“Huh! We’ll prob’bly bat around twice in the first inning, you joke! You’d better get another pitcher warmin’ up.”
“Come on, Bully,” cried Squint Fletcher. “Leave that poor simp alone!”
No one had any need to hear the umpires’ announcement, and it was drowned in a roar of cheers as the Clippings went out to their positions. Colonel Carson glowered and tugged at his goatee, then smiled as Squint Fletcher advanced to the plate amid a mingling of hisses and cheers. Squint had his backers, who liked him for his rough-and-ready tactics.
Indeed, it soon developed that the Clippers were not without friends. The general sentiment was against them, but there were plenty of hoodlums and toadies who were willing to cheer them. Also, many farmers had come in, who were used to yelling for the Clippers.
The umpires took their positions, and Merry whipped over three balls to Billy. Squint stepped up to the plate, with a sneer, and balanced himself aggressively. Billy Mac signed for the double shoot.
Frank nodded, took his time, and, amid a wild shriek of delight from the crowd, delivered the first pitched ball. Squint Fletcher pulled down his bat—and there was a crack like a pistol shot.
Squint had landed square on Frank Merriwell, junior’s, famous double shoot!
CHAPTER XI.
THE CLIPPINGS GET WILD.
The connection, however, was so plainly an accident, and Squint himself looked so bewildered, that every one roared with laughter.