got that twisted nose from
watching his own curves in delivering. He came up confident, thinking he
understood the tricks of the Kansan pretty well, and that he would be
easy. But almost before he knew it the umpire called "one strike."

"That ball must have passed this side of the plate," he declared. "It
was an in, and I had to jump to get out of the way."

"Don't jump at shadows!" shouted a Yale sophomore. "That ball was all
right."

The umpire promptly informed Wilson that he was talking too much with
his mouth.

"I'll get him the next time!" thought the lank pitcher of the Hartfords.
"He fooled me that time, but he can't do it again!"

But Badger did it again. Again the sophomores began to yell. Jack Ready
tossed the ball back.

Badger began to look and to feel confident, a thing that Merriwell, who
was closely watching him, did not like. This time the Westerner, after
almost bending himself double, gave his arm an eccentric movement and
shot in another curve. Wilson struck at it desperately, and fanned out.

"He can't keep it up!" yelled a Hartford man, who had been wildly
hunting for bets a short time before, and who felt the need of whistling
to keep his courage up.

Barrows, the center-fielder, came to the bat next. He went after the
very first one, and got it Crack! and away the ball flew again into the
right field, while the Hartford lads opened up with great vigor.

It was a hit, for everybody saw that Dismal, even though he was doing
his best, could not possibly get it. Barrows raced to first, while
Tillinghast, the base-runner, took second, without trouble, but stumbled
and fell, so that it was impossible for him to make another bag on the
hit.

Badger next tried his highest speed, and the batter fanned, but Ready
dropped and fumbled the ball, being unable to hold it, and came very
near letting both runners advance, although he did get the sphere down
to third in time to drive them back.

Watching closely, Frank had discovered that something about Badger's
delivery bothered Ready. Badger himself saw this, and he tried a change
of pace, but the batter caught it on the handle of his "wagon-tongue,"
and drove out a "scratch hit" that filled the bases.

Oleson, a Swede, almost as large as Browning, came up to the plate.

"And there were giants in those days," droned Jones, from his position
in the field.

"How's that for the giant?" cried Oleson, as he slashed yet another down
into Dismal's