CHAPTER LIV.
MANHATTAN IN THE LEAD.
A most astonishing thing was the manner in which the team backed up Kates this day, while on the previous Saturday it had gone to pieces behind him in an exasperating manner the moment the Highbridge School boys began to hit him. As inning after inning progressed, with the infielders making the most astonishing stops and throws, and the outfielders pulling down hard-batted flies which seemed good for two or three bases, Kates got a hold on himself, and gradually improved in his box work. In the fifth inning Yale made her first runs, two scores, secured through a clean hit by Buckhart, a sacrifice by Claxton, a base on balls handed out to Jones, and Manhattan’s first error, the fielder dropping Spratt’s hit to right and losing the ball, while Brad and Blessed tore over the plate.
But in the sixth the visitors retaliated with a vengeance. Three men hit safely in succession. Then, for the first time, Yale showed symptoms of going to pieces, for a couple of errors followed, and the Manhattanites had tallied three times when the smoke cleared away.
“I told you what would happen!” exclaimed Bill Toleman. “It’s all off now. Kates is useless from this time on. Look at him! See him crawling in to the bench like a yellow dog with its tail between its legs.”
“Evidently you love Kates,” snickered Dagett.
“Well, if I can’t pitch better than he can, I’ll eat my boots. Has any one seen me asking Merriwell or Jones or Robinson for a chance to pitch on their great team? I fought against them at the outset, and I’ve taken my medicine. I haven’t squealed. I hate a squealer. That’s why I’m disgusted with Mike Lynch. I’m not saying that he isn’t sincere now, but I do say that he has squealed. After blowing and bleating around about Merriwell, and making so much talk, he suddenly threw up the sponge. I swear I didn’t know he was a quitter, but I know it now. He has disgusted me more than any chap I know of. I’d like to see him kicked out of college.”
At this Wolfe gave Ditson a nudge.
“There are others,” whispered Bern. “Oh, if I could only get hold of that confession! If I knew how to put my hands on it! Do you suppose Merriwell carries it round in his pocket all the time?”
“I don’t know,” muttered Dunc, absent-mindedly.
“Well, I’ve got an idea that he may keep it somewhere in his room,” said Wolfe. “I’d like to get into his room and make a search. I’d dig it out if it was there.”