“We’ve got a fast nine,” declared Ballard, “and we’re going to put it all over that Gold Hill team. You hear me!”
“They’re a snappy lot, no two ways about that,” agreed Clancy. “I hate to give Darrel, Bleek, Hotchkiss, and the rest of that outfit the sort of a jolt they’re due for to-morrow, but if they’re bound to have a game they’ll have to take the consequences.”
“That’s right,” said Merriwell. “They’re going to make it pretty interesting for us, though, and it’s just possible that they’ll open a bag of tricks that will surprise us.”
“What sort of a pitcher is Darrel?” queried Ballard. “It’s mighty odd that, all the time he was with us up Mohave Cañon, he never let out a peep about being a ball tosser.”
“He’s good,” asserted Merriwell.
“How do you know, Chip?” demanded Clancy.
“I know because Darrel’s the sort that doesn’t do things by halves. If he set out to learn to pitch, you can bet he has trained his ‘wing’ in a way to make us sit up and take notice. There’ll be an exciting time on the ball ground to-morrow afternoon. Bank on that, Red.”
“I’ll be disappointed if there isn’t, Chip,” grinned Clancy, “but you and that greaser marvel are going to take care of Darrel and Bleeker, with ground to spare.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I’m right! When Darrel opens his box of tricks, Chip, he’ll find that you have got a few on tap that are just a little better.”