“Now let’s see him get another ten!” cried Arlington. “He can’t make all nines and tens.”
Dick’s curve was a fraction too wide, for the ball missed the head pin and gave him a poor break.
“I told you!” laughed Chet. “He couldn’t keep up that string of tens.”
Buckhart started to say something, but remembered Dick’s warning and stopped.
For all of the bad break, Merriwell sent his next ball into the pins in such a manner that they fell handsomely and only one was left standing.
“Well, he has nine!” nodded Chester. “I think he will leave that one standing.”
“You’ve got another th-th-th-th-think coming!” burst from Jolliby, as Dick picked off the tenth pin.
“Ten!” called Gardner, making the record on the board. “Thirty-nine for Merriwell in the fourth box!”
Arlington rose and stood with his hands on his hips, looking at the score board. He whistled softly.
“Thirty-nine,” he said. “Why, he’s only one behind!”