“Not at all. He was willing to play with the understanding that the winners should have two-thirds and the losers one-third. He even offered to split the receipts even.”
“Well, was that reasonable?” snapped McGann. “Here we have the reputation, and a youngster like him wants to split even with us.”
“It might have been better for you than the arrangement you made. If you do not get a dollar, you’ll have no one but yourself to blame.”
“They must win!” growled McGann.
He left the bleachers and hurried to the bench, where he waited to speak with Captain Hurley.
In the first half of the seventh the Merries fell on the ball hard, three men making long drives to the outfield, but the fielders were able to catch each one, and so there was no danger of more scores for Frank.
“We must do something, Hurley!” exclaimed McGann, as the captain of the Outcasts reached the bench. “If we lose this game, all the gate money goes to those chaps.”
“How is that?”
McGann explained.
“That’s bad,” admitted Hurley. “We’ve been doing everything in our power. The boys can’t bear the thought of being beaten by those chaps, but we can’t seem to hit Merriwell. That new curve of his is a puzzler.”