"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."