opportunity. To the +satisfaction of both lads, the machine behaved very well indeed, and +Roy decided that, without knowing how he did it, he had fortunately +succeeded in curing its "balkiness." + +It was Roy, taking an early morning spin on the machine, who saw Phil +Springer wearing the big catching mitt and coaching Rodney Grant to +pitch in Springer's dooryard. + +"You poor lobster!" muttered Hooker contemptuously, as he chugged past. +"If Grant really should pan out to be the better man, you'd feel like +kicking yourself. I'd like to tell you what I think of you." + +That night after supper, as usual, Rackliff strolled over to Hooker's +home, but he strolled with steps somewhat quickened by the prospect of +taking a turn on his friend's motorcycle. + +At first Roy was not to be found, and his mother said she did not know +where he had gone. The motorcycle was standing in the carriage house, +causing Rackliff to wonder a little. + +"Queer," muttered Herbert, rubbing his chin with his cigarette-stained +fingers. "When the old lady said he wasn't around I thought sure he +must be off with this machine." + +To his ears came the sound of a dull thump, repeated at quite regular +intervals. At first he thought it must be the horse stamping in the +near-by stable, but the regular repetition of that thumping sound +convinced him that such could not be the case and led him to +investigate. Within the stable he was surprised to hear the sound +coming like a blow upon the back of the building, round which he +finally sauntered. + +There was Hooker, coat and cap off, sleeves rolled up, face flushed a +little, throwing a baseball at the rear wall of the building, +recovering it when it rebounded, taking his place at a fixed distance, +and throwing again. + +Unperceived, so intent was Hooker, Herbert stood and watched for +several minutes. Finally he spoke up interrogatingly: + +"What are you trying to do, anyhow, old man? What in the name of +mystery do you mean by sneaking out here and trying to wallop your arm +off all by your lonesome?" + +At the sound of the city boy's voice Roy had given a start and turned, +ball in hand. He frowned a bit, then followed it with a rather +shame-faced grin, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with +the back of his hand. + +"Just amusing myself a little," he answered. + +"Queer sort of amusement. Might satisfy a kid who couldn't find +anything else to do. I thought likely you'd be using your motorcycle; +and, everything considered, I didn't suppose you'd care a rap about +fingering a baseball." + +"If you could catch me," returned Roy, "I'd have you put on my glove +and see if I couldn't get 'em over a piece of plank the size of the +home plate; but you can't catch, and so I'm trying to see how often I +can hit that white shingle yonder. I actually hit it twice in +succession a few minutes ago." + +"Huh!" grunted Herbert. "What's the good of that?" + +"I'm trying to get control, you know. They say that's what I lack. +Even Eliot has acknowledged that I might pitch some if I wasn't so +wild." + +Herbert burst into soft, half-mocking laughter. "'Hope springs eternal +in the human breast'," he quoted. "Nevertheless, good, plain, common +sense should teach you that you're wasting your time. You're not +wanted as a pitcher, and so you won't get a chance to do any twirling." + +"You never can tell what may happen," returned Roy. "I never thought +Springer was so much, and I haven't any great confidence in Grant. +What if they should both get theirs? Eliot might be forced to give me +a show, and if that happens I'll deliver the goods----" + +Rackliff snapped his yellow fingers. "You've got the baseball bug +bad," he said. "It's a disease. I suppose it has to have its run with +the fellows who become infected. All right, waste your time; but while +you're doing it, if you don't mind, I'd like to take a spin on your +motorcycle. There is some fun in that, I own up." + +"Well, don't be gone long," said Roy. "I guess I'll get enough of this +in ten or fifteen minutes more, and I want to ride some myself +to-night." + +Trundling out the machine, Rackliff heard the ball thudding again +against the back of the stable. + +Friday afternoon Herbert did not appear at school. Hooker looked for +him in vain and wondered why he had remained away. Alone he watched +the boys practice a while when school was over, Grant doing his full +share of pitching to the batters. Despite prejudice and envy, Roy +could see that Springer's pupil was gaining confidence and beginning to +carry himself with the air of a real pitcher. + +"But he hasn't had any experience," muttered the jealous and +unfortunate lad. "Wait till he gets into a game and they begin to bump +him. That temper of his will make him lose his head." Which was +evidence enough that Roy little understood Rodney Grant, who invariably +became all the more resolute and determined by opposition, and stood in +no danger of giving way to his fiery temper, except when met by buffets +of physical force in the form of personal violence. + +Reaching home, Hooker went out behind the stable and plugged away at +the white shingle until supper time, fancying he was gaining some skill +in accuracy, although it seemed almost impossible to score a hit or +come near it when he used a curve. + +Supper over, he looked for Rackliff to appear. "He'll be around pretty +soon, so I'll just take a short ride and come back." + +In the carriage house he stopped, his undershot jaw drooping; for the +motorcycle was missing from the stand on which it was always kept, when +not in use. "What the dickens----" he cried, and stopped short. + +After looking all around to make sure the machine was not there, he +rushed into the house and questioned his mother. + +"It _must_ be there, Roy," she said. "I'm sure nobody has touched it. +I would have heard them." + +"But it isn't there," he shouted. "Somebody has stolen it." Then he +caught his breath, struck by a sudden thought. "Has Herbert Rackliff +been around here to-day?" he asked. + +"I haven't seen him, but I hope you don't think your friend would take +your motorcycle without----" + +He did not wait to hear any more. Rushing out of the house, he had +reached the sidewalk when, to his unspeakable relief, round the corner +from Willow Street came Rackliff, somewhat dust-covered and perspiring, +trundling the motorcycle. Hooker glared at him. + +"What do you mean by taking my machine without asking?" he rasped. +"Where have you been with it?" + +"My dear old pal," said Herbert soothingly, "do give me time to get my +breath, and then I'll seek to conciliate you with a full explanation. +I've had to push this confounded thing for at least five miles, and I'm +pretty near pegged out. It stopped on me on my way home." + +"Five miles?" snapped Roy, taking the machine from the limp and weary +city boy. "Where in blazes have you been with it?" + +But not until he had seated himself to rest in the carriage house, and +lighted a cigarette, did Rackliff offer any further explanation. +Finally, with a little cough and a tired sigh, he smiled on the still +frowning and outraged owner of the machine. + +"You didn't see me around school this afternoon, did you?" he asked. + +"No. I wondered where you were." + +"I was out laying my pipes." + +"Doing what?" + +"Making sure that you and I could form a little pool and seek a few +wagers on the game to-morrow, with the dead certainty of winning. I've +been over to Barville to see Newt Copley." + +"Oh!" muttered Hooker. "And you put my machine on the blink!" + +"It simply quit on me, that's all. I didn't do a thing to it--on my +word, I didn't. There's nothing broken, old man. I'm certain you'll +be able to tinker it up again all right. You can bet your life I'd +never made that trip if I'd dreamed it would be necessary for me to +push the old thing so far. Still, I'm mighty glad I went. Say, Roy, +Copley is dead sure Barville will have more than an even show with +Oakdale to-morrow, and you know what I think of his judgment. Now, if +you've got any money, or can raise any, just bet it on Barville and +make a killing." + +"But I wouldn't want to be seen betting against my own school team." + +"Ho! ho!" laughed Herbert derisively. "Then let me have your cash, and +I'll place it for you. I haven't any scruples." + +"But you may be mistaken. Even Copley may be, for he hasn't seen +Oakdale play." + +"He says Sanger is a wiz. Look here, Roy, do you know Eliot's finger +signals to the pitcher?" + +"Why, yes." + +"Uses the old finger system, doesn't he?" + +"Yes." + +"One finger held straight, a straight ball. Two fingers close +together, an outcurve; spread apart, one on the inside corner. One +finger crooked like a fish-hook, a drop." + +"You've got 'em correct, but what's that got to do with----" + +"Oh, I just wanted to know," chuckled Rackliff. "Get your loose change +together and let me handle it. If I don't double it for you to-morrow +I'll agree to stand any loss you may sustain. You won't be even taking +a chance. What do you say?" + +"Well, if you're as confident as that," answered Roy, "I'm certainly +going to raise a little money somehow to bet on that game." + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +RACKLIFF FISHES FOR SUCKERS. + +Saturday came, warm and balmy with springtime odors. Roy Hooker, +standing at the street corner near his home, seemed to be listening to +a robin calling joyously from the topmost branches of the elm that rose +above his head; but, truth to tell, the boy's ears were deaf to the +notes of the bird, and his eyes were being turned alternately along +Middle Street or down Willow. He was waiting for some one, and +presently that person appeared, leisurely approaching, with now and +then a thin wisp of smoke drifting over his shoulder. It was Rackliff, +dressed with his usual care, but looking, if possible, a little paler +and more languid than ever. + +"I thought it was about time for you to show up," said Roy a trifle +fretfully. "You said you'd be around by nine; it's twenty minutes +after by the clock in the Methodist steeple." + +"It is said," returned Herbert, "that the early bird catches the worm; +and, as we're all worms of the earth, I don't believe in taking any +chances with the bird. Didn't sleep very well last night. Fancy that +jaunt to Barville was too much for me; though, to tell the truth, I'm a +rotten poor sleeper anyhow. I wake up at the slightest noise in the +night, and, having some nerves of my own, usually get a case of heart +palpitation, which is deucedly unpleasant. Then perhaps I won't go to +sleep again for two hours or more. I envy any fellow who snoozes like +a log." He concluded with a short, hollow laugh. + +"The trouble with you is," said Roy, "that you smoke too much." + +"Tell it to Johnson," scoffed Herbert. "I've always been that way; +smoking doesn't have anything to do with it. Besides, if it did I +couldn't leave off. I've got the habit for fair." + +"I wouldn't like to say that; I'd hate to own up to it." + +"Oh, it's nothing. Cigarettes never killed any one yet, old women and +moralizers to the contrary, notwithstanding. Well, chum, how are you +fixed? Did you make a raise so that you can bet a little cold cash on +the great contest to-day? You said you thought you'd have some money +this----" + +"'Sh!" hissed Roy, glancing around apprehensively toward the house. +"Don't talk about that here." + +"Eh? Why not?" + +"I don't want my folks to find out anything about it," whispered +Hooker. "Come on, let's walk up the street." + +At the corner above they turned into High Street, coming finally to the +white Methodist church. + +"Let's stroll around behind the church, where no one will see us," +proposed Hooker. + +"Like a pair of plotters on foul intentions bent," laughed Herbert. +"To watch you manoeuvre, one might get the fancy that you were involved +in some desperate and terrible piece of work." + +"Now, look here, Herb," said Roy, facing his companion behind the +church, "you're situated differently from me, and you can't seem to +understand my position. You don't belong in Oakdale, and you don't +care a rap what the fellows around here think of you or say about you." + +"Not a rap," nodded Rackliff. + +"That's just it. Now this is my home, and I've got to be careful about +some things. I don't want to get everybody down on me." + +"I haven't observed," said Rackliff unfeelingly, "that you're +particularly popular with the fellows of this benighted burg." + +"I'll make myself a blame sight more unpopular if they ever get onto it +that I bet against my own school team. You can do it, for you say you +don't expect to stay here more than one term, anyhow. Then if my folks +should know, they'd raise the merry dickens." + +"And that would break the monotony of a severely humdrum existence. +I've had more than one stormy session with the head of my family. How +much money did you scrape together?" + +"I haven't counted it yet," answered Roy, thrusting his hand into his +pocket and looking around, as if apprehensive that they were being +watched. "I say, Herb, are you really dead sure that Barville will win +this afternoon?" + +Rackliff sighed. "As sure as one can be of anything in this old world. +Hook, you've got cold feet." + +"Well, I wouldn't want to lose this money. I can't afford to lose it. +I can't lose it." + +"You won't, old chap--you won't. I'm getting you in on this out of +pure friendliness, nothing else; and you must remember what I agreed to +do yesterday--if you lose, I'll stand for the loss." + +"That's generous; that's all right. Perhaps you can't get any bets, +anyhow. The fellows around here aren't given to betting real money on +baseball." Roy produced a closely folded little wad of bills and some +loose change. "Here's all I have," he went on. "I'm going to let you +take it and bet it on Barville, if you can." There was a two dollar +bill, two ones, and eighty-five cents in change. + +"Fifteen cents more would make an even five," said Herbert. "Can't you +dig that much up?" + +"This is all I have," repeated Hooker, "every last red cent. I'll have +to pay admission to the game, too, as long as I'm not on the nine. I +must keep a quarter for that." + +"And that leaves it forty cents shy of a fiver. Well, if necessary, +I'll make that up. I'm going to risk ten of my own money." + +"Risk it?" muttered Hooker, again troubled by qualms. + +"Oh, you know what I mean. There's no risk; that's simply a sporting +term. A fellow with sporting blood likes to pretend he's taking a +chance, whether he is or not. Where did you get----" He stopped +short, suddenly fancying it best not to inquire into the source of his +companion's money, and in the momentary silence that followed a slow +flush mounted to Roy's temples. + +"The team practices a little at ten o'clock," said Rackliff, glancing +at his handsome watch. "It's getting near that time. Come on over to +the field and watch me throw out a bait for suckers." + +"I don't think I will," said Hooker. "I believe I'd better keep away, +and there won't be any talk made." + +"Suit yourself," coughed Herbert, lighting another cigarette. "I've +got to get busy if I'm going to hook anything." + +Half an hour later Rackliff strolled onto the field and took up a +position near one of the players' benches, where he watched the Oakdale +nine at practice. At times he smiled with a supercilious air of +amusement, and especially was this noticeable when Eliot complimented +the players or some one made some sort of a fumble or fluke. + +Practice was brought to a close with each member of the team taking a +turn at the bat, base running being cut out, however. Grant did the +pitching, for Springer was "saving his arm." + +Chipper Cooper hit the ball handsomely three times in succession, and +relinquished the bat with a whoop of satisfaction. + +"Got my eye with me to-day," he cried. "We've all got 'em peeled; +everybody has. Sanger'll have his troubles. We'll win like a breeze, +fellows." + +"How very confident you are," said Rackliff, moving slowly forward. +"You all seem to think this game is going to be a cinch for Oakdale, +but I've got an idea that you'll sing a different tune to-night." + +"Oh, you have!" cried Chipper, turning on him. "Listen to Solomon, the +wise man, fellers." + +"I have a fancy that Barville is going to win," stated Herbert, not a +whit abashed. "In fact, I believe it so much that I'm willing to make +a little bet on it." + +"Bet you a pint of peanuts," gurgled Chub Tuttle. + +"Don't ruin yourself by such recklessness. I've got some real money." + +"Dinged if he ain't a sport!" sneered Site Crane. "He wants to bet +real money on the game." + +"How does it happen you have the impression that Barville will beat us, +Rackliff?" inquired Roger Eliot mildly. + +"Well, now, I don't mind answering that," beamed Herbert. "Barville +has got a surprise for you. I'm not supposed to mention it, but I +can't keep it any longer. They've got a new catcher, a friend of mine, +and----" + +"I suppose you think he can play the whole game," scoffed Phil +Springer. "A friend of yours, eh? Well, if he knows as much about +baseball as you do, he'll be of great assistance to Barville!" + +"I'm backing my knowledge with cash, if I can find anybody who has sand +enough to bet with me," said Herbert. + +"I'll bet you a dollar," shouted Phil. + +"Only a dollar? Dear me! Can't you do any better than that? I've got +fifteen long green chromos that I'd like to wager on Barville." + +For a few moments this seemed to stagger the group that had gathered +about him. Fifteen dollars was a lot of money, and it seemed doubtful +if any other individual in the crowd, with the possible exception of +Eliot, could raise as much--and Eliot would not bet. + +"Wish I had fifteen dollars," muttered Crane. "I'd go him. It would +be jest like findin' money." + +Two or three of the boys drew aside and whispered together. Springer +was one of these, and in a moment he called some others from the +gathering near Herbert. There was more whispering and not a little +nodding of heads, and then of a sudden Phil turned and walked back +toward the city youth. + +"Rackliff," he said, "if you really mean business, if you've got +fifteen dollars you want to bet on Barville, meet me at the post office +at noon, and I'll have the money to go you." + +"Excellent," murmured Herbert, breathing forth a little thin blue +smoke. "I'll be there with my money. Don't forget the appointment, +Springer." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +READY FOR THE GAME. + +Never before had the Barville baseball team brought such a crowd of +supporters into Oakdale. They came, boys and girls, wearing their +school colors, bearing banners, and bringing tin horns and cowbells. +The manner in which they swept into Oakdale and hurried, eager and +laughing, toward the athletic field, plainly betokened their high +confidence in the outcome of the contest. Even a few older persons +came over from Barville on one pretext or another, and found it +convenient to spend a portion of the afternoon watching the baseball +game. + +"Jinks!" chuckled Chipper Cooper, as he watched the visitors pour in +and fill up the generous section of bleachers reserved for them. "They +certainly act as if they thought they were going to have a snap to-day. +Barville must be depopulated. Never fancied so many people lived over +there." + +"Beyond question," said Roger Eliot quietly, "they believe their team +has at least an even chance for the game; otherwise, not half so many +would have made the journey to watch it." + +"It must be on account of their new ketcher," muttered Sile Crane. "I +cal'late they think he's the whole cheese; but mebbe they'll find aout +he ain't only a small slice of the rind. What's he look like, anyhaow?" + +"There he is," said Roger, as the visiting team came trotting onto the +field, led by Lee Sanger, its pitcher and captain, "that stocky, +red-headed chap. See him?" + +"My!" grinned Cooper. "He's a bird. Looks like he could eat hardware +without getting indigestion." + +The Barville crowd gave their players a rousing cheer, although they +did not yet venture to blow the horns or jangle the cowbells. Those +noise-producing implements were held in reserve, with apparent perfect +assurance that an especially effective occasion for their use must +arise during the game. + +Captain Eliot shook hands cordially with Sanger, and suggested that he +should at once take the field for practice. + +"Hello, Roger!" called Bob Larkins, the Barville first baseman. "Great +day for the game. We're going to make you fellows go some. You won't +have the same sort of a cinch you had last year." + +"I hope not," answered Eliot pleasantly. "There's a big crowd out +to-day, and I'd like to see you fellows make the game interesting." + +"Oh, don't you worry, it will be interesting enough," prophesied +Larkins, getting his mitt and turning to jog down toward first. + +At Eliot's elbow Phil Springer remarked, with a short laugh, in which +there seemed to be a trace of nervousness: "They certainly have got +their pucker up. They're boiling over with confidence." + +"And it's a mistake to boil over with anything--confidence, doubt or +fear," said Roger. "When the kettle boils aver, the soup gets +scorched. Come, Phil, shake the kinks out of your arm with me, while +they're taking their turn on the field." + +His calm, unruffled manner seemed instantly to dissipate the +nervousness which Phil had felt a touch of. + +The practice of the visiting team was closely watched by nearly all the +spectators, and it became apparent that the Barville boys had profited +by the coaching of some one who had found it possible to train them +with good effect. They were swift, sure and snappy in their work, +displaying little of the hesitation and uncertainty usually revealed by +an ordinary country school team, even in practice. Copley, the stocky, +red-headed catcher from Roxbury, received the balls when they were +returned from the infield and the out, catching the most of them +one-handedly with the big mitt, although he seemed to do this without +flourish or any attempt at grand-standing. Now and then he grinned and +nodded over some especially fine catch in the outfield or clever stop +of a grounder or liner by an infielder; nevertheless, he let Sanger, +who was batting, do all the talking to the players. + +Roy Hooker, wearing the crimson colors of his school, sat on the +bleachers at the edge of the group of Oakdale Academy students, +endeavoring to mask his feelings behind a pretext of loyal interest in +the home nine; but, nevertheless, in spite of his inwardly reiterated +assertion that he had been used "rotten," he was annoyed by a +constantly recurring sense of treachery to his own team. The skill +displayed in practice by the visitors in a measure set at rest the +doubts he had continued to entertain concerning Rackliff's wisdom in +backing Barville. + +"I'll win some money to-day, all right," he thought; "but, really, I'd +rather be wearing an Oakdale suit, even if we lose." + +As the Barville nine came in from the field and Oakdale went out, Roy +saw Herbert Rackliff saunter forth and speak to Newt Copley, who shook +hands with him. Then Herbert drew Copley aside and began talking to +him in very low tones, and with unusual animation. Still watching, +Hooker beheld Copley nodding his head, and even at that distance Roy +could see that he was grinning. + +"Hey, old Rack!" Chipper Cooper shouted from the field. "Brace him +up--that's right. Tell him he's got to win or you're financially +ruined." + +Herbert pretended that he did not hear, and, after a final word with +Copley, slowly sauntered back into the crowd. He was not wearing the +Oakdale colors. + +"I'm glad nobody knows that part of the money he put up was furnished +by me," thought Hooker. "He's got an awful crust. I couldn't do a +thing like that, and be so cheeky and unconcerned. Gee! but he'll get +the fellows down on him." + +And now, as the time for the game to begin was at hand, the umpire, +supplied with two new balls in their boxes, called the captains of both +teams and consulted with them for a moment or two. Directly Eliot +sought the body protector and mask, and Bert Dingley, standing at the +end of the bench on which the visitors had seated themselves, began +swinging two bats. There was a rustling stir among the spectators as +they settled themselves down to watch the opening of the contest. The +Oakdale players took their positions on the field, Rodney Grant going +into right, while Chub Tuttle remained on the bench as spare man. Phil +Springer had peeled off his sweater and was pulling on his light +left-hand glove as he walked toward the pitcher's position. + +"Ladies and gentlemen," called the youthful umpire, facing the crowd, +"this is the opening game of the high school league, Barville against +Oakdale. Battery for Oakdale, Springer and Eliot. Play ball!" + +With that command, he tossed a clean, new baseball to Phil, who caught +it with his gloved hand, glanced at it perfunctorily, gave it an +unnecessary wipe against his hip, made sure his teammates were ready, +and placed his left foot on the slab. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +THE FIRST INNING. + +A white streak went shooting through the air; something whizzed high +and close past Dingley, who dodged a bit. + +"Ball one!" called the umpire. + +"Spare him, Phil--don't hit him!" cried Chipper Cooper, moving about +nervously. + +"There's speed!" came from Sile Crane. "He can't see that kind." + +"Get 'em over--please get 'em over, if you can!" entreated Bob Larkins, +who had taken a position on the coaching line, near first base. + +"All right, Phil," said Roger Eliot quietly and reassuringly, returning +the ball. "You've got powder behind them." + +Springer's nervousness had returned with redoubled force. He seemed to +feel something quivering somewhere within himself, and, having +forgotten to get a chew of gum, he suddenly realized that his mouth was +dry as a chip. When Roger called for an out, he bent the ball so wide +of the plate that Eliot scarcely succeeded in stopping it. + +"Oh--dear--me!" whooped Larkins. "He can't find the pan. Take a +ramble, Ding; wait and he'll walk you." + +To Springer's relief, Eliot did not seem disturbed. Roger signalled +next for a straight one, and held up his mitt behind the inside corner +of the plate. Doing his best to be steady, Phil responded by sending +one over that corner; and Dingley, waiting, heard the umpire call a +strike. + +"Oh, yes, he'll walk him--not," laughed Cooper. "Let him wait. He'll +have a chance to ramble to the bench in a minute." + +Phil saw Eliot smile a bit through the meshes of the catching mask, and +then, nodding at the signal for a drop, he started the ball high, but +gave it the proper twist to bring it shooting down across the batter's +shoulders. + +"Two strikes!" declared the umpire, at which Dingley shook his head +protestingly. + +"My eye! He is a good waiter," yelled Cooper gayly. "He's worked in a +restaurant some time. You've got him now, Phil." + +Trying to "pull" Dingley, Phil again used a curve that was too wide, +and the third ball was called. + +The batter gripped his club and stood ready, determination in his +manner. The infielders crouched on their toes, and the outfielders +were prepared to run in any direction. Springer leaned forward to get +the signal, then swung into an elaborate delivery which he had +practiced. Another drop was tried, but this time Dingley hit it. Up +into the air popped the ball, and Cooper, yelling "I'll take it!" raced +over behind second, to smother it surely when it came down. + +Something like a sigh of relief escaped Springer's lips when he saw the +ball held by the lively little shortstop, and in a measure his +confidence was restored.. + +"They can't hit that kind out of the infield, Spring, old dandy," +laughed Cooper. "You've got an elegant collection up your sleeve +to-day." + +The home crowd cheered, and Barville sent out Pratt, the second batter. + +"Here's the next victim," cried Jack Nelson, from his position near +second. "He'll be easy, too." + +Pratt was clever at sacrificing, but without a runner ahead of him it +was up to him to try for a hit, and he fouled the first two balls. + +"Now, you've got him sure, Phil," said Cooper. "He's a regular +hen-roost robber; he loves fouls. Don't let him get away, for if he +does he'll crow." + +As two strikes and no balls had been called, Pratt apparently expected +Springer to waste the next one, and in that he made his mistake; for +Phil, growing steadier, put over a sizzler on the inside corner. + +"You're out!" shouted the umpire, and Pratt turned sadly and +disgustedly toward the bench. + +"Wonder what that Barville bunch is going to do with those horns and +cowbells," cried Cooper, as the Oakdale cheer died away. + +Whiting, the next batter, poked a hot one directly at Chipper, who +plunged forward to get it on the first bound and made a miserable +fumble. Chasing the ball, the little fellow snapped it up and threw +wild to Crane. + +Whiting improved his chance to take second, where he laughingly came to +anchor, chaffing Cooper, who was making some very uncomplimentary +remarks about himself. + +"Here we go! Here we go!" roared Larkins. "Now we score. On your +toes, Whiting! Here's the boy to drive you home." + +Springer shivered suddenly as he saw the stocky, red-headed catcher of +the visiting team step into the batter's box. Something told Phil that +Copley would hit the ball, and in keen apprehension he pitched the +first two so wide of the plate that Eliot was forced to stretch himself +to get them. Copley hunched his shoulders and grinned tauntingly at +the nervous fellow on the slab. + +"Aw, put one over," he urged. "Lost your nerve? Going to walk me? +You don't dare----" + +Apparently, he had relaxed and was holding his bat carelessly, so Phil +tried to push over a swift, straight one. With a smash Copley landed +on the horsehide, driving it toward right field. + +"Ah!" gasped the spectators. + +"Go!" yelled Larkins. "Score on it, Whiting! It's a two-bagger!" + +Out there in right garden Rodney Grant was sprinting after that ball +almost as it left Copley's bat. There seemed scarcely a chance for +Grant to reach the whistling sphere, but he covered ground with amazing +speed and leaped into the air, thrusting out his bare right hand. The +ball smacked into that unprotected hand and stuck there, as Grant +dropped back to the turf. + +A few too eager enthusiasts on the Barville bleachers had started to +blow horns and ring bells when they beheld Copley's drive shooting +safely, to all appearances, into that unoccupied portion of the field; +now, of a sudden, these sounds were drowned by the great yell--almost a +roar--of joyous relief and exultation which burst from the Oakdale +sympathizers. On those seats boys wearing the crimson colors jumped up +and down, shrieking wildly, while they pounded other boys, similarly +decorated, over their heads and shoulders; girls likewise screamed, +waving frantically the bright banners, on each of which was emblazoned +a large white letter O. + +At the smash of bat and ball Phil Springer's teeth had snapped +together, as if to guard his heart from leaping from his mouth; and +despairingly he had whirled around to watch the course of the ball, +perceiving out of the corner of his eye Whiting, with a long start off +second, fairly tearing up the ground as he flew toward third on his way +to the plate. + +Phil likewise saw Rod Grant stretching himself to get that whistling +white sphere, and even as a voice within the pitcher's brain seemed to +cry, "He can't touch it!" the Texan made that amazing leap into the air +and held the ball. + +"Mercy!" gasped Phil. "What a catch!" + +He waited for Grant, who came loping in from the field, his face +flushed, his eyes full of laughter. + +"Oh, you dandy!" cried Phil, giving his chum a resounding open-handed +slap on the shoulder. + +"That was reaching for it some." + +"I sure didn't think I could touch it," confessed Rod; "but I was bound +to try my handsomest for it." Which was characteristic of the young +Texan. + +"They're cheering for you," said Phil. Then jovially he reached and +lifted Rod's cap with one hand, at the same time using the other hand +to give his companion's head a push, thus forcing him to bow. + +Newt Copley surveyed Oakdale's right fielder disgustedly. "That was a +fearful blind stab," he said sourly. "Didn't know you had it, did you?" + +"Not till I looked to see," acknowledged Rod pleasantly. + +Eliot gave the boy from Texas a look of approval. "That's the way to +get after them," he said. "That's playing baseball and supporting a +pitcher." + +"I was pretty rotten, wasn't I?" said Phil with a touch of dejection. + +"Far from it," returned the captain, "you were pretty good. Copley was +the only man who really made a bid for a hit." + +"Sure," chipped in Cooper. "I was the real, rank thing, and if they'd +scored I'd been responsible for it. I should have nipped Whiting +without a struggle." + +Phil suddenly felt better, as it was true that none of the first four +men to face him, the pick of the enemy's batters, had hit safely; for +which, cutting out Grant's performance, he was immediately inclined to +take the credit, due quite as much, however, to Eliot as to him. + +Sanger warmed up a bit by whipping a few to Larkins at first, while +Copley was buckling on the body protector and adjusting the mask. +Oakdale had put her second baseman, Jack Nelson, at the head of the +batting order, and Jack did not delay the game by loafing on his way +into the batter's box. + +"Get the first one, Sang!" barked Copley, squatting behind the plate +and giving a signal. "He looks like a mark. Keep him off the pan, Mr. +Umpire; make him stay in his box." Then, under his breath, speaking +just loud enough for Nelson to hear, he added: "Not that it makes any +difference, for you couldn't hit a balloon." + +"Couldn't I!" muttered Jack, strangely annoyed, for there was something +indescribably irritating about the manner in which the red-headed +catcher had sneered those words. + +This irritation grew when Sanger warped over two zig-zags, and Nelson +missed them both. Copley made no further remark, but his husky +chucklings over the batter's failures, sent the blood to Nelson's head +and assisted him in finally misjudging a high one on the inside corner. + +"You're out!" pronounced the umpire. + +"That's the pitching, cap!" laughed Larkins. "They had their fun with +you last year; now it's your turn." + +Berlin Barker, regarded as an excellent batsman, was almost as easy for +Sanger. True, Barker did foul the ball once, but that was the only +time he touched it, and he likewise returned to the bench in a much +disturbed frame of mind. + +"Mr. Umpire," called Eliot, "will you keep that catcher from talking to +the batters?" + +"Go on!" growled Copley. "Who's talking to them? I can talk to the +pitcher if I choose, and I've got a right to have a little conversation +with myself." + +"Don't pay any attention to him, Springer," warned Roger; "that's his +trick." + +Phil also missed the first ball delivered by Sanger. + +"This fellow thinks he can pitch," cried Copley. "He's had a dream." + +"There he goes, Mr. Umpire," cried Roger. "He's talking to the batter +again." + +"Oh, say, forget it!" scoffed the red-headed backstop. "I'm talking +about our pitcher. He can't pitch a little bit--oh, no! He just +dreamed he could, that's all. Put another one right over the pan, cap; +there's no danger." + +But Sanger, taking Copley's signal, bent one wide, and Phil fouled it +off into the first base bleachers, where it was deftly caught by a +spectator. + +"He's in a hole," said Copley. "I wonder how these people ever got a +hit off you, Sang." + +The batter tried to steady himself. Two "teasers" he disdained, and +then bit at a drop and was out, Sanger having fanned the first three +men to face him; which seemed to justify the Barville spectators in +breaking forth with their horns and bells at last, and they did so +tumultuously. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE CRUCIAL MOMENT. + +On the bleachers Roy Hooker breathed easier. "Len Roberts certainly +told the truth," he thought. "Sanger is a crackerjack pitcher." + +"What did you say?" asked a fellow at Roy's elbow. + +"I?" gasped Hooker, startled. "I didn't say anything." + +"I thought you did. I thought I heard you mutter something about +Sanger. That fellow has developed, hasn't he? But we'll get onto him +yet. When these strike-out twirlers go to pieces, they're liable to +blow up completely. The boys will pound him before the game is over." + +"I hope they do," fabricated Roy. + +"If Springer only keeps steady," continued his seatmate, "it will be +all right; but I'm just a little bit afraid of Phil, for he lacks the +heart to stand punishment. If they get to hitting him--well, Eliot +will have to try Grant." + +"Grant's no pitcher," said Roy. + +"I don't know about that. He hasn't had any experience, that's true; +but Springer himself has said that Rod's got the makings of one. +Wasn't that a corking catch he made?" + +"It was lucky for Springer." + +Larkins was now up, and he proceeded to wallop the second ball pitched +to him, driving it humming down the third-base line for two sacks, +which caused the horns and cowbells to break into a tumultuous uproar. +Sanger followed, and he straightened out a bender into a whistling line +drive to the left of Chipper Cooper; whereupon Cooper made up for his +error in the first inning by forking the sphere with his gloved hand +and snapping it to Nelson, who leaped on to second and caught Larkins +lunging hopelessly back for the sack. + +The horns and cowbells were suddenly silent, while the sympathizers +with the crimson frantically cheered this beautiful double play. + +"Great, Chipper--simply great!" cried Springer as soon as he could get +his breath. + +"Oh, pretty good, pretty good," returned the little fellow, with mock +modesty. "A trifling improvement on my last performance, I'll admit." + +Tom Cline likewise hit the ball hard, but he lifted it into the waiting +hands of Ben Stone, who scarcely moved a step from his position in +center field. + +"Some people have great luck," cried Newt Copley, with his eyes on the +Oakdale pitcher, who was walking toward the bench. "Wait till the +streak breaks, and then we'll see the airship go up." + +Ben Stone got the first clean hit off Sanger, driving the ball zipping +through the infield. Eliot, who followed, signaled that he would bunt, +and Stone was well on his way toward second when the Oakdale captain +lay a dead one down a few feet in front of the pan. Roger came near +turning his attempted sacrifice into a hit, but Sanger managed to get +the ball and whip it to first in time to catch the runner by a margin +of the closest sort. + +"That's playing the game, all right," cried Nelson from the coaching +line. "Here's where we score." + +"In your mind," derided Copley. + +Sile Crane, trying hard to bring Stone home, made four fouls in +succession, and then struck out. + +"Two men, cap," grinned Copley. "Old Stoney will expire at the second +station. Here's the cowboy; take his pelt, hide, horns and hoofs." + +When Sanger had fooled Grant twice, it began to look as if he really +would succeed in "taking his pelt"; but, declining to reach for the +decoys, Rod finally met the ball on the trade mark, lining it over the +center fielder's head, after which he made third before he was stopped +by the wild gestures and cries of the delighted coacher, Nelson. + +Roy Hooker swallowed a lump in his throat. "Why, they're hitting +Sanger!" he muttered huskily. + +"Hitting him!" shouted the overjoyed fellow at Roy's elbow. "They're +hammering him for fair. Told you they might do it." + +"But he'll brace up," said Roy. "He's got to brace up." + +"Let's hope he won't till the fellows put this game on ice. Here's +Cooper. He's not a strong batter, but---- Oh, gee! look a' that! +Look a' that! A Texas leaguer! That scores Grant!" + +Indeed, Chipper had bumped a Texas leaguer over the head of the second +baseman, who made a desperate but futile effort to reach the ball; and +Oakdale had every reason to cheer as Rodney Grant easily scampered home +from third. + +Sanger really seemed to be off his feet, and Sleuth Piper, trying for a +hit, drove two fouls into the crowd on the bleachers. + +"Straighten 'em out a little, Pipe," pleaded Cooper, returning for the +second time to first. "You've got my tongue hanging out now." + +Copley, squatting, signaled for a straight ball. Sanger, apprehensive +and nervous, shook his head. Copley promptly repeated the signal, and +insisted on it. Finally Sanger obeyed, putting one straight over. + +Sleuth swung at that straight one, his heart full of confidence, but he +missed it cleanly. In a moment he was raging at the catcher, who had +promptly snapped off his mask and tossed it aside. + +"Somebody will break your head if you try that again," snarled Piper. + +"What's the matter with you?" flung back Copley belligerently. "You've +got bats in your belfry." + +"You'll have a bat across your belfry if you repeat that trick," +threatened Sleuth stiffly. "That's all I've got to say. Don't you +touch my bat again when I'm hitting." + +Copley laughed derisively at the excited words of the slim, angry, +pale-faced fellow; and the umpire, not having seen the catcher's +prestigious interference, was unable to penalize the offender. + +His anxiety somewhat relieved by this termination of the home team's +batting streak, Roy Hooker looked around for Rackliff, and discovered +Herbert coolly sauntering down beside the ropes toward first base. As +if he felt the attraction of Roy's glance, the city youth turned his +head and smiled in an undisturbed manner, which was doubtless intended +to convey his unshaken confidence in the ultimate outcome of the game, +and really did much to soothe and reassure his agitated friend. + +As Oakdale took the field, Copley was seen speaking hurriedly to Len +Roberts, who was to lead off at bat in the third. Roberts, listening, +nodded, and his face was contorted by that crooked grin which always +seemed trying to pull his crooked nose back into its proper place. +Then, as he stepped into the box, he shot a glance toward the standees +back of first, who had pushed out close to the ropes, among whom +Herbert Rackliff was carelessly lighting a cigarette. + +"Never mind, Barville," called Herbert in a low, yet singularly +distinct, tone of voice, while Eliot was signaling to Springer. "The +game is young, and I'll bet you'll win. That's _straight_." + +Eliot's past experience with the visitors had taught him that Roberts +rarely sought for a hit unless forced to do so, being the kind of a +batter who preferred to wait and walk whenever he could; therefore the +Oakdale captain signed for Springer to put the first ball over. + +Barely had Sile Crane flung over his shoulder the words, "Aw, go lay +down!"--directed toward Rackliff--when, to the surprise of very many +beside Eliot, Roberts landed hard on Springer's straight one, driving +it toward center field. Fortunately, Stone had little trouble in +reaching the ball and catching it. + +"Hard luck, Len," sounded the voice of Rackliff, as Oakdale's burst of +applause died down. "Hit 'em where they ain't; that's the way. Here +comes the huckleberry now," he added, as Berry, the visitors' +shortstop, took the place of Roberts. "He'll hit it _out_." + +"This Berry will be picked in a moment," cried Cooper instantly. "He's +ripe. Get him, Springer." + +Crack!--Berry planted the willow against Phil's outcurve, and again the +ball sailed toward the outfield, this time going toward right. Again +the fielder had no trouble in reaching it ere it fell to the ground, +and Grant scooped and held it while running lightly forward. + +"He hit it out, sure enough," chortled Cooper. "Rack, you're +ruined--financially busted wide open." + +Still Herbert seemed unruffled, continuing to smile. "If I lose," he +said, "I can stand it." + +"But _I_ can't," muttered Roy Hooker beneath his breath. + +Springer, knowing Dingley, Barville's leading batter, who was again up, +was dangerous, tried two wide ones to start with; but the fellow did +not even wiggle his bat at them. + +"Get _into_ it!" called Rackliff suddenly, as Phil swung into his +delivery for the third ball. + +Dingley seemed to fall back from the plate a little, and again bat and +ball met squarely, an inshoot being sent humming over the head of +Cooper, who made a ludicrously ineffective jump for it, the ball +passing at least ten feet above his outstretched hand. But Piper, +leaping forward and speeding up surprisingly, made a forward lunge at +the last moment, and performed a shoestring catch that brought the +entire Oakdale crowd to its feet with a shout of wonderment and delight. + +Eliot calmly removed the catching mask and swung the body protector +over his head. "Royal support, Phil," he observed, as Springer trotted +happily toward the bench. + +"The greatest ever," returned Phil. "If they can only keep it up----" + +"You'll do your part, all right," assured Roger. "Every fellow can't +hit you the way those three did. Now, boys, we'll lead off with the +head of the list. Let's get after Sanger again." + +But apparently Sanger had recovered his best form during the brief rest +on the bench, for again he fanned Nelson and Barker; and, although +Springer hit the ball, it was an easy roller to the Barville twirler +himself, who confidently and deliberately tossed Phil out at first. + +In the meantime, one or two indignant Oakdaleites had gone at Herbert +Rackliff and driven him away from the ropes back of first base, Herbert +resenting their remarks concerning his loyalty, and rather warmly +asserting that he had a right to bet his money according to the +dictates of his judgment. + +In the fourth Springer's work justified the confidence Eliot had +expressed, for he followed Sanger's example by striking out Pratt and +Whiting and forcing the dangerous Copley to hit weakly to the infield. + +"Another goose egg for them," exulted Chipper Cooper. "It begins to +look like a shut-out. These two tallies of ours may be a-plenty." + +"You don't want to get any such an idea into your head," returned Eliot +promptly. "Two runs are mighty few; we must have more. Here's Old +Stone, who started us going before." + +Stone started it again with a cracking two-bagger, and, when Eliot +poked a daisy cutter into right, Ben scored on it. + +The efforts of the coachers to put Sanger off his feet, however, were +fruitless, Crane fanning, Grant expiring on a foul which Copley took +thirty feet behind the pan, and Cooper perishing in an effort to beat a +slow grounder to first. + +With the beginning of the fifth Rackliff again called encouragement to +the batters, having strolled back to the ropes a little further down +beyond first base. He urged them to "get into it," "hit it out," "drop +on it," "give it a rise," and, as if braced by his cries, they began +slaughtering Springer mercilessly. Sanger singled; Cline poked one +past Cooper; and Roberts, once more surprising everybody by smashing +the first ball, doubled and brought both runners home. + +And now once more Springer's nerves were a-quiver in every part of his +body. In his disturbed state he actually swallowed the chew of gum he +had procured. Rattled, he hit Berry in the ribs, and handed Dingley a +pass, filling the bases. + +"It's all off! It's all over but the shouting!" yelled Sanger, dancing +and waving his arms on the coaching line near third. "Got him going, +fellows! Don't let up! Here's where we win the game!" + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +A CHANGE OF PITCHERS. + +The green banners were fluttering like leaves in a furious tempest; +horns, cowbells and human voices sent a wild uproar across the diamond; +Springer, white as a sheet, his confidence totally shattered, was all +to the bad. Another clean hit would almost certainly permit two +Barville runners to score and put the visitors one tally in the lead. + +And not a man was out! + +Knowing something must be done at once or the game would doubtless be +lost in that inning, Eliot threw the ball to Barker, so that Berlin +might hold the man on third, and, calling Phil, stepped forward and met +him in front of the pan. + +"Play ball! play ball!" yelled Sanger. "Don't delay the game!" And, +"Play ball! play ball!" howled the Barville spectators. + +Coolly, calmly, soothingly, the Oakdale captain spoke in a low tone to +the unnerved pitcher. "Brace up, Phil, old fellow," he urged. "Take +your time; stop pitching as fast as you can soak the ball over. You're +not using your head. If you'll steady down we can pull out of this +hole. Now, go slow, and don't mind the racket." For a moment his +right hand touched Springer's left shoulder with a steadying pressure. + +"I'll try," promised Phil huskily. "I'll do my best, captain." + +While the visitors still howled, "Play ball," Roger stood on the plate +and fussed with the strap of his catching mask, which did not need any +attention whatever to begin with, but somehow became strangely tangled +in the wire meshes. From his appearance one might have fancied Eliot +stone deaf to that babel of sounds, and he seemed utterly blind when +Larkins rushed out from the bench before him, flourishing his arms, and +demanding that he should get back into his position and let the game +proceed. + +Such a show of outward calm should have done much to restore the +equanimity of the pitcher; but, though Springer tried hard to get a +steadying grip on himself, his fear of what might happen if Pratt hit +him led him to pitch himself into a still worse predicament; and he +handed up three balls, one after another, in an effort to fool the +Barville boy. The shouts of the coachers, urging Pratt to "take a +walk" and asserting that it was "a dead sure thing," added in the +completion of Phil's undoing; for, even though he did his best to put a +straight one over, the ball was outside, and Pratt capered exultantly +to first, while Roberts, grinning all over one side of his face, jogged +home. + +"Take him out!" Some one in the Oakdale crowd uttered the cry, and +immediately a dozen others took it up. "Take him out! Take him out!" +they adjured. + +These appeals were unnecessary, for already Eliot had decided that Phil +could not continue, and was beckoning for Grant to come in, a signal +which Rodney did not at first seem to comprehend. Presently the Texan +started slowly in from the field, and Springer, at the umpire's call of +"time," turned, his head drooping, toward the bench. + +"Hadn't you better take right, Phil?" suggested Eliot. + +The heartsick fellow shook his head. "I wouldn't be any good out +there--now," he muttered. + +So Tuttle was sent into right, while Grant limbered up his arm a bit by +throwing a few to Sile Crane. + +"Here's something still easier, fellows," called Newt Copley. "Perhaps +he can throw a lasso, but he can't pitch baseball. Keep it up. Don't +stop." + +"Play!" ordered the umpire. + +Rod Grant toed the pitcher's slab for the first time in a real game of +baseball, wondering a bit if he was destined to receive a continuation +of the unkind treatment that had put "the blanket" on his predecessor. + +In the meantime, Herbert Rackliff had been collared by Bunk Lander, a +big, husky village boy, whose face was ablaze with wrath and whose +manner betrayed an almost irresistible yearning to punch the city youth. + +"You keep your trap closed," rasped Lander, "or I'll knock your block +off! If you utter another peep during this game, I'll button up both +your blinkers so tight it'll take a doctor to pry 'em open. Get that?" + +"Take your hands off me!" cried Herbert indignantly. "How dare you!" + +"How dast I!" snarled Lander. "I'll show you how I dast if you wag +your jaw any more." + +"I've got a right to talk; everybody else does." + +"You double-faced, sneaking son of a sea-cook!" blazed Lander. "You +bet against your own school team, did ye? If you belonged in Barville +you might howl your head off; but as long's you camp around these +diggin's you won't do no rooting for them fellers. I'm going to keep +right on your co't-tail the rest of the time, and the first yip you +make I'll hand ye a bunch of fives straight from the shoulder. Now, +don't make no further gab to me unless you're thirsting to wear a mark +of my esteem for the next few days." + +Even as Lander uttered these words Grant pitched the first ball, and +Whiting hit it--hit it humming straight into the hands of Chipper +Cooper, who snapped it to third for a double play, before Berry could +get back to the sack. + +What a howl of joyous relief went up from the Oakdale crowd! They +cheered Chipper madly, and the little fellow, crimson-faced and happy, +grinned as he gave a tug at his cap visor. + +But now came the great Copley, the most formidable Barvilleite, and +there were still two runners waiting impatiently on the sacks, ready to +make the best of any kind of a hit. + +"Don't worry about this chap, Grant," called Eliot quietly. "He's just +as easy as anybody. You'll get him." + +At this Copley laughed sneeringly, but he missed the first ball Rod +delivered to him, which happened to be one of the new pitcher's +wonderful drops. The uproar coming from the Barville bleachers seemed +to have no effect on Grant, something which Eliot observed with +satisfaction and rising hope. Rod pitched two balls which Copley +disdained, and then he fooled the fellow once more with a drop. + +"Two strikes!" shouted the umpire. + +"You've got him, Roddy--you've got him cold!" cried Cooper suddenly. +"Don't forget we're all behind you. Take his scalp, you old Injun +hunter of the Staked Plains." + +High and close to Copley's chin the ball whistled into Eliot's mitt. +For a moment there seemed some doubt as to its nature, but the umpire +pronounced it a "ball." + +"Close, Grant--close," said Eliot. "You should have had him. Never +mind, you'll get him next time." + +There was a hush. Involuntarily, the Barville crowd ceased its uproar. +Grant, taking Roger's signal, nodded and twisted the ball into the +locking grip of two fingers and a thumb. His arm swung back and +whipped forward, a white streak shooting with a twisting motion from +those fingers. It seemed like another swift one, shoulder high, and, +with confidence strong in his heart, the red-headed batter sought to +meet it. + +For the third time the ball took a most amazing shoot toward the +ground, and again Copley did not even graze it. The umpire shouted, +"You're out!" but the roar from Oakdale's side of the field drowned his +voice. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +WON IN THE NINTH. + +The cheer captain was leading them with wildly waving arms. "Grant!" +they thundered. "Rah! rah! rah! Grant! Grant! Grant!" + +"That sure was some lucky," said Rod, walking toward the bench. + +"Lucky!" rejoiced Cooper, jogging at his side. "It was ball playing! +It was pitching!" + +"You pulled me through by that catch and double play," said the young +Texan modestly. "That put me on my pins. I'm sorry Phil got his." + +Springer looked disconsolate enough as Rod took a seat beside him on +the bench. "Don't worry, old partner," begged Rodney. "It happens to +every pitcher sometimes. The best of them get it occasionally. +Perhaps I won't last." + +"If you don't," returned Springer, "the game is a goner. There's no +one else to put in. I gave it away when I lost my control. Queer I +couldn't get the ball over." + +"I saw that we couldn't keep you in any longer, Phil," said Eliot. "I +had to take you out." + +"Oh, that's all right," muttered the unhappy fellow. "That's baseball." + +With the score tied, Barville showed a disposition to fight grimly for +the game. Piper fell a victim to the wiles of Sanger; Nelson's +scorching grounder was scooped by Roberts; and away out in left garden +Dingley made a brilliant running catch of Barker's splendid long drive. +The sixth inning opened with the two teams on even terms and Grant +pitching for Oakdale. + +Rodney's most effective ball was his drop, but Eliot, knowing it would +be poor judgment if the pitcher should use that particular ball too +often, called for it only in emergencies. The emergency rose when, +with only one man out, Sanger singled and stole second, Nelson dropping +Roger's throw. With Sanger playing well off the sack, there was a +chance for him to score if Cline banged out a long safety, so Eliot, +consulting hastily with Grant, urged Rod to use the drop every time he +put the ball over. Cline finally managed to hit one of those drops, +but he simply rolled a weak grounder into the diamond, and gave up the +ghost on his way to first, Sanger taking third on the throw. + +Ready to bat, Len Roberts' gaze wandered toward the spectators back of +the ropes near first base; but, if he hoped to receive any +encouragement from Herbert Rackliff, he was disappointed, as Bunk +Lander, true to his promise, was keeping within arms' length of the +irritated and uneasy city youth. Rackliff, having surveyed Bunk's +stocky figure from head to foot and taken a good look at the fellow's +grim, homely mug, smoked cigarettes and uttered no sound save an +occasional suppressed cough. + +It would be hard to describe the feelings of Roy Hooker. He had been +elated by Springer's misfortune and the success of Barville in tying +the score, but the failure of the visitors to get a lead left him still +worried and anxious. Especially was this true as he watched Rodney +Grant pitch with surprising steadiness and hold the crimson players +down. + +"But he can't keep it up," thought Roy; "it's impossible. They'll fall +on him the way they did on Springer." + +Roberts, who had hitherto batted with an air of confidence, now fell +into his old trick of waiting, the result being that two strikes were +called on him before he removed the bat from his shoulder. Then he bit +at a wide one, and was out. + +Tuttle, hitting in Springer's place, was a snap for Sanger, who +polished him off with three high, swift, straight ones. For the third +time in the game, Stone showed his mettle and went to first on a +safety. As one man was out, Eliot, thinking to test Copley's throwing, +signaled for Ben to steal. There was nothing the matter with Copley's +wing, for he nailed Stone fully five feet from the second sack. + +Roger batted a sizzler to the left of Sanger, who shot out his gloved +hand and deflected the ball straight into the waiting fingers of +Larkins at first. + +Grant pitched fairly well in the seventh, but it needed the errorless +support he received to prevent the enemy from scoring, Barville pushing +a runner round to third before being forced to give up. + +Sanger, working hard, disposed of Crane on strikes, forced Grant to pop +to the infield, and led Cooper into lifting an easy foul for Copley. +The red-headed catcher continued to talk to the batters, but, warned by +Eliot, they made no retort, and, seemingly, did not hear him. Since +the affair with Piper he had not, however, again offered to deflect a +bat. + +It was a great game to watch, a game in which those high school boys, +keyed to a keen tension, were really outdoing themselves, performing +more than once feats which would have been creditable to professionals. +It was the kind of baseball that makes the blood tingle, the heart +throb, and leaves many an enthusiastic spectator husky from howling. +The strain was so great that it seemed an assured thing that something +must give way. Oakdale had saved herself temporarily by changing +pitchers, but shortly after the opening of the eighth inning it began +to look as if the fatal downfall of the home team had simply been +delayed. + +Larkins led off by batting a dust scorcher against Cooper's shins, and +once more Chipper marred his record by booting the ball and throwing +wild to first when he finally got hold of it. This let the runner romp +easily to second. + +Copley was seen to whisper something in Sanger's ear as the Barville +captain rose from the bench, bat in hand. Then Lee walked into the box +and bunted beautifully along the line toward first. He was thrown out +by Grant, but his purpose had been accomplished, and Larkins was on +third, with only one man down. + +Fearing an attempted squeeze play, Eliot signaled for Rod to keep the +ball high and close on Cline. Roger had made no mistake in judgment, +and, despite the Texan's effort to baffle the hitter, Cline managed to +bump a roller into the diamond. Cooper, charging in, scooped the +sphere and snapped it underhand to Eliot; for Larkins, having started +to dig gravel with the first motion of Grant's arm, was doing his +utmost to score. + +"Slide!" shrieked the coachers. + +Larkins obeyed, and there might have been some dispute over the +umpire's decision had not the ball slipped out of Roger's fingers just +as he poked it onto the prostrate fellow. + +"Safe!" announced the umpire, with a downward motion of his outspread +hand. + +The coachers capered wildly, while Copley, leaping forward, met +Larkins, who had risen, and ostentatiously assisted in brushing some of +the dirt from his clothes. The Barville crowd behaved like a bunch +from a lunatic asylum. Roy Hooker told himself that Grant must surely +go to pieces now. "If Eliot had given me a show," he whispered to +himself, "I might go in there now and stop the slaughter." + +Apparently the Texan was confused, seeing which, Cline attempted to +purloin the sack behind his back, only to be caught easily when Rod +turned and snapped the ball to Nelson. + +This cheered the sympathizers with the home team, who were heartened +still more as, a few moments later, the amazingly calm Texan took the +crooked-nosed Roberts in hand and struck him out. + +"Now, let's play ball and hold this lead, fellows," shouted Copley. +"It's easy enough. We've got the game nailed." + +Sanger had no trouble in fanning Piper, and again Oakdale's hope ebbed, +as Nelson, who had not made a safety for the day, was sent by the whiff +route to join Sleuth on the mourners' bench. + +With two gone, Berlin Barker got his first hit. There rose a groan, +however, when it was seen that roly-poly Chub Tuttle was the next +sticker. Tuttle justified the hopeless ones by popping a dinky little +fly into Sanger's hands. + +"It's all off! It's all over!" crowed Copley, tossing the catching +mask spinning aside. "You've only got to get three more, cap. The way +you're pitching, it'll be like picking ripe fruit." + +"But let's get some more tallies if we can," urged Sanger. + +This, however, was not possible; for Grant gave his prettiest +exhibition in the ninth, striking out three fellows in succession with +that perplexing drop, which apparently he had mastered. + +"This is our last chance, boys," said Eliot, as the locals gathered at +the bench. "One run is a small margin, and no game is lost until it's +won." + +Ben Stone, his face as grim as that of a graven image, stood forth and +waited. Two balls he ignored, one of which was called a strike; and +then, seeming to get one to his liking, he planted the club against the +leather with a sharp, snapping swing. As in practice on the day Hooker +had pitched to him, Stone laced the ball straight over the center-field +fence for a home run, and pandemonium broke loose and continued while +he jogged slowly over the bases. + +The score was again tied. + +Roy Hooker had not been fully at ease, and his face turned almost ashen +as he saw the ball disappearing beyond the fence. He took no part in +the crazy demonstration of his schoolmates, declining even when some +one caught him by the shoulders and shouted in his ear, asking why he +did not cheer. + +At the bench Stone was surrounded and congratulated by his delighted +teammates. Even the disconsolate Springer aroused himself enough to +speak a word of praise. + +"We want another one--only one more," said Eliot, as he found a bat and +turned toward the plate. + +Without seeking to "kill" Sanger's speed, Roger did his best to poke +out a safety, and would have succeeded only for a surprising one-handed +stop by Roberts, who got the ball to first for an unquestioned put-out. + +"It's only a matter of an extra inning," cried Copley. "They've had +all their luck; it's over." + +Crane, following Eliot, made the mistake of trying for a long hit, and +Sanger fanned him. + +Grant came up with two men out. + +"Here's the great cowboy twirler, cap," sneered Copley. "Put the iron +to him. Burn your brand deep." + +"Get a hit, Grant--do get a hit!" came the entreaty from the Oakdale +crowd. + +"If you do," muttered Copley, close under the bat, "I'll swallow the +ball." + +A moment later Rod swung at a corner cutter, whirled all the way round, +and sprang at Copley, a look of such blazing wrath in his eyes that the +red-headed catcher retreated with ludicrous haste. + +"You onery, sheep-herding skunk!" rasped the Texan. "If you touch my +bat again, I'll grease the ground with you! They'll sure carry you +home on a stretcher, and you can bet your life on that!" + +Again the umpire had not seen the interference, so cleverly had Copley +perpetrated the trick. Eliot dashed at Grant and seized him, shouting +for the Oakdale crowd to keep back; for at least twenty indignant +persons were moving toward the diamond. There was a temporary delay, +during which Roger spoke earnestly into Grant's ear. + +"Don't lose your head now, old fellow," pleaded the Oakdale captain. +"That's what he wants you to do. He thinks you can't hit the ball if +you're mad." + +"I reckon you're right," said Rodney, getting a grip on himself; "but +he'll sure have a broken head if he does it again." + +Having seen that look of rage in the Texan's eyes, Newt Copley was not +at all disposed to repeat the trick with him. Apparently Grant's +nerves had been somewhat unstrung, for when the game was again resumed +he missed one of Sanger's shoots by something like a foot, and the +second strike was called by the umpire. Then Rod smiled; it was barely +a faint flicker, but Sanger saw it and wondered. His wonderment turned +to dismay when the Texan skillfully poked a safety through the infield +and went romping to first, cheered by the crowd. + +"Never mind, cap," encouraged Copley; "the weak ones follow. You won't +have any trouble with this undersized accident." A remark which +inflamed Cooper, in spite of Chipper's pretense that he did not hear it. + +On the very first ball handed up to the Oakdale shortstop, Grant, +having got a start, raced down the line to second, slid spikes first, +and was declared safe, Copley failing to get the ball to Roberts in +time for a put-out. + +But the Texan did not stop there. With Sanger's next movement of his +regular delivery, Rodney, having got a lead behind the pitcher's back, +went darting toward third. Copley, who had complained that Roberts was +slow about tagging the runner, uttered a yell, took the ball as it came +high above Cooper's shoulders, and lost no time in throwing to third. + +Pratt had not anticipated an immediate second effort to steal by the +runner, and he was a trifle slow about covering the sack. As a result, +he was forced to reach for the ball with his bare right hand, and he +dropped it. + +The home crowd was on its feet now, shouting wildly as the umpire's +downward gesture with both hands proclaimed the daring Texan safe at +third. + +Copley snarled at Pratt, and Sanger plainly showed that the performance +of Grant had put him on the anxious seat. + +The cheering now was incessant from both sides of the field, and this +was not calculated to soothe the nerves of the worried pitcher. +Nevertheless, had not Berry lost his head and forgotten that two were +out, the game would have gone into extra innings. Cooper finally drove +one toward the Barville shortstop, and Berry, leaping forward to catch +the ball, saw Grant dashing toward the plate. Berry should have thrown +to first, but, with his mind temporarily fogged, his only thought was +to stop that run, and he hurled the ball to the plate. Copley was not +prepared for this manoeuvre, and he leaped to get the whistling sphere, +which, however, came high and wide, forcing him to reach for it. + +The umpire had barely time to run forward a short distance ere he +stopped and crouched as Grant flung himself headlong in a slide. +Getting the ball, Copley swung back to tag the runner, but ere the +horsehide was brought down between Rod's shoulder-blades, his hand had +found the plate. + +[Illustration: Ere the horsehide was brought down between Rod's +shoulder-blades, his hand had found the plate.] + +"Safe!" shouted the umpire. + +And the game was won by the pitcher who had taken Springer's place in +the fifth inning. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +RACKLIFF'S TREACHERY. + +Like one stunned Roy Hooker passed out through the gate and turned down +the street, dully conscious of the continued rejoicing uproar behind +him. Alternately buoyed by hope and weighted by fear, he had passed +the most trying hour of his life, and now in his bosom he carried a +heart that seemed sick and faint and scarcely able to pump the blood +through his veins. + +"I was a fool to listen to Rackliff," he muttered; and over and over he +kept repeating, "I was a fool, a fool!" + +Suddenly apprehensive lest he should be overtaken by some one who might +observe his all-too-evident wretchedness, he quickened his steps and +made straight for his home. He did not enter the house, and as he +slipped through the yard he cast sidelong glances toward the windows, +hoping his mother might not be looking out. In the carriage house he +sat down on the box beside his motorcycle. + +"I was a fool--an awful fool!" he kept repeating. + +Presently, his mind running over the game, feature by feature, he began +to realize that he had not felt as much elation as he would have +supposed might come to him on witnessing Springer's misfortune in the +fifth inning. He had imagined it would afford him unreserved +exultation to see Phil batted out of the box, but his rejoicing had +been most remarkably alloyed by an emotion of another sort, which even +now he could not understand. And, as he sat there, slowly but surely +he began to perceive the real reason for Springer's failure. + +"It was lack of control," he finally exclaimed. "That's just it. He +was pitching all right until they broke his nerve by three hits in +succession. After that he couldn't find the pan to save his life. If +he'd been able to put the ball where he wished and steady down a +little, he might have stopped that batting rally and had the +satisfaction of pitching the game through to a successful finish. Now, +Rod Grant gets all the glory." + +He was still sitting there, obsessed by his dismal meditations, when a +shadow appeared in the doorway, and he looked up to see Rackliff, the +stub of a cigarette in his fingers, gazing at him. For a full minute, +perhaps, neither boy spoke; and then Herbert, tossing the smoking stub +over his shoulder, sunk his hands deep in his pockets and uttered two +words: + +"Hard luck." + +"Rotten," said Roy. "But you certainly were all to the punk in your +judgment about that game." + +"Oh, I don't know," objected Herbert, leaning against the side of the +doorway and crossing his tan-shod feet. "Barville should have won." + +"How do you make that out?" + +"They batted Springer out, didn't they? They sent him to the stable, +all right." + +"He lost his control, and Eliot had to take him out." + +"Well, if you hadn't been mistaken in your judgment, that would have +settled the game." + +"If _I_ hadn't been mistaken!" cried Roy resentfully. + +"Precisely." + +"Why, I don't see----" + +"Don't you? Then you should consult an oculist. You said Springer was +the only pitcher the team had; you insisted that Grant couldn't pitch a +winning game." + +"Well, I know," faltered Roy; "but I----" + +"You were mistaken--sadly mistaken. It's been an expensive blunder in +judgment for both of us." + +A flush rose into Hooker's pale cheeks, and he stood up. "Now, look +here, Mr. Rackliff," he said harshly, "don't you try to shoulder it all +on to me. I won't stand for that. You professed to be dead sure that +under any circumstances Barville could down Oakdale. As to the matter +of expense, it may have been expensive for you', but, according to our +distinctly understood agreement, I don't lose anything." + +Herbert lifted his eyebrows slightly, producing his cigarette case and +fumbling in it vainly, as it was empty. + +"Agreement?" he said. "What agreement?" + +Hooker choked. "You know; don't pretend that you don't know. I hope +you're not going back on your word. If you do----" He stopped, unable +to continue. + +"Oh, yes," said Herbert slowly, "I think I know what you mean. Of +course I'm not going back on my word to a pal." + +"Then give me the money I let you have to bet on Barville." + +"Why, that money's gone. We lost it." + +"Yes, but you pledged yourself to make good any loss I might sustain. +There are reasons why I must have that money back--right away, too." + +"I'm sorry," murmured Herbert, regretfully returning the empty +cigarette case to his pocket; "but I'm afraid you'll have to wait a +while. I went broke myself--haven't got a whole dollar left in the +exchequer." + +"But I've _got_ to have it," insisted Roy huskily. "I depended on +getting it back to-night." + +Herbert laughed and snapped his yellow fingers. "When a thing is +impossible, it can't be done, old fellow. You don't need money in this +dead hole, anyhow. Why, a profligate couldn't spend ten dollars a week +here, if he tried. You'll simply have to wait until my old man coughs +up another consignment of the needful." + +Roy sat down again, his face wearing such a look of dismay that Herbert +was both puzzled and amused. + +"To see you now," observed the city youth, "any one might fancy you a +bank cashier who had speculated disastrously with the funds of the +institution. Four dollars and sixty-five cents--that was the amount of +your loss; and you look as if you had dropped a thousand." + +"I want to tell you something," said Hooker suddenly; but again he +stopped short and seemed to find it impossible to proceed. + +"I'm listening," encouraged Rackliff. "Let it come. Great Scott! I'd +like to have a cigarette." + +But Roy, after remaining silent a few moments longer, slowly shook his +head. "I won't tell you," he muttered; "I can't. But look here, Rack, +you've got to get that money for me as soon as you can. I need it--if +you only knew how I need it!" + +"I'll drop my old pater a line to-night, informing him that I'm +financially ruined. Gee! that makes me think of that little runt, +Cooper! He certainly irritated me some by his insolent yapping." + +"You came pretty near getting into trouble trying to coach Barville. +You certainly had your nerve with you. I'd never had the crust to try +that." + +Herbert frowned. "It would have been all right, only for that big +stiff, Bunk Lander. He threatened to punch me up, and I knew he was +just the sort of a brainless fellow to do it. Only for his +interference, Barville would have taken the game, and we'd be on Easy +Street to-night." + +"Eh?" exclaimed Roy, puzzled again. "I don't think I quite get you. I +don't see how Lander's interference with you had anything to do with +the result of the game." + +The city youth coughed and shrugged his shoulders, a singularly crafty +smile playing over his face. + +"Of course, you don't see," he nodded. "I'll admit that I was somewhat +too hasty. I should have waited a while longer before I attempted to +put in my oar. That was where _I_ blundered; but I didn't quite reckon +on Lander." + +"You've got me guessing. I wish you'd explain." + +"I will. Did you think I took that journey to Barville on your old +motorcycle merely for recreation?" + +"Not exactly; I had an idea you went over there to talk with Copley and +Roberts for the purpose of finding out how strong the Barville nine +really was." + +"Well, that was a part of the reason, but not the whole of it. I had +something else on my mind. In case I became satisfied that the two +teams were pretty evenly matched, I had a little plan through which I +felt confident I could make it a dead sure thing for Barville. I was +not off my base, either, and it would have worked out charmingly if +that big duffer, Lander, hadn't dipped in and messed it for us." + +"I'm still in the dark." + +"Don't you remember that when I got back I asked you about Eliot's +signals to the pitcher?" + +"Yes." + +"I thought I knew them, but I wanted to be dead sure; for I'd made +arrangements with Copley to tip off certain Barville batters who could +be trusted to the kind of balls that would be pitched. This was to be +done in case the necessity arose, which it did when Oakdale took the +lead and Springer seemed to be going well, with every prospect of +holding them down. Then I proceeded to get down close to the ropes +back of first base, where, by watching, I could come pretty near +catching Eliot's signs. Sometimes I couldn't see them distinctly, but +almost always I could. I was tipping off the Barville batters when +they proceeded to fall on Springer and pound him beautifully. They did +so because they knew just the kind of a ball he was going to pitch." + +"Great Caesar!" muttered Roy, who was again standing. "You did that? +How----" + +"Oh, I'm surprised at your dullness," laughed Rackliff. "You heard me +coaching. You heard me calling out for the batters to 'get into it,' +'hit it out,' 'drop on it,' 'give it a rise,' and so forth." + +"Yes." + +"Yes; well, there you are. When I said 'get into it,' it meant that +Springer would pitch an in-shoot. 'Hit it out,' meant that he would +use an outcurve, and----" + +"Holy smoke!" gasped Hooker. "It's a wonder nobody got on. Do you +suppose Lander----" + +"Nit. That big bonehead didn't tumble. He was simply sore because I +was a student at Oakdale and seemed to be rooting for Barville. All +the same, he stuck to me like a leech, and I had to quit or get into a +nasty fight with him. I couldn't afford to have my face beaten up, +even to win ten dollars. By Jove! I've simply got to have a whiff." + +In silence Hooker watched the shifty, scheming, treacherous city youth +turn and search on the drive outside the door, recover the cigarette +stub he had tossed away, relight it, and inhale the smoke with a relish +that told of a habit fixed beyond breaking. Thus watching and thinking +of the fellow's qualmless treachery to his own school team, Roy felt +the first sensation of revulsion toward Rackliff. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +JEALOUSY. + +At the close of the game there was another boy on the field who was +quite as glum and downcast as Hooker himself. This was Phil Springer, +who remained seated on the bench while his team-mates and a portion of +the enthusiastic crowd swarmed, cheering, around Grant and lifted him +to their shoulders. + +Presently he realized that this behavior on his part must attract +attention the moment the excitement relaxed, and he got up with the +intention of hurrying at once to the gymnasium. Barely had he started, +however, when something brought him to a halt, and beneath his breath +he muttered: + +"That won't do. They'd notice that, too, and sus-say I was jealous." + +He was jealous--bitterly so; but he forced himself to join the cheering +crowd and to make a half-hearted pretense of rejoicing. All the while +he was thinking that Grant owed everything to him, and that perhaps he +had been foolish in training a fellow to fill his shoes in such an +emergency. For Phil had long entertained the ambition of becoming the +first pitcher on the academy nine, and this year he had been fully +confident until the present hour that the goal he sought was his beyond +dispute. + +The victors did not forget to cheer courteously for the vanquished, and +Barville returned the compliment with a cheer for Oakdale. + +So many persons wished to shake hands with Rodney Grant that he +laughingly protested, saying they would put his "wing out of +commission." Suddenly perceiving Phil, the Texan pushed aside those +between them, sprang forward and placed a hand on Springer's shoulder, +crying: + +"Here's my mentor. Only for him, I'd never been able to do it. I owe +what little I know about pitching to Springer. Let's give him a cheer, +fellows." + +They did so, but that cheer lacked the spontaneous enthusiasm and +genuine admiration which had been thrown into the cheering for Grant, +something which Springer did not fail to note. + +"Oh, thanks," said Phil, weakly returning the warm grasp of Rod's +strong hand. "I didn't do anything--except blow up." + +Under cover of the chatter, joking and laughter, while they were +changing their clothes in the dressing room of the gymnasium, Grant, +observing the dejection Springer could not hide to save himself, again +uttered some friendly words of encouragement. + +"Don't you feel so bad about it, old partner," he said. "The best +professional pitchers in the business get their bumps sometimes, and I +might have got mine, all right, if I'd started the game on the slab, as +you did. You'll make up for that next time." + +"You're very kind, Grant," was Springer's only response. + +Phil got away from the others as soon as he could, and hurried home to +brood over it. It had been a hard blow, and he had stood up poorly +beneath it. Thinking the matter over in solitude, he was forced into a +realization of the fact that he lacked, in a great measure, the +confidence and steadiness characteristic of Rodney Grant, and he could +not put aside the conviction that it was Grant, the fellow he had +coached, who was destined to become the star pitcher of the nine. In +spite of himself, this thought, aided by other unpleasant +contemplations, awoke in his heart a sensation of envious resentment +toward Rodney. He was sorry now that he had ever spent his time +teaching the Texan to pitch, and it occurred to him that the same +amount of coaching and encouragement bestowed upon Hooker would not +have resulted in the training of a man to outdo him upon the slab and +push him into the background. + +That evening he was missing from the group of boys who gathered in the +village to talk over the game, and at school the following Monday he +kept away from Grant as much as it was possible for him to do so. When +practice time came after school was over, he put on his suit and +appeared upon the field, but soon complained that he was not feeling +well, and departed. + +The following morning, shortly after breakfast, Phil saw Rod turning +into the dooryard of his home. Instantly Springer sought his hat, +slipped hastily through the house and got out, unperceived, by the back +door. When he arrived at school, a few minutes before time for the +morning session to begin, Grant was waiting for him. + +"What became of you after breakfast, partner?" questioned Rod. "I +piked over to your ranch looking for you, but you had disappeared. +Your mother said you were around a few moments before, and she thought +you must be somewhere about; all the same, I couldn't find hide or hair +of you." + +"I--I took a walk," faltered Phil, flushing. "I've got a bub-bad +cold." In evidence of which, he coughed in a shamefully unnatural +manner. + +"Got a cold, eh?" said Rodney sympathetically. "You caught it sitting +on the bench during the last four innings of that game, I reckon. I +remember now that you didn't even put on your sweater." + +"Yes, I guess that's when I got it," agreed Phil. + +"Well, you've got to shake it in time for the game with Clearport. +That's when you'll even things up." + +All that day Springer sought to avoid talking baseball with any of the +fellows, for invariably they spoke of Grant's surprisingly successful +performance; and when they did so something like a sickening poison +seemed to bubble within the jealous youth, who told himself that he +could not long continue to join in this praise, but must soon betray +himself by bursting forth into a tirade against the Texan. In a +measure he did relieve his feelings by expressing his opinion of +Herbert Rackliff, who was brazenly seeking to ignore the open disdain +of his schoolmates. He did not come out for practice that night, and +Grant explained to the others that Phil was knocked out by a cold, +whereupon Cooper chucklingly remarked that he thought it was Barville +that had knocked Springer out. + +Shortly before dark, Phil, chancing to take a cross cut from Middle +Street to High Street, observed Roy Hooker pelting away with a baseball +at the white shingle on the barn. Drawing near, Phil asked Roy what he +was doing, and the latter, startled and perspiring, looked round. + +"Oh, is it you?" said Roy. "I thought perhaps it was Rackliff. I'm +practicing a little by my lonesome." + +"That's a hard way to practice," said Springer. "You can't get much +good out of that." + +"Oh, I don't know. I'm getting so I can hit that shingle once in a +while, and use a curve, too. I couldn't seem to hit it with a straight +ball when I began." + +"You haven't given up the idea of pitching?" + +"Not quite. After watching your performance Saturday--seeing you soak +a batter in the ribs, and then hand out free passes enough to force a +run--I came to realize what control means. I'm trying to get it." + +Phil felt his face burn. "Control is necessary," he admitted; "but it +isn't everything. When I put the ball over, they pup-pounded it." + +"But they wouldn't if it hadn't been for----" Choking, as he realized +what he had so nearly said, Hooker bit his tongue. Then he hastened to +make an observation that snapped Springer's self-restraint. "They +didn't seem to pound Grant much, and he appeared able to put the ball +just about where he wanted to." + +"Grant!" snarled Phil furiously. "That's all I've heard since the +game! Grant, Grant, Grant! It makes me tired!" + +"Oh, ho!" muttered Roy. "It does, does it? Well, say, didn't you +realize what you were doing while you were coaching that fellow? I +knew what would happen. I knew the time would come when you'd be +mighty sore with yourself. I'm going to talk plain to you. This +fellow Grant is practically an outsider; he doesn't belong in Oakdale. +He's a presuming cub, too--always pushing himself forward. Here I am, +an Oakdale boy, but you pick up with Rod Grant and coach him to pitch +so he can step into a game when you're batted out and show you up. You +won't be in it hereafter; he'll be the whole show." + +"Oh, I don't know," returned Springer sourly. "He may get his some +time." + +"He may, and then again he may not; you can't be sure of it. If you'd +only spent your time with me, I would have been willing to act as +second string pitcher, and you would not have been crowded out. You +put your foot in it, all right, old man." + +"I suppose I did. But let's not talk about it. You weren't at school +to-day." + +"No." + +"How did that happen?" + +"Working." + +"Working? How careless! I didn't know you ever did such a thing." + +"Well," said Roy slowly, "this was a case of necessity, you see." + +"Oh, you needed the money, eh?" + +"No; it wasn't that, though I earned a dollar and a quarter helping +shingle John Holbrook's barn. You see--my mother, she--she lost some +money recently." + +"Lost it?" + +"Yes; lost it, or--or something," Roy replied stumblingly. "It wasn't +much, but it was all she had. She'd saved up a little at a time to buy +material for a new dress." + +"How did she happen to lul-lose it?" + +"I can't tell. She doesn't quite know herself. She put it in a drawer +in the house, and when she went to look for it, it was gone." + +"That sounds like a robbery instead of a loss." + +"But it couldn't be a robbery," protested Hooker quickly and earnestly. +"Nobody would come into the house and take money out of that +drawer--nobody around here. You never hear of such a thing happening +around this town. Perhaps mother mislaid it somewhere. Anyhow, it's +gone, and I'm going to try to earn enough to replace it." + +"Well, say, Hooker," exclaimed Phil, "you're all right! I didn't +suppose you'd stoop to work, even under such circumstances. Do you +know, lots of times we're liable to misjudge some one until something +happens to show us just the sort of a person he is." + +"Yes; I suppose that's right," said Roy. But he did not look Phil in +the eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +PLAIN TALK FROM ELIOT. + +"How's your cold, Phil?" + +It was Eliot who asked the question, and Springer, pausing with one +foot on the academy steps, replied: + +"Oh, it's some bub-better, I think." + +"Glad to hear it," said Roger, slipping his arm through Springer's. +"Come on, let's walk over yonder to the fence. I want to have a little +chin with you. It will be ten minutes yet before school begins." + +Together they walked to the fence at the back of the yard, pausing +beneath one of the tall old trees which was putting forth tender green +leaves. Leaning against the fence, the captain of the nine faced his +companion. + +"As a rule," he began, "you've been a great enthusiast over baseball, +and I didn't think you'd let a slight cold keep you away from practice. +Exercise is one of the best remedies for a cold, if a person takes care +of himself when he's through exercising." + +"I know that," said Phil, poking his toe into an ant's nest and +declining to meet Roger's steady, level gaze; "but, really, I--I was +feeling pretty rotten, you know, and I didn't have mum-much heart for +practice." + +"Yes," said the captain, "I'm afraid that was the principal +trouble--you didn't have much heart for it. You lost heart in the +game, and you haven't braced up yet. I hardly thought it of you, Phil; +I didn't expect you to play the baby." + +"The baby!" exclaimed Springer resentfully. + +"Yes; that's just what you've been doing. I made up my mind to speak +plainly to you, and I'm going to do so--for your own good. You've been +sulking, old fellow. It doesn't pay, Phil; you're hurting yourself far +more than any one else." + +"I don't think you've got any right to call it sulking," objected +Springer in a low tone. "I own up that I did feel bad about the way +things went in that gug-game; but I caught a cold, and I decided to +take care of myself in order to get back into my best condition." + +"Is that the reason why you've been giving Rod Grant the cold shoulder?" + +"I haven't been giving him---- What has he said to you, Eliot? Has he +been tut-tut-talking about me?" + +"Not a word." + +"Then why should you say I'd given him the cold shoulder?" + +"It was apparent to the dullest, Phil. For some time before that game +you and Grant were very chummy; you were nearly always together, so +that everybody noticed it. Since the game you've not been together at +all, and I, myself, have plainly observed your efforts to avoid him. +Now, old man, there can only be one explanation for such conduct: +you're sore--sore because he succeeded in holding Barville down after +you had failed." + +Weakly Springer sought to protest against this, but stopped in the +midst of it, fully comprehending how feeble his words were. + +"It's folly, Springer," said Eliot, "sheer childish folly. We were all +sorry to see you get your bumps and lose control, and I don't believe +any one was any sorrier than Grant himself; for, somehow, I've come +firmly to believe that he's on the square. He was reluctant about +going on to the slab when I called him." + +"Perhaps that was because he was afraid he'd get his, too," muttered +Springer. + +"Now, that isn't generous, and you know it. If the score had been +heavy against us at the time, some fellows might have fancied Grant's +reluctance was prompted by fear and a disinclination to shoulder +another man's load in the first game he pitched. I've not sized it up +as anything of the sort. You and he were close friends, and, knowing +how you must feel to be batted out, he was loath to go in. You must +realize it was a mighty lucky thing for us that we had a pitcher to +take your place. Barville had you going, Phil, and you couldn't seem +to steady down. Even old stagers get into that condition sometimes +when pitching, and it's not an infrequent occurrence that a slabman who +is not thought so good steps in and stops the slaughter." + +"Every-bub-body seems to think Grant is pretty good," mumbled Springer. + +"He certainly did amazingly well, for which he generously gave you all +the credit." + +"I suppose he'll be the whole shooting match, now." + +"Those words betray you, my boy. You've been trapped by the green-eyed +monster. Come, come, Phil, you're too manly for that." He put out a +hand and rested it on Springer's shoulder. + +The color mounted into Phil's cheeks and slowly receded, leaving him +pale, and still with downcast eyes. Eliot went on, steadily and +earnestly: + +"We need two pitchers--we must have them if we hope to make a decent +showing in the series. By and by we'll have to play two games a week, +and some of those games come so close together that one pitcher alone, +unless he has an arm of iron, can't do all the flinging. You've been +wonderfully successful in coaching Grant, and all the time you were +training him to relieve you in a measure when the hardest work should +come. Nobody wants to rob you of any credit; every one says you've +done a mighty good turn with him. But if you continue to sulk, as you +have for the past few days, you'll lose the sympathy of your teammates; +but you won't hurt Grant--otherwise than his feelings." + +"I don't believe it would hurt his feelings a great deal." + +Roger was vexed, but he continued to maintain his calm manner. "You +ought to know him better than any one else around here; you ought to +know whether he's at all sensitive or not. I'll tell you honestly, if +I were in his place to-day, I'd feel it. Now, I'm your friend, old +fellow, and I want you to listen to me and take my advice. Forget it. +Get out for practice, treat Grant the same as before, and make up your +mind you'll do your level best to redeem yourself in the next game you +pitch. You'll have plenty of chances to show the stuff you're made of." + +"I don't suppose the fellows have much confidence in me now." + +"Nonsense! Unless they're chumps, they know every pitcher has his off +days. There'll be a practice game to-night; we'll play against a +picked up scrub team. Now, I want to see you at the field in a suit +and ready to do your part." + +"All right," agreed Phil. + +But later, conscience-stricken and ashamed, he could not bring himself +to seek Rodney Grant and own up manfully to his silly behavior. And +Grant, having begun to feel piqued, made no further advances. + +At noon that day Roy Hooker returned to school, bringing a written +excuse from his mother. Having a chance to speak privately with +Springer, he said: + +"I hear Eliot has expressed his estimation of you and Rod Grant." + +Phil started. "You can near lots of things," he retorted sharply. + +"The fellows have been talking about it," returned Roy. "They say +Eliot has said Grant will make a better pitcher than you, because you +lack heart." + +It was a blow below the belt, and, in spite of himself, Phil could not +help showing the effect. + +"He's welcome to th-think what he chooses," he exclaimed hotly; "it +doesn't disturb me." + +Nevertheless, he was so much disturbed that, in spite of his promise to +Roger, he was not with the team when it took the field that night for +the practice game. For he himself had vainly sought to put aside the +depressing and unnerving conviction that in steadiness, stamina and +self-confidence, Rodney Grant was his superior; something he had +determined never to breathe to any one else, but which the keen +judgment of the team captain had found out. + +Nevertheless, when he reached home by a roundabout course, and found it +impossible to dismiss thoughts of the boys engaged in that practice +game, he eventually decided that he was a fool. Having reached this +conclusion, he set off in great haste for the gymnasium, running the +greater part of the distance. + +Drawing near the gym, he could hear the boys engaged in the game beyond +the high board fence. It did not take him long to shed his outer +clothes and get into a baseball suit. + +The game was in the second inning, with the regular team at bat and +Hooker pitching for the scrub, which was made up partly of grammar +school boys. Everybody seemed to be watching Roy, and Phil walked on +to the field and toward one of the benches without attracting attention. + +"Look at Hook!" whooped Chipper Cooper. "He's actually trying to +strike Roger out!" + +Eliot was at bat, and the umpire had just called the second strike on +him. There were no runners on the sacks. + +"He struck aout Tut in t'other innin'," drawled Sile Crane. "I guess +that's got him puffed up some." + +Apparently not at all discomposed by these remarks, Hooker continued +steadily about his business, and presently, rousing a shout of +surprise, he succeeded in fanning the captain of the nine. Roger +stepped back from the plate, after striking out, and stood there gazing +at Roy, with one of his strange, rare smiles. + +Crane followed. "Dinged if I wouldn't like ter see him fan me!" he +said. + +A moment later Hooker pulled him handsomely on a wide one, and the +first strike was called, Cooper being again awakened to a wondering, +whooping state of merriment. + +"Look out! look out!" shouted the little fellow. "He'll get you if you +don't. Who said Hooky couldn't pitch? There's more pitch in him than +you can find in a big chew of spruce gum." + +Crane, setting his teeth, made two fouls, and then sent Chipper into +real convulsions by whiffing at a high one which Roy whistled across +his shoulders with surprising accuracy. + +"You wanted to see it," yelled Cooper. "You got a look, all right. +Oh, say! Where did this new Christy Mathewson come from, anyhow? Look +out for him, Roddy, or he'll add you to his list. List' to my warning." + +Rodney Grant did not strike out, but, nevertheless, he failed to meet +one of Hooker's shoots squarely, and the grammar school shortstop +gathered in an easy grounder and threw to first for the third put-out. + +Roger Eliot lingered to speak a word to Hooker, and Springer, still +unnoticed, plainly heard what he said. + +"Perhaps we've made a mistake in sizing you up, Roy, old fellow. It's +your work alone that has prevented us from scoring in either of these +innings. You've always had speed and curves, but now you seem able to +get the pill over. Keep it up, old fellow, and you'll make a pitcher +yet, We may need you before the season ends." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +DREAD. + +"There's Phil," cried Grant, spying him. "I'll take the field. Let +him pitch." + +Eliot turned, saw Springer, and looked relieved. + +"Wondered where you were," he said pleasantly. "I see you're ready for +business. This is a five-inning game, and Grant has pitched two +innings already; you can hand 'em up the last three." + +"But I haven't warmed up any," said Phil. "I couldn't get around any +sooner." + +"There's no hurry," returned Roger. "You can have plenty of time to +limber your wing; the scrub won't object to that." + +"But I don't want to butt in and take Grant's place." + +"Shucks!" cried Rod genially. "Who's butting in, anyhow? What are you +talking about, partner? I want to get some field practice anyhow, and +perhaps I will if you're kind enough to let the scrub hit you once in a +while. They're putting up a right smart sort of a game, but Hooker's +mainly responsible, as he hasn't been letting us rap him to any great +extent. No scores yet on either side." + +"Come on, Phil," called Eliot decisively, as he slipped his left hand +into the big catching mitt, "get out there and wiggle your flinger. +Tuttle, maybe they'll let you play with the scrub, so Grant can occupy +the right-hand pasture." + +This arrangement was quickly made, the captain of the scrub team having +filled his outfield positions with youngsters who were even weaker than +Tuttle. Springer accepted the ball tossed to him, and walked out to +the pitcher's box, where he began warming up by throwing to Eliot, +while the scrub batters waited around their bench. He was not in the +most agreeable frame of mind, but he had no fear of the scrub players. +In a few moments he announced that he was ready, and began work with +the determination of striking out the first fellow who faced him. +Ordinarily, this would not have been such a difficult thing to do, but, +through some unusual freak of chance, the batter, swinging blindly, +succeeded in hitting out a most annoying little Texas leaguer that +sailed just beyond the eagerly reaching fingers of Jack Nelson. + +"Come, Spring, old wiz," cried the thoughtless Cooper, "you've got to +do better than that. If you don't, we'll have to put Grant back on the +slab to avert the disgrace of being beaten by this bunch of kid +pick-ups." + +A sudden gust of anger caused Springer to glare, speechless, at the +annoying shortstop; and he was so much disturbed that, in spite of all +he could do, the next batter, "waiting it out," was rewarded for his +patience by a pass. Within a few moments both these runners advanced +on a long fly to the outfield, dropped by Stone after a hard run. + +Springer forced a laugh. "Can't expect to hold the kids dud-down with +that sort of support," he cried. + +He did strike the following hitter out; and then came Hooker, who found +a bender and straightened it for a sizzling two-bagger that sent in +both runners. + +Springer longed to quit at this juncture, but, being ashamed to do so, +he relaxed his efforts and pitched indifferently, permitting the two +following scrubmen to hit the ball. It chanced, however, that neither +of these fellows hit safely, both perishing in a desperate sprint for +the initial sack. + +Rodney Grant, jogging in from the field, seated himself beside Springer +on the bench. + +"You were a little out of form that inning, son," he said; "but you'll +be all right next trip, I opine." + +Without replying, Springer got up and began pawing over the bats, as if +searching among them for some special favorite. + +Hooker again pitched very well, indeed, but poor support gave the +regulars a score, and they would have obtained more had not Roy risen +to the occasion, with one down and the bases full, and struck two +hitters out. + +Although Phil showed some improvement in the fourth inning, and the +scrub team did not succeed in securing another tally, he felt all the +while that his teammates were watching him closely and comparing or +contrasting his work with that of Hooker; nor did he forget that in the +first two innings Grant had performed more successfully. + +To the surprise of many, fumbles and bad throws behind Hooker in the +fourth did not seem to discourage him, and he persisted in pitching as +if the game was one of some importance and he had resolved to do his +part, no matter what happened. The errors gave the regular team three +runs and the lead, and it was Hooker's work alone that kept them from +obtaining several more. + +In the fifth and last, Phil whipped the ball over spitefully, and only +one batter hit it safely. Nevertheless, with the contest ended and the +fellows trooping toward the gymnasium, he noticed that no one had any +word of praise for him, while several expressed their surprise over the +showing Hooker had made. Even Grant, whose friendly advance had been +met with churlish spleen, commended Hooker. Phil felt as if the very +ground was slipping from beneath his feet, and it made him sore and +sick at heart. He paid little attention to the talk of the fellows +while dressing, until of a sudden the words of Nelson caught his ear. + +"Of course, you fellows have heard all about that Clearport-Wyndham +game? I had a talk to-day with a fellow who saw the whole of it. +Cracky! Clearport did come near pulling it out of the fire--actually +batted out a lead of one run in the first of the ninth. If Wyndham +hadn't come back in her half and made two tallies, she'd been stung." + +"I hear," said Berlin Barker, "that Clearport pounded Wyndham's +wonderful new twirler off the slab." + +"That's right," said Nelson. "They got at Newbert in the seventh and +gave him fits. The score was eight to two in favor of Wyndham when the +'Porters began connecting with Newbert's twists, and they hammered in +three earned runs before the shift was made. Twitt Crowell was sent in +to save the day, but if he hadn't had luck, they'd kept right on. It +was his backing that checked the stampede." + +"The Clearporters always have been heavy batters," said Eliot. "If +they could play the rest of the game the way they bat, they'd be almost +sure to win the championship." + +"The fellow we put up against them for Saturday will have to have his +nerve with him," grinned Cooper. "If he weakens, they'll murder him." + +"Crowell got through the eighth all right," continued Nelson; "but in +the first of the ninth the 'Porters found him and bingled out four +runs. It looked as if they had the game tucked away; but Wyndham rose +to the emergency in the last half and got two, which let them out with +a victory." + +"If Clearport can play like that away from home," observed Sleuth +Piper, "my deduction is that she will be a terror to beat on her own +field." + +Springer, dressed, stowed his playing clothes in a locker and walked +out of the gymnasium unnoticed. This was the first time he had heard +the particulars concerning that game, although on Saturday the +surprising information had been telephoned to Oakdale that Wyndham had +been barely able to squeeze out a precarious victory on her own +grounds. As Eliot had stated, the Clearporters were batters to be +feared, and Phil was now in no condition to be unruffled by this menace +to his prowess. + +Once more Springer sulked; not until Friday night did he again show +himself for practice. Eliot, thoroughly disgusted, and realizing that +it was the worst sort of policy to coax such a fellow, let him alone. +He was given a chance to warm up and do a little pitching to the +batters, but, following Eliot's example, no one tried to coddle him. + +"Everybody be on time for the train to-morrow," urged Roger, as they +were dressing. "Trains won't wait for people who are late." + +But even when he went to bed that night Springer was undecided as to +whether he would be on hand or not. Had he been urged, it is doubtful +if he would have appeared; but, perceiving, in spite of his dudgeon, +that he could gain nothing by remaining away, he arrived at the station +just in time to board the train with his comrades. + +The day was disagreeable, rain threatening, and, deep in his heart, +Springer hoped it would pour all the afternoon. The menacing storm +holding off, however, at the appointed hour the two teams were on the +field ready for the clash. + +Phil, still agitated by poorly hidden alarm, could not fail to observe +the all too evident confidence of the Clearport players. The local +crowd was likewise confident, something indicated by their +encouragement of and cheering for their players. + +"If I'm batted out to-day it's my finish," thought the unhappy Oakdale +pitcher. + +"Cheer up," said a Clearporter, trotting past him. "We won't do a +thing to you. If you're sick and need some medicine, we'll hand you +some of the same kind we gave Newbert and Crowell." + +"Aw, go on!" growled Phil. "You're nothing but a lot of wind-bags." + +While the locals were practicing Eliot called Grant and Springer aside, +giving each a ball. + +"Warm up, both of you," he directed. "I'll catch you." + +So these rivals, who had only a short time before been friends, stood +off at the proper distance and pitched alternately to Eliot. Grant was +steady and serene, with good control and in command of some curves, of +which the drop taught him by Springer led Roger to nod his head +approvingly; seeing which, Phil, who had not been right to start with, +grew very wild indeed. + +Practice over, the Clearport captain trotted up to Roger, saying: + +"We're all ready. We'll take the field. Let's get to playing before +it begins raining." + +Phil sat down on the bench, throwing his sweater over his arm for +protection. The umpire called, "Play," and Nelson, cheered by the +little crowd from Oakdale, stepped out with his bat. + +The Oakdale captain found a place at Springer's side. "Phil," he said +in a low tone, "I want you to be ready to go in any time. I've decided +to start the game with Grant, but we may need you any moment." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE BOY ON THE BENCH. + +For a moment Phil was dazed; then a sudden feeling of relief flashed +over him. He would not have to face those dangerous Clearport batters +unless Grant should be knocked out, in which case, no matter what +happened after he went in, all the blame could be thrust upon Rodney. + +But this feeling of satisfaction lasted only a few seconds; gradually +resentment and wrath crowded it out, and he sat there eaten by the +bitterest emotion. Not for a moment had he dreamed Eliot would think +of starting the game with the Texan on the slab, for this day he, Phil, +was to be given the opportunity to redeem himself. It was an outrage, +an injustice of such magnitude that his soul flamed with wrath. What +if Grant were to succeed in holding the Clearporters down? In that +case, of course, Eliot would permit him to pitch the game through to +the finish, leaving on the bench the lad who had expected to do the +twirling. And that would mean further glory for the chap Springer had +thoughtlessly coached for the position of second pitcher; would mean +that, if he pitched at all in future games, Phil himself would be the +second string man. + +Feeling that he could not contain himself, he was turning to Eliot +when, to his amazement, he saw the fellows rising from the bench and +starting toward the field; for while he had been thus bitterly absorbed +the first three Oakdalers had faced Oakes, the Clearport pitcher, and +not one of them had reached first base. Phil could scarcely believe it +possible that the riotous condition of his mind had prevented him from +realizing that the game was in progress, but such had been the case. + +And now, hot and cold by turns, he saw Rod Grant fling aside his +brand-new crimson sweater and jog forth, smiling, to pit his skill and +brains against the local sluggers. + +"I hate him!" hissed the miserable lad beneath his breath. "I hope +they pound him to death right off the reel." + +A few moments later his heart gave a tremendous leap of joy, and he +almost shouted with satisfaction when Boothby led off by smashing the +first ball Grant handed up. It was a terrific long line drive to +center field, but Stone took the ball on the run, and the Clearport +sympathizers groaned and cried, "Hard luck!" + +"It _was_ hard luck for Boothby," muttered Springer. "If he'd placed +that drive farther to the left it would have been good for three +sus-sacks. It was a fearful slam. Oh, they'll hand it to Mr. Grant, +all right!" + +The next batter, Long, likewise hit the ball, driving it buzzing along +the ground, and again the crowd groaned; for Nelson made a +hair-raising, one-hand, diving jab and got the sphere. He nearly +sprawled at full length upon the ground in doing this, but finally +regained his equilibrium in time to toss the ball to Crane for the +second put-out. + +"Right fine work, Jack," praised Grant. "That was just about as fancy +as anything I ever saw." + +"It was a fuf-fine thing for you, all right," whispered Springer to +himself. "Robbed Long of a hit. Oh, they're going to hand you yours!" + +"You're playing ball to-day, fellows," smiled Eliot, readjusting the +catching mask. "That's the stuff!" + +Barney Carney, Clearport's lively young Irishman, danced forth with a +bat. + +"Just be after letting me put me shillaly against one of them," he +chuckled. "Ye'll find it over in the woods yonder." + +After making three fouls, he hit the ball, hoisting it so high into the +air that it seemed to dwindle to a quarter of its usual size. Cooper, +coming into the diamond, gave no heed to the shouting of the crowd. +"I'll take it!" he yelled, as the ball fell swiftly. And take it he +did, freezing to the horsehide with a grip like grim death. + +"You're wearing horseshoes all over you to-day, Mr. Grant," growled the +watching lad on the bench. "But there'll come a change; this can't +keep up." + +It was impossible for him to wear a pleasant face as his teammates +gathered about him, even though he tried, in a measure, to hide his +chagrin. Silently he watched Stone lead off with a safety, and saw +Eliot unhesitatingly sacrifice Ben to second. Nor did he move a muscle +when Sile Crane slashed one into right field and Stone won the approval +of his comrades and awakened the enthusiasm of the little crowd of +Oakdale rooters by making a marvelous sprint over third and a slide to +the plate that brought him to the rubber ahead of the ball. + +Oakes, taking a brace, disposed of Cooper and Piper in double-quick +time; and the visitors were forced to remain content with a single +tally in the second. + +Clearport again came to bat in a business-like manner, and in almost +every detail the home team duplicated the performance of Oakdale. +Butters, picking out a bender to his fancy, straightened it for a +single. + +"Good bub-boy!" mumbled Springer. + +Stoker bunted, letting Butters down to second while he was being thrown +out at first. Merwin got a Texas leaguer, on which Butters took a +chance--foolishly, it seemed--and was saved by a wild throw to the pan +that let him slide under the catcher. + +"Now, Mr. Grant is getting his mum-medicine," grinned Springer joyfully. + +But Grant, resorting to his wonderful drop, struck out both Ramsdell +and Oakes. "That's the form, Grant!" approved Eliot; and Springer +chewed his tongue with envy. + +The third inning gave neither side the advantage, but Grant seemed to +be swinging into shape; for, of the four hitters to face him, he +retired three with an ease that made them look foolish. + +Rain was now threatening any moment, and it seemed hardly probable that +the downpour would hold off long enough for the game to be played +through. "We must get into it as soon as we can, fellows," said +Captain Eliot; "for if it does rain after the fifth inning, we should +have the lead. Come on; take that pitcher's measure." + +Whether or not his words had an effect, they proceeded to go after +Oakes in a manner that might have discouraged any pitcher. Eliot, +himself, started it with a screaming two-bagger, scoring on Crane's +single. Sile took second on the throw to the plate, and stole third a +moment later, romping to the pan after Cooper's fly to the outfield was +caught. + +With the sacks clean, Oakes' comrades were hopeful that he would check +the enemy. It was not his fault that Piper reached first, as Hutt, at +third, fumbled the grounder batted at him and followed this with a +wretched throw. This seemed to put the home pitcher off his feet, for +he passed Tuttle, to the great joy of the visitors. + +"Great Caesar!" muttered Springer. "If they get a big lead, Grant may +pitch it through and win. Why doesn't Merwin take Oakes out?" + +But Oakes remained on the slab, and Nelson, seeking to drive the ball +through an infield opening, batted straight at Carney, who winged the +sphere across for a put-out. + +"Only one more," said Merwin encouragingly. "Get Barker, Oakesie." + +"If you don't get him, your goose is cooked--and mine, too!" whispered +Springer. + +Barker stood second on the list because he was a good waiter, but could +hit well if necessary, and was, perhaps, the best bunter and sacrifice +batter Oakdale had. With two down, he surprised the Clearporters by +dropping a soggy one in front of the pan and beating it to first. + +The corners were filled, and, "Here's Grant!" was the cry. Phil +Springer's teeth chattered and his eyes almost glared as the Texan, +with whom he had been on such friendly terms only a short time before, +stepped out to face Oakes. + +"If he'll only strike out!" thought Phil. + +When Rod had swung at two balls, and missed both, it began to seem that +he was destined to strike out. A few seconds later, however, he caught +the ball fairly on the trade mark and drove it over the head of Carney, +who made an amusingly ineffective leap for it. + +Three runners chased one another over the pan, and Grant arrived at +third base before the ball was returned to the diamond. + +Springer was ill; at that moment, he thought, he would have given +almost anything to be far from that field. It was all Grant, Grant, +and never had he heard a more hateful sound than the shrill and frantic +cheering of the small Oakdale crowd. + +"Keep it up! keep it going!" entreated Eliot, as Stone went to bat. + +Ben did his best, and he did pound out a long fly, but Boothby, in +left, pulled it down after a hard run. + +"The game is as gug-good as settled," muttered Springer, when his +elated teammates had galloped off to the field and left him alone. +"Unless rain stops it, Oakdale is the winner." + +The Clearporters seemed to realize this, for they resorted to many +obvious expedients to delay the game, casting imploring eyes toward the +threatening heavens. The storm, however, perversely held off, and the +locals found Grant too much for them in the last of the fourth. + +"We're five runs to the good, fellows," said Eliot, as the Oakdale +players gathered at the bench. "It's going to rain soon, and this +inning must be played through complete. Let every man who goes to bat +now strike out." + +They followed instructions, Roger setting the example. Crane and +Cooper made a pretense of trying to hit, but they did not even foul the +ball. + +A few straggling drops of rain, falling in the last of the inning, +encouraged Clearport to dally until Eliot demanded of the umpire that +he compel them to play or give the game to Oakdale by forfeit, and at +last Grant struck out the third man. + +While the boys were rejoicing in a victory they considered as +positively assured, Phil Springer slipped away and left the field. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A LOST OPPORTUNITY. + +But the game was not to end there, for, although it continued to +sprinkle slightly at intervals, not enough rain fell to lead the umpire +into calling time. The playing continued, with both teams fighting +hard and wasting no opportunities after the conclusion of the fifth +inning. + +Unaware of this, Springer, who had noted that by hurrying he might +possibly be able to catch the mid-afternoon train for the west, ran all +the way to the hotel, where a room had been provided for the use of the +visitors in changing their clothes, tore off his baseball suit, yanked +on his regular garments, and arrived, panting, at the station just in +time to swing onto the last car as the train was pulling out. + +By this foolish action Phil lost a golden opportunity to put himself +"right" with his teammates. + +For in the eighth inning, with the score 7 to 2 in favor of the +visitors, Clearport seemed at last to take Rodney Grant's measure, and, +aided by errors on the part of Oakdale, they went after him with a +fierceness that threatened to drive him off the slab. Eliot, becoming +alarmed, looked round for Springer, desiring him to warm up and make +ready. + +All along the Oakdale captain had supposed Phil to be somewhere near at +hand, but now not a trace of him was to be discovered. Making an +excuse to do something to the catching mask, Eliot ran to the bench and +called Bunk Lander, who was watching the game from a position near by. + +"Lander," said Roger swiftly, as he fussed with the mask, "where is +Springer? We need him--bad." + +"I gotter idea," said Bunk, "that he's skipped. Saw him go out through +the gate in a mighty hurry at the end of the fifth." + +"Skipped!" muttered Roger, paying no heed to the demands of the +Clearport crowd that he should play ball. "It can't be possible that +he---- Say, Lander, find Roy Hooker, quick. Tell him I want him on +the bench. If he's loyal to his school he'll come. I'll set him to +warming up, anyhow." + +Bunk went searching for Hooker, and discovered him at the far end of +the right-field bleachers, talking with Herbert Rackliff. + +"Hey, you, Hook!" called Lander. "Roge Eliot wants you to warm up, for +it looks like they're going to knock Grant into a cocked hat. They got +him goin' somethin' fierce. You gotter save this game for us--if you +can." + +Hooker's face flushed and he caught his breath. Was it possible he was +to have an opportunity to pitch in that game? Eagerly he started, but +Rackliff's stained fingers gripped his coatsleeve. + +"Are you going to be an easy mark?" asked Herbert scornfully. "Are you +going to let them run you in after a game is lost by another pitcher? +Have you forgotten the sort of rotten, shabby treatment you've had to +stand by this very bunch that wants to put you up for sacrifice now?" + +Roy hesitated. + +"Look here, you pale-faced, sneaky, cigarette-suckin' pup," rasped Bunk +furiously, "you take your claws off his arm and let him alone, or I'll +grasp the occasion to hand you the dose of medicine I come so nigh +givin' ye at the game last Satterday. Mebbe he can save this game, and +it's up to him to try, anyhow. I s'pose you've bet some more money +ag'inst your own school team, and want to see it beat. Somebody's +goin' to give you all that's coming some day pretty soon. Come on +quick, Hook." + +Roy did not permit Herbert to detain him longer, but he heard and +understood some words which were hastily whispered into his ear by the +fellow as he was starting away. + +Meanwhile Grant had pulled himself together at last, despite the +howling of the Clearport crowd, and, with the bases full and the enemy +only one tally behind, he struck out two men, bringing the rally to an +end. + +Rod's face wore an unusually serious expression as he walked to the +bench, at one end of which Eliot stood unbuckling the body-protector. + +"That sure was a right rotten exhibition of pitching," said the Texan +humbly. "Why didn't you yank me out, captain?" + +"Because," answered Roger, "there was no one else to put in." + +"Why, Phil----" + +"Has disappeared; can't find hide nor hair of him. I sent for Roy +Hooker as a last resort and--here he is!" + +Roy came up, his face flushed. Eliot spoke to him quietly in a low +tone: + +"Springer has deserted us," he said. "If I'd had you on the bench and +ready, I'd surely sent you onto the firing line to relieve Grant. Get +somebody to catch you and limber your arm up. I may let you finish the +game." + +So Hooker peeled off and went at it warming up while Oakdale made a +desperate but futile effort to gather some more tallies. While his +players were striving to solve Oakes' delivery Captain Eliot had a +brief talk with Grant. + +"You were not wholly to blame for that streak, Rod," said Roger. +"Those two bad errors helped things along; they sort of got your goat. +You ended strong by mowing down Butters and Stoker, and I think perhaps +you can go back and finish it out." + +"But you sent for Hooker. He's warming up now." + +"I sent for Hooker as a last resort when you were performing at your +worst. Just then I'd tried almost anybody in your place, hoping that +the change might put an end to the slaughter; but now, unless you have +lost your nerve----" + +Rodney gave Roger a resentful look. "I reckon I've still got my nerve +with me," he said warmly. + +"Then I'm going to let you try to hold them. If they get another run +the game will be tied, and two more runs gives them the victory. +You've got to hold them right where they are." + +"I certain will do my level best to hold them." + +And so it happened that Hooker did not get the chance to pitch in that +game, after all. Eliot explained to him that Grant was willing to try +to pitch it through, but added that he should bench Rod instantly in +case he betrayed any bad symptoms. The Texan, however, was cool as a +cucumber and steady as a mountain, not even seeming to hear the howling +of the crowd, which resumed its uproar in an effort to put him off his +feet again. Captain Merwin was the first victim, retiring by the +strike-out route; and then Ramsdell hit weakly on the ground, being +thrown out long ere he could sprint to first; the game ending 7 to 6 in +Oakdale's favor when Eliot pulled down a high foul from Oakes' bat. + +"I'm much obliged to you, Hooker, old chap," said Eliot cordially, +after the cheering was over and the boys had started from the field. +"It was fine and loyal of you to answer my call promptly, as you did; +but as long as Rod still had his nerve I thought it best to let him try +to finish it out. Come along with us. We've got to have two pitchers, +and if Springer has taken a huff you'll likely get chances enough to do +some twirling." + +Although disappointed because he had not been permitted to pitch in the +final inning of the present game, the prospect of possible +opportunities in the future cheered Hooker, and he marched from the +field with the other players, feeling almost as if he was one of them. + +Roy was standing on the steps of the hotel, waiting for the boys to +dress, when Herbert Rackliff approached at a languid saunter, smoking, +as usual, and looking rather dejected and cast down. + +"I say, Hook," said Herbert, "lend me the price of a ticket back to +Oakdale, will you. I've gone clean broke over here, thanks to the +rotten luck. You know I told you at the field that I'd bet my last red +on Clearport. Why didn't Eliot put you in to pitch? If he had, you +could have saved my money for me without----" + +"Look here, Rack," interrupted Roy hotly, "if that's the kind of a chap +you think I am you've got me sized up wrong. I know I gave you money +once to bet against Oakdale, but I'd never throw a game for you or +anybody else." + +"Oh, well," sneered Herbert, "it isn't likely you'll have a chance. I +notice Eliot didn't let you pitch, after all. He doesn't take any +stock in you. Now don't get hot with me, for we're friends. If I'd +bought a return ticket I'd be all right, but----" + +"I'm going back on the train with the team," said Hooker. "Came over +on my motorcycle. I'll let you have that. It will take you home all +right." + +Rackliff looked still more weary. "I detest the thing," he said. +"Come, old chap----" + +"I've got only money enough for my own fare," said Roy. "You'll find +riding my motorcycle better than walking." + +"That's right," sighed Herbert resignedly. "I'll take it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +POISON SPLEEN. + +Phil Springer returned to Oakdale in a wretched frame of mind. Barely +had the train carried him out of Clearport before he began to regret +his hasty action in running away, but it was then too late to turn back. + +"I suppose some of the fellows will think it rotten of me to sneak," he +muttered, "but the game was practically over, and there was no reason +why I shouldn't get back home as soon as I could. Why should I hang +round just for the pleasure of making the return trip with the rest of +the bub-bunch and being forced to listen to their praise of Rod Grant +for his fine work! They'll slobber over him, all right. He's the star +now, and I--I who taught him everything he knows about pitching--I am +the second string man! I won't be that! I won't be anything! I'm +done!" + +He was not a little surprised as he stepped off the train to find it +was not raining, although the sky was still heavy and threatening, as +if the downpour might come at any moment. + +"It certainly is coming down in Clearport, just the same. It had begun +before I hiked. Hiked! I hate that word; Grant uses it. Clearport is +nineteen miles away, and it frequently rains there when it doesn't +here." + +He hurried over the bridge and up through the village toward his home. + +"Hi, there, Phil!" cried a voice as he was passing the postoffice, and +a wondering looking youngster came running out. "What are you doing +here--at this hour? Saw you start for Clearport with the team, and----" + +"Game's over," cut in Springer. "Rain sus-stopped it." + +"Rain? Why----" + +"Yes; it's raining over at the Port." + +"Rotten! How many innings----" + +"Five; just finished the fif-fifth when the clouds started to leak." + +"Oh, then it counts as a game," palpitated the interested boy. "How +did the score stand? Who was ahead?" + +"Oakdale, six to one," answered Springer over his shoulder as he +hurried on up the street. + +"Hooray!" came the elated shout of the rejoicing lad. "Then you +trimmed 'em! Jinks! that's fine. But, say--say, who pitched?" + +Springer quickened his stride, seemingly deaf of a sudden. He had felt +the question coming, and he had no heart to answer it. It would be +asked by every fellow in Oakdale who had not attended the game, and, on +learning the truth, they would join in one grand chorus of acclamation +and praise for the Texan. For the time being Grant would be the king +pin of the town. + +Reaching home, Phil slipped in quietly without being seen by his mother +and tiptoed up to his room, where, in sour meditation, he spent the +intervening time until supper was ready. In a vague way he realized +that he had, by deserting the team, betrayed himself to all his +comrades as a fellow swayed by petty jealousy; but this thought, which +seemed trying to force itself humiliatingly upon him, he beat back and +thrust aside, persisting in dwelling on the notion that he had been +most shabbily treated by Captain Eliot. + +"He led me to believe he meant to give me a chance to-day, and then he +let me warm the bench while Grant went out to win all the glory. It +wasn't a square deal. I'll show him he can't treat me that way! I'll +never pitch again as long as he is captain." + +This resolution, however, gave him anything but a feeling of +satisfaction; it was poor retaliation, indeed, for him, who loved the +game so dearly and had looked forward so confidently to this season +when he would be the star pitcher of the nine, to "get square" with +Eliot by refusing to play at all. It would have seemed somewhat better +had he felt certain that his withdrawal must seriously cripple the +nine, but, judging by recent events, it appeared that Oakdale could get +along very well without him--might, indeed, succeed fully as well as it +could with him on the team. + +Grant was to blame for it all. No, not Grant; he himself was to blame. +Had he not been such a blind fool he might have foreseen what would +happen, for had not Rodney Grant displayed beyond doubt since appearing +in Oakdale the natural qualifications of mind and body which would make +him a leader at anything he might undertake with unbridled vim and +enthusiasm? The fellow who had been so completely misjudged by almost +everyone during his early days at the academy, had demonstrated later +that he was a thoroughbred, with nerve, brains, courage and the will to +step into the front ranks wherever he might be. His one great fault, a +fiery and unreasoning temper, he was fighting hard to master, and in +this, as in other things, he had already shown that he was destined to +succeed. + +"I was a Jack!" growled Phil, walking the floor of his room and +savagely kicking an inoffensive chair out of his way. "I should have +known. If I had taken Hooker in hand and coached him, instead of +Grant---- But I never did like Roy very much, and somehow Rod Grant +got on my sus-soft side." + +His mother, hearing him prowling around, called up the stairs and was +somewhat surprised to find him home. + +At supper he tried to hide the disturbed state of his mind, but his +father, who seldom took any interest at all in such matters +unexpectedly attempted to joke him a bit. + +"Got beat to-day, I see," said Mr. Springer. "Did you up pretty bad, +didn't they?" + +"How did you get that idea?" asked Phil evasively. + +"Oh, I can tell by the way you act. You're broke up, though you're +making a bluff not to show it. Let's see, played Clearport, didn't ye? +I s'pose they give you an awful hammering? Oakdale'll have to get +another pitcher after this." + +"They didn't beat us; we won." + +"Whew! Is that a fact? Well, what's the matter with you, then? I +thought by your looks that you'd been done up brown. What went wrong +with the game, anyhow? Didn't you get good backing up?" + +"I didn't pitch." + +"So _that's_ it, eh? How did it happen? The way you've been blowing +around the house every time you could get anybody to listen, I thought +you were the whole thing in that particular department." + +Phil's cheeks burned and his hands shook nervously, although he fought +hard to appear unconcerned and indifferent. In replying the slight +impediment in his speech became more pronounced. + +"The gug-game only went fuf-five innings; it commenced to rur-rain +then, so they didn't finish it out. You see I--I cuc-can't do all the +pitching, and Eliot put in Grant for the first pup-part of this game." +He was intensely annoyed because of his unusual halting and stammering +over this explanation. + +"Humph! Rained, eh? That was odd; just began to rain here about half +an hour ago." + +"It began to pour at Clearport right in the middle of the game," +declared Phil. "I was just ready to relieve Grant, for he--he was sort +of--sort of sus-showing signs of weakening. Eliot had sus-started me +to warming up, but it--it began to rain, and that sus-settled it." + +His wounded pride, his wretched jealousy of Grant, had led him into the +telling of an untruth, and he left the table feeling very contemptible +indeed. Certainly it was not a malicious falsehood that was liable to +do any one particular harm, but it was a falsehood just the same, and +he was ashamed. + +His room was like a cage, and he found he could not read or study. +What were they saying about the game in town? What were they saying +about the pitching of Rodney Grant? Despite the rain, some of the +fellows would gather after supper at the postoffice or Stickney's store +to talk it over. This talk after a victorious game had ever held a +keen delight for Phil, and it was rarely that he missed being on hand +to take part in it. + +"I must get out!" he cried suddenly. "I'll just wander down street; +maybe I'll meet some fellow who won't be all done up in Grant." + +Putting on an old raincoat and securing an umbrella, he left the house +and started down the street. At the first corner he paused, for if he +continued straight down Main Street he would have to pass Roger Eliot's +home, and surely he had no desire by any chance to run upon Roger. A +drizzling rain was falling, and twilight was coming on. Turning, he +cut through Cedar Street and down Willow to avoid passing Urian Eliot's +fine house. + +On his way he passed a house no less pretentious than that of the +Eliots; it was the home of Lemuel Hayden, whose only son, Bernard, had +been compelled to leave Oakdale because of his jealous efforts and +lying and plotting to injure Ben Stone, whom he bitterly hated. The +boys of the town had talked that matter over many times, and it was +universally conceded that Bernard's unrestrained hatred of Stone and +plotting for the boy's injury had led him at last into a pit of his own +digging and brought upon him nothing more than just retribution. + +A strange and most unpleasant thought struck in upon Springer; in +almost every particular, save a deliberate underhand effort to injure +Grant, he was not a whit better than Bern Hayden, who now had not a +single boy friend left in Oakdale. + +That thought staggered Phil a bit. Why, in a vague way he had +contemplated seeking some surreptitious method of accomplishing the +overthrow of Grant! + +"Oh, I guess I'm rotten!" he growled. "But it's dirty luck that's made +me so!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +FELLOWS WHO MADE MISTAKES. + +Roy Hooker lived one block further down the street. The popping +explosions of an approaching motorcycle greeted Phil's ears as he +walked on, and up the street came a chap astride such a machine, the +lamp of which had not yet been lighted. The motorcycle swerved into +Hooker's yard and nearly ran Springer down. + +"Hey!" cried Phil, dodging. "What are you trying to do, Hooker?" + +But it was not Hooker who shut off the motor and tumbled off the +machine as it slackened speed. It was Herbert Rackliff, soaked, +mud-bespattered, limp and in a temper. + +"Why in the dickens don't you get out of a fellow's way?" snapped +Herbert, supporting the machine and glaring round at Phil. He bore +little resemblance to the usual dapper, immaculate, self-possessed +young fellow from the city whose tailored clothes and swagger manners +had aroused the envy and admiration of a number of country lads +thereabouts. + +"Oh, is it you?" said Springer. "I thought it was Hooker. What are +you doing out in this rain with his machine?" + +"Just getting back from Clearport," answered Herbert, with a sour +laugh. "If I owned this old mess of junk I'd pay somebody to take it +away. She stopped twice on me and skidded me into the ditch once. +Came mighty near leaving her there and hoofing it." + +In truth, Rackliff was a sight, and Springer restrained a laugh with +some difficulty as he observed: + +"It must have taken you a deuce of a while to get back on that thing, +for the game was over by three o'clock." + +"Half past three," corrected Herbert, turning to trundle the motorcycle +toward the carriage house, the door of which, seen through the +twilight, was standing open. + +"I caught the three-twelve train from Clearport," said Phil, +unconsciously starting to follow Rackliff. + +"Huh!" grunted the other. "Know you did, but you didn't wait to see +the finish. If you had----" + +By this time Springer was at the speaker's side and had seized his +mud-spattered, rain-soaked sleeve. + +"What are you talking about?" he cried. "Rain stopped the game right +after the fifth. Saw I had barely time to get into my togs and catch +that three-twelve, so I hustled." + +Rackliff started to laugh, but finished with a hollow cough. "Bet I've +caught a rotten cold," he gasped. "The game went for the full nine +innings. Didn't begin to rain until I was pretty near halfway home." + +Phil was struck dumb for the moment, and before he could recover +Hooker, having heard their voices, came running out to the carriage +house, calling to Rackliff. Springer followed the drenched and +complaining city youth into the shelter of the building, where Roy +recognized him and seemed to betray embarrassment. + +"Take your old machine," said Rackliff, "and I hope it may be my +everlasting finish if I ever ride another rod on it. Look at me! I'm +a complete wreck, and all because you were too blamed stingy to lend me +the price of carfare from Clearport. This suit is ruined, and I'm +soaked to the bone. You ought to use an axe on the thing next time it +gets out of order, Hooker." + +"And these are the thanks I get for furnishing some means of +transportation," said Roy resentfully. "Well, I don't know that I +should expect anything else." + +Herbert, producing his cigarette case, gave a little half-muttered sigh +of relief when he found that the contents of the case had escaped a +wetting. + +"Gimme a match, one of you fellows," he coughed. "I'm just crazy for a +smoke. This has been the rottenest day I've seen in a long time." + +Hooker, having seen that the motorcycle was placed on its rack, +supplied the match, and Rackliff fired up, the light seeming to shine +through his thin, cupped hands as he protected the blaze from the light +draught that came in through the open door. He looked tired, and the +first whiff or two set him coughing again. + +By this time Springer had recovered, and he ventured to ask: + +"What's this Rackliff tells me about the gug-game going nine innings? +It began to rain in the fifth and, wishing to get home as soon as I +could, I ducked when that was over. I didn't have an idea----" + +"It didn't rain any to speak of until long after the full game was +over," said Hooker. "You should have stayed, Phil; they wanted +you--bad--in the eighth. Eliot was simply tearing things up in his +frenzy to find you." + +"Why--why, what happened?" faltered Springer, a sickening feeling +stealing over him. "Tut-tell me what ha-happened, Roy." + +"The Porters got after Grant and bumped him to beat the band. Came +within one tally of tying the score. If you'd been there Eliot would +have shoved you in, and you'd had a chance to win all sorts of glory +saving the game." + +"Perhaps he would, and perhaps he wouldn't," muttered Phil. + +"Oh, it's a dead sure thing he would have done it." + +"How do you know?" + +"Didn't I tell you he tried to find you! Why, he even sent for me; he +was going to put me in." + +"You?" breathed Springer incredulously. + +"Yes, me; and I didn't have on a playing suit. If Grant hadn't managed +to steady down at the last moment, I'd gone onto the slab. What made +you skin out, Phil?" + +After a few moments of silence, Springer forced himself by a great +effort to speak: + +"I tut-told you I thought the game was o-over." + +"You might have waited for the rest of the bunch. If you'd done that +you'd known it wasn't over. The fellows are pretty sore on you, for +they say you deserted." + +Phil flushed and flared. "Let them be sore, I don't care! I'm the one +to be sore! I got a rotten deal to-day. I had every reason to suppose +I was going to pitch that game, but Roger Eliot ran Grant in. I want +him to understand he can't play that sort of fuf-funny business with +me; I won't sus-stand for it. I'm glad they hammered Grant! Did they +win?" + +"No; we pulled through by the skin of our teeth--seven to six. It was +an awful snug rub. I believe I could have stopped the Porters if I'd +got the chance; I'm dead sure you could. That's why I say you made a +big mistake by scooting." + +Herbert Rackliff, smoking, laughed sneeringly. + +"Don't blame Springer a bit," he said. "He did get a rotten deal, and +he has a right to resent it. What ails you, Hook; are you going to let +Eliot softsoap round you? He'll do it if you'll let him, for he's got +to have some sort of a scrub pitcher to fall back on for part of the +work. Of course, this wild and woolly Texan will be the star and get +all the glory, but somebody must do the dirty work. Hook, you're a +lobster. I didn't think you'd fall for taffy like that. You give me a +cramp." He coughed behind a thin hand as he finished, his flat chest +torn and his stooping shoulders shaken by the effort. + +"Now that will about do for you!" blazed Roy, turning on his erstwhile +chum. "I want you to know that, at least, I'm no traitor to my school +team, and, though you hinted for me to favor you to-day, I'd done my +level best to win for Oakdale if I'd ever got the chance." + +"You're a fool," returned Herbert coldly. "Springer is a fool, too. +He made a chump of himself when he taught Grant to pitch. In this +world the fellow who looks out for himself and lets others do the same +for themselves is the one who gets along. You can bank on that every +time. Think it over and see if I'm not right. Good night." With +which expression of selfish wisdom, he turned up his coat collar, +snapped aside his half-smoked cigarette and took his departure, leaving +Phil and Roy staring at each other in uncomfortable silence. + +After a time Springer succeeded in forcing a laugh. + +"That's just about what you told me a few days ago, Hook," he said, +"but I really didn't need anyone to point out that I had made a fool of +myself. Sorry I didn't wait to make sure rain was going to stop the +game to-day. What makes it worse, I told my folks a lie about that +game. I'll feel cheap enough when they fuf-find out the truth. Guess +I'll be going, too. So long, Hook." + +"Good night," said Roy. + +He stood at the open door and watched Phil's figure disappear into the +gloom of the rainy night that was coming on. + +"Told your folks a lie, did you?" he muttered after a time. "Well, +that wasn't half as bad as stealing from them, and I----" Without +finishing the sentence, he closed the door of the carriage house. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +A PERSISTENT RASCAL. + +Nearly always it is false pride that spurs on the naturally decent +fellow who realizes he has made a mistake and knows deep down in his +heart that the course he is pursuing is wrong. Thus it was with Phil +Springer. Time and again his conscience condemned him and his judgment +bade him come forth like a man and own up to his error, but his pride +would not let him yield. + +And so Phil found himself sulking at school, seeking to bear the +atmosphere of one who had been treated outrageously, and growing more +and more resentful and sullen as time passed and none of the fellows +came around to coddle and coax him. He had felt certain that he would +be approached by some of them, and repeatedly he had rehearsed the +speeches by which he would let them know exactly how he felt about it, +resolved carefully to avoid uttering a word which might convey the +impression that he regarded himself as a single whit at fault. + +But no one--not even Cooper or Tuttle--approached him, and he began to +believe that the time he had spent in constructing and committing those +speeches of mingled defense and accusation had been wasted. He had +once been deeply concerned in a plan by which Rodney Grant had been +practically ostracized by the academy boys, and now, to his deepening +rage, while Grant floated high on the wave of popularity, he found +himself ignored. + +Phil was naturally a sociable fellow, and a very little of such +treatment was sufficient to make him suffer keenly. Nevertheless he +sought to hide the fact beneath a haughty and disdainful air, which was +a course his disposition and temperament hardly qualified him to do. + +His sister, who had not attended the game at Clearport, was the first +of his family to learn that he had fibbed about that game, and this she +did not discover until the following Monday morning, when her chum, +Lela Barker, told her everything. + +"Oh, Phil," Sadie had said when she found a chance to speak with him +privately, "what made you tell father such a whopper about the game? +Why, it wasn't stopped by rain at all, and they say you ran away right +in the middle of it, and that Roger wanted you after that when they got +to hitting Rodney, and that you couldn't be found anywhere, and that +all the fellows are sore on you because you skipped out, and that----" + +"Oh, cut it!" interrupted Phil. "What do I cuc-care what they say! +Let them talk their heads off." + +"But, Phil," persisted the girl, "what made you do it? You don't want +to get everybody down on you, do you?" + +"They can get down on me or not, just as they pup-please!" he flung +back. "I know when I get a rotten deal, and Roger Eliot, or Rod Grant, +or anybody else can't wipe his feet on me more than once--that's all!" + +On Monday, when school was over for the day and the fellows hurried +over to the gym to dress for practice, Phil walked stiffly out of the +yard and turned his steps toward home. It is true that he longed and +almost hoped to hear some one of those fellows calling after him, but +not a soul seemed to observe which way he went, and resentful anger +blazed yet more fiercely in his soul. + +Thus it was upon Tuesday night, when he observed that Roy Hooker was +one of the fellows who hastened toward the gym, which was enough to +convince him that Roy had practically been taken onto the team to do a +portion of the pitching. + +When his sister again tried to talk with him about baseball that night +he cut her off in such a snappy, savage manner that she was really +frightened. + +The next night, however, he did not walk down the path to the gate in +view of the scholars, so that they might take notice that he declined +to accompany the baseball squad. Instead of that, he dodged back round +the corner of the academy, crossed the yard at the rear, and took the +footpath across the field to High Street. + +He was lonely and cast down and bitterly disappointed; for had he not +sounded the professed friendship of his chums of yesterday and found it +very shallow! Not one of them had shown the decency to give him a word +of cheer; they were willing that he, who but a short time ago they were +regarding as their star slabman, should slide back into shadows and +forgetfulness, while a practical stranger from a distant part of the +country filled his place. It was hard to believe of them, but he told +himself he was glad to find out just what they were. + +Had Grant himself shown a further inclination to friendly advances Phil +might have met him halfway, but the Texan had some pride of his own, +and he was not the kind to seek continued rebuffs. Had he known that +Springer was ready and yearning to yield, doubtless Rod would have lost +not a minute in again putting forth the hand of friendship; but, being +unaware of what was passing in Phil's heart, and feeling that already +he had tried to do the right thing, the boy from the Lone Star State +remained aloof with the others. + +Halfway across the field, as the path curved round some bushes, +Springer came upon Herbert Rackliff, sitting on a stone, manicuring his +nails with the file blade of a pearl-handled knife, a cigarette +clinging to his moistened lower lip. + +"Hello," said Herbert, with no intonation of surprise, as he looked up. +"How do you happen to be dodging across this way, Springer?" + +Phil was annoyed. He had never liked Rackliff. Still here was some +one to whom he could talk, and desire to "chin" was strong upon him. +He stopped. + +"This is a short cuc-cut for me," he explained. "What are you doing +here?" + +"Trimming my nails a bit. Have to do my own manicuring down in this +jumping-off place, and I never have time for it mornings; barely get to +the old academy soon enough to escape the tardy record--sometimes I +don't escape. Never knew you to come this way before, even if it is a +short cut. In a hurry?" + +"Ye-yes--no, not exactly; but this was as good a way as any." + +"You don't seem to be practicing with the great Oakdale nine," said +Herbert, bringing forth a fresh cigarette. "I'm surprised at that." + +"Are you? Well, you needn't be." + +In lighting the cigarette Rackliff was seized by a choking fit of +coughing, which led him to wipe his eyes with a dainty silk +handkerchief. + +"I knew I'd catch a beastly cold coming home through the rain the other +night on that old lemon of Hooker's," he said when he could get his +breath. "I hate a cough; it always seems to tear my lungs out. Next +thing I know I'll be throwing one of 'em up." + +"You don't look well." + +"I have felt better. Never mind, I'll get over it; but, oh! you bet +your life you'll never catch me on a motorcycle again. They are rotten +dirty things anyhow; simply cover you with dust when they don't paste +you with mud. Have a smoke?" + +"Don't care if I do," said Phil, accepting the proffered cigarette case +and selecting one. "I don't make a practice of using the things, but I +need something to cheer me up." + +Rackliff also supplied a match, and then motioned toward a near-by +stone, urging Phil to sit down and make himself comfortable. + +"You haven't looked hilariously cheerful of late," said the city youth. +"Sort of taken your downfall to heart, haven't you?" + +"My dud-downfall?" + +"Yes. Oh, you're down and out, all right, and you must realize it--you +do, too. Your proficient pupil, Mr. Rodney Grant, has tumbled you off +the pedestal and taken your place." + +"I wish you wouldn't tut-talk about him!" cried Phil. + +Herbert shrugged his narrow shoulders and smiled. + +"You don't like him any better than I do, that's plain. You thought +you liked him once, but you've found him out. He's a conceited pup. +Strange how everybody seems to fall for him, even Lela Barker. Now +she's just about the nicest little clipper around these parts, but +she's got country ideas, and she can't see the difference between a +gentleman and a common cowpuncher--which latter Grant is, and mighty +common, at that. Your sister is Lela's chum; I should think you might +get your sister to open Miss Barker's eyes to that fellow. Couldn't +you show him up somehow and fix it so your sister would put Lela wise +to him?" + +"If I could, I wouldn't take all that trouble," replied Phil, who had +seated himself and was puffing at the cigarette in a way that +threatened to demolish it in short order. "He isn't worth it." + +"Perhaps not, but I should think you'd want to get back at him after +the turn he's done you. I never saw anything dirtier--never. After +you coached him he simply wormed his way into Eliot's favor and crowded +you out as soon as he could. He's got everybody saying that he's a +better pitcher than you ever were or ever could be. You bet he doesn't +miss a chance to sneer about you behind your back; that's him. I'm +glad you've shown spirit enough to resent it, and not to go crawling +around after him or any of the rest of that bunch." + +"You'll never see me cuc-crawling after anybody!" cried Springer +fiercely; "and Grant better keep a decent tut-tongue in his head! He +needn't think because he happens to have an ugly temper and belongs to +a fighting family that everybody is afraid of him. I can stand a lot, +but there's a limit." + +Herbert turned his head away for a moment to conceal the gleam of +satisfaction that sprang into his eyes, coughing behind his hand. + +"You're made of different stuff from that soft slob Hooker," he said. +"I did think that Hook had some sand and spirit, but I've changed my +mind; he has just about as much backbone as a jellyfish. He can talk +and blow, but it's all wind. You're a fellow with genuine spirit and +pride; nobody wipes his feet on you." + +"Not if I know it," growled Phil, flattered by the words of the crafty +fellow. + +"Of course not; and that's the way to be. It's only the marks who let +themselves be used for footmats; Hooker's a mark. They'll use him, all +right. He'll do the dirty work they would have given you if you'd let +them, while Grant will get all the glory." + +Springer laughed. "Perhaps he won't get as much glory as he expects. +Clearport came near batting him out. Wait until he goes against +Wyndham next Saturday." + +"Now you're talking!" exclaimed Rackliff with enthusiasm. "There will +be something coming to him then. I fancy it may be possible that you +would enjoy seeing Wyndham beat Oakdale?" + +"Shu-surest thing you know," answered Phil, who had been cleverly led +into making such a confession. "I hope Wyndham eats them up alive!" + +"Your desire will be gratified. Wyndham will make monkeys of them." + +"You're confident." + +"Dead sure." + +"I don't just see how you can be." + +"I suppose you've heard how Wyndham actually buried Barville last +Saturday. The score was seventeen to three--something awful." + +"But Clearport came mum-mighty near beating Wyndham the week before." + +Herbert winked wisely. "Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't," he +said. + +"Oh, but they did! They batted Wyndham's new pitcher, Newbert, off the +slab." + +At this Rackliff laughed. "Tell it to the marines. I happen to know +Dade Newbert; we were chums. I own up I was surprised when I heard how +the Porters had biffed him. Wrote him asking about it. He'd been out +the night before the game--out with a hot bunch playing poker till +daylight. He didn't want to pitch anyhow, but the captain just shoved +him in; so when he got tired and Wyndham seemed to have a safe lead, he +just lobbed the ball over and let Clearport hit. Of course he was +taken out, and that gave him a chance to look on while Twitt Crowell +did the heavy work." + +"If that's right," said Phil, "Newbert can't be trusted. Why, he might +have thrown the game away." + +"Oh, he reckoned Crowell was good enough for the Porters, that's all. +The result proved his judgment correct." + +"Still a fellow who'll tut-take such chances is liable to do anything. +He cuc-can't have any real loyal interest in his team. If he took a +notion, he'd throw a game." + +"You must remember," reminded Rackliff, "that Newbert doesn't belong in +Wyndham, and it really doesn't make any great difference to him whether +that team wins or not. Of course, if he's pitching, ordinarily he'll +do as well as he can on his own account. And let me tell you, Spring, +old fel, he's a lulu; there's nothing down in this neck of the woods +that can pitch with him. I'm betting that he makes the Oakdale batters +look like monkeys." + +"You haven't had very good lul-luck betting, have you?" + +"Might have done better," admitted Herbert, shrugging. "I'll even it +all up next Saturday, though, if these pikers around here have sand +enough to give me another show." + +"Perhaps you will, and, then again, perhaps----" + +"I'll bet you five or ten, even money, that Wyndham wins." + +"Thought you went bub-broke last Saturday." + +"I'll have some more money by to-morrow." + +"Well, I don't want to bet. I hope Wyndham does win. It will make me +happy." + +"Then you'll be happy, all right, Bo." + +"Looks like the fight for the championship will be between Wyndham and +Oakdale. If Wyndham takes the first game from Oakdale, the chances for +this town will be mum-mighty slim." + +Herbert rose to his feet. + +"Oakdale hasn't one chance in a hundred to win next Saturday," he +declared in a manner which seemed to denote that he positively believed +what he was saying. "It's dead lucky for you, old man, that you're not +going to pitch. Your dear friend Grant is enjoying great popularity +just at present, but even the dummys will realize that he's a +fourth-rater after they see him pitch against Newbert. Dade knows what +I want him to do, and for old times sake he'll do his prettiest. And, +by the way, if you want to coin some easy money, just find a sucker who +is ready to back Oakdale for a little bet." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +SELF-RESTRAINT OR COWARDICE. + +Rackliff had succeeded in doubling Springer's hatred for Rodney Grant. +So the fellow Phil had befriended and taught to pitch was sneering +about him behind his back! And everybody was saying that Grant was +already a better pitcher than his instructor ever could hope to become! +Springer wondered how it was possible that, even for a moment, he had +ever taken a fancy to such a chap. + +"He'd better not say too much about me," Phil growled to himself. "I +know he is a fighter. I know he has a fearful temper. But he'll find +out I'm not afraid of him." + +That very night Lela Barker, coming to the post office to mail some +letters, was followed and annoyed by Rackliff when she started to +return home. Herbert persisted in forcing his unwelcome company upon +her until, catching sight of a familiar figure passing on the opposite +side of the street, she called for assistance. + +Rodney Grant came running across, giving Rackliff a look, cap in hand, +as he inquired the cause of the girl's alarm. + +"Oh, Rod," she said, "I do wish you would walk home with me. +This--this fellow has persisted in following me and forcing his company +upon me." + +"The onery, conceited, unmannerly cad!" exploded the Texan, evidently +itching to put hands on Herbert, who bluffed the situation through with +insolent effrontery, laughing as he lighted a cigarette. "What he +needs is a good thrashing, and, if he wasn't a sickly, insignificant +creature, it would give me a right good heap of satisfaction to hand +him one." + +"Bah!" said Herbert. "You're a big blowhard, that's all. It betrays +lamentably poor taste on Miss Barker's part to prefer the company of a +lout like you to that of a gentleman." + +It was lucky for Rackliff that Lela was there and her hand fell on the +arm of the boy from Texas, for otherwise Rodney might have forgotten +himself. Fearing his lack of self-restraint, the girl urged him away, +and they left Herbert leaning against a tree and still laughing, his +cigarette in the corner of his mouth. + +Half an hour later Grant, having returned, was talking baseball with +several fellows who had gathered in a group near Stickney's store, when +Rackliff sauntered up. + +"Just a word with you, Mr. Cowpuncher," said Herbert in a loud voice. +"You applied several objectionable adjectives to me a while ago, and +now I want to tell you just what I think about you. You're nothing but +a common, low-bred, swaggering bluffer, as the blind dubs around here +are due to find out. You think you're a baseball pitcher. Excuse me +while I laugh in my sleeve. You're the biggest case of egotistical +jackassism it has ever been my luck to encounter. Next Saturday, when +you get up against a real pitcher who can pitch, you'll look cheaper +than thirty cents." + +Grant surveyed the speaker with mingled amusement and disdain. + +"Have you got that dose of bile out of your system?" he asked. "If +it's all over, go lie down somewhere and forget yourself. That will be +a relief. Being ashamed all the time sure must get tiresome." + +Herbert lost his head at once. "You're a duffer and a bluffer!" he +shouted shrilly. "How any decent, refined girl can have anything to do +with you I can't imagine. It just shows that Lela Barker is----" + +He got no further, for, brushing one of the fellows aside, Grant caught +the speaker by the throat and stopped him. His face dark, the Texan +shook Rackliff until his teeth rattled. + +"Shoot your mouth off about me as much as you please, you miserable +sneak," he grated; "but don't you dare ring in the name of any decent +girl unless you are thirsting to get the worst walloping of your life!" + +Rod's eyes blazed and he was truly terrible. Once before the boys had +seen him look like that, and then they had realized for the first time +that it was the young Texan's uncontrollable temper that he feared and +which had made him, by persistent efforts to avoid personal encounters, +appear like a coward. There was not a cowardly drop of blood in +Grant's body, but experience and the record of his fighting father had +taught him to fear himself. + +Even now the fact that he let himself go sufficiently to lay hands on +Rackliff seemed to spur him on, and, still shaking the limp and +helpless fellow, he maintained his hold on the city youth's neck until +Herbert's eyes began to bulge and his face grew purple. + +Suddenly another lad pushed his way through the circle and seized Grant +by the shoulders: + +"Lul-let up on that!" he cried, his voice vibrant with excitement. +"What are you trying to do, choke the lul-life out of a fellow that you +know isn't any match for you? If you want to ch-choke somebody, let +him alone and take me." + +It was Phil Springer. His head jerked round toward his shoulder, +Rodney Grant looked into the eyes of his friend of a short time past, +and suddenly he released his hold on Rackliff, who, gasping and ready +to topple over, was supported by one of the other boys. + +"If you want to choke somebody, take me!" repeated Phil savagely. "You +ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +Grant took a long breath. "That's right, Springer," he admitted, "I +reckon I ought. I allow I clean forgot myself." + +Somehow this quiet admission, which was wholly unexpected, seemed to +enrage Phil still more. + +"I suppose you think everybub-body around here is afraid of you now +that they've found out your father was a genuine bad man," Springer +sneered. "Well, you'll discover there's one person who isn't afraid. +I'll fight you." + +To the amazement of all present, the boy from Texas shook his head, +something like a conciliatory smile appearing on his face. + +"You won't fight _me_, Phil," he retorted, "for I won't fight." + +Phil himself could not understand why this refusal simply added fuel to +the flame of his wrath. He felt himself a-quiver with the intensity of +his emotions, and, seeing Grant so calm and self-possessed, he was +obsessed by a yearning to strike him in the face. + +"Oh, so you won't fight, eh? Why not?" + +"We have been friends." + +"We have been, but aren't any more, and we never will be again; for +I've found out just what sort of a fellow you are. You think yourself +a better pitcher than I am or ever can be, do you? Oh, I've heard what +you've been blowing around here about me, and you needn't deny it. +You've had some luck in one or two games, but you're due to get your +bumps. If you've got any fuf-further talk to make about me, come and +make it before my face. It's a sneak who goes round shooting off his +mouth behind another fellow's back--and that's what you are, Rod Grant!" + +"Now there'll be something doing, sure!" breathed Chipper Cooper, +agitated by great expectations. + +Still, to the increasing wonderment of the boys, Grant held himself in +hand. + +"I couldn't take that off you, Phil," he said, a bit huskily, "if we +hadn't been friends and I didn't realize that you sure would never say +it in your right mind. I'm right sorry----" + +"Oh, yes," scoffed Phil derisively, "you're sus-sorry you can't work me +for a chump any more. You know what I think of you, and if you've got +any real sand you'll pick it up. All I ask is a square show, and I'll +give you the scrap of your life. You can't frighten me with your +savage looks, and I've got my bub-blinkers on you so you can't catch me +off my guard and hit me. That's the way you've won your reputation as +a fuf-fighter around these parts. You've never faced anybody in a +sus-square stand-up scrap, but you've grabbed and ch-choked fellows +like Bunk Lander and Herbert Rackliff when they weren't expecting it. +I know a little something about handling my dukes, and I'll bet I can +lick you in less than tut-ten minutes." + +"Perhaps you can," said Grant. + +"Gee whiz!" spluttered Chipper Cooper. "What do you know about that, +fellows?" + +It was true that Grant had never engaged in a real fist fight since +coming to Oakdale, but he had once stretched an enemy prone and stiff +with a single sudden blow, and since the brave part he had played in +rescuing Lela Barker from drowning Phil was the first to question his +courage. + +Herbert Rackliff, having recovered his breath and found sufficient +strength to stand without assistance, was looking on and listening in +the greatest satisfaction. "Soak him, Phil!" he whispered faintly. +"Go for him!" + +"Perhaps you're right," said Grant again, as Springer surveyed him with +marked contempt. "Anyhow, I certain am not going to fight you." + +Springer seemed genuinely disappointed. "I have a mind to punch you," +he declared. "Perhaps you'd brace up then and show a little manhood." + +Rod retreated a step, which added to the impression that he was afraid. + +"You'll be sorry some time, old chap," he said, "just as I would be if +I permitted you to lead me into a wretched fight. You don't +understand----" + +"Oh, yes I do; I understand everything. I've gug-got you sized up for +just what you are, a big case of bluff. I've cuc-called you, and your +show-down is mighty rotten. Bah! If the fellows around here want to +think you the whole shooting match after this, they're welcome to do +so. But in order to keep your reputation as a dangerous character +you'll have to do something besides jump on fellows like Rackliff and +Lander." + +Disdainfully he turned his back on Grant. + +"You chaps can sus-see just what sort of a creature your fine hero is," +he said. "Now hang around him as much as you like, and worship him. +You all make me sick!" + +He walked away, followed hastily by Rackliff. At the corner above the +square Herbert overtook Phil, who seemed surprised as he came up. + +"Oh, say," chuckled the city youth, "you did bore it into him fine! +And he didn't dare put a hand on you, either. That was queer, for, my +word! he's strong as Sandow. He handled me as easy as if I wasn't out +of knickerbockers." + +"Paugh!" said Phil. "Anybody could do that. You've sus-sucked +cigarettes until you haven't as much strength as a sick kitten." + +"Oh, I don't know about that," retorted Rackliff resentfully. "I guess +I'm about as strong as the average fellow; but I tell you he's a holy +terror--a perfect Hercules. I thought every minute he'd open on you. +I don't see why he didn't, for you rubbed it in to the limit." + +"He didn't dare, that's the reason why," declared Springer. "I've got +him sized up now; he's the kind that strikes when the other chap isn't +lul-looking." + +"I guess you're right. I called him a bluffer, too. It was first rate +of you to step in and take my part." + +"I didn't do it on your account." + +"No?" + +"Not at all. I was itching for an excuse to get at him, and you +provided one, that's all." + +Herbert was somewhat taken aback by this frank confession. + +"Well," he said slowly, "anyhow, you showed him up to that bunch of +lickspittles. They were surprised." + +"I fuf-fancy so. This whole town has got the notion that Rod Grant is +simply it. They thought he would fight at the drop of the hat." + +"What would you have done if he'd taken you up?" + +"Whipped him," answered Phil confidently. "I've taken boxing lessons. +What does he know about scientific fighting? I had made up my mum-mind +to take care that it was a regular fight by rounds, with seconds and a +referee to see fair play. I'd certainly fixed him that way, all right." + +Still, to his annoyance, Rackliff seemed doubtful. "Perhaps you would, +but if he'd ever got in one wallop----" + +"Oh, you make me tut-tired!" exclaimed Springer. + +"Well, even if you didn't butt in on my account, I'm much obliged, just +the same. You're all right, Spring, old fel, and if I can do you a +good turn I will. Perhaps I'll have the chance. Gee! I want a whiff. +Have a smoke?" + +"No," declined Phil. "I'm going home. Good night." + +He left Herbert there, lighting a cigarette and coughing hollowly. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +HOOKER BREAKS WITH RACKLIFF. + +Passing Hooker's home on his way down into the village Thursday +evening, Rackliff saw a light in the carriage house, which led him to +fancy he might find Roy there. In this he was not mistaken; Hooker was +puttering over his motorcycle by the light of a lantern. Hearing a +footstep on the gravel outside, he looked up and perceived the visitor +entering by the open door. + +"Hello," said Herbert. + +"Hello," grunted Hooker, without any effort at cordiality or welcome. + +"Tinkering with that old thing again, I see," coughed Rackliff. + +"Thanks to you, I am." + +"Thanks to me?" + +"Yes; it has been out of order ever since you used it last. Baseball +practice doesn't give me much time to work on it by daylight, and so +I'm trying to get her running now." + +"Take my advice and pay somebody to remove the thing. It's the biggest +old lemon I ever saw. All it's worth is its price as junk. Gee! I'm +feeling rotten." He sat down on a box, coughing again. + +Indeed Herbert did not look well, and there seemed to be something of +an alarming nature in the sound of his cough. His thin cheeks were +flushed and feverish. + +"You don't have to worry yourself about it," returned Roy warmly. +"It's mine, and I presume I can do anything I please with it." + +"Awful touchy to-night," muttered Rackliff. He lighted a cigarette, +but the first whiff threw him into a most distressing fit of coughing +and he flung it out through the open door. "Can't seem to get anything +out of a smoke," he complained. "Cigarettes don't taste good, and they +raise the merry dickens with this old cough of mine. I've got a +beastly headache, and I suppose I ought to be in bed, but I've got to +go down to the postoffice. Expect a letter from Newbert to-night." + +"So you're corresponding with him, are you?" said Roy, wiping his +greasy hands on some cotton waste. + +"Sure. Why not? We were chums, you know." + +"And of course you still think him the greatest pitcher that ever +happened?" + +"He's just about the greatest in his class; you'll find that out +Saturday. Watch how he shows Cowboy Grant up. Say, Springer rather +showed that fellow up, too, didn't he?" + +"How do you mean?" + +"You know; the way he made him pull his horns and take water." + +"Who says Phil Springer made Rod Grant take water?" + +"I do. I was there and saw it. Your Texan hasn't got any nerve. He's +the biggest case of fake to be found in seven States. He's strong, I'm +not denying that; but when he saw that Springer really meant business +he didn't dare do a thing." + +"I've heard the fellows talking about it," said Hooker, "but I don't +believe Grant was afraid of Phil Springer. A fellow who would take the +chances he did to save Lela Barker from drowning couldn't be frightened +by Springer." + +"I've heard about that, too, and, as near as I can make out, Grant took +those chances because he had to." + +"Had to? Why----" + +"He had to after he got caught by the current and carried over the dam +with the girl. There couldn't be any backing out then. I'll bet he +never would have jumped into the water at all if he'd stopped a moment +to consider the danger. According to the story I've heard, it was +really that big lout, Bunk Lander, who did the great act of heroism and +saved both Grant and the Barker girl; but of course Grant got most of +the credit. Anyway, I know that some fellows have lost a bit of their +confidence in the cowpuncher since Springer faced him down; they're due +to get the rest of it shaken out before the game ends Saturday." + +"I suppose you're mighty confident again that Oakdale will get beaten?" + +"It's a certainty this time, Hook. Let me give you a little tip. You +lost some money on that game with Barville, and this is the chance to +win it back. Bet on Wyndham Saturday and you'll even up your mistake +before." + +"My mistake! It wasn't my mistake; it was yours. Besides, you didn't +keep your word about making good any loss I might suffer. You put me +in a nasty hole, Rackliff." + +"I don't see why. To hear you talk, anybody might think you were +ruined instead of merely getting hit for less than a fiver. Never knew +a fellow to put up such a squeal over a little money." + +Hooker's cheeks were flushed and he faced Herbert, his undershot jaw +seeming to project still further than usual. + +"I lost more than that," he said. + +"What? You did? Why, you only gave me four dollars and----" + +"I lost something more than money." + +"You didn't tell me about it." + +"I haven't told anyone--but my mother. I had to tell her the other +day. When you wanted me to bet on that game I told you I didn't have +any money." + +"Yes." + +"But I knew where my mother had some money put away in a drawer--some +money she had been saving up a little at a time to buy the material for +a new dress. I went into that drawer and took that money. You were so +positive that I could not lose that I--well, I stole the money." + +"Dear me!" said Herbert, grinning and coughing behind his thin hand. +"What did the old girl say when she found it out?" + +"She never suspected me," said Roy. "She couldn't think I would do +such a thing. And I--I lied about it. When she discovered the money +was gone and became distressed over its loss, I lied." + +"You would have been a fool if you'd owned up." + +"I was a fool to touch a cent of that money, in the first place. I was +a fool to listen to your blarney, Rackliff. Just because I was idiot +enough to believe in you, I made myself a thief and a liar. Oh, I've +been punished for it, all right. Never knew I had a conscience that +could make me squirm so much. Some nights I slept mighty mean." + +"Paugh! You make me laugh. It wasn't anything to take a few paltry +dollars like that. You're mother'll never know." + +"She knows now." + +"What?" + +"I told her." + +"You did?" + +"Sure." + +"Well, you are a big chump! What made you do that?" + +"I had to. You can't understand how rotten I felt when I saw her +crying over the loss of that money. I was ashamed and sick--oh, sick +as a dog! I made up my mind I'd pay it back, every cent." + +"And so you can if you'll just get hold of another fiver and bet it on +Wyndham." + +"I've paid it back already, all but fifty cents. Why do you think I +stayed out of school to work at any old job I could get? I'm not +particularly stuck on work, but I couldn't go on feeling that I was a +thief--that I had stolen from my own mother. That's what you brought +me to, Rackliff." + +Herbert sneered. "That's right, blame it all on me and let yourself +out entirely. Now let me tell you something, my bucko: it was your +over-weening conceit, your jealousy of Springer and Grant, your itching +desire to see them get their bumps, that led you, as much as anything +else, to bet against Oakdale in that first game. You were sore on +Eliot, too, because he didn't put you in to pitch--and you couldn't +pitch a little bit. When I bet against Oakdale, I did so on judgment; +you did so because of prejudice and spite. Now, don't put on any +virtuous frills with me, for I'm not feeling good to-day, and you make +me tired." + +The insolence of the fellow infuriated Hooker, who, nevertheless, knew +there was no little truth in what he had been told. Restraining +himself with an effort, Roy attempted to retort sarcastically. + +"So you bet on _judgment_, did you? Well, you must confess your +judgment was mighty poor. And, to make the thing safe, you made +arrangements to betray Oakdale's pitching signals to Barville. _I_ +didn't know anything about that--until after the game. If I had known +in advance----" + +"Now what would you have done?" asked Herbert, snapping his fingers. +"If you had found out about that after your money was wagered on +Barville, I presume you would have warned your dear friend Eliot and +sacrificed everything! I've noticed that you have kept mighty still +about it since you did find out." + +"Yes, I've kept still, because you failed in your crooked scheme, and +because--well, because I wasn't anxious to have it known that I bet the +way I did, and I knew you'd retaliate by peaching on me if I breathed a +word concerning you." + +Herbert laughed and coughed at the same time. "Just so. Wise boy. I +certainly should have done just that. Let me tell you now that things +will be fixed doubly solid for the game next Saturday, and----" + +"Look here," cried Roy, facing the visitor threateningly, "if you +attempt to repeat that trick in Wyndham I'll expose you sure as +shooting. I mean it. You can't frighten me. You can tell that I bet +against my own team if you want to, but----" + +"I presume you're perfectly willing that I should tell how you came by +the money? Oh, I guess you'd keep still even if I tried the same trick +over again." + +"I wouldn't. Try it and see! I've paid the money back, and you can't +keep me still that way. I'm pitching on the team now, and I want to +see it win." + +"Too bad you're going to be so keenly disappointed. You won't do any +pitching against Wyndham, that's a cinch. Eliot has been forced to +take you up as a makeshift since losing Springer, but you'll be used +only in the minor games. Grant will do all the heavy work in the big +games, and get all the glory. The first time I heard you talk, Hook, I +thought you had some real spirit; but I've found out that you're just a +common weak-kneed, aspiring sycophant, ready to feed on crumbs and lick +the hand that flings them to you." + +"I've heard about enough from you!" snarled Hooker. "I think you'd +better get. I don't want to put my hands on you, but I shall if you +stay any longer and shoot off your face. I think you and I will call +it quits, Rackliff; I want no further dealings with you. And let me +tell you before you go that if I find out you're up to any of your +tricks Saturday I'll put the fellows wise. You can't frighten me into +keeping still." + +Herbert rose and walked to the door. "You poor, fawning dub!" he said. +"You'll be blacking Eliot's boots next. I'm glad to be done with you. +But don't forget what I said, it's fixed so Wyndham's dead sure to win +Saturday. I'm going to bet every cent I can raise on it." + +"Well, I'm glad I'm done with him!" muttered Roy, closing the door as +Herbert went coughing down the gravel drive. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +ONCE MORE. + +Rackliff turned through Lake Street toward the square in the center of +the village, muttering to himself about Hooker, whom he now thoroughly +despised as a "soft thing" and a "quitter." As he approached the Town +Hall a low whistle like a signal reached his ears, and he saw a dark +figure standing in the shadows near one corner of the building. + +"It must be Springer," said Herbert. "Now we'll find out if he has any +sand or is a quitter, too." + +It was Springer, who spoke in a low tone as Herbert turned and drew +near. "I thought it just as well for us not to meet where we would be +seen," said Phil, "so I watched for you here, being pretty sure you'd +come this way. There's a bub-bunch of the fellows down at Stickney's." + +"Good!" returned Herbert. "I hope they've got their mazuma with them, +for I've got my cash at last, and I'm on the warpath. It'll be just +like finding money for me if they'll only give me a chance at them." + +"You're just as confident as ever that Wyndham will win?" + +"My boy, I tell you it's a cold cinch; it's fixed so that Wyndham can't +lose." + +"What do you mean by 'fixed'?" + +Rackliff hesitated; recalling his late interview with Hooker, he +decided that it would be unwise to tell Springer too much. + +"Never you mind what I mean, old sport," he returned. "Leave it to me. +I wasn't born yesterday. What these Joshuas around here have won off +me already will serve nicely as bait. I'm bound to get them this time, +and, as we're friends, I'm letting you in on the deal. After the +rotten way you've been treated, it should make you feel well to get the +chance. I'll place your loose coin on Wyndham, and not a soul need +know about it until you're ready for him to know. Perhaps by and by, +when this old baseball team is all to the punk, you'll feel like coming +out openly and informing them that you've added to your bank account by +betting against them; but, if you don't happen to feel that way, you +can keep still and enjoy the fruits of your cleverness--which should be +some satisfaction for the raw deal that's been handed out to you." + +The fellow's words and manner were suave and seductive, and, if Phil +had wavered, he now put his hesitation aside. + +"Oh, I'm ready to take a ch-chance," he declared. "I want to see them +done up, and I'm not at all averse to winning some money through their +defeat. Wyndham has always had rather the better team at baseball or +football, and I see no reason to believe she won't have this year." + +"And every reason for believing she will have, considering the fact +that a dandy like Dade Newbert is going to pitch for her. Wait till +you see him in action; it will open your eyes. How much money have you +got?" + +Springer moved until the light of the street lamp in front of the +postoffice over the way shone upon him, plunging his hand into his +pocket and bringing up a lot of silver. + +"Here's five dollars in ten-cent pieces," he said; "and I've got two +dollars besides." + +"Seven plunks, all told. But say, I hope you didn't get this chicken +feed the way Hooker got his that he let me have to bet on the Barville +game." + +"Eh? How did he get it?" + +"Stole it; swiped it off his own mother. What do you know about that, +Bo?" + +"Stole it!" cried Phil. "Well, you nun-needn't think I got mine that +way! I'm no thief!" + +"I should hope not. I'm not eager to chum with a fellow of that sort, +and I've cut Hooker out; told him what I thought of him and quit him +for good. He's too cheap for me." Herbert coughed behind his hand, +his air one of great virtue and uprightness. + +"These dimes came from my ten-cent bank," explained Springer. "I've +been saving them one at a tut-time as I could spare them, and I had it +pretty near full. When I mum-made up my mind to bet--or let you bet +for me--I got enough to fill the bank and break it open; and that's why +there are so many of them. Here they are; you can count them if you +want to. And here's two dollars more." + +Rackliff accepted the money and pocketed it "Don't suppose you want a +receipt?" he asked, laughing. + +"Nun-no," faltered Phil, suddenly realizing that Herbert could deny the +whole transaction if he saw fit to do so, and that there would be no +way of proving it had ever taken place. In spite of the fact that +circumstances and mutual sympathies had led him into taking up with the +city boy, he did not feel that a fellow of Herbert's stamp was wholly +to be trusted. + +"Nun-no," mocked Rackliff with an intonation of resentment. "I swear +that was weak! I believe you are shaky. If so you'd better take your +money back--quick." + +"No, no," objected Springer. "It's all right. It was ju-just my +rotten stammering, that's all. I wish I could break myself of it." + +But suddenly Herbert grew very dignified. "We'll do this thing in a +business-like way," he declared. "You don't know much about me, and a +really square chap never gets haughty when he's asked to give some +proof of his squareness. Just come over under the lamp." + +Protesting, Phil followed; and the city boy, heedless of those +protests, brought forth a pocket-notebook and pencil, scribbled an +acknowledgement of the money on a leaf of the book, dashed his name at +the bottom, tore the leaf out and handed it over. + +"I insist," he said. "Now everything's all right. This is a wicked +world, and every fellow who's dead wise has a right to take +precautions. You say there's a bunch down by Stickney's, eh? Well, I +think I'll meander down that way and see if I can't prod them into +making a few wagers. Good night, old fel; sleep tight and don't worry +about the chink you've let me handle. It will be an investment that'll +pay a hundred per cent. in double-quick time." + +It was a delightfully warm spring night, and there on the platform of +Stickney's store, where the softened light from within shone upon them +through a huge window, the boys had gathered. They were chatting, +jesting, chaffing one another, and occasionally playing pranks, which +once or twice started a squabble. As Rackliff sauntered up Chub Tuttle +was complaining that nearly a pint of peanuts had been stolen from his +pocket. + +"Why don't you put Sleuth onter the case?" laughingly drawled Sile +Crane. "He'll ketch the thief, for he's sartainly got Sherlock Holmes +beat to a frazzle." + +"My deduction is," said Piper, loudly shuffling his feet to drown the +noise as he stealthily cracked a peanut, "that there are scoundrels in +our very midst who would feel no compunction in swiping plugged money +from a contribution box. Doubtless," he continued, deftly snapping the +shelled kernels into his mouth, "the hands of those scoundrels are even +now at work." + +"Sleuthy's right," said Chipper Cooper, swiftly stowing away a handful +of the peanuts which he had skillfully removed from Piper's coat pocket +while the latter was speaking; "there are villyuns among us. Anyhow, +there's liable to be one in a minute, unless we move." Apparently this +concluding remark was caused by the appearance of Rackliff, who came +strolling into the light of the window and paused. + +Herbert looked them over. "Several prominent members of the great +Oakdale baseball team, I observe," he said. "Been talking of the +coming game, I presume." + +[Illustration: "Several prominent members of the great Oakdale baseball +team, I observe," said Rackliff.] + +"You're presuming, as usual," returned Cooper. + +"That remark is very stale; I think I've heard you use it before. Your +efforts at wit are painful. I suppose you're pretty confident, after +beating both Barville and Clearport? Now I'm confident myself; I have +confidence----" + +"You look like a confidence man," interrupted Chipper. + +"I have confidence," pursued Herbert, trying to ignore the little chap, +"that Wyndham will win; and I'm ready to back my conviction with real +money." + +"Dinged if I didn't think yeou'd got abaout enough of it bating against +Oakdale!" exclaimed Crane. + +"Wonder where he gets so much money?" said Fred Sage. + +"He's bluffing," was the opinion of Jack Nelson. "He's dead broke, but +he wants to make believe that he's a dead game sport, and so----" + +"If you think I'm dead broke," said Herbert, "and you can raise five or +ten bones to wager on Oakdale, just produce the currency and watch me +cover it. I have about twenty-five dollars I'd like to put up on +Wyndham." + +"Twenty-five dollars!" spluttered Tuttle. "That's some wealth for one +fellow to be packing around." + +"Go on," advised Crane, waving his long arm at Herbert; "don't bother +us. We're tired takin' your spondulicks away from ye; it's too easy." + +"You're quitters," declared Herbert with a cutting sneer. "There isn't +one of you who has a real drop of sporting blood in his veins, that's +what's the matter. You've won my money, and now, being pikers and +quitters, you don't propose to give me a chance to win it back. You +know Wyndham's going to put it all over you Saturday, and you're +shivering in your shoes. I don't blame you for being frightened, as +you haven't one chance in a hundred to take that game. It wouldn't +surprise me if you were beaten about twenty or thirty to nothing; I +sincerely hope it won't be worse than that." + +Crane rose to his feet in the midst of this speech, which was far more +provoking and insulting than cold type can convey. + +"Looker here, yeou," cried Sile; "I've got some money I won batin' with +you, and, by thut-ter! you'll find I ain't afraid to give ye all the +chance you want on that Wyndham game. If you've really got twenty-five +dollars, mebbe we can raise a pool, same as we done before, and cover +the whole of it. I'll put in my share anyhaow. Who's the next feller?" + +"I am!" + +"Count me in!" + +"I'm another!" + +"Same here!" + +"Me, too!" + +It seemed that they were all eager to contribute to the pool, and +Herbert, smiling with self-complaisant satisfaction, felt that he had +cleverly accomplished his purpose. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +THE WYNDHAM PITCHER. + +Shortly before nine o'clock on Saturday morning a touring car, +containing three youths, not one of whom was over eighteen years of +age, whirled up before the door of Mrs. Conway's boarding house in +Oakdale and stopped. + +The occupants of the car did not belong in Oakdale; they came from +Wyndham, and the machine was the property of the father of the oldest +one, who was at the wheel. This was Orville Foxhall, second baseman of +the Wyndham nine. At Foxhall's side sat a husky, raw-boned, long-armed +chap, Dade Newbert, the pitcher on which Wyndham placed great +dependence. The chap in the tonneau was Joe Snead, too fat and +indolent to take part in any game of an athletic nature. + +"This is the house, Dade," said Foxhall; "this is where your friend +boards, all right." + +"Humph!" grinned Newbert. "It doesn't look swell enough to suit Herb's +style. He's the real warm article, as you'll realize when you see him. +When it comes to cutting a dash--well, Rack can cut it, you bet. I'll +see if he's around." + +Springing out, Newbert strode to the door and rang. After a time, as +he was growing impatient and had prepared to ring again, the door +opened a foot or so, and a tall, thin, hopeless-looking woman surveyed +him inquiringly. + +Newbert asked for Rackliff. + +"Yes, he boards here," answered the woman in a mechanical tone of +voice; "but he isn't up yet." + +"Ho, ho!" laughed Newbert. "Isn't up? Well, that's like him; won't +pull himself away from the mattress until he has to. He's a luxurious +brat." + +"I'm afraid Mr. Rackliff may not be feeling very well this morning," +said the woman. "He has a very bad cold and coughs terribly. I told +him last night that he should consult a doctor, and I heard him +coughing the greater part of the night." + +"Well, well! Sorry to hear it. I'm an old friend of his, and I've +come over by appointment to take him back to Wyndham with me. You tell +him that----" + +A harsh cough came echoing down the stairs and a voice called: + +"That you, Dade? Come right up. It's all right, Mrs. Conway; let him +come, please." + +Herbert, in silk pajamas, was standing at the head of the stairs, +looking ill indeed. He put out a limp hand, which Newbert grasped, +crying: + +"By Jove! you are sick. Now, that's tough." + +"Come into my room," invited Herbert, leading the way. "It's a pretty +bum joint, but it's the best in the house--the best I could find in +this wretched hole of a town. I'm mighty glad to see you, old pal, +though I may not appear to be. Oh, blazes! but I have got a headache!" + +"What have you been doing?" asked the visitor, as Herbert keeled over, +with a groan, on the bed. "Been hitting the pace? Been attending too +many hot suppers? Oh, but you're sure to sport wherever you go!" + +"Hitting the pace around this graveyard!" mumbled Herbert dismally. +"What are you talking about, old fel? Why, everybody dies here nights +at nine o'clock; there's not a thing doing after that. It's the most +forsaken, dismal place imaginable after that hour. I'm dying of dry +rot, that's what's the matter." He finished with a cough that seemed +to wrack him from head to feet. + +"You're sick," said Newbert, with a show of sympathy. "You've got a +cold, and it has settled on your lungs. You're none too strong, Herb, +and you'd better look out. I guess you won't be able to take in the +game to-day." + +"Yes, I will!" cried Rackliff suddenly. "I wouldn't miss it for a +fortune. Oh, I've got money bet on that game, Dade." + +"Well, Orv Foxhall is outside with old man Foxhall's bubble. Great +car, that. And you should see Orv drive her. Oh, he does cut it out +some! He had 'em staring when he ripped up through the center of this +old town. We nearly ran a team down back on the road; was going better +than fifty when we came round a curve and grazed the old jay's +wheel-hubs. I'll bet that Reuben's hair stood on its hind legs. Ho! +ho! ho!" + +Herbert sat up. "It won't take me long to dress," he said. "I'll go +back to Wyndham with you." + +"You haven't had any breakfast." + +"Don't want any. Haven't had an appetite for three days. I caught +this rotten cold riding a motorcycle back here from Clearport after the +game last Saturday. I wouldn't mind if this cough didn't tear me so." + +"It's tough," said Newbert. "Can I help you? Going to take a dip?" + +"Boo! No, I won't bathe this morning; haven't got the nerve for a cold +plunge, and a warm one might fix me so I'd catch more cold. Just you +make yourself comfortable as you can while I'm getting into my duds." + +Three times while dressing Herbert was compelled to sit down to rest, +and Newbert declared that his friend seemed to be pretty nearly "all +in." + +"I certainly am," agreed Rackliff; "I'm up against it. Never was +knocked out like this before. Why, I can't even smoke a cigarette, it +makes me bark so. You can imagine how tough that is on me. Sometimes +I'm half crazy for a smoke--I'm shaking all over; but when I try it I +just have to quit by the time I've taken three whiffs." + +"You've smoked too many of those things, that's what's the matter. +Used to hit 'em up myself; thought it real devilish. Never took any +real satisfaction in it, though." + +"That was because you didn't inhale; they're no good unless you do." + +"They're no good if you do; give me a cigar every time." + +"You got my last letter all right?" asked Herbert, selecting a necktie +from his abundant supply. + +"Oh, sure. I've put all the bunch wise, too. They're wondering how I +got hold of the information, but I didn't give you away, old pal. I +reckon mebbe Foxy and Snead suspect now, but they won't say anything." + +"You've got to win," said Herbert, carefully knotting his tie at the +mirror. "My old man is kicking over being touched up for cash so +often; says he can't see how I spend so much in this quiet place. I've +bet every sou of the last amount he sent me on your old baseball team, +and if you don't take this game----" + +"We will, don't worry about that. We could have done so anyhow, but of +course you've helped make it a dead-cold certainty. If you've got any +friends here who----" + +"Friends!" sneered Rackliff; "friends among these country yokels! +Don't make me laugh, for it might start me coughing again." + +"But you said you let a chap in on the Barville deal. He----" + +"He wasn't a friend of mine," said Herbert scornfully; "he was only a +chap I wanted to use. I've let another dub into this deal, but I +didn't do so simply to befriend him--not on your natural. Perhaps +you've heard of him--Phil Springer. He expected to be the star slab +artist on the great Oakdale nine this season, but he unwisely coached +another fellow to assist him as second-string pitcher, and now the +other man has pushed him into second place--and he has quit, dead sore. +He's an egotistical yap, and it simply killed him to death to have his +pupil step right over his head." + +"What's your idea in boosting him by putting him next to a winning +proposition?" + +"Perhaps I can use him, too. At any rate, he can pitch some, and by +keeping him raw and working him the way I am, I'm weakening the +pitching staff. See?" + +"Oh, yes," muttered Newbert. "I swear you're a clever schemer, Herb." + +"Thanks. You see, I induced this man Springer to let me have seven +bones to bet against Oakdale, and now, no matter how much they may +happen to need him, as long as he has his money at stake, they can't +coax him into the game to-day. They may try to do that if you fellows +get to batting Grant good and plenty. Oh, I've taken pains to +forestall in every direction, for I've simply got to make a killing on +this go. How's the weather?" + +"Fine, but you'll need to wear an overcoat in the auto. I didn't take +one, but it's rather cool whistling through the air at the rate Foxy +drives. Besides, you've got to look out for that cold. Better wear a +cloth overcoat now than a wooden one by and by." + +"Don't talk that way," shivered Herbert. "I'm not anxious to shuffle +off." + +He brought his overcoat from the wardrobe, and Newbert helped him into +it, after which they descended the stairs together. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +THE PLUNGE FROM THE BRIDGE. + +Herbert was introduced to Foxhall and Snead. The former, with goggles +pushed up on his forehead, pulled off his gauntlet glove to shake +hands, saying he was mighty glad to meet Dade Newbert's chum, of whom +he'd heard so much from Newbert's lips. + +"Yes," gurgled Snead, as he also shook hands; "according to Dade, +you're a warm old scout. Get right in here with me, and hang on when +Foxy turns on the juice, for there'll be something doing. I imagine +we'll touch only a few of the very elevated spots on our way back, +judging by the way he cut it out coming over. If you're nervous----" + +"Don't worry about me," said Rackliff, as he settled himself beside the +fat fellow. "I'm simply dying for something to stir up my blood and +set it circulating." + +Foxhall adjusted his goggles, switched on the current, and pressed a +button that started the engine. + +"Ho! ho! We're off!" cried Newbert. "Just watch 'em rubber when we +zip down through town. There's a bump this side of the bridge; hang on +when we strike it, Herb." + +Foxhall turned the car, yanking it round in a see-saw that was hard on +transmission and brakes and tires, and started with a jerk that gave a +snap to the necks of his three companions, cutting out the muffler as +he shifted swiftly through the gears into direct drive. When the main +street was reached the reckless youth scarcely slowed down at all to +take the turn, and the car came near skidding into the gutter. + +"Isn't he the careless creature!" laughed Snead. "He always drives +this way, and he's never had an accident." + +Past Roger Eliot's home and the white Methodist church they whizzed, +the automobile gathering speed on the down grade and obtaining enough +momentum to carry it a considerable distance even though the power +should be cut off and the brakes applied sufficiently hard to lock the +rear wheels. With the discordant electric horn snarling a demand for a +clear road, the foolish young driver tore up the dust through the very +heart of the village, regardless of his own safety and absolutely +ignoring the safety or rights of others. The postoffice spun by on the +left; the machine shot across the small square; down the steepest grade +of the hill it flew toward the bridge. + +Despite the fact that he pretended to be as serene and unconcerned as +his companions, who, perhaps, did not realize the danger, Herbert +Rackliff was not fully at his ease; for he knew that such driving +through a place where there were intersecting streets with blind +corners was folly indeed. + +As the bridge was approached the road swung to the left. At the very +end of the bridge an old building cut off the view of the greater part +of the structure from any one approaching from the main portion of the +village. + +The "bump" of which Newbert had given warning was struck with +sufficient force to send the boys bouncing from their seats, and the +shock seemed to disturb Foxhall's hold on the steering wheel, for the +car swerved unpleasantly. The young driver brought it back with a +yank, and then---- + +"Look out!" screamed Herbert, jumping up in the tonneau. + +A woman of middle age, seated in a rickety old wagon, with a child on +either side of her, was driving a young and half-broken horse into +Oakdale. The young horse snorted, attempted to turn round, and then +began to back up, cramping the wagon across the bridge. The woman +struggled vainly with the reins, in a perfect panic of terror, and the +children screamed, clinging to her. + +Foxhall knew he could not stop the car, and to his credit let it be +said that he did his best to avoid striking and smashing the wagon--and +succeeded. Success, however, was costly; for, in attempting to turn +aside and shoot past, the wheel was pulled too sharply, and the machine +struck the wooden railing of the bridge, through which it cut as if the +railing had been built of cardboard. + +Dade Newbert was the only one who managed to leap from the machine ere +it crashed through that railing and shot off in a clean leap for the +water below. Unimpeded by any barrier, Newbert jumped, struck the +ground, plunged forward, and went sliding at full length almost beneath +the wheels of the old wagon. Rackliff tried to jump, but he was on the +wrong side, and the tonneau door bothered him; however, as the machine +fell, with Snead sitting paralyzed in his place and Foxhall clinging to +the wheel, Herbert succeeded in flinging himself out over the side. + +Surprising to relate, Dade Newbert was not seriously hurt, and, still +retaining a certain presence of mind, he scrambled back from the wagon +wheels and sat up on the bridge, covered with dirt, a rather woe-begone +spectacle. He was still sitting thus when the horse, having turned +about at last without upsetting the wagon, went galloping away across +the bridge; and he continued to sit there until some boys came running +down from the village, shouting as they ran, and asked him if he was +hurt. + +Then Dade scrambled up. "Oh, mercy!" he gasped. "Don't mind me. I'm +all right. The other fellers--they'll be drowned!" + +He ran to the side of the bridge and looked over. Foxhall was swimming +toward the nearest bank, with Snead puffing and blowing behind him; but +Rackliff, who had struck on his stomach sufficiently hard to have the +breath knocked out of him, was being carried away by the current, +struggling feebly. + +With the idea of leaping in to help Herbert, Newbert pulled off his +coat; but before he could make the plunge some one flung him aside with +the sweep of a muscular arm and went shooting headlong like an arrow +toward the surface of the river. + +People were running toward the bridge from various directions. Some of +the boys started down to help the swimmers out when they should reach +the shore; but no one else ventured to plunge into the river. + +The one who had made that unhesitating plunge was Rodney Grant. +Springer, who had reached the spot a moment ahead of Rod, saw Grant as +he shot downward with hands outstretched and palms pressed together. + +"Wh-why didn't I do it?" muttered Phil. "I didn't th-think quick +enough." + +He saw Grant's head appear above the surface and beheld the Texan +striking out toward Rackliff with strong strokes that sent him forging +through the water. The gathering crowd on the bridge began to cheer +the rescuer. + +"Of course!" whispered Phil savagely. "It's another feather in his +cap! He'll help the chap out of the drink, and everybody in town will +say it was a nervy and daring piece of heroism. Oh, I'm slow! I lost +my chance!" + +At that moment his bitterness toward Grant was so intense that he felt +he could unhesitatingly go to any extreme to injure him. His lips +curled back from his teeth in a semblance of a snarl; he watched the +Texan reach the spot where Rackliff's head had an instant before +disappeared from view, saw him likewise plunge beneath the surface, and +beheld him rise, farther down the stream, with the still weakly +struggling fellow secured by a grip upon his coat collar at the back of +the neck. Deftly the rescuer swung Herbert round, face upward, upon +his back, and, holding him thus, with mouth and nose above the water, +began swimming toward the nearest shore. + +The rapidly increasing crowd of spectators on the bridge cheered still +more vociferously. + +"It's getting to be a regular sus-stunt of his, this rescuing people +from drowning," muttered Springer. "Hear them yell! Bah! What fools +people are! Why didn't I think quick enough to get ahead of him!" + +A short distance below the bridge Foxhall was wading out of the water, +disdaining assistance. Snead, however, did not spurn the hands +extended to him when he came floundering and gurgling toward dry ground. + +A dozen persons were running down toward the point for which Rodney +Grant was heading, all eager to take some part in the exciting rescue. +Of the boys who had rushed to the scene, Springer was the only one who +remained on the bridge. He waited until he beheld Grant stand on his +feet in shallow water and wade toward the bank, bearing Rackliff in his +arms. + +"I don't propose to hang around and see them slobber over him," he +whispered hoarsely; "so I think I'll beat it, get a move on, dig." + +As he turned away his eyes fell on a folded sheet of paper lying at his +feet, and within three feet of the paper he discovered a pocket +notebook. He picked up the paper and the notebook. + +"Some one of that bunch dropped these," he decided. "Oh, but they were +lucky to come out of this scrape alive! I think this will cuc-cure +that idiot Foxhall of doing fancy stunts with his old man's gas cart." + +Mechanically he unfolded the paper. There was writing upon it, and +Phil was suddenly chained in his tracks as his senses took in the +meaning of those several short sentences, each of which was written on +a separate line: + + +"Bat held in right hand means hit and run. + +"In left hand, try the steal. + +"In both hands, perpendicular, play safe. + +"In both hands, horizontal, will sacrifice. + +"In right hand, handle down, squeeze play." + + +This was as far as Phil read, but the list covered the entire page, +being condensed, with the lines very close together, at the bottom, +evidently in order to get everything on that side of the sheet. +Springer's eyes threatened to pop out of his head and his under jaw +sagged. + +"Great snakes!" he gasped. "These are our playing signals!" + +For a short time he stood there dazed, unconscious of the excitement +near at hand, deaf to the cheering of the crowd. He had thought at +first that the paper, like the notebook, must be the property of one of +those boys who had occupied the automobile, but, with the discovery of +what was written on that paper, he slowly arrived at the conclusion +that his original conviction was erroneous. The writing looked +familiar, too, although at that time he could not seem to recall the +person whose chirography it resembled. + +"The notebook," he finally decided; "that may tell who it belongs to, +for doubtless the same chap dropped both." + +On the fly leaf of the notebook he found the name of Dade Newbert. He +had refolded the paper, and was still staring at the name written in +the notebook when Newbert himself, greatly excited, rushed toward him, +crying: + +"I say, that's mine! Dropped it out of my coat pocket when I pulled +the coat off. Give it to me." + +He was still carrying his coat in his hand. + +"Then you're Nun-Newbert, are you?" questioned Springer, who until this +day had never set eyes on the chap. + +"Yes, yes. Gimme that! The paper, too. Have you----" + +"Just picked them up," said Springer coolly, as he surrendered the +folded paper. "Lul-looked in the book to see who it belonged to, +that's all." + +Newbert seemed to take a breath of relief. "I didn't know but you had +been---- Oh, fudge! I dropped them only a minute ago. Say, we've +kicked up a rumpus around here, haven't we? That fellow who pulled +Rack out of the drink saved me from getting a soaking, as I was just +going overboard after Herb. Rack thought he wouldn't take a bath this +morning, but he did, just the same. Ho! ho! ho!" The cause for the +laugh seemed to be nervousness and excitement rather than mirth. + +"Rackliff!" muttered Springer, struck by sudden conviction. + +"Old chum of mine. Don't suppose this little experience will do his +cold any good, I got Orv Foxhall to come over here for Herb this +morning with old man Foxy's bubble that's down there at the bottom of +the canal, where it's liable to stay for some time. I reckon we'll all +travel back to Wyndham by steam cars." He turned and ran toward the +crowd that was coming up from the scene of the rescue. + +"Rackliff!" muttered Springer once more. + +He knew now who had written those signals on that sheet of paper. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +A REBELLIOUS CONSCIENCE. + +The game between Oakdale and Wyndham was in progress, and, wretchedly +miserable, Phil Springer sat watching from the bleachers. Never before +in all his life had he felt so much like a contemptible criminal, a +dastardly traitor to his team, against which, through the agency of +Herbert Rackliff, he had wagered money. It was not, however, the fact +that he had made such a wager that troubled him most, although at this +moment, deep down in his heart, he was sincerely ashamed of that. + +The principal cause of his misery, the reason why he kept telling +himself over and over that he was a cowardly sneak, was his knowledge +that the playing signals of the visitors had been betrayed to the home +team, and that, taking advantage of the knowledge thus obtained, +Wyndham was prepared to block Oakdale's every play, and was doing this +in a manner which appeared to the average spectator like almost uncanny +foresight and cleverness at the game. + +In the very first inning, with only one out and a runner on third, the +Oakdale batter, taking his instructions from Captain Eliot, had walked +out to the plate with the bat held in his right hand, handle downward, +which was the signal for the squeeze play. But Wyndham had known what +was coming quite as well as Oakdale, and Newbert, pitching the ball +beyond the batsman's reach, gave the catcher every chance to get the +runner as he came lunging hopelessly toward the pan. + +The second inning, also, had opened promisingly for Oakdale, but the +enemy's knowledge of the meaning of those signals had made it a simple +matter to bring that auspicious opening to a fruitless and discouraging +close. + +Meanwhile Wyndham got a run in the first, and in the third she pushed +two more happy fellows over the rubber, aided by errors; for Grant was +pitching in excellent form, and not a tally of the three was really +earned. + +The sight of Roy Hooker, wearing Springer's own suit and sitting on the +bench as a spare pitcher, did not serve in any way to make Phil more +comfortable. He knew that by every bond of loyalty and decency he +should be there himself when he was not working on the slab. Like some +other fellows, in the past he had occasionally laughed and joked about +Roy's aspirations to become a pitcher; but now, at last having gotten +his eyes open to some of his faults, and having succeeded in +restraining his jealousy of others who were in some respects his +superiors, Hooker was pursuing a course that had already led him to be +accepted in place of the deserter. + +Phil held himself aloof from the crowd of sympathizers with the team +who had come over from Oakdale to root for the crimson; he did not even +wear the school colors. When he saw them waving their bright banners +and heard them cheering he thought, with a heavy heart and no feeling +of satisfaction, that they little knew how utterly useless their +enthusiasm was. The game was fixed; the cards were stacked, and there +was no chance for Oakdale to win. + +He bit his lip as he saw Grant working steadily and coolly on the slab, +doing splendidly, little dreaming that, as the situation stood, he +might "wallop his wing off" with scarcely a ghost of a prospect that +Oakdale could overcome the lead the locals had already obtained. + +"I'm glad--as far as _he_ is concerned," Springer whispered to himself; +"but I'm sus-sorry for the rest of the fellows. It's a rotten piece of +business, and Rackliff ought to be ashamed of himself." + +Where was Rackliff? He knew Herbert had come to Wyndham after changing +his clothes for dry ones, following his rescue from the river by Grant, +but Phil had not put eyes on the fellow since his arrival on the scene +of the game. It seemed very strange that Rackliff should not be +somewhere on hand to watch the progress of the contest. + +"One thing is sure," was the promise the unhappy youth made himself, +"I'll tell him just what I think of him when I get a good chance, and I +won't mum-mince my words. Oh, I wish I'd never let him have that money +to bet on Wyndham! If I hadn't done that----" + +He stopped short, thinking that, even though he had not wagered his +money, his hatred for Rod Grant and his desire to see the fellow pitch +a losing game would be sufficient to keep him silent concerning the +betrayal of the signals. He sought to convince himself that, as he was +not concerned in that wretched piece of work, he was in no way +responsible. His rebellious conscience, however, kept prodding him +with the knowledge that he was "an accessory to the crime." + +Again and again he longed to rise and shout a warning to Eliot--yearned +to tell him loudly, that all might hear, that Wyndham knew Oakdale's +signals. If he were to do such a thing as that--do it dramatically +before that great crowd--would it not serve to restore him to sudden +popularity with the fellows who now held him in contempt because of the +petty, peevish, jealous course he had pursued? + +"I wish they'd ha-hammer Grant out," he muttered. "If they'd only do +that, I'd warn Eliot. Of course I wouldn't give it away that I knew +abub-bout the crookedness all the time, for that would queer me worse +than ever. I've got to kuk-keep that a dark secret, sure enough." + +He wondered what explanation he could make if he should warn Eliot; +surely he would have to tell how he came to believe that Wyndham was +wise to the signals of her opponents. There seemed only one reasonable +story for him to put forward: he would be compelled to claim that he +had overheard some persons in the crowd telling each other that such +was the case. + +And that would be a lie! + +"I lied once on account of that fellow Grant, and got caught at it," +thought Phil. "If I should tell Eliot now, Rackliff might---- But he +doesn't know that I know he gave our signals to Wyndham. Still, if I +come out publicly and warn Roger, Rackliff may get sore and blow around +that part of the money he bet on Wyndham belonged to me." + +Thus, wavering, tortured and miserable, he followed the progress of the +game, realizing more and more as it went on that Oakdale had absolutely +no chance at all while the players of the other side could see and +understand every batting and base-running signal that was given. +Fighting against such odds without knowledge of the fact seemed to Phil +to be a most outrageous thing, and he pledged himself that, from this +day forward, he would have no more dealings with Rackliff. + +As it was not necessary for the first batter in an inning to signal, +Wyndham could not "lay for him" by the aid of knowledge gained in +advance, and to open the fourth Sile Cane strode forth and fell on one +of Newbert's slants, straightening it out handsomely for two sacks. + +Grant, following, took his cue from Eliot and signalled Crane that he +would bunt, on which sacrifice the lanky fellow was to take third. + +Springer's teeth grated together as he beheld the entire Wyndham +infield prepare to handle Rod's bunt, while Newbert drove Josh back and +held him as close as possible to the second sack. Suddenly the ball +was whipped over the pan, high and close, in spite of which the batter +succeeded in sending it rolling heavily into the diamond. But Newbert, +racing forward as soon as the sphere left his fingers, scooped it +cleanly with one hand and snapped it across to third without +straightening up. The baseman was covering the sack in a position to +get the long-geared runner, and, catching the ball, he put it on to +Crane with considerable viciousness as Josh slid. + +"Out at third!" shouted the umpire, with up-flung hand. + +The attempted sacrifice had been turned into a miserable failure solely +because the locals had known precisely what their opponents would try +to do. + +"I can't stand much more of this!" groaned Springer aloud. "It's worse +than robbery! I'll have to get out." + +Hearing the words, a rejoicing Wyndham sympathizer slapped him heavily +on the shoulder. "Don't take it so hard," laughingly advised the +familiar fellow. "It's just what everybody expected." + +"Oh, is that so?" snapped Phil resentfully, turning his head to look up +at the chap. "Well, if this was a square game they might get their +expectations stepped on." + +"A square game!" retorted the other. "What do you mean by that? +What's the matter with it? So far, it's the cleanest game I've seen +this year. + +"It's the dirtiest game I ever saw! It's cuc-crooked from the start. +Oakdale hasn't a sus-show." + +"Of course she hasn't; she's outclassed. You Oakdalers are poor +losers; you always squeal." + +"Outclassed--nothing!" fumed Phil. "Oakdale is playing just as good +baseball as Wyndham--and playing it on the level." + +"And by that I suppose you mean that Wyndham isn't playing on the +level?" + +"You don't have to gug-guess twice; that's what I mean." + +"Oh, go crawl into your hole! There hasn't been a kick. Anybody can +see that we're playing all round you simply because we've got the best +team. Dade Newbert is a dandy." + +"Yes, he's a dandy at this sort of baseball. I happen to know just +what he is, and a fellow who'll do what he's dud-done to win this game +hasn't any right to pitch on a respectable nine." + +"You're dotty. Look here, you better be careful about shooting off +that sort of talk, or you may have a chance to prove it." + +"I can bub-back up anything I've said," declared Phil, now thoroughly +aroused. "I'm dead onto the whole dirty deal. If I should tell Roger +Eliot what I know you'd sus-see a change in the complexion of this game +in short order." + +"Oh, really!" scoffed the incredulous Wyndhamite. "If you know so +much, why don't you tell it? If you know anything that amounts to +anything, you'll tell it--unless you're crooked yourself." + +That cut deeply, and Springer choked back further heated words which +were boiling to his lips. What right had he to rail against Newbert? +Under the circumstances, his failure to warn his former teammates made +him fully as dishonest and deserving of contempt as the Wyndham +pitcher--far more so. The white anger of his face turned to a crimson +flush of shame. + +Silenced, he saw Wyndham, ready to block the hit and run, take Cooper's +zipping grounder and turn into a double play what possibly might +otherwise have been a safety. In that moment Springer's mind was made +up, and he immediately left his seat on the bleachers. + +"I'll tell Eliot the truth at any cost," he muttered. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +WHEN THE SIGNALS WERE CHANGED. + +While Phil Springer was making his way round to the Oakdale side of the +field an accident took place. The first Wyndham batter to face Grant +in that inning hit the ball squarely and hard, driving it on a dead +line toward the pitcher, but a trifle to his right. Grant might have +dodged, but, instead of that, he tried to catch that red-hot liner with +his bare right hand, and the ball split two of his fingers. +Nevertheless, he stopped it, caught it up with his left hand when it +fell to the ground, and tossed it to Sile Crane at first in time for a +put-out. + +Rod showed his blood-streaming hand to the umpire, who promptly called +"time." Then the Texan walked toward the bench, Eliot running to join +him. + +"How bad are you hurt, old man?" asked the captain anxiously. + +"I don't know," was the answer. "Didn't know I was hurt at all until I +saw the claret spouting; reckoned my paw was benumbed a bit, and that +was all." + +But when water was poured over those bleeding fingers and Roger saw +just what had happened to them, he turned quickly to Hooker, saying in +a low tone: + +"Get a ball, Hook, and warm up. You'll have to pitch the game out." + +A doctor pressed through the crowd that had surrounded the injured +player. + +"Fix these busted fingers up quick, doc," urged Grant, "so I can get +back into the game without delaying things too long." + +"You'll play no more baseball to-day, my boy," said the physician; "nor +for some days to come. You're out of it, and you may as well accept +the alternative with good grace." + +And so Springer saw Hooker go in to pitch, aware that only for his +jealousy and blind folly he would have been the one called upon to +replace the injured chap. + +"Serves me right," he muttered. Which was proof sufficient that he was +getting his eyes open. + +Naturally, Hooker was very nervous, although secretly elated by the +opportunity to pitch in this most important game. Eliot talked with +him a moment or two about signals, finishing by placing a hand on his +shoulder and saying: + +"Now, keep cool, Hook, and take your time. Mind my signals, and do +your best for control. It's your chance to show the stuff that's in +you. Don't be afraid of Wyndham, and don't listen to the crowd. Close +your ears and eyes to everything outside of the game. You may surprise +yourself and everybody else, if you keep your head." + +There was something in Roger's words and manner that proved very +steadying to Roy, and he toed the slab with an outward show of +confidence, whether or not he was inwardly perturbed. The majority of +the Oakdale players were much cast down, however, and it was a rather +feeble and heartless cheer that the rooters with the crimson banners +gave the substitute pitcher. + +Hooker pitched two balls wide, and then put one over; which the batsman +hit, rolling a grounder into the diamond for Chipper Cooper to handle. +Chipper managed to get it and wing it across to Crane for a clean +put-out. + +"Two gone, fellows," called Eliot. "We'll keep right on playing +baseball. Get this next man, now." + +The next man hoisted a long fly to center, where Ben Stone, sure as +fate, took charge of it; and Hooker, now really quite calm and +confident, jogged to the bench. + +"See if you can't start something, Sleuth," urged Roger as Piper found +his bat. "We've got to make some runs pretty soon, and we may as well +begin now." + +Springer, walking swiftly out to the bench, spoke Eliot's name. "I +want a few words with you, Roger," he said; "I've gug-gug-got +something--something important to--to tell you." He stumbled more than +usual over his words, and his face was very pale; but his manner was +resolute and determined. + +A slight frown fell on the face of the Oakdale captain as he turned his +eyes upon the speaker. "What is it, Springer?" he asked almost +repellantly. + +"Just sus-step one side a bit so I can tell you without anybody else +hearing," begged Phil. + +Roger complied, lending an ear to the startling information Springer +had to impart, but, after his usual composure, retaining his +self-possessed atmosphere to such a degree that scarcely any one who +chanced to be watching them could have dreamed how disturbing that +information really was. + +"How do you happen to know about this, Phil?" Eliot asked. + +"Don't ask me. I can't tut-tell you now. But it's dead straight, +Roger, and Oakdale hasn't a ghost of a show as long as you continue to +stick by those signals." + +"We'll change them right away." + +Piper had succeeded in bumping a slow grounder into the diamond, on +which he scudded for first with amazing speed, for he was really a +splendid sprinter. The ball was handled a bit too slowly, giving the +Oakdale lad time to reach the sack by the narrowest margin. + +"Never mind that, fellows," grinned Orv Foxhall from his position at +second. "I'll get him when he comes down this way. He may be pretty +speedy, but----" + +"He won't run off the bridge," cried Cooper, on the coaching line. +"Your speed has made you pawn things more than once, and now you've +gone and soaked your daddy's automobubble." + +"Bright boy," scoffed Foxhall. "I always enjoy it when you make a +choke, but I'd enjoy it more if you'd make one that would finish you." + +Sile Crane came running down from the bench, catching Cooper by the +shoulders and whispering something into his ear. Chipper looked +surprised, and then, as Crane was jogging back, in violation of the +rules, the coacher ran out to first, grabbed Piper and whispered to him. + +"Hey?" gasped Sleuth, staring at Chub Tuttle, who was walking to the +plate with his bat held in a manner which seemed to indicate that he +would bunt the ball. "What's the----" + +"Shut up!" hissed Chipper. "Mind! Get a lead now! Be ready!" Then +he skipped back over the chalk-mark before the umpire could order him +back. + +The Wyndham infielders crept forward, crouching and ready. Newbert, +contemptuous of Tuttle's skill as a batter, handed up an easy one. +Instead of bunting, the fat lad rapped out a little fly, that sailed +over the heads of the in-drawn infielders, and Cooper, having obtained +a good start, went twinkling over second and on to third. + +Wyndham had been deceived, much to the annoyance of the local players, +who looked at one another inquiringly. It was rather remarkable that +Tuttle had not followed his own signal, plainly given. It was +possible, however, that, seeing the infielders prepared to take his +bunt, the fellow had decided at the last moment to do something else. + +Nelson followed Tuttle, and he held his bat in a manner that seemed to +proclaim he would "take one," giving Chub a chance to try to steal +second on the first ball pitched. Believing this was the program, +Newbert whipped over a beautiful straight ball for a called strike. + +But Nelson did not let that handsome one pass; it was just the kind he +liked, and he fell on it with great glee, smashing a liner into the +outfield, between right and center. + +Piper, laughing, scored at a jog trot; while Tuttle, his fists +clenched, his eyes glaring, his cheeks puffed out like toy balloons, +galloped over the sacks with all the grace of a frightened elephant. + +"Score, Chub--score!" shrieked Crane, who had pranced down onto the +coaching line back of third, and who was waving his long arms +grotesquely. "Make it or bust! You kin do it!" + +Tuttle continued to the plate, where, raising a great cloud of dust, he +arrived on an attempted slide, a moment ahead of the ball, being +declared safe. + +The Wyndham crowd was filled with dismay; the Oakdalers with the +crimson banners were leaping and shrieking on the bleachers. The local +players knew something was wrong, and they showed the greatest +confusion and consternation. Dade Newbert was making some remarks that +would not look well in print. + +Captain Eliot had instructed his players to abandon the use of signals +for the time being, and to bat and run bases wholly as their judgment +might dictate, and this sudden change threatened totally to demoralize +the Wyndhamites. + +Not a man was out, and the visitors, having already secured two +tallies, had a runner moored at third. Berlin Barker stepped forth +briskly, urging the umpire to keep the game in motion, his bat held as +if he intended to try for a safe bingle. As matters stood, it seemed +logical that he should do this, and the Wyndhamites got ready for him. + +But Berlin, trusting the speedy Nelson to take advantage of it, bunted +the first ball. His confidence in Nelson was not misplaced, Jack +sprinting to the plate, while the baffled home players bestirred +themselves too late even to get Barker, whose bunt went for a safe hit. + +The score was tied. + +Foxhall, rushing up to Newbert, whispered excitedly: + +"They've changed their signals! That's what's fooling us. We've got +to----" + +There was a yell. Observing that second base was left practically +unguarded, Barker scooted down from first, and he got there ahead of +the shortstop, who made an effort to cover the sack. + +"This is a great year for high flying," laughingly whooped Cooper. +"Ten thousand feet in an aeroplane isn't so much; why, this whole +Wyndham bunch is up in the air higher than that this very minute. +They're liable to come down hard, too." + +Like Foxhall, the Wyndham captain had decided that Oakdale was no +longer using the known code of batting and base-running signals, and he +made haste to warn his players to place no further reliance upon the +information they had obtained concerning those signals. + +"We want another run to take the lead, Stoney," said Eliot as Ben +stepped into the batter's box. + +Stone took in the situation and also did the unexpected, dropping +another bunt in front of the pan. The catcher got the ball in time to +throw Stone out, but the batter's object was obtained, for Barker had +sailed along to third. + +The Oakdaleites on the seats implored Eliot to get a hit, and Roger +responded by cutting a grounder through into short right field, which +let Barker score and placed the visitors in the lead. + +Newbert's face was white as chalk. Up to this inning he had been +insolent in his self-confidence and contempt for the visitors, but the +strain now put upon him proved too much, and he hit Crane in the ribs, +following with a pass to Hooker, which filled the corners. + +Then, amid the tumultuous cheering and laughter of the Oakdale crowd. +Captain Holley sent Newbert to the bench and called Twitt Crowell forth +to take his place. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +PHIL GETS HIS EYES OPEN + +"Too bad little Herbie Rackliff isn't here to witness the fate of his +chum, the wonderful pitcher from Boston," laughed Jack Nelson. + +"Where is Rackliff?" questioned Stone. + +"Why, don't you know? He's sick abed; just went down flat after +reaching this town, and had to have a doctor." + +With the bases full, Chipper Cooper longed for a handsome clean drive; +but fortune seemed to favor Crowell, for when Chipper did hit the ball +he simply rolled it straight at the man on the slab, who scooped it and +snapped it back to the catcher with Eliot only a little more than +halfway down the line from third. Taking the ball, with one foot on +the plate, the catcher hummed it past Cooper's ear to first, completing +a double play. + +Of course the downcast Wyndhamites awoke and cheered, but the visitors, +although disappointed by the abrupt ending of their "streak," felt very +well satisfied. + +"Now keep steady and play the game, boys," called Eliot. "This is the +game we want to win." + +Springer, literally a-tingle with joy over the turn the game had taken, +watched Hooker, who was given excellent support, pull through the fifth +without letting more than one man reach first base. + +"I'm glad," muttered Phil. "I don't care if it does cost me seven +dollars, for Wyndham deserves to be beaten." + +Eliot, removing his cage at the end of the inning, looked for Springer +and found him. "Come here, Phil," he called, beckoning. + +Phil hesitated, more than half disposed to pretend that he did not hear +and to get away from that locality at once; but, realizing he would +find it necessary to face Roger's questions sooner or later, he finally +plucked up courage to answer the summons. Greatly to his relief, the +captain of the nine did not question him then; instead of that, Roger +said: + +"I'm much obliged to you, old fellow, for putting me wise, although I'm +ashamed that I didn't tumble to the fact myself. I hope we can win +this game now; we must win it somehow. Grant is knocked out for some +time to come, and there's only Hooker left to depend on. If anything +happens to Hook, it's all off; there's no one to take his place." + +Suddenly Phil understood what Roger was driving at, and his pale face +flamed with color. "If I can----" he began eagerly, and then stopped, +choking a bit. + +"I thought so!" exclaimed Roger, with great satisfaction; "I thought +you must be still loyal and true. I've got to pay close attention to +the run of the game. Won't you find Grant and ask him to let you have +his suit? Get into it as soon as you can, and hurry back here; for +Wyndham is liable to solve Hook's delivery any minute. Hustle, old +chap--do." + +With this admonition, he turned to give his attention to his players. + +"Still loyal and true!" muttered Phil. "If he only knew the truth! +Well, I suppose he'll find out before long, for Rackliff will blow on +me. I'll have to face it, that's all. I wonder wh-where Grant is." + +A few moments later he found the fellow he was seeking, the doctor +having just finished bandaging Rod's injured fingers. Springer +hesitated, feeling that it was almost impossible for him to approach +the Texan, and, as he was wavering, Grant, still wearing his playing +suit, started for the Oakdale bench. + +"I--I bub-beg your pardon," stammered Phil as Rodney was passing. + +"Oh!" exclaimed the young Texan, stopping short. "Is it you--Phil? +What's the matter?" + +"I--want--your--suit." Springer could not meet Rod's eyes, and he +could feel his cheeks burning; for over him had swept a full and +complete understanding of his own folly in permitting jealousy to lead +him into the course he had been pursuing. + +"My--my suit?" said Rod, as if he did not quite understand. "You----" + +"Eliot sus-sent me for it," Phil hastened to explain. "You know he +hasn't a spare man on the bench now, and if anything should happen to +another pup-player----" + +"Come on," said Rod, turning sharply. "The dressing room is over back +of the seats here." + +In the dressing room Grant got out of the playing suit as quickly as +possible, while Springer stripped off his street clothes and +unhesitatingly donned each piece as it was tossed to him. Both were +silent, for the situation was such that neither could seem to find +words to fit it. However, having put on Rod's clothes down to the +brass-clipped pitching shoes and being on the point of leaving the +Texan struggling slowly into his everyday garments, Phil stopped and +half turned, after taking a step toward the door. + +"I'm sus-sorry you got your fingers busted," he stated in a low tone. + +"Thanks," returned Rod, without looking up. + +"He despises me," whispered Springer, as soon as he was outside. +"Well, perhaps I deserve it." + +At the end of the tiered seats he came upon Herbert Rackliff, who had +just arrived at the field. Herbert's eyes widened on beholding +Springer in that suit. His face was pale save for two burning spots +upon his hollow cheeks. + +"What the dickens does this mean?" exclaimed Rackliff, his wondering +eyes flashing over Phil from head to heels. + +"Nothing," was the answer, "only Grant's hurt, and I'm going onto the +bub-bench as spare man--at Eliot's request." + +An odd smile twisted Rackliff's lips. "Now wouldn't that kill you +dead!" he coughed. "At Eliot's request! Ha! ha! ha! If he only knew! +But of course he doesn't suspect, for I haven't given you away. Well, +this is a joke!" + +"I'm in a hurry, so I'll hustle along." + +"Wait a jiffy. I've just got here. Sort of went to pieces after +landing in this town, and they stowed me in bed, with a pill-slinger +looking at my tongue, taking my pulse and asking a lot of tiresome +questions. He even sounded my lungs, though I protested against it. +And then he told me I was to stay in bed, and left a lot of nasty +medicine for me to take. I stayed in bed as long as I could, knowing +this game was going on. Now that I'm here, how does it stand?" + +"Your great pup-pitcher, Newbert, was batted out in the fifth inning." + +"What's that? I don't believe it!" + +"It's a fact." + +"The score--what's the score?" + +"It was four to three in Oakdale's favor at the end of the fifth." + +"Rotten!" snarled Herbert, and a tempestuous burst of coughing shook +him frightfully. + +When Phil started away the still coughing lad grasped his arm and +restrained him. + +"You--you wait!" gasped Rackliff. "Wyndham must win this game--she +just must, that's all. Did you say Grant was hurt?" + +"Yes." + +"How much?" + +"Enough to knock him out; he got two fingers busted by a liner hot from +the bub-bat." + +"Good! Then I suppose that dub Hooker is pitching now?" + +"Yes." + +"Well, if I had any more money I'd be willing to bet the limit that +Wyndham gets to him, all right. He'll get his." + +"Perhaps not. He fuf-finished the fifth in style." + +"He'll get his," repeated Herbert positively. "Then you'll be run in. +That's why Eliot wants you. That will fix things beautifully. You +know what to do." + +"Yes, I know what to do," said Phil slowly, "and I shall do it if I get +the chance." + +"That's the talk! You can do it cleverly enough so no one will suspect +that you're throwing the game, and we'll win----" + +"If I'm put in to pitch," said Springer, still uttering his words in +that slow and positive manner, "I shall do my level best to hold +Wyndham down and give Oakdale a chance to win the game." + +"You--you'll what?" spluttered Rackliff incredulously. "Why, you're +joking! Your money, seven dollars which you gave me, is bet on +Wyndham. If Oakdale wins you lose the seven." + +"If I could do anything to help Oakdale win, I'd do it, even if I stood +to lose seven hundred dollars by it," declared Phil. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +THE GREATEST VICTORY. + +The sixth inning was over before Springer reached the Oakdale bench. +He found the boys in high spirits, for they had gathered two more +tallies by taking Crowell's measure, while again Hooker had pulled +through without being scored upon, which made the scorers' record six +to three in favor of the visitors at the beginning of the seventh. +Oakdale seemed to have the game bagged. + +When the seventh passed with the score unchanged on either side and +Hooker apparently "still going strong," it began to look as if Springer +would get no chance to do any pitching in that game. But baseball is +sometimes most uncertain, which is one reason why the game is so +popular in America. In the last of the eighth, with one man gone, the +locals finally took Hooker's measure and began batting him to all +quarters of the field. Almost before the gasping, excited spectators +could realize it, Wyndham had made one run and the bases were all +occupied, with one of the strongest hitters of the home team at bat. + +Springer had limbered up, with Stone catching him, in the first of the +seventh while Oakdale was at bat, and now Eliot stepped upon the plate, +giving a signal which meant that Roy was to retire and Phil was to take +his place. + +Phil was sorry for Hooker, who showed that he was fearfully upset and +chagrined, and, as he passed the unlucky pitcher on his way out to the +firing line, he said in a low, sympathetic tone: + +"Don't you care, old ch-chap. It happens to the best of us; I got mine +in that Barville game, you know. Next time you'll make good." + +But could he now "make good" himself? That was the question, of a most +disturbing sort, which insinuated itself upon Springer as he stepped +into position and received the ball from Captain Eliot. The anxious +Oakdale crowd gave him a cheer. + +"There's Springer!" he heard a voice shout. "He'll stop it. Hold 'em, +Phil--hold 'em!" + +"I must, and I will," thought Phil. + +Eliot smiled on him encouragingly as he adjusted the cage and stepped +back into position, crouching to give a signal. The Wyndham coachers +began chattering, and the local crowd "rooted" hard. Surely it was a +moment to test the nerve of any young pitcher. + +[Illustration: The local crowd "rooted" hard.] + +Phil caught Roger's signal, nodded, and bent the first ball over. The +batter hit it to the left of the pitcher, and Springer, shooting out +his gloved hand, simply deflected the ball enough to prevent Nelson, +who was almost directly in line, from getting it. The Wyndham crowd +yelled madly as another runner scored and the hitter reached first +safely. + +"This pitcher's the easiest one yet!" shrieked one of the coachers. +"Nail the game right here, fellows. It's easy! it's easy!" + +Fear sought to fasten its benumbing clutch upon Springer. What if he +could not stop Wyndham? Rackliff would hear that he had warned Eliot +about the signals, and, seeking retaliation, would betray the fact that +he had likewise wagered money that Wyndham would win. To everybody it +must seem that Phil had at last shown himself thoroughly despicable and +untrustworthy by betraying his own team on the field. This thought +actually made him sick and giddy for a moment. + +"Never mind, Spring--never mind," Eliot was saying. "That was an +accident; it wasn't a hit. Get the next man; get this fellow. You can +do it." + +"I must, and I will!" thought Phil once more. + +He shook off the touch of fear and steadied himself. Again Eliot gave +a signal, and again he nodded. Strangely enough, the next batter hit a +liner to the left of Springer, almost precisely as the other had done; +but this time the pitcher's gloved fingers caught and held the ball, +following which he instantly turned and snapped it to first base before +the runner, who had started down the line, could get back. + +It was a double play, and a mighty shout of joy was flung forth from +beneath the fluttering crimson banners of the Oakdale spectators. +Again Phil was cheered. + +"Well done, Spring," complimented Eliot quietly, as Phil reached the +bench. + +Then Herbert Rackliff, pale and desperate, rushed forth to the bench, +catching Eliot's arm and saying: + +"Perhaps you're not aware that Mr. Springer has bet money on this game. +He has bet money that Wyndham will win. If you don't believe me, ask +him." + +Roger turned to Phil. "Is this true?" + +"Yes," was the husky answer, "it's true. I gave this sus-sneaking +blabber seven dollars to bet on Wyndham, and I'll never gug-get over +being ashamed of it as long as I live. He's the creature who gave away +our signals to Wyndham. I hope I lose that mum-money, and, if you'll +trust me, I'll do my level best to make myself lose it." + +The Oakdale captain turned on Rackliff. "Get off the field," he +ordered sternly. "Get back where you belong, and be quick about it." + +Herbert retired, his last remaining hope being that Phil would go to +pieces in the ninth. + +But Springer was strengthened and steadied by a great desire, and, +although Oakdale's lead was not increased, he pitched so well that the +slender margin was sufficient to give the visitors the victory. Not a +Wyndhamite reached first, and two of the three who faced Springer were +mowed down on strikes. + +The overjoyed Oakdale crowd charged onto the diamond and surrounded the +winners as they were giving Wyndham a cheer. Springer was swept off +his feet and caught up on the shoulders of the crowd, who bellowed his +name again and again. Looking downward, he saw that his right leg +rested on the shoulder of Rodney Grant, who was cheering madly. + +In the dressing room, a little later, Grant came up quietly and put +forth his uninjured left hand. + +"Put it there, partner," he begged. "You sure turned the trick, and +you held them down handsomely. It was a great victory." + +Springer seized the proffered hand, laughing to hide the fact that joy +threatened to blind his eyes with tears. + +"It was a great victory," he agreed, thinking, however, of the victory +he had won over himself. + +"Sure," beamed the Texan. "And now Oakdale ought to win the +championship; she ought to win it with you and me--and Hooker, for +pitchers." He said this laughing in a way that robbed his words of any +touch of egotism. + + +Oakdale did win the championship, without the loss of a single game. +Grant and Springer did the greater part of the pitching, the work being +divided almost equally between them; but Hooker was not wholly +forgotten, and he obtained some opportunities, actually pitching one +complete game in a most creditable manner. + +Herbert Rackliff saw no more baseball after the Wyndham game, for his +parents were notified that he had contracted a pronounced case of +pulmonary trouble, and, this being confirmed later by the family +physician, he was hurriedly shipped to Colorado, in hopes that the dry +and bracing atmosphere of that State might restore him to health. +Although the boys of Oakdale charitably refrained from making much talk +about him, he was little missed by them. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIVAL PITCHERS OF OAKDALE*** + + +******* This file should be named 22948.txt or 22948.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/2/9/4/22948 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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