“Well, don’t you care. You’re up against the real thing to-day. You might beat dub teams; but it’s different when you have to face the real hot stuff.”
“If I’m able,” thought Merry, “I’m going to strike you out.”
He knew this would not be a simple matter in case Wolfers tried to sacrifice for the purpose of advancing Sprowl; but the conceit and insolence of the fellow made him long to accomplish the feat.
Frank summoned all his power of self-command. He had watched to learn the weak points of the man at bat, and now he commanded himself to be accurate and to do the things he wished.
As a result, he fooled the hitter with the first two balls pitched, Wolfers going after both of them and missing.
As Hodge snapped the ball back to him, Merry decided on the course he would pursue. He knew Wolfers would expect him to “waste” a ball in an attempt to fool him, this being the natural course when two strikes and no balls had been called. Instead of doing so, Frank summoned his speed and control and drove a straight one over the very heart of the plate.
When it was too late, Wolfers realized what Merry had done. He made a weak and tardy swing at the ball, which he did not touch.
“Str-r-r-rike—kah three!” cried the umpire. “You’re out!”
Wolfers flung aside the bat and paused, his hands on his hips, staring at Merry.
“You’re very clever!” he sneered.