“Sure, give me another,” begged Green.
Chip smiled. He knew that Green would now be certain of a swift curve. So, making as if to throw an out, Chip sent down another straight ball.
“Strike—uh—two!”
“That’s headwork, old man!” cried Harker.
“Led him dood it!” cried Villum. “Ve vos all behind you, Frankie!”
Merry stood quietly. He refused Billy’s signals time after time, knowing that Green was watching him like a hawk, until the crowd yelled for action. In desperation Billy tried the signal for another straight ball, and Merry nodded.
Again he wound up carefully. This time he cut loose with every ounce of speed at his command, and the ball went down fairly scorching. Green hit, but hit too late, and Billy was taken off his feet by the speed of the ball. None the less, he held on to it; Chip had fanned his rival with three straight balls!
Not only those in the grand stand, but the bleachers had also noted the fact, and there was a deep roar of cheers as Fardale came in. Merry passed Green, and the latter gave him a quick smile.
“Merriwell,” he said quietly, “I take off my hat to you! That was magnificent.”
Chip looked at him, found sincerity in the wrinkled eyes, and warmed instinctively.