The moment he realized everything that had happened Frank Merriwell was very sorry.
“Before all these people!” he said. “It’s a shame! They came here to witness a game of baseball, not a prize-fight. Where is Dick?”
“Here.”
Dick came up, wiping the blood from his face with his handkerchief. One cheek was bruised and his chin was cut.
“Hurt bad?” asked Frank.
“Not very,” was the answer.
“I thought you must be. Your face looked bad when that big brute got off your head.”
“He stunned me for a minute.”
“Methinks he hath been duly repaid,” chuckled Ready. “He looks like a dish-rag about now.”
In truth, McCann was badly done up, and in no condition to catch further during that game. He had found at last that he was no match for Frank Merriwell.