re come the Lobsters!"

The cry was uttered by a small boy as the Camden ball team entered the
Rockland ball ground.

A great crowd had assembled in the "cigar box," as the ground was
sometimes called because of its narrow limits. All Rockland had heard
that Camden would have a new battery, and nearly all Rockland had heard
of Merriwell and Hodge, for Frank had insisted that Bart should support
him behind the plate. The fact that Rockland had won from Camden with
Woods in the box made the rooters feel that their team was
invincible--that it could not be defeated by Camden. They had turned out
in a way to make the heart of the Rockland manager rejoice as the
quarters came jingling into the cash box.

The car had been delayed and the Camden team was late. It was followed
by such a swarm of Camden people as had never been seen on the Rockland
ball ground. This band of rooters was marshaled by a Camden man, who had
instructed them to hang together and who was to lead them in the
cheering. They packed in upon the bleachers near first base, as they had
bought a large reserved space there and it was held for them.

Rockland had finished practicing, and so the Camdens took the field.
Everybody was asking where Frank Merriwell was, but no one seemed able
to discover him.

"It was a false report," somebody said, and then the spectators,
thinking they had been deceived, began to growl.

But Merriwell and Hodge had slipped into the ground in ordinary clothes
and were getting into suits in the dressing room beneath the grand
stand. As soon as they were dressed, they came out, and Frank began to
warm up by throwing to Bart.

"Here they are!"

A boy uttered the cry, and then every eye seemed turned on the famous
Yale battery.

Among those who had been watching for Merriwell's appearance was Wat
Snell. The fellow ground his teeth with rage as he saw Frank come out in
a baseball suit.

"He shall not win this game!" vowed Wat. "I have the stuff in my pocket
that will fix him if I can get it into him."

Then Snell hastily sought some chaps who were grouped in a little bunch,
talking in low tones among themselves.

"Mr. Bixton," said Wat, "I want to speak with you a moment."

He drew one of the young men aside and whispered in his ear. Bixton
scowled and nodded, answering:

"I've got fifty dollars on this game."

Then Snell whispered some more, but Bixton shook his head and said
aloud:

"They'd kill the feller they ca