The little man’s eyes sparkled.
“We have—a dandy team,” he said enthusiastically. “They’ve wiped up the diamond with everything they’ve met this year, and to-morrow I expect them to win the game of the season with the Field Club nine. Of course, you’ll be on hand for that?”
Merriwell nodded with a smile. He expected to be very much on hand.
“Say, why can’t you come up to the field with me now and watch the boys practice?” the mine owner said suddenly. “You’ll see some work that will surprise you, considering that six months ago the boys knew very little about the game. Come along; my car’s waiting outside now.”
He rose quickly to his feet.
“I think I’d better not, Mr. Fairchilds,” Dick returned quietly, as he faced him. “You see, I’ve promised to pitch for the Forest Hills team to-morrow.”
The sharp little eyes of the older man fairly bulged out with surprise.
“You’ve what?” he exclaimed.
“I’ve promised to pitch for the Field Club fellows,” the Yale man smiled. “Morrison, their pitcher, and his friend, George Burgess, left the team in a huff this afternoon. Gardiner asked me to come out and give Morrison a few points, and the fellow, getting mad at what he was pleased to call my interference, quit, taking the catcher with him. Naturally, having been, in a way, responsible, I volunteered to take his place, and my chum will catch.”
The mine owner dropped back upon his chair.