Arlington examined the balls, and picked out and placed aside two that were slightly marred. Then, having weighed several of them in his hands, he selected one and slightly dampened his fingers with the sponge.
As Chet started to roll Buckhart started to say something, but Dick silenced him with a gesture and a look.
With his eyes on the pins, Arlington balanced himself on the balls of his feet, ran lightly forward three steps, and sent the ball spinning whirringly down the polished surface of the alley. It struck the head pin squarely and cut a hole through the bunch, leaving five standing, three on one side and two on the other.
“Hard luck!” exclaimed one of the fellows who sympathized with him.
“Oh, that’s all right!” retorted Chet with supreme confidence. “I will clean them off.”
He then assumed a new position on the alley and rolled for three pins on one side. It seemed that he would hit them perfectly, but the ball missed the pin in advance by the narrowest margin and clipped off the other two.
“Now that was hard luck!” he exclaimed. “Never mind; I will take the two on the other corner and start with nine.”
“That’s the talk!” cried a spectator.
Chester rolled with care and hit the nearest pin, which set its mate swaying, and the latter finally fell.
“Nine pins!” announced Gardner, who was scoring.