MERRIWELL’S NINE LEADS.
“Costigan will get it!” cried several voices, as the stocky left
fielder raced back after the ball.
“He can’t reach it!” cried others.
“Gamp ought to be out there now,” shouted somebody.
The coachers yelled and motioned for the runners to keep right on, for
it was plain that the ball was going over Costigan’s head.
Thornton dashed over second and made for third. He was running fast,
but Hodge seemed to fly.
“Watch Hodge cover ground,” called Frank in Capt. Hardy’s ear. “How is
that for running?”
Hardy did not say a word, but he was astonished, for he did not dream
Hodge could run so fast. Frank Merriwell was a swift man on the bases,
but it seemed that Bart Hodge was getting along quite as fast as Frank
could.
Costigan strained every nerve to get under the ball, and made a flying
leap into the air for it, but it was just beyond his reach, and he did
not even touch it.
“Gamp would have caught it,” somebody declared.
While the left fielder was chasing the ball, which went bounding along
the ground, the runners were making a streak round the diamond. When
Thornton passed over third, Hodge was halfway between second and third.
When Thornton crossed the plate, Hodge was close at his heels, and both
men scored.
“Th-th-th-thutteration!” shouted Joe Gamp, in delight. “Ain’t this a
ju-ju-jolly time! A-haw! a-haw! a-haw!”
Capt. Hardy looked disgusted. Was it possible Frank Merriwell’s
remarkable “scrub” team was going to hold the regular’s good play? It
would be a standing joke in the college.
“Come, Haggerty!” he cried, sharply; “you’ll have to brace up. We’re
out here for practice, and not to fool away our time.”
Haggerty flushed, but said nothing. He had not thought of fooling, and
he did not relish being called down in such a manner.
Ned Noon was the most disgusted man on the field. Beneath his breath he
muttered bitterly.
“Such beastly luck!” he muttered. “Think of Hodge getting a home run
the first time up! It is frightful! I must do something to attract
attention to me.”
He wondered what he could do, but resolved to watch his opportunity.
Unfortunately for Noon, Haggerty was a trifle rattled, and that made
him wild.
Fales was the next batter up. Haggerty was so wild that Fales might
have obtained four balls, but he struck at two poor ones. Then, with
the score standing two strikes and three balls, Fales struck again at
an inshoot and missed.
Right there was where Noon’s hard luck came in, for Haggerty had
crossed signals with him. Noon had expected an outdrop, but it was a
high inshoot. Ned made a desperate attempt to stop it, but simply got
his hands on it, and it went caroming off to one side, while Fales ran
for first and made the bag all right.
“Look here, Noon,” came sharply from Capt. Hardy’s lips, when Ned had
recovered the ball and thrown it in, “you must get a brace on. What are
you under the bat for?”
“It wasn’t my fault,” declared Ned. “Haggerty crossed signs with me.”
That made Capt. Hardy angry with Haggerty, and he called him in to the
bench, sending Walbert out.
Walbert had not warmed up, and what he had seen made him feel a trifle
nervous. This was not like a practice game. It seemed to be a game for
blood.
The spectators realized that the fate of more than one player depended
on their work in that game. Capt. Hardy was merciless, and he would
not hesitate to lop off the head of any man he considered weak. He had
no favorites, and he was fearless in the way he handled the team. His
power was great, as he was manager, as well as captain.
Rattleton followed Fales. He popped up an easy one to shortstop who got
under it and dropped it purposely, trying to draw Fales off first to
make a double. But Fales knew that trick, and he hugged the bag.
Rattleton was out.
Diamond came next. He hit a hot one straight at Walling, the third
baseman, and it was gathered in, putting the side out.
But at the end of the first inning, the score stood 2 to 0 in favor of
the “scrubs.”
“Now, I do hope they’ll get on to Merriwell,” muttered Sydney Gooch,
who was looking very serious. “This is not the kind of fun I came out
to see.”
“Same here,” admitted Bink Stubbs. “But it can’t continue. Merriwell’s
gang has had a streak.”
The first man up for the regulars got a fine safe hit.
Both Gooch and Stubbs brightened.
“Ah! what did I tell you!” said Harris. “I knew it would come. Now, if
the others will keep it up.”
He did not know that Frank had given the batter a good one, hoping he
would get a single. Frank wanted Hodge to have a chance to show his
throwing.
Merry was sure the runner would be sent down to second for a steal if
he was given a show. He did not pretend to hold the fellow close to the
bag, believing it a good plan to let him get a start, for it would
make Bart’s throwing show up all the better if the man should be caught.
Diamond knew what was coming, for he understood that Merry was working
to show Bart up, and he hugged close to second.
As Merry had anticipated, the batter made a false swing when the ball
was pitched, hoping to bother Bart, while the runner scooted for second.
Hodge gathered in the ball, and then, without stirring from his tracks,
sent it shooting down toward second like a bullet.
It was a low throw, and it seemed that it must strike the ground before
it got to second; but there was force behind that ball, and it did not
fall.
“Slide! slide!” yelled the coachers.
The runner slid.
Diamond came in just right to take the ball about two feet from
the ground, and then he “nailed” it on to the back of the sliding
base-runner, catching him at least two feet from the bag.
“Man is out,” announced the umpire.
Frank laughed, and the spectators applauded.
“Good boy, Hodge!” cried Danny Griswold, to the surprise of Frank.
“That was a beautiful throw.”
“Oh, those things will happen now and then,” sneered Ned Noon. “He
might throw wild next time.”
This did not come with good grace from Ned’s lips, as he and Bart were
rivals, but he was so overflowing with spleen that he could not hold it
back.
“It was a good throw,” nodded Capt. Hardy. “I didn’t think he had a
chance to catch the man after the start Merriwell gave him. If Hodge
can keep up the work he has been doing----”
He did not finish, but there was a deep significance in the hiatus.
The next batter obtained a single, and again a man was given a chance
to play off first by Merriwell, who seemed remarkably careless.
Down he went for second on the first pitched ball.
“He’ll make it?”
“Hodge can’t stop him!”
“He’s a runner!”
“See him scoot!”
“He’s fairly flying.”
Hodge did not seem to get excited in the least, but he made a quick,
sharp throw for second.
Again Diamond came in and took it on the run. Again the runner slid.
Again Jack bored the ball into his back. And again----
“Man is out!” cried the umpire.
“Hodge is all right!” said several voices. “He is a corker to throw!”
Bart was arousing admiration by his cool, steady work. Ned Noon saw
this, and ground his teeth in fury.
It was Noon’s turn to come to bat. He advanced, resolved to do
something or drop dead in the attempt.
A gleam entered Frank Merriwell’s eyes. He gathered himself. Two men
had been allowed to hit; but if Ned Noon got a hit he would earn it.
Then Merriwell sent them over with all kinds of twists and curves. Ned
was fooled. He fanned three times, flung his bat to the ground and
uttered a curse.
The regulars had failed to score in their half of the second inning.