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"Slip's going up on the steamboat." "For good?" "So'm I!" Buck continued, breathlessly; "I'm quitting the riveh, too! I've been down here a good many years. I've been thinking. I'm going back. I'm going up the bank again." "What'll you do with the boat?" Grell continued. "Slip and I've been talking it all over. We're through with it. We guessed the Prophet, here, could use it.
And so well did he pick the balls up that the two spies stayed to watch another over, and after that another, at the close of which Bloomfield said, "Upon my word, it's not half bad. And a slip's the very man we want to make up the eleven for Rockshire." "My dear fellow," said Ashley, in tones almost of alarm, "you're surely not thinking of putting a fellow like that into the eleven."
Slip's share often amounted to more in a week than he had earned in two years up there in the mountains felling trees, rafting them in eddies, and tripping them down painfully to the sawmills. These never did pay the price they were advertised to pay for timber, and one had to watch the sealers to see that they didn't short the measure in the under water and goose-egg good logs.
He might even then be lurking in the brush up the bank, waiting to get a sure drop. He might be dropping down that very night. He might step in among the players, unnoticed, unseen, and wait there for the moment of surprise and action. Slip's mind ransacked the far places of which he had heard: Oklahoma, the Missouri River, California, the Mexican border, Texas.
His years, his life, had been wasted, just as this man Prebol's life was wasted, just as Slip's life was being wasted. Buck gave himself over to the exquisite torture of memories and reflections. He wondered what had become of the woman for love of whom he had let go all holds and degenerated to this heartless occupation of common gambler?
Prester John here retired by reason of his placing a ball in short- slip's hands; but on our captain taking his place and facing Black, the run-getting went steadily on until we were considerably a hundred over our antagonists. Young Black had not given a chance, save one close shave of a run out, when he got clean bowled for one hundred and fifty- one.
He stared at the floor, his teeth clenched and his strong face set. Slip stared. His pal had disclosed a new phase of character. Buck turned and glared into Slip's eyes. "I'll tell you, Slip, you're helpless when it comes to women. They've played the game for ten thousand years, practised it every day, wearing down men's minds and men never knew it. Read history, as I've done.
John looked at no hats; his eyes were on the pitch. Another round of cheers proclaimed that "20" had gone up. Both boys are batting steadily; no more boundary hits; a snick here, a snack there and then merciful Heavens! Caesar has cut a curling ball "bang" into short slip's hands. Short slip wretched youth muffs it! Derisive remarks from the Rev. Septimus. "Well caught! Well held! Tha-a-nks!"
At any rate, a man might as well get a kick from a horse as a stroke from either of them. "Little Jemmy Teague, I remimber, struck a cousin of the Slip's a very smart blow, that made him dance about the room, and blow his fingers for ten minutes after it. Jemmy, himself, was a tight, smart fellow.
Well, the Slip, as I said, stood over him, fixing himself for the stroke, and coming down with such a pelt on poor Jemmy's hand, that the first thing we saw was the blood acrass the Slip's own legs and feet, that had burst out of poor Jemmy's finger-ends. The Slip then stooped to receive the next blow himself, and you may be sure there was above two dozen up to be at him.
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