“You cur!” grated Frank, as he sprang at McCann and grasped him by the shoulder.
“Git out!” returned the fellow, making a pass at Merry’s face.
Afterward Bud was sorry he tried to strike Frank then, for, an instant later, a hard fist smote him between the eyes, knocking him down.
McCann jumped up quickly and went for Frank before any one could interfere. Merry simply parried the fellow’s second blow and gave him such a terrible thump that McCann was hurled to the ground fifteen feet away.
Then the players closed in to separate them, but there was no need of bothering, for the prize-fighting ball-player had been finished off in short order, and it was necessary to pour water over him before he could tell his own name.
Squinty Jim was dazed with astonishment, for he had fancied that his brother would make short work of Frank Merriwell. When it was all over, Squinty fancied it must be a dream.
Then came a brief argument over the proper thing to do, and the umpire decided to send Frank back to third, for all that Merry insisted that the proper decision was to give him a run. However, McCann swore he didn’t throw the bat, and there were several others who asserted that the trick was done by an outsider. Of course, it was a lie, but on the strength of it Frank was returned to third.
Merry had not said a word, but his fall had given his wrist a bad wrench, and he was worried. Not many weeks before he had sprained that same wrist severely, which prevented him from pitching in several games, and now he was afraid it had been hurt again.
Dick had reached first, and only one man was out. Ready came to the bat. Frank signed for him to fan at the first one, giving Dick a chance to go down to second.