“Very well,” said Dick, “that seems to be settled.”
“And that settles the game,” asserted Spratt. “I’ll bet my last dollar we win. It’s a sure thing.”
“Better not bet,” said Dick. “There’s nothing like a sure thing in baseball. I may have my off day—I have one sometimes. Anyhow, I shall have to depend on my backers. Without good backing I can’t hope to get away with that game. Only for old Brad behind the pan to steady me and assist me in working the batters I fear I’d make a pretty poor showing. In most cases the success of a pitcher depends on the sort of catcher he works with.”
“Oh, dear, partner, let up on that!” exclaimed the Texan, really confused. “You know you can pitch ball without any old catcher at all behind the pan.”
“Yes, I can pitch, but I can’t win games, Brad. To win games I need the backing of the whole team, and the man I depend on most is the man behind the bat.”
CHAPTER XX.
A PAIR OF RASCALS.
At the tinkle of his alarm clock Mike Lynch awoke, opened one eye, squinted at the clock, and growled like a flea-bitten dog.
“Rot it!” he muttered. “I haven’t had thirty minutes’ decent sleep all night long. Whew! whew! I can taste smoke clean down to my toes. Got a bump as big as half a watermelon here on the side of my head, and the cords of my neck are stiff and sore. All I’ve done is dream fire, fire, and twist and snort and make up and try to go to sleep again. Dash it all, I must look like a wreck! I feel like one, anyhow.”
Making an attempt to sit up, he dropped back with a doleful groan.
“Jingoes, but that does pull on my neck!” he murmured, holding his head canted to one side. “What makes my neck so lame? I suppose I know. That whelp Merriwell chucked me headlong against the wall in the basement of that old warehouse. Wonder I didn’t spill my brains all over that wall. Next thing I knew I was getting scorched and everything around me seemed on fire. That brought me to my senses in a hurry, but when I tried to find the way out I was so bewildered that I didn’t know what to do. How did I get out, anyhow? Oh, yes, somebody came back and grabbed me and dragged me toward the door. Somebody—it was Merriwell! That’s right, by Jove, it was Merriwell! The rest of the fellows were gone. They had sneaked and left me, the cowards! They left me to roast in that fire trap. That’s a fine bunch of friends to have!”