“Don’t talk to that catcher, Tip,” commanded Hurley sharply.
Creel was silenced. He set his teeth, gripped his bat and waited. At the same time, although ready to strike, he more than half expected Frank would “waste” one or two balls.
Merry saw the fellow was ready to swing if the ball came over. Again he delivered it a trifle wide, but it swept in and upward, being caught by Hodge almost directly behind the batter’s shoulder. In fact, it seemed to pass under Creel’s arm as the latter swung at it.
“You’re out!” announced the umpire.
“I’d like to know what sort of a curve he used on me!” muttered Tip Creel, as he reseated himself on the bench. “It had a mighty queer twist.”
Hurley was watching closely.
“It wasn’t the double-shoot Wiley has been teaching us to hit,” he said.
“If it was,” said Creel, “Merriwell throws it entirely different from Wiley.”
“Look here, cap’n,” demanded Swatt, “have you been deceiving us?”