All acknowledged that Yale was in serious need of a first-class backstop. Stone or Noon might develop all right, but the uncertainty about them was wearing. Hodge, Merriwell’s candidate for the position, was sneered at.
When it was known that Merriwell would get up a “scrub” team and play the regulars, Frank’s enemies hastened to say that the time had come when it would be seen how easy he could be batted. They knew that, as a rule, no pitcher who feels secure of his position on the regulars will take the chance of doing himself injury by pitching his level best for a “scrub” team. Generally, he considers it practice enough for the regulars if he pitches fairly well and lets it go at that. Frank’s enemies thought that was what he would do. They knew little of his plan to make the regulars hustle to win the game.
There was much speculation as to the exact make-up of the “scrub.”
“They say Diamond and Rattleton will play,” said Bink Stubbs, speaking to Sydney Gooch. “They are two of Merriwell’s particular cronies, you know, but neither one of them can play fast ball.”
“What do you care?” laughed Gooch.
“Oh, it’ll be nuts for me. I hope the boys will hammer Merriwell all over the lot.”
When the “scrub” appeared there were exclamations of astonishment.
“Whiskers!” cried one. “Is this to be a comedy game? There’s Bruce Browning. He’ll go to sleep running bases.”
“Doing what?” cried another. “You don’t suppose he’ll run, do you? He wouldn’t run for a doctor if a rattlesnake bit him!”
“Look!” shouted a third. “There’s Dismal Jones! Mommer! But this will be a peach of a game!”