“Going to take them barehanded?” inquired Dick.
Brad glanced at his left hand with an expression of surprise.
“Forgot my mitt!” he muttered. “Where is it?”
One of the boys found the big catching mitt and tossed it to Brad, who failed to catch it and was struck in the stomach by it.
Dick walked briskly over to the Texan and spoke to him in a low tone.
“Shake yourself together!” he sharply commanded. “Get out of that trance!”
Evidently Buckhart tried to obey, for he pulled on the mitt and fastened it, and then made a pretense of liveliness as he got into position.
Dick threw him a few slow ones at first, and Brad handled them, although there was a deep frown on his face and he seemed under a constant strain. When Merriwell used more speed the Fairhaven catcher muffed the ball at intervals.
Tom Fernald had followed the islanders to the field, and he watched Merriwell and Buckhart a few moments. Having done this, he turned away and began to look after bets. When he could not find even money, he seemed willing to give odds, and in several instances he bet two to one on Rockford.
No one knew how much Dick Merriwell was worried. He sought to conceal his state of mind from his companions and succeeded in doing so. When he was seen talking earnestly in a low tone to Buckhart, it was supposed the two were discussing the signals and speaking of the weak points of the opposing batters.