“I can’t understand it,” said the coach, in perplexity. “I’ve had no answers to any of my telegrams from Chip or Billy or Clancy. At noon I wired the hotel there, and they said that all three had left yesterday. Nobody knows where they are.”
“Something’s happened to ’em, all right,” said Ted, as a storm of cheers swept out from the Franklin bleachers, announcing that Peters had fanned a second man. “Maybe that car of Clancy’s has blown up. Did you wire Mr. Merriwell?”
“I’ve wired everybody in the country!” cried the coach desperately. “Nobody knows anything about it. Merry left Carsonville yesterday morning, with Clan and Billy. That’s all. They’ve dropped completely out of sight.”
“It’s a rotten shame,” muttered Crockett. “We had to put Randall in, and they have simply murdered him. The boys are all up in the air, too.”
“Well, hold the score down,” said Coach Trayne, in desperation. “That’s all we can hope for now.”
Another roar went up from Franklin as Peters fanned the third man. Villum Kess trotted out to right field in gloomy fashion.
“Ve vos complexicated now,” he said, as Crockett joined him. “Ve make a losings ven Chip vos gone, yah! Ve vos our feet viped off der earth of, Ted!”
“We’ll have to hold ’em,” said the captain glumly. “We get one more chance.”
Randall went into the pitcher’s box amid a storm of cheers from the Fardale bleachers. The Southerner realized that he had been outclassed, but he was resolutely trying to hold his self-control.
“All right, Randall!” cried Crockett. “We’re all with you, old man!”