He gave the ball a fierce crack, sending it shooting over the heads of the other side, just out of the reach of their bats.
It dropped in a clear space, before a player could reach it, and a great shout of victory went up.
Whirling Bear, although the commander of the side that Frank was on, had said nothing to Merriwell, and he seemed to show signs of disgust, as if he were not pleased that it should have been a white lad who had knocked the ball.
Dan Carver did not seem at all disturbed by what had happened, but continued to take bets, offering to place any sum on Swiftwing at one or two.
In a moment the game was resumed, and it went forward with more intensity than before. The players seemed warmed up to the work, and their skill in keeping the ball in the air was astonishing, to say the least.
Several of the white players won some glory.
Both Diamond and Rattleton got in good strokes, and Bruce Browning struck once with all the power in his muscular arms, sending the ball so high into the air that it was a mere speck and almost went out of sight.
“Begorra! it’s not such fun as this Oi’ve had since Oi attinded me larst Oirish fair!” cried Barney, who was in his element. “This b’ates a wake!”
“It’s a darn sight more fun than shuckin’ corn at a huskin’-bee!” grinned Ephraim Gallup. “Take that, gol darn ye!”
He managed to hit the ball at last, after missing it three times, and nearly turning himself wrong side out with the violence of his efforts.