Bowers lay still on the ground after the umpire declared him out, and he was found to be unconscious.
“It’s his own fault!” declared scores on the bleachers and in the grand stand. “He tried to spike Merriwell’s second-baseman. He got just what he deserved.”
After a time Bowers revived, and was assisted from the ground, but he was hurt so badly that it was necessary to pull him out of the game.
Bud McCann was given his place, for McCann could catch as well as he could do anything else.
Webster, the next hitter, picked out a good one, and drove it almost directly over the third base, but Ready made a lucky jab at it, stopped it, got it up, and threw the fellow out at first.
“Ah-ha!” cried Jack, in apparent satisfaction. “Now we are getting something to do! I thought Merry would not be greedy and keep all the fun to himself.”
Joiler scowled blackly as he came up to hit. The manner in which the game was running did not suit him at all.
Merry started with a high one, but Joiler would not go after it. Then followed a quick out drop, but not even that one pulled the batter.
“Cut the plate, old boy!” cried Carson.