V.

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 pr