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Updated: June 23, 2025
At first Roy was not to be found, and his mother said she did not know where he had gone. The motorcycle was standing in the carriage house, causing Rackliff to wonder a little. "Queer," muttered Herbert, rubbing his chin with his cigarette-stained fingers. "When the old lady said he wasn't around I thought sure he must be off with this machine."
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."
This has been the rottenest day I've seen in a long time." Hooker, having seen that the motorcycle was placed on its rack, supplied the match, and Rackliff fired up, the light seeming to shine through his thin, cupped hands as he protected the blaze from the light draught that came in through the open door. He looked tired, and the first whiff or two set him coughing again.
You've never faced anybody in a sus-square stand-up scrap, but you've grabbed and ch-choked fellows like Bunk Lander and Herbert Rackliff when they weren't expecting it. I know a little something about handling my dukes, and I'll bet I can lick you in less than tut-ten minutes." "Perhaps you can," said Grant. "Gee whiz!" spluttered Chipper Cooper. "What do you know about that, fellows?"
Gee! but he did come toward the end of the season. Look how he held Wyndham down; and he'd won that game, too, with proper support. He'll be better this year." "I hope Barville beats the everlasting stuffing out of Oakdale." "Do you really?" chuckled Roberts. "How's your friend feel about it? Does he play?" "Nit," said Rackliff. "Draw poker is about the only kind of a game I ever take a hand in."
Roy was standing on the steps of the hotel, waiting for the boys to dress, when Herbert Rackliff approached at a languid saunter, smoking, as usual, and looking rather dejected and cast down. "I say, Hook," said Herbert, "lend me the price of a ticket back to Oakdale, will you. I've gone clean broke over here, thanks to the rotten luck.
Half an hour later Grant, having returned, was talking baseball with several fellows who had gathered in a group near Stickney's store, when Rackliff sauntered up. "Just a word with you, Mr. Cowpuncher," said Herbert in a loud voice. "You applied several objectionable adjectives to me a while ago, and now I want to tell you just what I think about you.
Halfway across the field, as the path curved round some bushes, Springer came upon Herbert Rackliff, sitting on a stone, manicuring his nails with the file blade of a pearl-handled knife, a cigarette clinging to his moistened lower lip. "Hello," said Herbert, with no intonation of surprise, as he looked up. "How do you happen to be dodging across this way, Springer?" Phil was annoyed.
"He'd better not say too much about me," Phil growled to himself. "I know he is a fighter. I know he has a fearful temper. But he'll find out I'm not afraid of him." That very night Lela Barker, coming to the post office to mail some letters, was followed and annoyed by Rackliff when she started to return home.
"I suppose you've heard how Wyndham actually buried Barville last Saturday. The score was seventeen to three something awful." "But Clearport came mum-mighty near beating Wyndham the week before." Herbert winked wisely. "Maybe they did, and maybe they didn't," he said. "Oh, but they did! They batted Wyndham's new pitcher, Newbert, off the slab." At this Rackliff laughed. "Tell it to the marines.
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