“Did you?”
“Yes. He said he’d do anything for me. I haven’t wanted to use him till to-day.”
“What then?”
“I dined there. I called on Pete to doctor Merriwell’s vichy water, which he ordered. I gave him the stuff to do the trick, and he did it. Merriwell must have tasted something wrong in the water, for he drank only half a glass. That was enough, though.”
“You think he won’t be able to pitch?”
“If he is able, they’ll hammer him all over the lot. I stand to win two thousand to-day.”
“And, having taken your advice, I have my last blooming dollar on the game. If we don’t win, I’m in the soup.”
“We’ll win. Watch Merriwell. Bryant will begin with a hit.”
Frank stood in the box, while Bryant came up to the plate. Twice he passed a hand across his eyes. Then he looked for Bart’s signal, nodded, and delivered the ball.
Bryant met the very first one with a smash that sent out a clean single.