“Mason!” cried Merriwell, who was batting to the outfield.
Then he sent out a long, difficult fly, forcing Mason to run for it as hard as he could.
Hock held it, though forced to take it on the dead run.
“Gamp!”
Merry gave Joe one very much like that driven out to Hock, and the New Hampshire youth made his long legs fly as he pranced over the ground. He gathered the fly in, whirled round, and sent it almost on a line to the plate. Gamp was a wonderful thrower, and he sometimes fancied showing off a little.
“Benson!”
Frank cracked out a liner to Lib Benson in right field. It was not straight at Benson, and he was compelled to jump to get in front of it; but he took it handsomely, giving Nash, Mullen, and Cowles a chance to applaud.
In the meantime, another man was batting all kinds of balls to the infield, keeping every one on the jump. Pretty soon Frank changed places with the other batter. He had given the outfielders the kind of work that he felt was best for them, and now he wished to see the infield practise.
Ready, covering second, was sent leaping after a ground-skimmer.
“First!” rang out Merry’s voice.