Buckhart nearly had a fit.
“I knew it!” he cried. “I was dead certain of it.”
Although Chester was somewhat disturbed, he simply shrugged his shoulders and observed:
“It is necessary for him to make nine points with his next two balls in order to tie. If he makes ten he wins.”
“He will never do it,” asserted Fraser.
“Say, if we were anywhere else, I would bet my last dollar on that!” Buckhart exclaimed. “You wait and see if he doesn’t do it!”
“Isn’t it too bad!” Smart was heard saying to himself, as he reset the pins. “How sorry I am! I hate to see him win!”
Dick picked two balls from the runway. Holding a ball in each hand, he prepared to roll.
Now there was a hush. Arlington felt his nerves quivering a little. To himself he was asking if it could be possible that Merriwell’s usual luck would stand by him and enable him to win at the finish.
With a soft, whirring sound the ball sped down the alley. When it struck the pins they flew.