nk notes, and the one on top proved to be
another hundred-dollar bill.

"I don't wish to take up your time, Mr. Merriwell," said Silence, in his
languid, drawling manner, "but I'll just run over the players so that
you'll understand who they are and get an idea of the records they have
made. You met Mike McCann, our shortstop. He's from Charleston, of the
South Atlantic League, and he knows the game from A to Z. Toby Mertez,
our right fielder, is a New England Leaguer, having played on the
Nashua, N. H., team last year. Jack Grifford, our center fielder, is
from Youngstown, the champions of the Ohio-Pennsylvania League. Hoke
Holmes comes from Birmingham, in the Southern League. 'Peep' O'Day is
the old National Leaguer, who was supposed to be down and out, but he
astonished every one by his work with Jersey City, in the Eastern
League, last year. He's our third baseman. Bill Clover, who covers the
second sack, comes from Portland, of the Pacific Coast League. Sim
Roach, who gambols in our left garden, is from Los Angeles, of the same
league. 'Bang' Bancroft was the second catcher of the champion Pueblo
team, in the Western League. Bancroft obtained the nickname of Bang
through his slugging year before last. It's possible you've never heard
of 'Mitt' Bender, our crack pitcher. He's been playing independent
baseball, but the Boston Americans were hot after him this year. I had
to open up handsomely in order to hold him. Our second pitcher is Mike
Davis, who's had much more experience than Bender, but who can't pitch
more than one game a week and do his best. When we go up against a light
team we use Toby Mertez in the box and save both Bender and Davis. Now I
think you understand the sort of team we have."

"Well," said Frank, "unless your men are has-beens they ought to make a
hot combination."

"We haven't a has-been in the bunch," asserted Silence quietly. "I think
you'll find the combination hot enough to suit you, Mr. Merriwell. I
understand you've never been batted hard. I understand that no team has
ever obtained more than eight or ten hits off you in a game. We have an
aggregation of hitters, and the chances are you'll get a proper good
drubbing to-morrow."

"You alarm me," said Frank. "Like any other pitcher, I have been bumped
in my time."

"In that case the experience may not seem so unpleasant to-morrow,"
drawled Silence. "Fifteen or twenty hits are nothing for the Rovers.
We've averaged ten hits through