Boom! The ball went rolling down the polished alley.
Crash! Every pin fell.
“Another strike,” said Frost. “It’s the natural thing with him.”
Frank had discarded the first ball used by him. He put it aside where it would not get mixed with the others.
At this point he assumed all the self-command possible, fixing his mind on the point where he wished the ball to strike. He was steady as a mill.
The ball was delivered perfectly, leaving his hand without the slightest jar as it touched the polished alley. With a soft boom it rolled straight to the point on which Merry had set his mind.
Crash!
“Strike!” cried Fuller. “That’s the stuff, Merriwell! Now you are showing your style!”
“But he began a trifle late, I fear,” said Frost.
“Don’t let your fears trouble you,” advised Bart Hodge. “The string is just started.”