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Now and then he grinned and nodded over some especially fine catch in the outfield or clever stop of a grounder or liner by an infielder; nevertheless, he let Sanger, who was batting, do all the talking to the players. The skill displayed in practice by the visitors in a measure set at rest the doubts he had continued to entertain concerning Rackliff's wisdom in backing Barville.
They got him goin' somethin' fierce. You gotter save this game for us if you can." Hooker's face flushed and he caught his breath. Was it possible he was to have an opportunity to pitch in that game? Eagerly he started, but Rackliff's stained fingers gripped his coatsleeve. "Are you going to be an easy mark?" asked Herbert scornfully.
His lips curled back from his teeth in a semblance of a snarl; he watched the Texan reach the spot where Rackliff's head had an instant before disappeared from view, saw him likewise plunge beneath the surface, and beheld him rise, farther down the stream, with the still weakly struggling fellow secured by a grip upon his coat collar at the back of the neck.
"What the dickens does this mean?" exclaimed Rackliff, his wondering eyes flashing over Phil from head to heels. "Nothing," was the answer, "only Grant's hurt, and I'm going onto the bub-bench as spare man at Eliot's request." An odd smile twisted Rackliff's lips. "Now wouldn't that kill you dead!" he coughed. "At Eliot's request! Ha! ha! ha! If he only knew!
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