They left the gymnasium, and walked down the street together. Hooker had conceived a sudden, singular interest in Rackliff.
"I always wondered how you happened to come to school here at Oakdale," he confessed.
"Have a cigarette," invited Herbert, extending an open, gold-mounted morocco case.
"Don't like 'em, thank you," declined Roy.
The other boy lighted a fresh one from the stub of the last.
"So you've been speculating as to the cause of my choosing this serene, rural seat of knowledge, have you? Well, I'll own up that it wasn't my choice. I'm not very eager about burying myself alive, and if ever there was a cemetery, it's the town of Oakdale. My pater was the guilty party."
"Oh, your father sent you here?"
"Correct. I would have chosen Wyndham, but Newbert's old man sent him down there, and my governor thought we should be kept apart in future."
"Newbert? Who's Newbert?"
"You'll hear from him later, I fancy. He's a chap who can really pitch baseball. He's my partner in crime."