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."