“What’s the matter, captain?” asked Westcott, as Franklin took the field. “We’re not touching Merriwell now.”
“There’s something wrong,” answered Nort Madison. “He has changed his signals.”
“Why do you suppose he did it?”
“He must have tumbled to the fact that we were onto them. There’s no other explanation. This is going to be a hard game, but we are two runs to the good. We must hold Fardale down. Pitch for your life, old man!”
Never had Westcott pitched more cleverly. Jolliby lifted a foul back of first base, and Madison gathered it in.
“One!” counted the visiting spectators, in unison.
Singleton did his best to get a hit, but finally struck out on a high drop that fell past his shoulders.
“Two!” chorused the Franklin crowd.
“Let me get at him!” muttered Buckhart. “Let’s see if he can fan me that way!”
“Don’t swing your head off,” advised Dick. “Try for a safe single.”