"We've decided to keep Rorbach at right," said Poole. "You're too valuable a man to waste in the outfield. And you may as well go on catching Patterson."
Rob scampered ecstatically up to his room. There is nothing like a victory which you have worked and waited and longed for through months of discouragement, and, finally, in spite of every obstacle, actually won. This day's work had brought the authorities over to his side. After this there could be no more taking for granted that the old catcher must be the best catcher, and that experience elsewhere must be inferior to that acquired at Seaton. Borland was on the defensive now; if he would hold his place, he must prove his claim to it. And to do that he must accomplish something more than make a steady backstop and occasionally catch a man at second. Rob chuckled aloud as he recalled Poole's question about running the pitcher. Twice only in the game had Patterson ventured to pitch a ball different from what his catcher had called for. One of these had been fouled close to the line; and the other—a straight over after two strikes and a ball, which Pat had tried in hopes of a quick strike-out—the batter had smashed to centre field for two bases. As a strategist, Patterson could be improved upon, but it certainly was not the catcher's business to say so, especially as Pat had vowed that afternoon after the two-bagger that he'd never interfere again.
Then the congratulating friends began to drop in—Lindsay, Laughlin, Duncan Peck, Strong, Ware, Hendry, Salter. Simmons appeared in the midst of the bustle and retired shyly into a corner, whence he looked on at the demonstration with smiling but silent approval. He evidently had something on his mind. Duncan Peck also showed himself unusually subdued; and though he had that day been permitted to remove from his door the hateful inscription "Duncan Peck, Study Hours, 8-1, 4-6, 8 P.M.—" which had adorned it these four months, he yet manifested no exuberance of joy at his freedom.
The visitors went their ways before dinner-time, leaving to Simmons his opportunity. "I didn't go to the game—" he began, as if about to excuse himself for disloyalty.
"Up the river again with Payner?" asked Rob, smiling.
Simmons nodded.
"Have a good time?"
"Fine! Up the river, Payner's very different from what he is here. He's as jolly as can be, and tells you lots of things."
"Well, what's the matter, then? What makes you look glum?"