“No need to put the money up,” he said. “Then we won’t break any rules. Here’s where I begin to get into you. I hope Merriwell stays around until after the meet. I’ll have you going to your old man for change.”
“For conceit,” returned Grafter, “you certainly take the cake. If you win my money, you’re welcome to it.”
Frost was smiling as they returned and Manton made ready for business.
Merry had been looking the balls over. They were a fine lot, but he weighed one after another in his hands, examined the finger holds and finally selected two of them as his favorites.
A coin was tossed to see who would lead off, and it fell on Manton.
He picked out a large ball, took his position on the right-hand side of the runway, bent forward, swung the ball at the end of his arm once like the pendulum of a clock, then ran forward and rolled.
He started the ball from the right-hand side of the alley, rolling it toward the head pin, which it struck quarteringly.
With a crash, every pin fell.
“Pretty, old man!” cried Fisher approvingly. “That’s the way to start her off!”
“It’s keeping it up that counts,” said Grafter.