Dick walked onto the diamond.
Instantly the cadets rose in a mass and roared his name.
“Well! well! well!” laughed Tom Grace. “At last we have put a blanket on your pitcher. He gets to the stable. Back, back to the stable, my pretty boy.”
Chester was white as a sheet. The moment he saw Merriwell rise from the bench he dropped the ball and walked out of the box.
“I am sorry, Arlington,” said Dick, in a low tone; “but I have got to take you out.”
“I am glad of it!” declared Chet. “It is fiendish luck! What’s the matter with those duffers behind me? Have they gone to pieces?”
“You are being hit hard, that’s all,” said Dick. “You’ve pitched a fine game up to this inning, but those Great Northern chaps are hitters, and they have solved your delivery.”
“That’s what you think,” retorted Chet; “but I know I’m not getting proper support. I am ready to go out.”
Although he was in no condition to pitch, Dick warmed up a little and went into the box.
“Now we will give this baby his bumps,” laughed Grace.