“Sure thing,” put in Clancy promptly. “We couldn’t get along without Chip in the pitcher’s box.”
“You’re our stumblingblock, Merriwell,” the colonel laughed. “Gold Hill is full of rumors regarding your wonderful ability as a pitcher. I don’t suppose we have any one who can hold a candle to you, and we’ll have to make up what we lack by good work on other parts of the diamond.”
“Who will be the battery for Gold Hill?”
“Darrel and Bleeker. Darrel was always our star pitcher, and perhaps it was a good thing for our boys that he fractured his left arm some time ago instead of his right.”
Hawtrey frowned as he remembered the events connected with the fracturing of that left arm of Ellis Darrel’s.
“What sort of a catcher is Bleek?” Merry asked, more by way of getting the colonel’s mind off a disturbing train of reflections than for the purpose of acquiring any useful information.
“He’s good anywhere,” was the answer, “and particularly good behind the bat.” The colonel got up. “We’ll be here Saturday afternoon,” he added, “and you can count upon facing a team that will make the affair interesting to you.”
With a friendly nod he passed down the steps and made his way up the street.
“This gives us something to take up our time, anyway,” remarked Clancy, with a good deal of satisfaction.
“We’re up against a hard proposition,” said Ballard, looking very much concerned. “Chip, it will never do for us to leave Arizona with a defeat behind us.”