“Hard luck!” growled Browning.
“Now, Dick!” cried Phil; “this is your chance, and you must do the trick.”
Starbright did not dare to glance toward Inza again; but, fancying she was watching him and wishing for his success, he began the task of trying to run out.
The first shot was a close shave, the cue-ball barely brushing one of the object balls. Indeed, Browning fancied Dick had missed, but Frank promptly declared he had plainly seen the shot, and it was a fair count. Dick thanked him and proceeded with the play. However, he was extremely anxious and excited, and his anxiety increased as he passed ninety, crept up to ninety-five and then found himself drawing close onto the end of the string.
The silence was intense. Indeed, it was so great that it began to oppress Dick, and he longed for the spectators to talk, laugh, or do something. He was tingling from his head to his heels.
Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight—only two points to make.
“I told you!” whispered Winnie to Buck, in disappointment. “He has beaten Frank!”
“Not yet!” returned the unshaken Kansan. “If he beats Merry, he’ll be the first galoot to do the trick in a long time. He won’t!”
Ninety-nine!
One point more to be made!