“Just wait, an’ mebbe you’ll see,” was the answer. “I kinder feel like gittin’ at dat fresh college guy, anyhow. Dese college chaps make me sick! Dey t’ink dey must be somebody just because dey has been ter college. Now, wot good does goin’ ter college do anybody? All dis guff ’bout an edercation gives me a pain! Wot’s der use of knowin’ a lot of truck about Latin or Greek? Give me der English language, an’ jest as long as I knows how ter handle dat as well as I does I won’t take a back seat fer no college bloke.”
“Look!” exclaimed Squinty. “He’s the first batter this time.”
“An’ I’ll bet my shirt Nesbitt fans him.”
Frank Merriwell had picked out his favorite bat and advanced to the plate. Nesbitt smiled when he saw Merry come up, thinking Frank would be easy, as, in most cases, pitchers are not good hitters.
The catcher had adjusted his mask and body-protector, and he gave the pitcher a sign. The latter nodded, then sent in a speedy in shoot that caused Merry to dodge.
“One ball,” called the umpire.
Frank stood up to the plate again.
“Put him back, Mr. Umpire,” requested Nesbitt. “He’s too close.”
But Merry was in his box, and the umpire declined to move him. Again Nesbitt used the in shoot, but this time he caused Frank to get still farther back.
“Two balls.”