“Too bad about Ted Crockett,” said Garding, pulling on the weights.
“For Fardale, you mean,” returned Lee Chester. “Fine for Ted.”
“Uh-huh,” Hunt Garding paused with a sigh. “Going around the world with his dad, eh?”
“He’s foolish! I’d sooner be captain of the Fardale nine than go around the world a dozen times! When does he leave, Hunt?”
“Monday night—right after the Franklin Academy game. Say, Chesty!”
“Huh?”
Garding dropped his voice with a glance around
Garding dropped his voice with a glance around. No one appeared to be in hearing, and he leaned forward.
“Do you think Chip will get it?”
“Get what?”
“The captainship. Ted’s going away leaves it vacant, you know.”
“Holy smoke! That’s right! By golly, we’ve got to root for Chip!”
Hunt Garding nodded, but looked doubtful. He and his brother plebe were among Frank Merriwell, junior’s, stanchest supporters at Fardale. In common with many other students, they had remained at Fardale during the spring vacation.
It was Saturday morning, the last day of the vacation. Owing to a conflict in the schedules, a postponed game with Franklin Academy was to be played off on the following Monday, a half holiday having been declared by the two schools. Franklin was Fardale’s ancient rival, and as it was the second game of the season, feeling was running high.
Ted Crockett, was leaving school
Unfortunately for the Fardale team, its second baseman and captain, Ted Crockett, was leaving school. He had been called away suddenly to take a long trip with his father, but had managed to postpone his leaving until after the Franklin game.
His abrupt departure would leave vacant an important office, that of captain of the nine. It was of this that the two plebes were talking in the gymnasium. They did not observe a figure which stood just around the corner, and which was that of Bob Randall. He had just emerged from the locker room, had caught their words, and was listening for the remainder.
“I’m not so sure, Chesty. Chip isn’t certain to get the place, you know.”
“I’d like to know why not!” broke out Lee Chester indignantly, glaring at his chum. “Why, he’s the best pitcher Fardale ever had, barring his father and uncle!”
“Of course,” said Garding. “Best all-around athlete, too.”
“Well, what’s the matter with you, then? All we’ve got to do is to get the fellows on their toes, and——”
“There are several things the matter. First, there’s another chap on the team who’s a mighty fine tosser.”
“You mean Bob Randall?”
“Yes.”
The silent figure around the corner drew back…
… with a little smile playing about his clean-cut mouth. Randall was a handsome, dark-eyed, fiery-tempered Southerner, who could play ball like a fiend, when he wanted to.
He was full of pride, and his greatest fault was his temper. Despite this, however, he was a prime favorite. At Lee Chester’s next words his face flushed darkly, and his smile changed to a quick scowl.
“Randall? Nonsense, Hunt! He’s a dandy fellow, and is a peach of a pitcher, but he’s not in Chip’s class.”
“Naturally not, since Merry is a chip of the old block,” said Garding, with a chuckle. His face instantly became serious, however.
“You’re wrong, Chesty,” he went on. “Bob Randall is popular.”
“So’s Chip, according to my notion.”
“Sure. There’ll prob’ly be an election right after the game on Monday. But Chip, Clancy, and Billy Mac are over at Carsonville, and who’ll[118] look after their interests? You can bet that Chip will not try to get the captaincy, but he ought to.”
“I s’pose there will be some campaigning done,” admitted Chester. “But I don’t think Randall has much show. He’s too hot-headed to work as captain. Now, look at Chip Merriwell. Did you ever see him rattled? Not enough to notice it. He can pitch rings around Bob Randall, too. Wait till Monday, and you’ll see.”
“Well, you wait yourself. Randall doesn’t think a heap of Chip, I guess——”
“You’re wrong there, Garding.”
Bob Randall stepped out…
The two plebes whirled in surprise as Bob Randall stepped out. With an effort the latter had wiped the traces of discontent from his dark, good-looking features.
“You’re wrong,” he repeated easily. “I do think a good deal of Chip Merriwell, but since you seem to be discussing the subject frankly, I’ll say that he hasn’t any more chance of being elected captain than you have.”
The two plebes were inclined to be angry at being overheard by Randall, of all persons, and much more so by his words.
“Who gave you any license to butt in?” snapped Chester.
“I happened to overhear what you said, that’s all. This is a public place, isn’t it?”
“Generally considered so,” said Hunt Garding, with a grunt.
Randall saw that he had hurt himself with these two plebes, and he quickly tried to regain lost ground. He was not the kind to do any disguising of his true sentiments, however, and stated his ground bluntly.
“Look here, fellows, you seem to have the idea that I’m sore on Merriwell. I’m nothing of the kind. But there’s no use beating about the bush, after what’s been said, and I’m quite willing to admit that I want to be captain.”
“We guessed it,” retorted Chester dryly.
“Well, there’s no harm in that, is there?” Randall began to grow warm. “Can’t a fellow contest an elective office with Chip Merriwell?”
“Some fellows could, maybe,” said Garding. “But if you want it straight, Bob, you’re not the fellow, in this case. He’s out of your class as a pitcher.”
Randall’s dark eyes flashed, but he controlled himself
“I don’t acknowledge that. Who’ll go into the box for Fardale when Chip isn’t around? Tell me that.”
“You will, because you’re the next best pitcher,” retorted Hunt. “You don’t need to get sore, Randall. I’m not decrying your ability when I say that you’re not the equal of Merriwell, because you’re a blamed good pitcher.”
This only added fuel to the flame, however.
“Well, that remains to be seen,” declared Randall[120] hotly. “Chip gets away with it because he has luck, that’s all. A whole lot depends on this game with Franklin, Monday, and the fellow that pitches and wins the game for Fardale will be the next captain of the regulars!”
“And that’ll be Chip Merriwell, for he’ll surely pitch,” said Chester.
“He won’t!” cried Randall, losing his temper. “I’m slated for that game, and I’m going to show you fellows what a real pitcher can do when he gets started. The trouble with a lot of you plebes is that you truckle to Merry because his father and uncle are old-time diamond stars!”
Lee Chester showed his wrath at this charge
“I guess that lets you out,” he exclaimed angrily. “You’re so blamed jealous that your brains are twisted, Bob Randall! Nobody gets truckled to around this school, unless he’s got the goods, and you’re a long ways from having them.”
“Well, I should hope so!” flashed back Randall. “I’d hate to have a crowd of decent fellows thinking that I was a little tin god on wheels! That’s what you seem to think about Merry.”
“Better take it easy, Bob,” advised Hunt Garding, with a frown. “Go out and cool off, and you’ll see it differently.”
“I see it well enough, thanks,” snapped Randall furiously. “It isn’t hard to see that a bunch[121] of you fellows toady to Chip Merriwell because you think it’s going to get you something. That chap is overrated. He’s got ability, but it’s your crowd that has given him such a case of swelled head that he thinks he can cop off everything. He’s going to find that he can’t.”
“Aw, go away and sneeze! Your brain’s dusty!” jeered Chester.
“I’ll tell you two something!” cried Randall, shaking his fist and advancing a step. “We’re going to win this game on Monday, and I’m going to do it! Look at the team—it’s all shot to pieces! Billy McQuade has left school. Crockett’s going to quit. Clancy is off with Merry at Carsonville, instead of being back here practicing to get into shape to cover first. What kind of a captain would Chip make, when he allows this on the eve of an important game, tell me that?”
“He’d make a better one than you would, losing your fool head this way,” retorted Chester. “He’s at Carsonville trying to persuade Billy Mac to return, and you know it! Say, if I had that jealous disposition of yours I’d hang it on the back fence and throw stones at it! You make me tired!”
Randall’s temper lashed out. His face went white with anger…
“Yuh impudent little Yankee!” he roared. Whenever he forgot himself his voice took on a[122] soft Southern drawl, which it now assumed abruptly. “I reckon I’ll teach yo’-all somethin’ right heah! I’ll show yo’-all yo’ cain’t talk to a Randall like he was a low-down niggah!”
He started for Chester, and Chester started for him with great willingness. Before they could strike a blow, however, Hunt Garding dashed in between with a quick warning, pointing across the gym.
“’Sh-h-h! The athletic instructor’s coming!”
Randall flung a look toward the door, then sullenly jammed his hat over his eyes and strode away.