“And he hasn’t made a spare yet,” observed Barron Black.
“I see I must get down to business,” said Chester. “I have fooled with him just as long as I can.”
Having made this remark, he chose a ball and rolled.
Crash!
Every pin fell!
“A strike!” shouted Fraser.
“Well, wouldn’t that ju-ju-ju-jar you!” chattered Jolliby.
“I rather think it will jar Mr. Merriwell a little,” said Chet, as he gracefully sat down, his face wreathed in smiles.
Dick did not look disturbed. There was in his eyes that strange, grim determination so often seen there on the diamond and the gridiron.
“There’s a strike!” cried one of the watchers, as Merriwell’s first ball smashed into the pins, sending them flying.