l 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 I