“Rats!” growled Marsh. “Pitching nothing! It’s the support he’s had. Those chaps have hit him right along, but good luck has prevented them from piling up runs.”
“There has been lots of luck to it,” nodded Preston.
“I should say so!” snarled Marsh; “but you fellows wait—wait and see! If they keep on hitting the ball that way, they will put him to the stable before the game is over.”
Again Arlington’s support enabled him to hold the enemy down and keep them from scoring.
Chester was in high spirits as he came in to the bench and sat down beside Merriwell.
“I thought I could hold them down to-day,” he laughed.
“You’re doing well,” declared Dick. “Keep the good work up.”
At the first opportunity Buckhart slid up to Dick’s side and muttered:
“You want to watch him close, partner. See how those fellows found the ball. Don’t sit still and let them pound out a victory when they get started. If we can hold them down now we have got the game. Arlington will take all the credit if we win.”
“He deserves some credit,” declared Dick.