“I’ll try it, if I can remember.”
“Of course you can remember in practise,” said Frank, “and what you get in the habit of doing in practise is what you’ll do in a game. That’s what hurts lots of men. They fool around in practise, and it harms them when they come into a game. In practising, every man must handle himself just as he would in a game, if he wishes for the best results.”
When Browning betrayed a disinclination to “stretch” for balls that were thrown wide, Frank immediately opened on him sharply. He did not do so in a jollying way, knowing jollying would not awaken the big fellow to his best, but spoke in earnest.
“I’d lick any other man for that,” muttered Bruce to himself; “but, as long as it’s Merriwell, I guess I’ll have to ginger up.”
And he did.
All this served to awaken Dick Merriwell to a realizing sense of Frank’s supreme authority over men, and he glowed with pride in his big brother.
Frank was giving close attention to the work of the infield, and so he did not observe much that was taking place in the outfield. After a while, however, Bart came close and said, in a low tone:
“It’s no use, Merriwell; the Indian has lost his cunning. He hasn’t made more than one decent catch thus far, and he’ll be just about as good as a ten-year-old kid in that field.”
Merry was somewhat surprised by Bart’s words, for Swiftwing had been a good man in days gone by. True, he was a better pitcher than outfielder, but he had demonstrated more than once that he could do good work in the field. Immediately Frank said:
“Change round. I’ll bat to the outfield a while.”