CHAPTER XII. CLIPPING THE CLIPPERS.

“Here’s the boy wonder!” announced Squint Fletcher. “Soak him in the

bean!”

As Carson began to wind up, a voice pierced the roar of cheers that

startled Frank. It seemed like a voice that he knew well.

“Fardale forever! Hurrah for old Fardale!”

Merry could not tell whence that voice came, but he gripped his bat

hard at the sound of it. Carson unwound, and a white streak shot toward

the plate.

Whether he intended it or not, the ball came straight for Frank, who

was forced to step back. Squint grinned.

“Look out for your bean!”

Again Carson sent the ball whizzing down, but this time Merry

connected. There was a crack, and the sphere went sailing over second,

and Frank went to first.

“Hold it!” cautioned Clancy, as Billy came up to the plate.

“Here’s the champion human mistake, Bully!” sang out Squint.

Carson gave Billy a black look and whipped over the horsehide.

“Ball--one!” announced the umpire. A storm of cheers floated across the

field.

The next ball broke sharply. It struck Billy on the arm, and the

backstop at once flung away his bat and took first. He gave Frank a

grin as the latter advanced.

Spaulding came up, and Carson fanned him. The Clippers were evidently

waking up.

Moore managed to pop up a weak fly, which Ironton gathered in easily.

Henderson followed, and struck out, leaving Billy on first and Frank

marooned on second. Two innings were finished, and the Clippers were

one run to the good.

In the third, Merry shut out the Clippers, but, although McCarthy

connected for a long drive, he was caught trying for third. In the

fourth the heavy end of the Clippers was up, but Burkett, Bangs, and

Ironton fanned in beautiful harmony. Clancy was up for the Clippings.

“Lay out a soft one, Clan,” said Merry. “This has been an old-time

slugging match so far. Get to first, and work the hit-and-run.”

The red-haired chap nodded and stepped to the plate. Carson sent over

a wide one, and Clancy swung viciously, drawing a chuckle from Squint.

Again he swung at a poor one, then Carson lashed a fast high one across.

To the surprise of the Clippers, Clancy choked his bat and laid a neat

bunt down the third-base line. So astonished was Bangs that Clancy beat

his throw easily, and Frank came up to bat, smiling.

Carson paused, scowling. He did not like Merry’s smile, and knew that

his speed had not fooled Frank before. So he wound up as if delivering

a fast one, and his famous slow fadeaway floated down toward the plate.

Instantly Clancy was sprinting for second. Merry was not altogether

fooled by that delivery, and he fell on the ball for a short, choppy

stroke that sent the sphere zipping along the ground to Carson.

The pitcher tried to stop it, but it went through him. Murray was

backing him up, but before the ball reached first, Merry was standing

on the bag, and Clancy was safe. Roar upon roar swelled out from the

fans; but Frank did not again hear the voice which had startled him.

Billy McQuade strode out and pounded the plate with a determined air.

Carson fooled him twice with a slow fader, and, at the second strike,

Merry gave Clancy the signal for a double steal, doubting whether Billy

could connect.

As Carson unwound, the two sprinted for third and second. Billy saw the

movement, and stepped forward desperately. He managed to bunt, and,

although he was nailed at first, Clancy and Frank were safe.

It seemed as though they would remain safe, however, for Spaulding put

up a foul tip that was easily smothered by Squint Fletcher. Moore came

up, and as he was a notoriously weak batter, Frank gave his chum the

signal to steal.

Clancy grinned, ready for anything. Carson kept him close to third,

but, as the big pitcher wound up again, Clancy went toward home like a

streak. Instantly Carson let the ball fly.

Moore, however, knew his business. He was in his box, and, although

Squint yelled at him to get out of the way, he stepped forward and

bunted the ball along the first-base line. Clancy came sliding to the

plate in a cloud of dust, and the umpire motioned him safe, Moore, in

the meantime, getting to first.

Squint at once moved for a new trial, but the umpire denied the motion,

and the Clippings and their admirers sent up a shrill yell as they

knew the score was tied. During the argument Frank stole third, but an

instant later Moore was caught off first, and the inning was over, with

the score tied.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh passed without another run. In the

eighth, Runge took third on a long fly, which Henderson dropped, but

he died there. Henderson made good his error by a hit in the next

half, and Chub Newton astonished every one by getting another, but the

Clippers woke up and effected a beautiful double play that retired the

side.

The ninth opened with the heavy end of both sides at bat. The crowd was

now silent and tense, for the game was apt to jump either way without

warning. Merriwell seemed airtight, and Carson had superb support

behind him.

Squint Fletcher strode up to the plate, and came down on the first ball

Frank put over. The hit was a clean one, the sphere flying out between

Moore and Nippen for a Texas leaguer, but Squint was not content with

this. He tore around first and went on to second like a whirlwind.

Moore sent the ball in to Spaulding perfectly. The second baseman stood

off the line, and, as he stooped for the catch, Squint came slamming

into him in a whirl of dust. The ball was seen to drop, and, when

the dust cleared off, Spaulding was fiercely addressing the grinning

Squint, whose spikes had gone into his leg.

“Rotten! Murder him!” went up the yell.

“Dirty work! Smash him, Jim!” cried McCarthy.

Spaulding was about to obey, when Chip Merriwell leaped on him and

restored him to sanity. Muttering, the angry Spaulding wiped the blood

from his leg and limped to his place. Frank returned to his box, glad

that trouble had been avoided.

Burkett fanned, but Bangs clipped a high one that Moore misjudged.

Squint was halted at third, while Bangs took second on a close

decision, with one out. Ironton came up and deliberately stepped into

Merry’s double shoot, but did it so cleverly that the umpire was

deceived into giving him a base. The sacks were filled.

The next man up was Johnson. Frank fooled him once, then snapped the

ball to Clancy in an endeavor to catch Ironton. The effort failed, but

Squint Fletcher took a chance on reaching home.

Clancy sent in the ball far ahead of him, and Squint turned to get back

to third. As he did so, Billy put the ball into McCarthy’s hand. Squint

gave a yell and flung himself at Dan feet first, in an undoubted effort

to spike.

A shout of anger burst from every man on the field. The lanky McCarthy

was not so easily caught, however. As Squint came at him, he writhed

aside and drove down his fist with the ball into Fletcher’s face.

Squint was knocked a yard away, and rose with a yell of wrath, blood

streaming from his nose. McCarthy was only too ready to pitch into him,

but Bully Carson dragged his backstop away, and Merry caught Dan by the

shoulder.

“You paid him out for spiking Jim,” cried Frank. “Now simmer down, Dan.”

Squint was greeted with howls and catcalls as he came in. But, during

the storm, Bangs had stolen third, and Ironton had taken second. Frank

gave Johnson a fast high one, and Johnson hammered it for two sacks.

Murray fanned, but the evil was done. The score stood three to one,

and the Clippings seemed lost when McCarthy came out to the plate and

went out on a high fly. The crowd began to stream away from the field.

Nippen lumbered up to the plate, and, with a grin, Carson handed him

an out. A shriek of astonishment went up as the huge fruit-picker

connected. The ball went up and up, and the Clipper outfield raced

back. Then they halted in dismay.

Silence fell on the crowd--broken by a gasp. Nippen passed second,

rounded third, and held on home. The ball not only cleared the fence,

but--dropped into the river! The huge outfielder had knocked a homer!

When the fans understood what had happened, they went wild. Amid the

confusion, Clancy came to bat and rapped out a single. The field became

a bedlam. Shrieks and wild yells rose on every side, and the thump of

feet rose into a dull thunder. When Merry came out to bat, the entire

crowd went crazy all over again.

As for the Clippers, they were thunderstruck. Carson tried to gain

time, but the umpire commanded him to play ball, and he threw a vicious

one straight at Frank’s head. Merry calmly stepped back and bunted it

toward first.

Carson leaped for it and fumbled. Clancy sprinted down to second, and,

before the big fellow could decide where the ball ought to go, Merry

was safe on first and Clancy was taking third.

“Wake up, you bonehead!” growled Squint, as he walked out and met his

captain. “Say, you’re the limit!”

“He’s l-l-limited, al-l-l right!” chirruped Chub, from behind third.

“The bal-l-loon’s gone up, fel-l-lows! Tag al-l-long!”

Carson scowled as Billy Mac faced him. Frank seized his chance and went

down to second. Again the crowd lost its head with delight, yelling and

stamping in a frenzied manner.

“Finish it up, you bonehead,” grated Squint. “Fan this man and we have

’em.”

Billy laughed. A moment later the ball came down, and he cracked it

squarely. It shot back at Carson like a bullet. The big fellow leaped

aside amid a yell of derision, and, before Murray had fielded it,

Clancy and Merriwell had crossed the plate.

The Clippings had clipped the Clippers!

Merry and Billy reached the shelter of the dressing room first, but the

rest of the team was caught by the frenzied crowd. As the two entered,

they found the black-bearded stranger waiting for them. He held out a

paper to Billy.

“Here,” he said, with a laugh, “is something for your mother, Billy. I

think you won it pretty fairly, old man!”

The stranger caught at his beard, and it came off in his hand. Chip

took one glance, then leaped for him with a yell.

“Father!”

And Frank Merriwell, senior, smiled quietly as he took Chip’s hand.

Frank Merriwell's Diamond Foes; Or, Straight Over the Plate · 第 12 / 39 章