CHAPTER XIV.
ARRANGING FOR THE GAME.
On an open lot within sight of the Harlem River Frank Merriwell and Bart Hodge were practicing. Merry was working to see what he could do with the “spit ball,” which he had found to be extremely difficult to control.
“You have it all right, Merry,” declared Hodge. “Great Scott! doesn’t she take a sharp shoot!”
“Always feel like I’m going to lose control of the ball when I deliver it,” confessed Frank.
“You seem to have more speed when you spit on her.”
“The ball leaves the fingers with greater speed. I suppose the sharp shoot is caused by the banking of air against the wet surface. You know air will bank heavier against the wet surface of a moving object than against a dry surface. About all the spit-ball pitchers have one way that they deliver the ball. I’ve been trying various ways. Watch this.”
Merry swung his arm in a peculiar manner and the ball was delivered with his hand high in the air. It sped downward toward the outside corner of the stone which served as a plate. Suddenly it took a queer upward swerve.
Hodge grabbed at it and was nearly upset.