He succeeded in hitting the ball, and he escaped Whirling Bear’s bat at the same time. The bat whizzed through the air.
In another moment Frank was ready to meet the Indian’s assault, but, seeing he had failed in the first attempt, the Pueblo darted away.
“That fellow is treacherous,” Merriwell decided. “He has a grudge against me for some reason, and I’ll have to keep my eye on him. If he had hit me, my skull would have been cracked.”
Inza witnessed Merriwell’s peril, and she caught her breath, uttering a little cry of terror. When Frank dodged, she breathed again, and she panted:
“Go for him, Frank—don’t let him get away!”
Whirling Bear, however, got away like a leaping cat, and continued giving orders to his men as if nothing unusual had happened.
Faster and more furious waxed the game. Spurred on by the shouts and yells of the spectators, each side was exerting itself to the very utmost.
It was really very exciting, and the skill of the players aroused the admiration of all. The Indians handled themselves in a remarkable manner, and, with one or two exceptions, the white boys were doing almost as well.
On Whirling Bear’s side Merriwell and Hodge were the most conspicuous among the white players, while Mulloy and Diamond showed great skill and judgment on the other side.
“Hurro!” the Irish lad was heard to shout. “It’s hot shtuff we are, an’ don’t yez fergit thot! Erin go braugh! Th’ United States an’ Ould Oireland feriver!”