"Well," said Frank, "unless your men are has-beens they ought to make a hot combination."
"We haven't a has-been in the bunch," asserted Silence quietly. "I think you'll find the combination hot enough to suit you, Mr. Merriwell. I understand you've never been batted hard. I understand that no team has ever obtained more than eight or ten hits off you in a game. We have an aggregation of hitters, and the chances are you'll get a proper good drubbing to-morrow."
"You alarm me," said Frank. "Like any other pitcher, I have been bumped in my time."
"In that case the experience may not seem so unpleasant to-morrow," drawled Silence. "Fifteen or twenty hits are nothing for the Rovers. We've averaged ten hits through the whole season."
"Oi'll bet a hundrid dollars ye don't git tin hits to-morrow!" exploded Mulloy, unable to keep silent longer.
"I'll have to take that bet," said the backer of the Rovers.
"Oh, no," interposed Frank; "I object. I don't think there'll be any betting as far as my players are concerned. Keep your money in your pocket, Mulloy."
Silence smothered a slight yawn behind his hand.
"I'm sorry you're so frightened, Merriwell," he said. "I'm sorry you haven't any more nerve. That hundred dollars would help me along in defraying expenses."
"Waal, gol derned if he don't figure it aout that he'd have the hundred cinched if he made the bet!" spluttered Gallup.