“Shimminy Gristmas!” cried Hans. “Don’d dot peen a pird! Gif id to him, Vrankie!”
Crack!
Swiftwing hit the ball, and, with equal skill, he shot it back at Merriwell.
Frank was expecting this, and he returned it with all the skill of a professional tennis player.
The spectators roared their applause.
For some moments this “volleying” was kept up, and then the ball glanced from Swiftwing’s bat and went high in the air.
Frank had come out best in this first struggle, much to his surprise, as, not being familiar with the game, he had not anticipated such success.
The white men in the crowd gave a yell of delight.
Frank caught a glimpse of Inza’s face, and he fancied there was an expression of disappointment on it.
“I believe she would have been pleased if he had vanquished me!” thought Frank, a trifle bitterly. “I do not understand her at all of late.”