JOLTS FOR BULLIES.
Bender was a thin, sinewy, long-armed, hatchet-faced chap, who looked
like an Indian. He had "traveled in fast company" for years, but was
said to be a hard man to handle, having jumped more than one contract
and being of a sullen and revengeful disposition.
Bancroft, the catcher, was a rather stocky individual, inclined to be a
trifle too fat. The general observer decided him out of condition and
unfit for baseball. His position under the bat was awkward, and his face
wore an expression of blankness, which seemed to indicate a lack of that
quick wit and keen intelligence to be found in every exceptional
baseball player.
Nevertheless, Bang Bancroft was one of the cleverest players on the
Rovers. He was a great short-arm thrower to bases. He could bat like a
fiend, and he had a knack of coaching and steadying a pitcher which
brought out the best there was in any slab artist who "handed 'em up" to
him.
McCann, shortstop and captain of the team, was a fighting Irishman with
a peppery temper and a bullying disposition. This chap had a trick of
bulldozing umpires and opposing players, and he generally played what
is commonly called "scrappy baseball."
The other members of the team took their cues from McCann, and their
aggressiveness was made apparent almost before the first ball was
pitched over the plate.
"Here's a mark, Bender!" cried McCann, as Mulloy stepped out with his
bat. "Eat him up!"
"Come on, Mitt," came from O'Day, "burn a few hot ones over! Make him
dizzy!"
"Get back from the plate!" rasped Bender, as Barney took his position.
"Get back, or you'll get hit!"
"Hit him if he crowds," came from Holmes; "but don't kill him. You know
you killed one man last year and broke another man's jaw."
"Go ahead and hit him," came from Clover. "He's Irish, and you can't
kill him."
Frank Merriwell's eyes began to gleam with a peculiar light and his lips
tightened.
"They fancy they're up against a lot of youngsters they can intimidate,"
he thought. "They mean to frighten us at the start."
Again Bender motioned for Mulloy to move back from the plate.
"Pitch the ball, me fri'nd--pitch the ball," said Barney. "Oi'm in me
box, and I'll shtand here."
An instant later Bender delivered the ball, deliberately snapping a
swift one straight at Mulloy.
Barney might have dropped to the ground and thus avoided being hit, but,
instead of doing so, he leaned far forward, with his left shoulder
advanced and his right shoulder held well back. In this manner he
escaped being hit fairly by the ball, which glanced from the back of his
right shoulder.
"Take your base!" called Carker promptly.
Instantly there was a howl of protestation from the crowd back of first
base.
McCann made a rush at Carker.
"Call him back!" snarled the captain of the Rovers. "He didn't try to
dodge that ball! He didn't try to get out of the way!"
"The pitcher hit him deliberately," said Greg calmly. "He was threatened
before the ball was pitched. Get back into your position."
McCann placed his hands on his hips and glared at Carker.
"Who are ye tellin' to git back?" he rasped. "Do ye know who ye're
talkin' to, young feller?"
"I'm talking to you," said Greg, in the same calm manner. "If you don't
get back in your position and play the game, I'll put you on the bench."
"What?" shouted the Irishman. "Put me on the bench--you put me on the
bench? I'd like to see you do it!"
Greg pulled out his watch.
"I'll give you just thirty seconds to get into your position and go on
with this game," he said.
"If you put me on the bench, I'll take my team off the field!"
threatened McCann.
"And I'll forfeit the game to the home team," retorted Carker. "Twenty
seconds. You have ten seconds more."
McCann turned and retreated to his position, growling and muttering in
an ugly manner.
"Play ball, boys!" he called. "We can win the game, even if the umpire
is against us!"
Basil Bearover hurried to the bench of the home players and grasped
Frank Merriwell by the shoulder.
"Is this the kind of square deal you promised us?" he demanded.
Merry rose, turned, and faced the man.
"What's the matter?" was his question. "You know Mulloy was entitled to
his base."
"But your umpire threatened to put one of my men out of the game."
"He has authority to put any player out of the game. He can't fine the
men, but he can order them off the field if they raise a disturbance and
make back talk to him. If one of my players should rush at him the way
McCann did, I should expect him to put the man on the bench or off the
field. If he didn't do it, I'd do it myself. You know Bender threw that
ball at Mulloy to drive him back from the plate, and you also know that
Mulloy was in his proper position."
"Aren't we going to have any sort of a square deal here?" gurgled
Bearover furiously.
"You're going to have as square a deal as you ever received in all your
career, but you're not going to bulldoze the umpire or any one else on
this field."
"If we don't get what we want, we'll stop the game in the very first
inning," threatened Bearover.
"You can stop it by refusing to play," said Frank. "You heard Carker
tell McCann that he would forfeit the game if he did such a thing. It
will be all over in short order in case you or your captain pulls the
team off the field."
"But look at this crowd! You'll disappoint this crowd! You'll have to
refund the gate money!"
"Which I'll do," said Merriwell. "I'll refund every cent that's been
taken at the gate. Did you read the Wellsburg _Herald_ this morning? If
so, Mr. Bearover, I presume you saw a little item regarding a
ten-thousand-dollar bet. Now, if such a bet has been made, and you lose
this game through forfeit, you'll likewise lose the bet. It may not cost
you anything, but it will cost Mr. Silence ten thousand dollars. I don't
think you'll take your team off the field to-day."
Bearover was purple with anger.
"Look at that bunch of boys back of first," he directed. "If you are not
careful, Mr. Merriwell, they'll waltz onto the field and wipe up the
earth with you and your team and the umpire."
"I don't think they will," said Frank. "At the present time they're
being watched by six deputies, every man of which carries a billy and a
pair of handcuffs. In case your tough crowd from Wellsburg attempts to
make a disturbance, the ringleaders will find themselves in Bloomfield
lockup. We've made preparations for you and your paid thugs, Mr.
Bearover."
While this conversation was taking place Bender had pretended to busy
himself in tying a shoestring, which he untied and retied several times
before it seemed satisfactory to him.
"If you can win this game squarely, Bearover, you'll win it," said
Frank; "but you'll never win it through intimidation and bulldozing. Now
don't bother me any more. Better keep on your own side and let your men
play the game. They'll have to play the best game they know if they want
to win."
All this was quite unexpected by the "big bear" and his companions.
Feeling that he was up against an unusual proposition, Bearover returned
to the visitors' bench, where Silence was somewhat nervously smoking a
cigarette.
Bart Hodge was in position to strike. Bender whipped the ball over.
Hodge let it pass.
"One strike!" announced Carker.
Bender's curve had carried the ball over the outside corner.
The visiting pitcher followed this up with a sharp drop, which came down
across Bart's shoulders. Again Bart declined to swing.
"Two strikes!" cried Carker.
Bart did not kick. He did not even frown, although he realized he had
failed to swing at two fair balls.
The next ball was wide. Then followed a high one.
Hodge hit the next ball and put up an infield fly, which was easily
captured by McCann. Mulloy had promptly returned to first as soon as he
realized the ball was going to the infield.
Frank Merriwell received an ovation from the crowd as he stepped out
with a bat in his hand. He held the bat in a position which was a signal
for Mulloy to attempt to steal on the first ball pitched.
Merry swung at the ball, but was careful not to hit it. Mulloy went down
to second.
Bancroft made a sharp short-arm throw. Clover took the ball handsomely,
and Mulloy was tagged as he slid.
"Out!" announced Carker.
"Why, the kids think they can steal on ye, Mitt!" sneered McCann, while
the Rovers, with the exception of Bender, shouted with laughter.
Two men were out, and there was a strike on Merriwell. Bender tried to
pull Frank with a couple of wide ones. Failing in this, he whipped over
a sharp shoot.
Merry fouled it.
"Foul ball--two strikes!" came from Carker.
The tough crowd back of first howled with satisfaction.
"Strike him out, Bender!" they cried. "Show him up!"
Bender followed with a drop, but it was a ball, and Frank declined to
swing at it.
"Three balls," said the calm, clear voice of the umpire.
"A valk vill take you, Frankie!" cried Dunnerwurst, from the coaching
line. "He vill made you a present to der virst pase. Yah!"
Bender pretended to kick a pebble from beneath his feet. Suddenly,
without any preliminary swing, he sent over a swift straight ball.
Smash!
Merriwell nailed the ball on the trade-mark.