“That’s right; and, therefore, I claim that you can’t judge Merriwell’s ability by one game. Probably it will be different in the next game.”
“There will be no next game,” said the manager.
“How is that?”
“One game wound us up with those chaps.”
“Don’t you dare play them another?”
“Dare? Ha! ha! ha! That’s a joke! Look here, my friend, there’s nothing we’re afraid to hitch up with.”
“Then why don’t you give them another chance at you?”
“Because we have games arranged for the rest of this week, and we expect to be playing in the league again by the first of next week. We can’t bother with small fry. We play out of town to-morrow and next day, and the Cuban Giants meet us here Saturday.”
“I like the way you talk about small fry!” exclaimed Raybold, the tone of his voice indicating that he did not like it.
“Besides,” said Lawrence, “I don’t fancy Merriwell or any of his crowd want to tackle us again.”