“With proper coaching—there’s the rub. Welch resents coaching. Towne is too opinionated, and set to improve by it. Swett is so sensitive that he can’t accept criticism. Besides that, it takes a peculiar talent to coach a pitcher properly. I say, Merriwell, why don’t you come out to the field this afternoon? I suppose you’re busy with your own team, but you might get off for an hour. Come along with me, will you? I’d like to have your ideas concerning the practice and the men. You might give me some hints that I can use.”
“I wouldn’t like to do that,” said Dick. “Not for the world would I let any one get the impression that I had criticized the varsity.”
“All right, then, don’t give me any hints, but come out to the field. It won’t do you any hurt to stay away from your own team’s practice to-day—it’ll do you good. Will you come if I’ll fix it? I’ll speak to Jones about it.”
“Well, if you’re so eager for my society and you can arrange it,” laughed Dick, “I’ll come.”
CHAPTER XXIX.
DICK ACCEPTS A CHALLENGE.
The field presented a lively appearance when Billings and Merriwell arrived that afternoon. Three or four coachers were hard at work with the regular players and the substitutes. Of the pitchers three were limbering their arms while two more batted for the practicing fielders. The manager and the head coach were standing apart from the other men on the field, engaged in an earnest argument. Captain Emery was working like a Trojan, and it was plain by the expression on his face that he was not wholly without worry. Some forty or fifty students were scattered about in little groups on the bleachers, watching the practice.
Billings was recognized the moment he appeared, but the sudden show of interest, the sudden craning of necks—Billings’ companion caused all this.
“It’s Merriwell.”
“What’s he doing here?”
“There’s a pitcher.”