Hodge flung down his mask and sent the ball rolling down toward the pitcher’s box, while Merriwell and his “scrub” team came in from the field.
“Who said they would bat me out of the box?” laughed Merry.
“Wait,” grinned Bink Stubbs, trying to appear pleasant and jovial. “The game has just begun.”
“That was crafty work, Merriwell,” complimented Capt. Hardy. “I will give you the credit of that.”
“Thank you,” said Frank, pleasantly. “Jeffers gave me a shock, and that made me brace up.”
“That farmer out there on the left lawn gave all of us a shock,” said Hardy. “How did he catch that ball?”
“With his hands,” smiled Frank.
“I didn’t think he caught it with his feet, but there was a time that it seemed as if he had just as good show to catch it with his feet as with his hands. How did you know he could play ball?”
“Oh, I’ve talked with him considerable, and I discovered that he knew all the fine points of the game. Then he told me that he used to play on a strong country team up in New Hampshire—sort of a league team.”
“Huah!” grunted Hardy. “That would bar him from playing with Yale, even if he should prove fast enough. Without doubt he has taken pay for playing.”