“Only one more man this inning, Frank,” said Bart.
Could Merriwell “get” the next batter?
The situation was one to work up the spectators, who felt that it would be shameful to have their new team, on which they had spent so much money, defeated by the visitors.
“A pall nefer couldt catch dot Part Hodge!” shouted Hans Dunnerwurst joyously.
Sitting on the bench, Wolfers growled a little to the manager of the team.
“What’s the matter?” he said. “Why don’t they hit some? I can’t win the game if they don’t hit. I’ll hold those kids down all right, but the rest of the team must bat a little.”
“A hit right now will win the game,” asserted Lawrence.
“But Tink was the man to make the hit. If he had lifted a long one to the field it would have been something. Cronin could have scored on it, even if it had been caught.”
“Cross will have to turn the trick.”
“He ought to,” nodded Wolfers. “That pitcher is pie. He’s pie, I say. Don’t see how he ever got such a reputation.”