Morgan was angry.
“What’s the matter with you fellows?” he sharply demanded. “You think a man ought to hit all the time. Keep in the game, and Merry will pull it off the coals.”
The Elks were jubilant. They patted Wolfers on the back and complimented him on his cleverness.
“Get out!” he growled. “It was no trick at all. I can strike him out four times out of five. I know his weak spot.”
“I’ve been told he has no weak spot,” said Billy Cronin.
“That’s rot! He has a weak spot, all right enough. I wish all the others on his team were just as easy.”
“Well, you’ve made yourself solid in this town, anyhow,” said George Rush. “The crowd was frightened. A hit just then might have fixed us.”
“Well, you must jump in and get some runs now,” said the manager. “We may as well wind the game up. The crowd is satisfied, and the town will back this team after to-day.”
“If we ever get a chance at the other teams in this old league we’ll trim them for fair,” grinned Rush. “But I’m afraid we’ll frighten them so they’ll continue to hold us out.”
“They can’t do it,” declared Lawrence. “The Central League can’t run without us. A three-cornered league is rotten, and the other towns must have us. They’ll come to time pretty soon. If we can get games enough, we’ll lose no money while this thing is hanging fire. We’ll make something on the game to-day. It might have hurt us if we’d lost, as I agreed that the winners should take two-thirds of the net receipts. Merriwell made the terms. He’ll have to be satisfied with a third if we carry off the game.”