acticing 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