“I don’t know about that.”
“It would make him a professional, if he had. Say, how about that Fort Worth business? I understand you and Hodge played with the team down there. Were you paid for it?”
“Not a cent.”
Hardy looked relieved.
“I was afraid you had taken pay,” he said. “If you had been that foolish, we would be in a scrape, for you might be barred as an amateur, you know.”
“And that would give some of my very particular friends great satisfaction,” smiled Frank. “But you need not let that worry you at all. We played with Fort Worth for the sport of it, and did not receive a cent for doing so.”
By this time the regulars were in the field. Ned Noon was behind the home plate, with little Haggerty, the Williams man, in the box.
Jones was the first batter up for Merriwell’s side. He looked sad and heartless as he advanced to the plate.
Haggerty flung his cap on the ground by his side. He stood with his little legs spread, chewing gum rapidly and grinning. He was a pleasant little fellow.
Ned Noon came up under the bat at the very start. It was plain he was going to show what he could do.