"They know better than that!" exclaimed the manager of the Camdens, flushing. "We gave them a shock by winning from them in our opening game. They thought they had a snap. They have been hustling since then, but we held the lead for a long time. Now we are tied with them for first place, and this game to-day decides who holds the position. If Woods and Makune arrive on the twelve o'clock car, we'll try to give Rockland a surprise this afternoon."
"Woods is a pitcher, isn't he?"
"He is, and he's a good man, too, but his arm is not in the best condition. He hurt it a few weeks ago, and it hasn't got back yet. All the same, he says he will pitch for us this afternoon—telephoned me to that effect. He's
on the level, and he wouldn't want to pitch if he didn't think he could win."
"Then I don't see why you want anything of me," smiled Frank.
"Woods can play any position," said Moslof, quickly. "With you in the box, we'd have the strongest nine ever seen in this State."
"You have started my baseball blood to boiling," laughed Merry; "but I think I'll keep my head cool and not play."
At this moment some one announced that the twelve o'clock car was coming, and all hurried out to see if Woods and Makune were on it.
They were. They were met by Moslof, who shook hands with them and then introduced them to Merriwell.
"What?" exclaimed Makune. "Frank Merriwell, the Yale man?"