Dick had won the string with a ball to spare.
The boys gave a shout of satisfaction, while Arlington bit his lip in disgust.
“Dern my picter!” cried Obediah Tubbs. “I kinder thought that I was going to beat you by my rotten bowling, Dick; but you pulled us out of the hole.”
“That was clever,” laughed Chet, as he stepped onto the runway of the alley; “but still I believe it was nothing more than luck. As I have just said, I can bowl a little myself, and I don’t depend on luck. I challenge you to go me a string, Merriwell.”
Dick was becoming wearied by these repeated challenges on the part of Arlington. Defeat after defeat made no difference with Chester. He persisted with bulldog determination in his efforts to beat Merriwell at something.
Hal Darrell was annoyed by the insolent manner in which Chester forced himself among them. His eyes blazed as he said in a low tone:
“This party is made up. We’re bowling among ourselves now! When we have finished, get your friends and take the alley! Don’t butt in!”
“I am not speaking to you, sir!” retorted Chet haughtily. “I have issued the challenge to Mr. Merriwell. Perhaps he doesn’t dare accept. If that’s the case, of course I will retire.”
“Gug-gug-gug-gug-go chase yourself!” said Jolliby. “You know he isn’t afuf-fuf-fuf-fuf-fraid of you!”
“Actions speak louder than words,” said Chet. “I am here on the spot, and I have issued my challenge. I am feeling just like bowling him now, and it will show he hasn’t the nerve if he tries to put it off.”