It was the briefest possible glance, for the next instant the miner whipped one over the inside corner of the plate with all the speed he could command.
Too late Garrick saw that the ball might be good. He could not get his bat around to meet it, and therefore let it pass, hoping the umpire would call it a ball.
“You’re out!” came sharply from the umpire.
Garrick stepped back and tossed his bat on the ground.
“Too bad, Stan,” Dick said, as he came forward to take his place.
“Take it easy, Merriwell,” Gardiner advised, in a low tone. “It’s better to let him fan you than to strain your arm.”
Dick nodded comprehendingly. All the same he did not intend to strike out if he could help it.
He squared himself at the plate and faced the pitcher. McDonough turned the ball in his hands, and once more the Yale man caught that brief, almost imperceptible flash of the miner’s eyes toward the right.
Then he toed the plate and sent in a swift one with a sharp outcurve.
Merriwell did not move his bat.