“There’s Benson!” cried Nash. “Who’d thought at one time that he’d ever be playing ball under Merriwell? Why, he was a leader in everything against Merriwell.”
Merry spoke to the Princeton captain, and then the Tigers were called in from the field, Yale trotting out to get some practise.
“Of course, Merriwell will pitch this game straight through,” said Mullen.
“If he doesn’t he’ll display poor judgment,” asserted Cowles. “He can’t afford to fool round.”
But Frank Merriwell was not feeling like pitching. In the pocket of his coat which he had left in the dressing-room was a letter from Inza Burrage, and that letter contained the information that Inza’s father was dead.
Inza was now quite alone in the world.
Merry’s heart was torn with sympathy for the beautiful girl whom he knew was almost heart-broken with grief, and he longed to turn from the baseball-field and seek some place where no one might disturb him.
So Starbright was to have an opportunity to gratify his ambition to again pitch against Princeton.
The practise of the Yale team was not nearly as snappy as that of the nine from New Jersey. Somehow the gloom that had fallen on Merriwell seemed to communicate itself to the whole team.
The spectators felt it. The Yale crowd started to singing to rouse up some spirit and vim, but there was a mournful note about it that added to the gloom.