Nevertheless, Bang Bancroft was one of the cleverest players on the Rovers. He was a great short-arm thrower to bases. He could bat like a fiend, and he had a knack of coaching and steadying a pitcher which brought out the best there was in any slab artist who "handed 'em up" to him.
McCann, shortstop and captain of the team, was a fighting Irishman with a peppery temper and a bullying disposition. This chap had a trick of bulldozing umpires and opposing players, and he generally played what is commonly called "scrappy baseball."
The other members of the team took their cues from McCann, and their aggressiveness was made apparent almost before the first ball was pitched over the plate.
"Here's a mark, Bender!" cried McCann, as Mulloy stepped out with his bat. "Eat him up!"
"Come on, Mitt," came from O'Day, "burn a few hot ones over! Make him dizzy!"
"Get back from the plate!" rasped Bender, as Barney took his position. "Get back, or you'll get hit!"
"Hit him if he crowds," came from Holmes; "but don't kill him. You know you killed one man last year and broke another man's jaw."
"Go ahead and hit him," came from Clover. "He's Irish, and you can't kill him."
Frank Merriwell's eyes began to gleam with a peculiar light and his lips tightened.
"They fancy they're up against a lot of youngsters they can intimidate," he thought. "They mean to frighten us at the start."