CHAPTER XXII.CHALLENGED.
“For the love of goodness!”
“What’s the matter?”
“Look at this!”
Bart Hodge did not often get excited and express his feelings by ejaculations, but now he was the first speaker. Merriwell was the one who asked the question, and Bart thrust the paper he had been reading toward Frank as he said, “Look at this.”
“Where?” asked Merry.
“There!” said Bart, pointing his index-finger at the article that had excited his astonishment. “Just read that, will you!”
The matter under observation was headed, “Baseball Challenge,” and read as follows:
“It is reported that Frank Merriwell, late captain of the Yale baseball and football-team, is in the vicinity of Denver, having brought with him a picked ball-team, with which he proposes to wipe up the earth with anything and everything he can find west of the Mississippi. Such being the case, as manager of the Denver Reds, the champion independent baseball-team of the State of Colorado, I challenge Merriwell’s team to agame of ball, to be played in Denver any time within ten days, for a purse and the entire gate-receipts.“I am confident that my team can show the collegians a few points in our great national game, and I believe that as a pitcher Merriwell has been greatly overrated. Everybody with sense knows that the story that he can throw a ball that will curve both in and out before reaching the batter is perfectly ridiculous, and, in case he has sufficient courage to accept this challenge, the Reds have the utmost confidence that they can bat him out of the box before the end of the third inning.“It is admitted that last season he did manage an independent team that won a number of victories, defeating a Denver club, but I contend that the majority of the nines playing against him were made up of the rankest amateurs, and that not one team in the list was in the same class with the Reds. Not knowing Mr. Merriwell’s present address, I take this means of placing my challenge before him, but I sadly fear that he will not have sufficient courage to accept.“David Morley, Mgr. Denver Reds.”
“It is reported that Frank Merriwell, late captain of the Yale baseball and football-team, is in the vicinity of Denver, having brought with him a picked ball-team, with which he proposes to wipe up the earth with anything and everything he can find west of the Mississippi. Such being the case, as manager of the Denver Reds, the champion independent baseball-team of the State of Colorado, I challenge Merriwell’s team to agame of ball, to be played in Denver any time within ten days, for a purse and the entire gate-receipts.
“I am confident that my team can show the collegians a few points in our great national game, and I believe that as a pitcher Merriwell has been greatly overrated. Everybody with sense knows that the story that he can throw a ball that will curve both in and out before reaching the batter is perfectly ridiculous, and, in case he has sufficient courage to accept this challenge, the Reds have the utmost confidence that they can bat him out of the box before the end of the third inning.
“It is admitted that last season he did manage an independent team that won a number of victories, defeating a Denver club, but I contend that the majority of the nines playing against him were made up of the rankest amateurs, and that not one team in the list was in the same class with the Reds. Not knowing Mr. Merriwell’s present address, I take this means of placing my challenge before him, but I sadly fear that he will not have sufficient courage to accept.
“David Morley, Mgr. Denver Reds.”
They were sitting in the lobby of the Metropole Hotel in the city of Denver, where they had met Browning, Rattleton, Gamp, and Carker that day by appointment.
The expedition that had set out to find Swiftwing had not been successful. They had found only his deserted shanty. The Indian and his wife were gone.
When he had finished reading the challenge, Frank laughed quietly, but, on looking up, saw Hodge was scowling blackly.
“That’s a case of unbounded confidence, isn’t it, Bart?”
“Unbounded insolence, I call it!” growled Hodge. “Why, that challenge is almost an insult—it is an insult!”
“It’s pretty plain language,” Frank admitted.
“Plain! It’s rank! Why, the fellow says you haven’t courage enough to accept!”
“Well, it is an easy matter to convince him that he has made a mistake.”
“But he sneers at your pitching.”
“Possibly I may be able to take some of his sneering out of him in a game, if I happen to be in form.”
“I know you can, Merriwell, but the crust of it is what galls me. He says you have been overrated.”
“Probably he thinks so.”
“Well, he’s got another think coming to him.”
“This is exactly what we are looking for, Hodge. We have pulled ourselves together to play ball, and we——”
“We haven’t had any practise.”
“Morley gives us enough time for that. We can play him any time within ten days.”
“Besides, we are two men short, and I don’t seehow we are going to fill out the nine. Stubbs can’t come, and Mason’s mother died at just the time to prevent him from joining us, and here we are. It’s out that you have a ball-team, and this duffer flings us a challenge.”
Bart’s warm blood had been stirred by the offensive challenge in the Denver paper, and he was not in a pleasant mood.
“If we had found Swiftwing——” Merry began.
“But we didn’t,” Hodge cut in.
“I’d give a little to know where he has gone.”
“Old Joe said he would find him. And that’s the last we have heard of Old Joe. I don’t believe we’ll ever see anything of that old vagrant again.”
“Somehow I have a fancy that Old Joe will turn up with news of Swiftwing.”
“What if he does? He may not turn up in time to do any good, and you can’t remain idle and wait for something that may happen. You must accept that challenge, Frank.”
“I intend to,” came quietly from Merry’s lips.
“Without the two men needed?”
“I’ll have to pick up men somehow. Now, there’s Berlin Carson——”
“Speaking of me, Merriwell?”
Both Frank and Bart started and turned as the words fell on their ears. Toward them advanced aprepossessing youth, who had observed them sitting there as he was passing through the lobby.
“Carson, as I live!” exclaimed Frank, in deep satisfaction, as he quickly rose and extended his hand.
With a long, quick stride, the newcomer approached and grasped the proffered hand, his blue eyes beaming with pleasure.
“Merriwell, I am overjoyed!” he declared. “I heard you were somewhere in Colorado, but I had not the least idea of running across you here. It’s lucky the governor sent me into town on business at this time.”
“Lucky for us,” nodded Frank, as Carson and Hodge shook hands. “You are the eighth man for our ball-team, if we can get you to come in with us.”
The eyes of the Colorado lad showed his satisfaction.
“You can count on me for anything, Merriwell,” he asserted. “The governor is sure to let me join you, for he thinks you are just about the proper thing, and he has thought so ever since he first met you. He knows I’d never made the varsity nine if it hadn’t been for you, and that makes him think all the more of you. You may count on me. Where are your other men?”
“They’re out looking the city over.”
“Who are they?”
Frank told him.
“All good men but Carker,” said Carson; “and he can put up a good game when he gets right down to it.”
“But we’re still a man short,” said Hodge. “Merriwell has a brother, a perfect little wonder; but he’s too young—only thirteen.”
“A brother?” exclaimed Carson, who knew nothing of recent developments in connection with Frank.
Then Merriwell briefly outlined the whole strange story, having a very interested listener.
“He’s a wonder,” Hodge again declared, referring to Dick Merriwell; “but he has never seen a regular game of ball in his life. He had some balls, mitts, and a bat out there in Pleasant Valley, where he has always lived, and you should have seen him get after the ball. Why, that boy has more sand than any fellow I ever saw, and he is made up of determination. He just sets his teeth and catches anything that is tossed up to him. Merry has begun to teach him to pitch.”
“Yes,” laughed Frank, “and he is furious because he can’t get onto the trick of throwing the double-shoot. He swears he’ll do it if he lives long enough.”
“That’s the true Merriwell stuff,” nodded Carson. “I’ve never seen him, but I’ll bet my life he’ll make a bird.”
“But it’s useless to think of playing him,” said Merriwell.“Besides being too young, he knows next to nothing about the game. I’m going to take him round with me this summer and give him all the education in the ball-playing line that I can.”
“Well, we’ll have to find a man,” said Berlin. “I know some players, and I’ll——”
Just then something happened that caused the trio to wheel about instantly.