CHAPTER XXIV.
THE ATHLETICS TAKE THE LEAD.
A roar arose from the crowd—a roar of anger at the outrageous action of the ruffianly catcher. The witnesses saw Frank Merriwell leap out from the bench and dart toward McCann, and it seemed that a thousand voices shouted:
“Go for him!”
Frank needed no urging. He might have restrained himself under other circumstances, but the sight of his brother’s bloody face had caused him to cast aside all restraint.
McCann saw Merry coming and cast off the big catching-mitt, whirling to face the furious brother of the youth he had injured.
Not a word escaped Merry’s lips, but he went straight at the ruffian. McCann stepped forward to meet him, but Merry could no more be stopped than could an avalanche under way. Frank found an opening in the fellow’s guard and knocked him down instantly.
Up sprang the hard-headed bruiser, but he went down as quick as he rose. Again McCann jumped up, and again he went down. Each time he was knocked more than ten feet away, and Merriwell followed him up closely.
As Merry struck the fellow the fourth time Squinty Jim endeavored to get in and take part in the affray. He made a dive for Merry, swinging a bat.
But a bloody-faced lad who had risen from the ground was on hand to balk Squinty’s project, and the young thug received a jolt under the ear that sent him spinning to one side.
Then the players of both sides rushed in and the fight was over.