“But can you swing a bat?” Tucker put in anxiously.
“I hope so,” Merriwell said quietly. “It’s not so bad as all that, and it will be much easier this afternoon. Don’t worry, Tommy; we’ll get through somehow. I’ve got to pitch, you know. There isn’t anybody else.”
They had already said good-by to the mine owner, so when they finished dressing they went out to the car. Dick took his seat at the wheel while the Texan turned the engine over.
As they went through the gates, Tucker leaned forward from the tonneau.
“Where are you going?” he asked curiously.
Merriwell’s eyebrows went up a little.
“Why, to the Field Club, of course,” he returned. “Have you forgotten that we promised Gardiner to come there directly from the mine? We didn’t get half enough practice yesterday.”
CHAPTER XII.
THE GAME BEGINS.
A steady stream of baseball fans poured into the Field Club grounds. It was Saturday; there was not a cloud in the sky, and it seemed as though every man and boy, as well as the greater part of the women, of Forest Hills had made up their minds to witness the great game.