Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Support; Or, A Triple Play - Burt L. Standish - Страница 6

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“How are we going to settle Derring’s last decision?” asked Frank. “All three men were out on the play, as you know, Dorrity.”

“I don’t know,” said the captain of the Stars. “In fact, I did not see the catch, as I was urging the man to run. I thought the Indian could not catch the ball.”

“But the crowd saw him do it.”

“Some of my men say it looked like a pick-up.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Well, we’ll put Teller and Skew back on second and first and let O’Grady bat over. That’s fair.”

“Do you think so?”

“Don’t you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because they are out.”

“But I’ve given in a point and changed the umpire.”

“I have permitted you to put in anybody you chose as umpire.”

“Oh, come, Merriwell, meet me half-way in this.”

“And give you all the advantage? I am not playing ball that way to-day, Mr. Dorrity. As I have before stated, all I want is my due; but that is what I will have if there is any way to get it.”

“Do you mean to refuse to play if those three men are not called out?”

“That’s just what I mean.”

“Why, the umpire will forfeit the game to us.”

“All right.”

“Don’t you ever yield a point?”

“Not in this kind of a game, if I know I am right.”

Dorrity found he could not budge Merriwell, and he reluctantly ordered his men back on the field. The score stood three to two in favor of Frank’s team. But the home team came last to bat.

It was the beginning of the ninth. Browning was the first man up for Merry’s team, and the big fellow advanced heavily to the plate, resolved to start things moving once more. Batch had sized up Browning, and he kept the balls high and close.

Two strikes and two balls were called. Then Bruce popped up an easy one, which was smothered in the first-baseman’s big mitt.

It was a bad start on the ninth. Swiftwing remembered his last turn at bat, and he now did his best to get a hit. He was fortunate enough to meet the ball and drop it over the infield for a safety.

But Rattleton fanned, and two were out. Carker had braced up wonderfully since Merriwell was in the lead, and he went after the ball in very pretty style, picking out the good ones and fouling several.

Two strikes were called on him, and then he met the ball fairly, sending it flying into the outfield. Maloney, the right-fielder, ran for the ball, although it was really in center-field territory.

“Teller! Teller!” cried Dorrity loudly.

But it seemed that Maloney did not hear, for he kept after the ball. The fielders collided and both went down. The ball had struck in the hands of Teller, but Maloney sprang up at once and held it aloft.

“Batter out!” announced the umpire.

“Robber! robber!” cried many. “Teller dropped the ball and Maloney picked it up!”

Frank “kicked” against the decision, but Morrisy stuck to it. Merry had seen the ball strike in Teller’s hands, and he had not seen it pass to the hands of Maloney. The affair was rather singular, yet he could not say he had seen Teller drop the ball. Such being the case, he was compelled to abide by the decision of the umpire. That retired the side, with the score unchanged.

“We must get together and hold the enemy prostrate,” said Ready. “It’s the way to win this game.”

Frank went into the box. Hodge knew Merry would start with the double-shoot, meaning to strike out the first batter up.

Hanson, of the home team, stepped up to the plate. Frank gave him a dazzler, and Hanson fanned.

But again that pain shot the whole length of Frank’s arm, and it felt as if something had broken.

“Guess some of the glass cracked,” thought Frank.

When Bart returned the ball, Merry took plenty of time in delivering it again. Then he tried the double-shoot once more, but threw the sphere high over Bart’s head.

“What’s the matter?” asked Hodge, instantly comprehending that all was not right.

Frank shook his head, but he threw no more double curves. He passed a high one up to Hanson, who hit it into the diamond. Browning tried to field the ball, but it got through him, and Hanson reached the bag.

“Rotten!” cried the crowd.

The coacher warned Hanson to play safe, and Jack, the second-baseman of the Stars, advanced to the plate. Using such skill as he could command with his bad arm, Merry struck Jack out. Hanson had been forced to cling to first.

Maloney followed as a batter. On the first ball pitched Hanson started for second. Maloney slashed at the ball with a wide swing that was intended to baffle Hodge in his throw to second.

Bart put the ball down like a bullet. Hanson was coming fast, and he slid feet first.

It is possible that Rattleton thought of Hanson’s spikes, for he changed his position and muffed the ball. Hanson slid under and was safe.

“Hard luck, Harry!” exclaimed Frank. “You had him if you’d held it!”

“Somebody ought to shoot me!” muttered Rattleton, his face red as a beet.

Frank gave Maloney one close to his hands, and the batter hit it down to Ready. Jack picked the ball up and turned to see where Hanson was. Hanson was about three yards off second, so Ready sent the ball across the diamond to first. The instant Ready threw, Hanson streaked it for third.

Maloney could run like a deer, and he beat the throw to first.

Browning did not wait for a decision, but sent the ball back to Ready, who, seeing Hanson coming, had leaped to cover third. The throw was not accurate, and Jack was pulled off third about two feet, which was enough to save Hanson, who slid round behind him and was safe.

The Stars were fighting for the game. It looked rather dangerous now, but Frank did not let that worry him. Had his wrist been in good condition, he would have found a way to stop the run-getting in short order. But he could not use the double-shoot, and so was compelled to rely on his support when the opposing batters hit him hard. And his support had not been of the first class, except during the first of the game.

Corrigan was a good waiter, but Merry started in to compel him to hit. Maloney went down to second on the first ball pitched.

Hodge threw like a bullet for second. Carson cut in as if intending to take the throw, and this kept Hanson from trying to score.

Seeing Hanson did not try to go home, Carson let the ball pass, and Rattleton caught it, putting it on to Maloney.

“Out at second!” declared the umpire.

This was team-work. Had Hanson started for home, Carson would have caught the ball and driven it straight to the plate to cut him off there. The opposing team had fancied Carson meant to take the ball, anyhow, which is an old trick. In this they had been fooled completely.

Two men were out. Another out without a score would give the game to Merriwell.

Corrigan looked anxious, and Frank tried to work him for a strike-out. Merry got himself into a bad hole, and was compelled to put the ball over. Corrigan hit it fairly and drove it out.

As two men were out already, Hanson did not pause at third, but came home immediately. Swiftwing was forced to make a hard run, and then, as if to offset his former brilliant catch, he muffed the ball.

The score was tied. Corrigan was on first. Dorrity ran in from the coaching-lines and got a bat.

“Score on my hit!” he cried.

Frank gave him a drop, and he let it pass. Then Merry tried a high one, and Dorrity drove it along the ground. The ball went to Carson, struck Berlin’s feet, and flew away off to one side. Ready raced for it, got it, and, in spite of Frank’s warning cry, overthrew to first.

Corrigan came on to third while Browning was after the ball. Bruce got it, and fancied he could nail Corrigan before the runner could make third. In his great haste he threw wild, also, which let Corrigan come home with the winning run.

Merriwell was defeated. And the defeat was due mainly to the ragged support given him by his team.