DICK ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE.
The field presented a lively appearance when Billings and Merriwell
arrived that afternoon. Three or four coachers were hard at work with
the regular players and the substitutes. Of the pitchers three were
limbering their arms while two more batted for the practicing fielders.
The manager and the head coach were standing apart from the other men on
the field, engaged in an earnest argument. Captain Emery was working
like a Trojan, and it was plain by the expression on his face that he
was not wholly without worry. Some forty or fifty students were
scattered about in little groups on the bleachers, watching the
practice.
Billings was recognized the moment he appeared, but the sudden show of
interest, the sudden craning of necks—Billings’ companion caused all
this.
“It’s Merriwell.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“There’s a pitcher.”
“It’s a shame we can’t use him.”
“Oh, I don’t know. He might not prove so much in real fast company.”
At this the fellow who had expressed regret because the varsity was not
permitted to use Dick proceeded to straighten up and assert his belief
that the freshman was just about the hottest thing in the way of a
twirler that had been seen at Yale since the days of his famous brother.
“Mark what I say,” said this chap, shaking a finger in the air, “that
boy is a wizard. I’ve watched him pitch, and I know what I’m talking
about. He has some kinks up his sleeve that no one ever saw before.”
“Can he throw the double shoot?” laughed a sarcastic chap with a
cigarette. “You know Frank Merriwell had the reputation of pitching such
a ball. Why, there are fellows right here in college who really believe
he could throw a ball that would curve two ways.”
“Of course you don’t believe anything of that kind?”
“Do I look like an idiot? I admit that Merriwell had some kind of a
deceptive twist, but common sense will tell any one that the double
shoot is a rank impossibility.”
“There was a time,” said the other, “that common sense seemed to tell
every one that any kind of a curve was an impossibility. Even at the
present time there are lots of curves and shoots that cannot be
explained by the wisest seers. Who can give an acceptable theory of the
erratic actions of the spit ball? Sometimes it curves slowly, sometimes
it doesn’t curve at all, and sometimes it breaks at a sharp angle.”
“What’s Billings doing with Merriwell?” inquired a curious chap. “He’s
taken him over to the bench. They’re talking with Leyden.”
Leyden was the head coach. It happened that Billings was simply
introducing Dick to the man.
“How are things going to-day, Mr. Leyden?” inquired the reporter.
The coach regarded him suspiciously.
“Now don’t come to me for material,” he said. “You’ve made trouble
enough already, Billings. Go ahead and write your stuff, but don’t
expect assistance from me.”
Billings smiled.
“I think I’ve taken pains never to give away any confidences or
secrets,” he said. “No one has the good of the team more at heart than I
have. Sometimes it becomes necessary to tell the truth. I kept still
until outsiders began to get onto the actual condition here. It’s no
secret that Yale needs pitchers. I wish we were in position to give this
boy a trial, Leyden.”
He placed his hand on Dick’s shoulder as he spoke, causing the lad to
flush and look embarrassed.
“Of course you know we can’t do that, and he might not prove the man we
need if we could.”
“This boy,” said Walter, “is a natural pitcher. He’s made a study of it,
and he has a few original curves of his own.”
“There are no original curves nowadays, Billings. There’s nothing new in
that line.”
“Think so?”
“Say, why don’t you give Merriwell an opportunity to pitch for batting
practice? Your batting practice is rather tame in my estimation. Can’t
get a pitcher to go out there and pitch the way he would in a game, you
know. They simply go out and throw the ball straight over. This doesn’t
do much good for the batter.”
“I didn’t come out to take any part in the practice, Billings,” said
Dick hastily.
Discovering Merriwell, Pumper Welch came slouching up, a sarcastic smile
on his face. Welch had never liked Dick, and he now seized the
opportunity to be nasty.
“Hello, Merriwell,” he said. “I suppose you’ve come out to show us how
to pitch?”
There was something absolutely insulting in the way these words were
spoken.
“How do you do, Welch,” bowed the freshman, his eyes snapping a bit. “I
didn’t come out to show you how to pitch. I presume you know it all.”
“I won’t come to you to learn what I don’t know,” was the instant
retort.
Dudley Towne came forward. Like Welch, Towne had no love for Dick. He
had not forgotten how, in the fall games, the freshman had outpitched
him.
“Why aren’t you practicing with your team this afternoon, Merriwell?” he
inquired. “I presume you’re such an expert that you really don’t need to
practice much of any?”
Frank Emery came trotting forward.
“We’re going to get some batting practice now,” he said. “You pitch
first, will you, Towne? Wake up a little and give ’em something to hit.
Don’t simply lob over some lazy straight ones. You haven’t got to pitch
your arm off, but you can use a few curves, you know.”
Towne scowled and looked sulky.
“My wing is lame, cap,” he said. “Don’t you think I’ve used it about
enough this afternoon? Of course, I’ll pitch if you say so, but——”
“If your arm is lame, I should think you’d keep it covered up when you
get through working,” said Emery warmly. “Why, you don’t even put on a
sweater, Towne. A man without sense enough to take care of his arm is
bound to have a lame wing the most of the time. We can get along without
you. Where’s that freshman, Toleman? He’s the only fellow who really
does give the batters any practice that’s worth while.”
“Toleman hasn’t been out this afternoon,” said Leyden. “Billings was
just proposing that we should use this youngster in batting practice.”
“Oh, hello, Merriwell!” cried Emery cordially. “What are you doing here?
All right, come ahead and pitch a while, will you?”
“This was not my proposition,” said Dick. “I simply came round to look
on. Thought I might pick up some points for my own benefit, you know.”
At this Welch laughed unpleasantly.
“Just peel off and pitch a while, Merriwell,” he said. “I wish you
would. I’d like to bat against you. I’ve never had a chance. You’re
pretty clever at striking out freshmen, but you’ll find it different
against real batters. I’m a fairly good hitter myself, and I don’t think
you could strike me out in a week.”
“Perhaps not,” admitted Dick.
Thinking Merriwell frightened, Welch proceeded to rub it in by offering
to give the boy ten dollars every time he struck out if Dick would give
him a dollar for every clean hit he made.
“Which is the same as betting,” said Dick. “I never bet.”
“Of course he doesn’t,” chuckled Towne. “He hasn’t sand enough. I don’t
believe he has the nerve to get out here and pitch for batting
practice.”
“What sort of batting practice is this to be?” demanded Dick sharply.
“Under ordinary circumstances the pitching is not made too difficult for
the batter. It’s not customary in such practice for the pitcher to
deceive the batter in any possible way. Instead of that, he is to put
the ball over if he can.”
“If you’ll pitch, I shall be highly pleased to have you deceive me in
any possible manner,” said Welch. “Just show what you can do, will you?
They say Manhattan College has a pitcher after your style, and I just
want to show the boys what I’m going to do to him.”
“Go ahead, Merriwell,” urged Emery.
Thus challenged, Dick proceeded to pull off his coat and get ready for
business.