BOWLING.
A merry Christmas it was there at Starbright’s. The sleighing-party was
enjoyed by all who took part, and never had Inza seemed merrier and
brighter than on that occasion. She laughed, and sang, and joked; but
Frank observed that she was not in the least sentimental, and she took
pains to turn the conversation into another channel when it approached a
dangerous point. She seemed to enjoy talking of Dick, his home, and his
beautiful mother. Somehow these thoughts did not please Merry, but he
betrayed nothing of the sort, and he spoke words of highest enthusiasm
about Starbright.
The dinner-party that night was one never to be forgotten. The table was
decorated with flowers and evergreens, the lights were softened and
shaded, and Jack Ready declared the turkey was a “feast for the woozy
old gods.”
Ready came out with a new batch of jokes, some of them fresh and some
“wearing whiskers.” Merriwell made a happy speech, and Browning ate till
his ravenous hunger was completely satisfied.
Then there was singing and music and a good time generally. There was no
Christmas tree, but the surprise came in the form of a table-load of
presents found in a room to which all were finally invited by Mrs.
Starbright. Everybody had been remembered, and all declared they
received just what they wanted more than anything else in the world,
which probably was an exaggeration in many instances.
On entering the room, Frank had observed a bit of mistletoe suspended
from the chandelier. At last, Inza innocently paused directly beneath
it, and, in a moment, Merry had her in his arms, claiming the privilege
of a kiss.
But Dick had been equally observant, and he was on hand at the same
instant. Quick as a flash, she held them both off, laughing merrily.
The others shouted and told her she could not escape paying the forfeit.
“But what am I to do?” she asked, blushing crimson. “Both these rude
chaps seized me at the same moment, and both claim they were first.”
“Oh, but I’m slow!” exclaimed Ready. “Why didn’t I have my eyes open and
get into that? It was ever thus! I’m getting to be a retired number.”
“I don’t see but you’ll have to surrender to both, Inza,” laughed
Winnie.
“Oh, I can’t do that,” she protested. “They must settle it between them
somehow. Till they do, let both keep their distance.”
Then she skipped away from them, leaving them standing there, face to
face. Dick looked straight into Frank’s eyes, smiling a bit, but there
was a challenge in his aspect and look. More than ever Merry realized
that this big, fair-haired youth was a rival at whom it were folly to
scoff.
“How shall we settle it?” asked Merriwell pleasantly. “I’ll let you name
the manner, Dick.”
“Another game of billiards,” suggested Ready. “That’s the trick! Ah! it
takes me to solve these little difficulties. I’m a handy chap to have
round.”
“No,” said Starbright. “I have another way.”
“Name it,” urged Merry.
“We’ll bowl a string of candlepins. The one who makes the highest score
wins the privilege given by the mistletoe.”
“Done!”
Winnie clapped her hands and Inza laughed.
“To the bowling-alley!” cried Ready, with a flourish. “I’ll be pin-boy,
and every little candle shall be on its post to a fraction of an inch.
Forward the Light Brigade! Charge for the pins!”
So down to the alley in the basement of the house they went. The lights
were turned on by Phil, and soon everything was ready for this second
match between Frank and Dick.
The entire house was heated by steam, and the spectators could look on
in comfort. The alley was regulation length, well built, well kept, and
handsomely polished.
It fell to Frank to lead off. He examined the balls, finding them all of
a size and in fine condition.
“I am going to beat you at this, Merry,” asserted Dick. “I know you are
too much for me at billiards, but I’m better at this business.”
“That being the case,” smiled Merry, “I must take care to begin strong
and hold out. Here goes.”
He sent the first ball skimming down the alley, and it cracked into the
pins, striking them fairly in the center and splitting them, taking out
three, which left four standing on one side and three on the other.
“Oh, Laura!” exclaimed Ready, from his position beside the pins. “This
doesn’t look much like a strong start. Seven soldiers will be good work
for that break.”
“Look out for that hole, Frank,” warned Browning. “Keep away from it.”
Merry obeyed the injunction to the letter, and he swept off the group of
four pins with his second ball, leaving three standing.
“That’s clever,” nodded Dick. “Let’s see if you can clean them up.”
With moderate speed, Frank sent down a curve for the little line of
pins, but he barely missed the head one, clipping off the last two.
“Nine for Merriwell in his first box,” announced Dashleigh, who had been
selected to keep the score.
Ready set the pins up with care, while Starbright prepared for his first
effort. He stood on the left side of the runway, took a slow start, and
sent a swift ball into the bunch of pins, striking them on the quarter
and tearing them up as if they had been hit by a cyclone. Only the head
pin was left standing.
“Refuse me!” gasped Ready. “It’s dangerous down here. Oh, but that was a
soaker! Methinks I smell a spare.”
He was right, for Dick drove the second ball straight and true at the
single pin, which went flying against the padded end of the alley with a
sodden thump.
“Spare in the first box for Starbright!” cried Dashleigh, in great
delight. “It’s your turn now, Dick! He did you at billiards, but this is
different.”
“This is only the beginning,” smiled Dick. “I’m not liable to keep that
work up right along.”
“I should hope not!” exclaimed Frank.
Frank came up for the second box, trying a wide curve, which missed the
head pin and swept down one side of the bunch. His second ball was sent
straight down the middle of the alley, but it took a slight shoot just
before hitting the pins and left two standing, one on the center and one
on the corner.
“Spares are scarce on this side,” he smiled, apparently not a bit
disturbed.
“Hard luck!” growled Browning.
“No,” said Merry, “poor bowling.”
Instead of trying to get just one of the two pins left, he used a curve
to the right for a billiard-shot, hoping to make them both, but the head
pin was missed by a fraction of an inch, and neither fell.
“Eight pins,” cried Dashleigh. “Seventeen in all.”
“Starbright is bound to have a big start,” said Badger. “In this kind of
a game, every pin counts.”
“Don’t forget this first ball counts on your spare, Dick,” warned
Dashleigh.
Dick did not forget. He whistled the ball down the alley, struck the
pins prettily, and tore down six of them.
“That gives him sixteen in his first box,” said Bert. “And he has a
splendid chance for another spare.”
Dick took the chance, too, for he got into the pins finely, cleaning the
alley, which caused the spectators to utter cries of applause.
“This is hot!” muttered Frank. “You seem to be keeping it up, old man.”
“He’s making me lots of work,” observed Ready, as he deftly stood the
fallen pins on the spot.
Frank changed his position on the alley, but again he split the pins,
leaving two standing, one on each corner.
“No spare there!” cried Dashleigh.
“No poor bowling in that,” growled Bruce. “It should have been a
strike.”
Frank clipped off the two remaining pins with two straight balls, which
gave him ten in his third box, making twenty-seven in all.
Starbright got into the bunch again, but secured only five on his spare,
which left the pins in a difficult position. He did well in raking down
nine with three balls; but his lead on Frank was great, the second spare
having given him thirty-one in the second box, and on even rolls with
Merry he had forty.
“Up against the real thing now,” chirped Ready. “This Starbright has
played the game before, my friends. You’re buncoed, Merriwell.”
On his next roll Frank was able to make but nine pins, obtaining a total
of thirty-six, while Starbright cleaned the alley, which gave him a lead
of fourteen pins.
Merry had been trying different kinds of balls and different positions
on the alley, seeking to discover just where he could do his best work.
Now he opened with a cross-ball, which struck the bunch on the quarter
and swept them down clatteringly. A shout went up, for it was seen that
but one pin remained standing, and that one was tottering and swaying.
“Go down, you scoundrel!” roared Browning.
But it refused to obey the command, settling into position.
“Robbery!” declared Starbright. “You should have had it, Frank. All the
same”—with a quick glance at Inza—“I’m very glad you didn’t get it.”
Merry made no complaint, but sent the next ball true as a bullet from a
gun, clipping down the pin and making a spare.
“Here’s where you gain,” said Browning.
But Starbright seemed on his mettle, and he proceeded to duplicate
Merry’s performance, making a particularly difficult spare.
“He refuses to let me overtake him!” exclaimed Frank.
“Gentlemen,” cried Ready, “have you no pity for a poor working boy?
Please leave a few standing once in a while!”
Frank had decided that the cross-ball was the one to use, and now he
made ready to get all he could on his spare. There was a hush as he
picked up the first ball and sent it spinning anglewise down the alley.
Crash—clatter!
“Seven pins!” shouted Ready.
“Good work!” muttered Browning.
But the remaining pins were left in such a way that it seemed impossible
to get them all with a single ball. Frank studied them a moment and did
his best, but his best left one standing. This one he removed with the
third ball.
“Fifty-three on your half,” said Dashleigh. “Sixty-three in your sixth
box.”
Starbright struck the head pin too full, which cut out four, leaving
standing two wings of three pins each.
“Four pins with his spare ball,” said Bert. “Sixty-four on his half.
That’s all right.”
“But Frank gained three pins there,” murmured Inza.
“Frank will win,” asserted Badger, speaking so low that Dick could not
hear. “I tell you he can’t be beaten! That’s whatever!”
“But he has a hard task before him,” whispered Winnie. “Mr. Starbright
is a wonderful bowler.”
Dick took pains and smashed down one of the standing wings with his
second ball. His third, however, left a pin standing, and Frank had
gained another.
In the sixth box Starbright had seventy-three, with Merriwell just ten
pins behind him.
By this time Frank had the range of the alley, and now he sent a
strike-ball tearing into the pins, mowing them all down in a twinkling.
“I knew it!” said Browning, with intense satisfaction.
“Oh, mercy!” whooped Ready. “Did you ever in your life! Wasn’t that a
bird!”
“Here is where he gets right into it,” said Buck to Winnie. “I knew he
would.”
But Starbright was not shaken in the least, and he came near duplicating
Merry’s feat, for, with his first ball, he smashed down every pin but
one.
“Now, that was genuine hard luck!” exclaimed Frank sincerely. “That ball
was just as good as mine, but the pins did not happen to fall just
right.”
Dick looked grim and determined, and he went for the single pin, getting
it easily, which gave him a spare.
“You may get as many with your spare as he does with his strike,” said
Dashleigh, encouragingly.
“But I’d rather have the strike,” confessed Dick.
Frank cut only two pins out of the bunch with his first ball, and it
began to look bad for him; but he placed the second ball perfectly,
sweeping off all the remaining pins but one, which gave him a score of
nineteen in his seventh box, the total being eighty-two. He knocked down
the last pin with his third ball, which added ten more for his eighth
box.
Strangely enough, Starbright did precisely the same thing with all three
balls, getting only two on his spare, which left Merriwell but three
points behind in the seventh and eighth boxes.
“This is too close for comfort, Dick,” palpitated Dashleigh. “You have
let him come right up on you. You must hold your lead in the last two
boxes.”
Frank was in fine fettle. He had a “good eye,” and his hand was steady,
while his aim was perfect. Again he put a ball into the heart of the
bunch, striking the head pin on the quarter, and again he cleaned the
alley.
“Wow!” whooped Ready, dancing about. “Wouldn’t I cut a cake of ice in
this game! My! My! I don’t know a thing about bowling!”
“It’s the first time in all your life that you ever told the truth,”
flung back Browning.
“Frank will win!” murmured Inza, and somehow Winnie fancied that she
seemed disappointed.
Starbright did not smile now. His strong, handsome face looked grim and
resolute. He sent a straight, true ball shooting down the alley, and,
like a flash, every pin was swept off clean. Then what a shout went up!
Both had made a strike in the ninth!
Dashleigh leaped to his feet and danced with joy, while Phil wished to
hug his big brother.
“He’ll keep his lead now!” declared Bert to Phil. “Don’t you fear about
that!”
Merry was not smiling. He knew that overconfidence might prove a great
mistake, and yet he was determined to win if possible. However, his
first ball slipped from his fingers and barely knocked down a single pin
on the corner.
Dashleigh wanted to whoop again, while Browning felt like thumping
somebody. Only Buck Badger remained perfectly unshaken in his belief
that Merriwell could not fail to win.
Frank was deliberate in his movements, and he placed the next ball to a
fraction of an inch. The result was the complete collapse of the pins
and a spare for him in his last box!
Dashleigh’s heart went into his boots, while Phil Starbright simply sat
down on a bench, gasping.
“Twenty in the ninth; one hundred and twelve total,” said Bert huskily.
“I’m afraid that does the trick!”
The pins were up, and Starbright prepared for the last effort. His first
ball brought everybody to his or her toes, for it went straight and true
into the proper place, and down crashed nine pins.
“Hooray!” yelled Phil, leaping up. “He’s going to do the same thing!
He’ll get a spare, too!”
But now Starbright found himself shaking a bit. In this respect he
lacked Merriwell’s nerve, for Frank was always the coolest and steadiest
when the critical moment came.
“I must do it!” thought Dick, but in his heart there was a faint fear
that he might fail. He sent the ball straight toward the pin, and
several cried:
“He’s got it!”
But the ball curved the least bit, brushed the pin, caused it to move
off the spot at least half an inch, but left it standing.
Dashleigh collapsed and seemed disheartened until he made a sudden
discovery.
“Hold on!” he shouted. “Merriwell has but one ball left! He should have
rolled that one off before Dick. There is a bare chance left if Dick
gets that last pin.”
“I fail to see it,” grunted Browning.
“Why, it’s plain enough,” declared Bert. “Frank has one hundred and
twelve in his ninth box, hasn’t he?”
“Sure.”
“And he’s made ten with two balls.”
“Right.”
“That ten goes into the last box, together with what he gets on the next
ball.”
“Correct.”
“What if he gets only one? He’ll have one hundred and twenty-three. Dick
has that already. If Dick gets that pin, Merriwell must have two to tie
and three to win. It often happens that a man doesn’t get but one or two
on one ball. Get that pin, Dick!”
Dick got it, making his total score one hundred and twenty-four.
“That’s enough to win any bowling-match,” muttered Phil.
“Any but this one,” said Badger. “You’ll see that Merriwell is a hard
man to beat. I found it out some months ago.”
Frank now took up his last ball and sent it at the pins which Ready had
placed on the spots. It struck them, sent them whirling and crashing,
and left but a single pin standing.
“That does it,” admitted Dashleigh, at last. “He makes one hundred and
thirty-one.”
This is the score kept by Bert:
MERRIWELL. STARBRIGHT.
9 9 1 16 16
8 17 2 15 31
10 27 3 9 40
9 36 4 10 50
17 53 5 14 64
10 63 6 9 73
19 82 7 12 85
10 92 8 10 95
20 112 9 19 114
19 131 10 10 124
—— ——
Total 131 Total 124
Frank had won the privilege he sought to claim beneath the mistletoe.
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