“So that is the man you have been recommending, Merriwell,” said Capt. Hardy. “And he wastes his strength on a ball like that. Any boy would have known that was a rod too high.”
“Wait a little yet,” advised Frank. “He may be a trifle anxious just now, for he knows everybody is watching him. I’ll wager my life that he shows up all right directly.”
“He hasn’t done anything in the game yet.”
“He hasn’t been given a chance, has he?”
“Well, not much of a chance,” Hardy was forced to confess.
Down by first Joe Gamp was stammering and haw-hawing, and it was plain that his talk was getting Haggerty a little nervous. The grin had vanished from the face of the pitcher, and his jaws were working convulsively over the chew of gum. He tried Hodge on a low drop, but Bart let it pass. Then he sent in a rise, and Hodge went for it.
To the surprise of both Haggerty and Noon, Hodge hit the ball. It was a frightful crack, and away flew the sphere toward left field.
“Run!” roared the coachers, and Hodge raced down to first, while Thornton went flying toward second.
CHAPTER XVI.
MERRIWELL’S NINE LEADS.