MANHATTAN IN THE LEAD.
A most astonishing thing was the manner in which the team backed up
Kates this day, while on the previous Saturday it had gone to pieces
behind him in an exasperating manner the moment the Highbridge School
boys began to hit him. As inning after inning progressed, with the
infielders making the most astonishing stops and throws, and the
outfielders pulling down hard-batted flies which seemed good for two or
three bases, Kates got a hold on himself, and gradually improved in his
box work. In the fifth inning Yale made her first runs, two scores,
secured through a clean hit by Buckhart, a sacrifice by Claxton, a base
on balls handed out to Jones, and Manhattan’s first error, the fielder
dropping Spratt’s hit to right and losing the ball, while Brad and
Blessed tore over the plate.
But in the sixth the visitors retaliated with a vengeance. Three men hit
safely in succession. Then, for the first time, Yale showed symptoms of
going to pieces, for a couple of errors followed, and the Manhattanites
had tallied three times when the smoke cleared away.
“I told you what would happen!” exclaimed Bill Toleman. “It’s all off
now. Kates is useless from this time on. Look at him! See him crawling
in to the bench like a yellow dog with its tail between its legs.”
“Evidently you love Kates,” snickered Dagett.
“Well, if I can’t pitch better than he can, I’ll eat my boots. Has any
one seen me asking Merriwell or Jones or Robinson for a chance to pitch
on their great team? I fought against them at the outset, and I’ve taken
my medicine. I haven’t squealed. I hate a squealer. That’s why I’m
disgusted with Mike Lynch. I’m not saying that he isn’t sincere now, but
I do say that he has squealed. After blowing and bleating around about
Merriwell, and making so much talk, he suddenly threw up the sponge. I
swear I didn’t know he was a quitter, but I know it now. He has
disgusted me more than any chap I know of. I’d like to see him kicked
out of college.”
At this Wolfe gave Ditson a nudge.
“There are others,” whispered Bern. “Oh, if I could only get hold of
that confession! If I knew how to put my hands on it! Do you suppose
Merriwell carries it round in his pocket all the time?”
“I don’t know,” muttered Dunc, absent-mindedly.
“Well, I’ve got an idea that he may keep it somewhere in his room,” said
Wolfe. “I’d like to get into his room and make a search. I’d dig it out
if it was there.”
“Better forget it,” said Duncan. “That blamed old confession got us into
a nasty scrape. I’m worried.”
“But I thought you said Shea would get out of town all right.”
“I’m in hopes he will, but you never can tell what will happen.”
“Think he’d squeal if he was nabbed?”
“Of course he would. That would be the easiest way for him to get a
light sentence. He’d say he was paid to do the job by a couple of Yale
men. He’d ring us in as sure as fate.”
“How about the other man?”
“Cully? Oh, he’s sneaked already. He’s gone. He didn’t wait until
morning.”
Having obtained the lead, Manhattan seemed determined to hold the home
team down. Hogan pitched as if everything he held dear depended on the
result. Nevertheless, Yale was warmed up, and the visiting twirler had
his troubles. But the Blue could not push a runner past third. Fast
fielding behind Hogan terminated the sixth inning, with the score three
to two, in favor of Manhattan College.
“Now get after that pitcher and pound him to death!” fiercely urged
Marone, as the visitors trotted in to the bench. “This ought to be our
inning. We ought to pile up some more runs right here.”
Merriwell had talked encouragingly to Kates, and, to the surprise of
every one, Sam opened the seventh by striking out a man. Even though the
next fellow hit safely, Kates did not seem disturbed, and he forced the
following chap to put up an easy infield fly.
“All right, Katesy—all right!” piped Tucker. “They thought they had you
going, eh? Well, they’ve got another think coming!”
But the next man hit, and the fellow on first made third by fast
running.
“We’ll do it right here,” announced Marone, from the coaching line.
“Everybody run on a hit.”
Merriwell smiled at Kates and nodded. Sam toed the slab without a
tremor, and quickly put the batter in a hole, two strikes and one ball
being called.
“That’s all right! that’s all right!” yapped Marone. “You can hit him
just the same! He’s easy!”
The batter did hit, but it proved to be an easy fly to right field, and
Bouncer Bigelow did his duty nobly by gathering it in.
“Well, if that wasn’t crawling out of a small hole!” exclaimed Bill
Toleman. “Kates certainly is lucky to-day.”
“But the boys can’t seem to hit Hogan,” said Wolfe. “Do you think they
have a chance to win, Bill?”
“Not much of a chance, I imagine,” was the answer. “Still the score is
mighty close.”
“I’d like to leave,” whispered Wolfe, in Ditson’s ear, “but I hate to
quit this game. I want to see it out.”
“Why do you want to leave?”
“I have a scheme.”
“What sort of a scheme?”
“Think I know how I could get a chance to rustle round in Merriwell’s
room. I’d just rush up to the house, ring the bell, and tell the girl
that Merriwell had sent me after something he’d left in his room. If she
let me upstairs, I’d come pretty near finding that confession if it’s
stowed away there. What do you think of that plan?”
“If you want to take the chances——”
“Don’t talk about that after the chances we took trying to hold those
fellows up. I wouldn’t touch anything else but the old confession. What
could Merriwell do about it if he did prove I got that? What value could
he put on such a paper? Besides, I’d give the girl at the house a
fictitious name. I’d like to try the trick.”
“I advise you against it. Better be careful until the clouds roll by.”
In spite of this advice, Wolfe grew restless every minute, and when the
seventh inning ended, with the score three to two, Bern whispered a
good-by to Duncan, told the others he would be back in a short time, and
left the stand.