That evening he was missing from the group of boys who gathered in the village to talk over the game, and at school the following Monday he kept away from Grant as much as it was possible for him to do so. When practice time came after school was over, he put on his suit and appeared upon the field, but soon complained that he was not feeling well, and departed.
The following morning, shortly after breakfast, Phil saw Rod turning into the dooryard of his home. Instantly Springer sought his hat, slipped hastily through the house and got out, unperceived, by the back door. When he arrived at school, a few minutes before time for the morning session to begin, Grant was waiting for him.
"What became of you after breakfast, partner?" questioned Rod. "I piked over to your ranch looking for you, but you had disappeared. Your mother said you were around a few moments before, and she thought you must be somewhere about; all the same, I couldn't find hide or hair of you."
"I—I took a walk," faltered Phil, flushing. "I've got a bub-bad cold." In evidence of which, he coughed in a shamefully unnatural manner.
"Got a cold, eh?" said Rodney sympathetically. "You caught it sitting on the bench during the last four innings of that game, I reckon. I remember now that you didn't even put on your sweater."
"Yes, I guess that's when I got it," agreed Phil.
"Well, you've got to shake it in time for the game with Clearport. That's when you'll even things up."
All that day Springer sought to avoid talking baseball with any of the fellows, for invariably they spoke of Grant's surprisingly successful performance; and when they did so something like a sickening poison seemed to bubble within the jealous youth, who told himself that he could not long continue to join in this praise, but must soon betray himself by bursting forth into a tirade against the Texan. In a measure he did relieve his feelings by expressing his opinion of Herbert Rackliff, who was brazenly seeking to ignore the open disdain of his schoolmates. He did not come out for practice that night, and Grant explained to the others that Phil was knocked out by a cold, whereupon Cooper chucklingly remarked that he thought it was Barville that had knocked Springer out.
Shortly before dark, Phil, chancing to take a cross cut from Middle Street to High Street, observed Roy Hooker pelting away with a baseball at the white shingle on the barn. Drawing near, Phil asked Roy what he was doing, and the latter, startled and perspiring, looked round.
"Oh, is it you?" said Roy. "I thought perhaps it was Rackliff. I'm practicing a little by my lonesome."