“Where’s Bob Randall?”
“Search me, Chip. He didn’t turn up for practice. Bet a dollar he’s
still sore over not getting elected captain.”
“Nonsense, Clan! He came around finely, congratulated me----”
“Oh, I know all about that. But the galoot got hot all over again, when
he got to thinking it over! I know his kind. He goes on impulse.”
Merry turned away. Despite his efforts to convince himself to the
contrary, he knew that Clancy was right. Randall “went on impulse.”
“Well, I’ll do the best I can,” thought Merry anxiously. “Bob is too
fine a fellow to do this. If I leave Fardale he ought to be captain, I
think.”
The first and second teams were at practice on the Fardale ball field.
There was an hour left before the drums would sound assembly for supper
formation, and Merry was putting his men through their paces.
“I hear there’s no game for Saturday,” said Billy McQuade, joining
Merry.
“Right. Had to be canceled. I’m sorry, because I may have to leave next
week, and I’d like to play one more game----”
Frank broke off abruptly as the cadet orderly from Colonel Gunn’s
office came up and saluted.
“Telegram, just arrived.”
“Thank you.”
Merry took the message and tore it open. A cry of amazement broke from
him, followed by an incredulous laugh. Then he turned.
“Mr. Trayne! Clan! Come over here!”
Coach Trayne and Clancy joined him, and Merry proceeded to read the
message aloud:
“FRANK MERRIWELL, JUNIOR, Captain Fardale Baseball Team: The
Carsonville Clippers challenge you to a game next Saturday, at
Fardale. Anxious to meet regular Fardale team. Wire my expense.
“COLONEL CARSON, Owner.”
Frank looked up, his eyes twinkling.
“Say, fellows, talk about nerve!”
“Nerve!” cried Clancy. “After you went over to Carsonville, picked up
a team, and beat them! After Colonel Carson and his son tried to keep
you out of the Franklin game last Saturday by kidnaping you! Nerve’s no
name for it, Chip. Tell ’em to go to thunder.”
“That fellow’s a pirate!” cried Billy Mac excitedly. “Wire him a
hundred words collect with a kick at the end, Chip!”
“There’s something crooked behind this,” declared Clancy hotly. “The
Clippers are crooked clear through, Chip, and we’d better not mix up
with them.”
“They’re an amateur team, though,” said Coach Trayne doubtfully. “It’d
be a good game, boys.”
“Sure it would,” added Billy Mac scornfully. “Colonel Carson wants to
recoup for his losses, Mr. Trayne. He has the reputation of being a
dirty gambler, and there’s something behind the challenge, you can be
sure of that!”
Frank smiled.
“His crooked work doesn’t seem to have won for him, just the same! Look
here, fellows, there’s no game Saturday, so we might accept this. It
will be lots of fun to pound Bully Carson out of the lot.”
“I guess Bully won’t pitch,” declared Clancy, with a grin. “It’d take
him more than a week to get over what I did to him, Chip.
“That’s one thing that looks queer to me,” continued the red-haired
chap. “You can bet a fistful that Colonel Carson isn’t out for sport,
Chip. He’s out for revenge and boodle, and he doesn’t care how he gets
either, so long as he gets it.”
“Let him come after it,” said Coach Trayne. “There’s no prospect of
getting another game for Saturday, and the athletic association can use
the money. That game would draw a big crowd, Clancy.”
“We don’t want to let him yell that we had cold feet,” said Frank.
Billy Mac grunted.
“But what’s the sense in playing him, Chip? We ought to have that
shyster put in jail for kidnaping you, and we could do it, and his son,
too. Everybody knows his crowd is crooked and----”
“So much the more glory in beating them squarely,” said Frank. “What do
you think about it, Mr. Trayne?”
“It looks all right to me,” returned the coach. “I’d say to take the
game, and then lick the stuffing out of those fellows. We’re playing
the Clippers, you know, not Colonel Carson himself. They could
certainty raise a holler if we refused, for they’re the crack team of
the Amateur League. We’ve no good reason for turning them down, except
on the score of crookedness, which we can’t raise against the team as
a whole. Carson’s private dirty work doesn’t blanket his whole team,
remember.”
“That’s true,” said Clancy, “but the team is a bad lot, too. They tried
to beat up Chip, Billy, and me down at Carsonville, after our pick-ups
licked them. But you suit yourself, Merry. I’ll stand back of you.”
“Same here, Chip,” said Billy. “I’d just as soon help to do the bunch
up brown, anyhow.”
“All right, then,” said Frank. “I see the practice game is over, so
I’ll trot across to the office and phone down a telegram of acceptance.”
“Oh, by the way, Merriwell,” said Coach Trayne, stopping him, “who are
you working out to fill Crockett’s place?”
“Well, Mr. Trayne, my choice happens to be holding down second right
now,” and Frank looked across the diamond with a twinkle. “What do you
think of him?”
The party turned. Standing awkwardly on second and waiting for a
grounder from the batter was Villum Kess. He stood full on the sack
itself, as though firmly determined not to let it get away from him. A
burst of laughter went up, though Trayne kept silent.
“Him!” cried Clancy derisively. “He’s done nothing but right field up
to now, Chip! Why, he’ll fall all over the infield!”
“He’s a joke,” said Billy Mac. “Oh, my eye! Look at that!”
Clancy gasped. As the batter sent a twisting grounder at the place
Kess should have been standing, the German youth appeared to lose his
balance and topple from the bag. He stumbled over his own foot, tried
to recover in vain, and went headlong to the ground in front of the
ball. By some weird chance it seemed to hit his glove, and as he sat up
he grinned and tossed it to first.
“Dot vos der pusiness!” he squawked, as every one roared with laughter.
“Yaw! Didn’t you toldt me so? You pet!”
“Talk about luck!” gasped Clancy. “Surely you’re not in earnest, Chip?”
“I am,” said Merry. “Maybe it’s luck, but I’ve noticed that Villum
always makes the luck break his way, Clan. Get out to first and see if
you can make him miss your pegs. If you can, I’ll reverse my decision.”
Clancy trotted off with a whoop, and Coach Trayne smiled.
“I wish you were going to stay at Fardale as captain, Chip! You’d
either smash up the team or else it would be a wonder to behold!”
“Thanks for them kind words,” said Frank, with a chuckle, moving away.
“You can announce that game for Saturday, Mr. Trayne!”
And he departed for Colonel Gunn’s office, in order to telephone his
wire to the village.