CHAPTER XVII.
A GOOD FINISH.
Walbert did his prettiest. He struck out one of the “scrub,” and then the bases were filled. It looked like several more scores for Merriwell’s side.
Walbert set his teeth and pitched. He realized that he was working for a place on the ’varsity nine, and never had he done better. He struck out another man. Then the next batter sent a long one straight out to the center fielder, who gathered it in and the inning ended.
The spectators were greatly interested, for it was a hot game, something they had not expected. They began to chaff the regulars. Some of them said Merriwell’s team was the right one to represent Yale on the diamond that season.
Browning had not been given much work, but, to his own surprise, he was wide awake. The excitement of the game had aroused him from his lethargy.
Up to the close of the fourth inning the score stood 2 to 0 in favor of the “scrub.” Merriwell’s men did not seem able to obtain another score, although they came near it several times.
In the fourth inning, aided by a hit, a fumble and a dropped ball, the regulars ran in one score. Then Merriwell put on steam, and shut them off.
The fifth inning proved a whitewash for both sides, and the sixth began with the game standing 2 to 1 in favor of Merriwell.
The regulars were first to bat, and Capt. Hardy had a talk to them. He told them they must beat the “scrub.” He told them it would be a disgrace to be beaten by the“scrub.” He told them they were playing for something more than the game, and they understood him. Several of them were playing for positions on the nine.
Merriwell resolved to do his best to keep the regulars from making another score. He was laughing when he went into the box, but there was a serious purpose in his heart.
Gooch and Stubbs were two very disgusted fellows.
“This isn’t what we came out to see,” muttered the former.
“Not much!” said Stubbs. “Why, the ’varsity nine can’t play marbles! Harvard and Princeton will walk all over ’em. I’ll bet on it.”
“Is it always luck?” asked Gooch, hesitatingly.
“Of course it is!” snarled Stubbs.
The last inning began, and the two haters of Merriwell watched it in despair.
The first man up was out on an easy one to Rattleton, who lined it across to Browning. Bruce gathered it in, smothering it in his glove and yawning at the same time.
The next man got a hit. He could not steal second, for he did not dare try, as Hodge had caught every man who tried it. But the following man hit the ball to Fales, who fumbled it, and then threw wild to first.
Over second scooted the runner, and he reached third ahead of the ball.
That placed a man on second and one on third.
Stubbs and Gooch brightened up.
“Here’s where they win the game!” cried the former.
Frank continued to smile. He did not seem at all anxious.
The next batter obtained two balls and then had a strike called on him. He hit the next one and once more it shot straight at Fales.
The man on third took a desperate chance and scooted for home.
Fales saw the runner going, and he was so anxious to stop that score that he fumbled again. He got the ball at last and threw home, but it was a bit too late, for the man had scored.
The game was tied.
Then Frank was in earnest, and the way he pitched was a surprise to the two men who faced him. They did not even foul the ball, and both struck out.
The sixth inning closed with the score a tie. Frank was anxious to play another inning, but Capt. Hardy seemed satisfied.
He said such practice was too much like business, and the game was over.
But the “scrub” was hilarious over the result. It was almost equal to beating.
Some time after the game Frank and Capt. Hardy were seen talking together on the campus.
Ned Noon was strolling along when he saw them. From the fence Bink Stubbs called to him:
“What do you think?”
“I don’t think,” returned Ned, sourly. “It’s too much trouble.”
“See those chaps over there?” and Bink jerked his thumb toward Frank and Phil.
“Yes.”
“Merriwell is cooking your goose.”
“I suppose so. Well, let him cook it. I’ll get back at him some time!”
“That’s the talk!” said Stubbs, approvingly. “I hope you’ll do it, too!”
Noon sauntered on.
That evening Hodge came hurrying into Merriwell’s room, a look of satisfaction on his face.
“Old man,” he cried, with unusual enthusiasm, “I want to thank you! You have worked it!”
“Worked what?”
“Got me on for a trial.”
“On the nine?”
“Yes, Capt. Hardy told me just now that I am to have a trial in the game against Williams next Saturday.”
Frank sprang to his feet.
“Congratulations, old chum!” he cried, extending his hand. “I wanted you behind the bat, and, if you are given a fair show, you will stay there. We have worked together before, and we’ll try it again for the sake of old Yale—dear old Yale!”
Bart clasped the extended hand. It was a warm clasp, the clasp of true friendship.
On Saturday the ball game came off. There was a tremendous crowd on hand to witness the game and not a little betting on the result.
At first matters seemed to go against Yale and more than one groan of dismay went up.
Capt. Hardy was very anxious to win and made such a desperate two-base run in the sixth inning that he dropped down utterly exhausted, much to his friends’ surprise.
But after that occurrence the Yale team braced up. Frank never worked better and Hodge did equally well, and at the conclusion the score stood 4 to 5 in favor of Old Eli.
“We won, but it was close,” said Bruce Browning.
And all realized that this was true—the score was altogether too close for comfort—considering the heavy games still to be played.