"I'll strike him out easy enough," thought Roy. Instead of that, he pitched four wide ones, all of which were declared balls by Sage, who had been requested to umpire; and Chub jogged to first, complaining that Hooker had been afraid to let him hit. Then came Stone, who let a wide one pass, but reached a bit for the next, caught it about six inches from the end of his bat, and laced it fairly over the centerfield fence, a feat rarely performed on those grounds. "My arm isn't in shape yet," said Hooker, trying to remain deaf to the laughter of the boys, as the runners trotted over the sacks and came home. "I won't pitch any more to-day, Eliot." CHAPTER III. TWO OF A KIND. Sitting alone on the bleachers, Roy Hooker sourly watched the continuation of practice. He saw Springer take a turn at pitching, to be followed finally by Rodney Grant, who laughingly warned the boys that he intended to strike them all out. Rodney Grant was a somewhat peculiar character, who, coming unannounced to Oakdale, had at first been greatly misunderstood by the boys there, not a few of whom had fancied him an impostor and a fake Texan, mainly because of his quiet manners and conventional appearance; for these unsophisticated New England lads had been led, through the reading of a certain brand of Western literature, to believe that all Texans, and especially those who dwelt upon ranches, must be of the "wild and woolly" variety. Perceiving this at last, Rod had proceeded to amuse himself not a little by assuming a false air of bravado, and spinning some highly preposterous yarns of his hair-lifting adventures upon the plains; a course which, however, adopted too late to be effective, simply confirmed the doubters--who could not realize that they were being joshed--in their belief that the fellow was an out-and-out fraud. Adding to Grant's unpopularity, and the growing disdain in which he was held, although plainly a strong, healthy, athletic chap, he not only refused to come out for football, but displayed an aversion for violent physical contention of any sort, especially fighting; which caused him to be branded as a coward. But the time came when, unable longer to endure the insults heaped upon him, the restraint of the young Texan snapped like a bowstring, and the boys of Oakdale found that a sleeping lion had suddenly awakened. Then it came to be known that Grant had inherited a most unfortunate family failing, a terrible temper, which, when uncontrolled, was liable to lead him into extreme acts of violence; and it was this temper he feared, instead of the fellows he had shunned whenever they sought to provoke him. Even now, although baseball was a gentle game in comparison with football, he was not absolutely sure he could always deport himself as a gentleman and a sportsman while playing it.