“I know he can’t.”
“Still,” said Frank, “we have not what would be regarded as a hard-hitting team, and some of the men are decidedly weak in their batting.”
“Slugging doesn’t win close games as a rule. I’ve seen good bunting teams lose games by the foolishness of their manager. Wanting a run or two, they have been urged to ‘beef it out,’ which caused them to fan.”
“That’s right,” Frank agreed, “but hitters are valuable always.”
“You’ll have to hold ’em down. A run or two may be enough to win the game.”
Hodge did not permit his confidence to be shaken. His faith in Frank was unbounded.
Merry watched his men closely, for he knew the game on hand was certain to be difficult.
Dick was delighted over the prospect, but was disappointed when he found Frank intended to put him on the bench. The boy, despite his years, fancied he could play in the game and be valuable.
When dinner-time came the boys all went down together, having one large table in the dining-room. Barely were they seated when Merry observed at a near-by table the dark-faced gambler who had tried to bribe him.
Dowling seemed to pay not the slightest attention to Frank. He was talking to the colored waiter and seemed ordering from the bill of fare.