Merry obeyed the injunction to the letter, and he swept off the group of four pins with his second ball, leaving three standing.
“That’s clever,” nodded Dick. “Let’s see if you can clean them up.”
With moderate speed, Frank sent down a curve for the little line of pins, but he barely missed the head one, clipping off the last two.
“Nine for Merriwell in his first box,” announced Dashleigh, who had been selected to keep the score.
Ready set the pins up with care, while Starbright prepared for his first effort. He stood on the left side of the runway, took a slow start, and sent a swift ball into the bunch of pins, striking them on the quarter and tearing them up as if they had been hit by a cyclone. Only the head pin was left standing.
“Refuse me!” gasped Ready. “It’s dangerous down here. Oh, but that was a soaker! Methinks I smell a spare.”
He was right, for Dick drove the second ball straight and true at the single pin, which went flying against the padded end of the alley with a sodden thump.
“Spare in the first box for Starbright!” cried Dashleigh, in great delight. “It’s your turn now, Dick! He did you at billiards, but this is different.”
“This is only the beginning,” smiled Dick. “I’m not liable to keep that work up right along.”
“I should hope not!” exclaimed Frank.