Back Aa

Rival Pitchers of Oakdale

Close

<h3> CHAPTER VII. </h3> <h3> RACKLIFF FISHES FOR SUCKERS. </h3> 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." <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2