“Yes,” nodded Merry. “I happened to hear some of your conversation just now. I trust you will pardon me, but I was curious when you spoke my name. You have said that I would fear to meet your team again. You are wrong. Not only am I not afraid, but I now challenge you to play us another game day after to-morrow, the winners to take the entire gate-money. I shall publish my challenge in the morning papers.”
“Then,” said Wilson warmly, “we’ll play you, and we won’t give you a run. You are due for a shutout, Mr. Merriwell.”
Several of Merry’s friends had heard him make the challenge, and they were eager to know why he had done so. As they left the hotel, Frank said:
“I have received a letter from Dick.”
“Your brother? What does he say?”
“He’s on his way. He will reach Omaha in the morning.”
“Ah, ha!” cried Ready. “Now I understand why you flung the gauntlet in the teeth of Manager Wilson. You believe we can do his team, with the aid of Richard.”
“Exactly. Dick is bringing Old Crowfoot along, and we’ll get into the Stars in great shape.”
“Will you pitch him against these heavy-hitters?”
“I have not decided on that. If my wrist were right, I’d not think of it.”