He smashed his fist down on a billiard table as he made this announcement.

"Why, you're a real sport!" chuckled Silence. "You're a reckless chap, aren't you! If I should say a hundred dollars, you'd wilt in your boots."

Ephraim's blood was boiling now.

"You kin say one hundred dollars or ten hundred dollars or ten thousand dollars!" he almost yelled. "I've gut the money, and I tell ye I'll chuck it up! I know yeou've gut a wad in your pocket, for I've seen it. Pull it out! Put it up! I'll go ye!"

"Drive him into his boots, Mr. Silence!" hissed Mike McCann. "You'll see him squawk in a minute."

Silence produced his pocketbook.

"As long as you're such a courageous young man," he said, "we'll test you. I am carrying quite a roll with me. It's a little habit I have. I might accidentally drop into a good warm poker game and need it. What was that highest figure you named? Did you say ten thousand dollars? I believe I have something like that right here. We'll make it ten thousand. Will you call the proprietor of the hotel, McCann? I think he's in the office. He'll hold the money for us."

Even then Gallup did not believe Silence in earnest. He took it as a bluff and continued to "make a front."

"Put it up, put it up," he nodded. "I'm right here. I'm waiting to see that money stuck up."

Mike McCann hurried into the office and returned directly, followed by Fred Priley, the hotel proprietor.

"Mr. Priley," said Silence, "this young man has been making some betting talk. You know we're going to play Frank Merriwell's team to-morrow at Bloomfield. It's doubtful if the gate money will cover our expenses. For that reason I've been looking around to make a little wager on that game. This chap says he'll bet anything from one hundred dollars to ten thousand dollars. Let me see if I can dig up ten thousand."

With perfect coolness, he opened a pocketbook and counted out ten one-thousand dollars, which he handed to Priley.

"That leaves me a hundred or two," he said, "which will carry me over until I get my roll back and this gentleman's long green with it."

With a sneering smile, he turned and regarded Gallup.

"I've put my money up," he said. "Now let's see you do the same thing—or squeal."

Gallup swallowed down a lump which had risen in his throat.

"Derned if I ever squealed in my life!" he snarled. "I've gut ten thousand right in the Wellsburg Bank, and I'll draw a check on it jest as soon as I kin make it aout!"

"Oh, no," laughed Silence, "that won't do. I can't accept your check. I want to see the money."

"Mebbe yeou think the check ain't no good? Didn't yeou come into the bank and see me deposit the money?"

"Yes, I saw it. But you're aware, I presume, that the law would not enforce the payment of that check in case you lost your wager and I attempted to collect. You might stop payment at the bank, and I could whistle for my money."

"Yeou don't think I'd do anything like that, do ye?"

"I don't propose to take any chances, Mr. Gallup," said the man, as he glanced at his watch. "There are now exactly ten minutes before the bank closes. If you're earnest we'll accompany you to the bank, and you can draw your money."

"Mebbe they won't have ten thousand on hand to pay a check of that bigness."

"Then you can exchange your own check for a bank check. If you do that, you can't stop payment on the bank's check in case you lose. Let's have all these little matters properly arranged in advance. Will you do that, or are you going to squeal?"

"I never squealed in my life!" repeated Ephraim, with a snarl. "Come on—come on to the bank! We'll fix it!"



CHAPTER XXXIV.

A TROUBLED MIND.

Ephraim found that Casper Silence was very much in earnest. There was no bluff about the man's proposal to bet ten thousand dollars, and Gallup was not the sort of chap to back down after making such talk.

Naturally the cashier at the bank looked surprised when Gallup asked for a bank check in exchange for his own check, drawn for the full amount of his deposit. Mr. Casin, however, did not ask questions, but made out the bank check and passed it to Ephraim.

In the presence of witnesses this check was placed in the hands of Fred Priley to cover the ten thousand dollars posted by Silence.

Casper Silence took pains to examine the bank check, over which he nodded and smiled, returning it to Priley.

"That's all right, I fancy," he said. "It ought to be as good as gold coin."

Then he turned to Ephraim with pretended admiration.

"Young man, you've got genuine sporting blood," he said. "You've got nerve. I can't help admiring your nerve, although I fear your judgment is rather poor. I hope you won't feel the loss of that little sum, in case you do lose it, which you certainly will."

"Oh, I guess I could stand it," retorted the Vermonter.

"I presume you could, Mr. Gallup. You're young and energetic, and you may live long enough to accumulate ten thousand more dollars."

"Don't yeou fret abaout me!" snapped Gallup, in exasperation.

"You quite misunderstand," smiled Silence. "I'm not fretting about you in the least. Far from it. I was seeking to give you a little compliment. Better tell your friends of the great Merriwell baseball team to do their level best to-morrow. Better tell them what it means to you if your team loses."

"I won't tell them nuthin' of the sort!" growled Gallup. "I don't propose to say a hanged word abaout it, and yeou'll obleege me if you keep your mouth shet, too! If Mr. Merriwell found it aout, he'd be hot under the collar and give me a good dressing daown."

"Oh, very well," agreed Silence, "I'll say nothing. It's a small matter to me."

Silence, Bearover, and Priley bade Gallup good day and left for Priley's Hotel. Ephraim watched the proprietor of the Rovers as the man sauntered away.

"Yeou're a gol-dinged gambler, that's what yeou be!" muttered the Vermonter. "Yeou're a man that's allus lookin' for suckers, and yeou think yeou've ketched one naow. Waal, mebbe yeou have, but we'll see abaout that. I kinder guess yeou're due to bunt up ag'inst a red-hot surprise to-morrer. You won't feel so fine and sarcastic arter that game."

Nevertheless Gallup was troubled by an unpleasant feeling that he had been reckless and imprudent to an almost reprehensible degree. Like many another man, he had attempted to call a bluff only to find that the other chap was not bluffing.

With his hands thrust deep into his pockets, the down-easter stood on the sidewalk and stared after Silence until the man turned a corner and disappeared. He saw the baseball proprietor laughing as he talked to his companions, every gesture and every expression indicating that Silence was absolutely confident he would win the bet.

"A man is a blamed fool to have anything to do with critters of his caliber," was Ephraim's decision. "I feel like I'd kinder lowered myself somehow. Thutteration! what if we should lose that game?"

A cold chill ran over him.

"Of course it's possible," he said, "but I don't 'low it's probable. Even Frank Merriwell can be beat sometimes. My jinks! wouldn't it be awful if things should go wrong! Whew!"

He fished out his handkerchief and mopped his face with it.

At last Gallup was beginning faintly to realize the extent of his folly.

Although he continued strolling around the town, he found no further pleasure in the sights of Wellsburg. In vain he sought to turn his mind from the thoughts of the coming contest between the Merries and the Rovers and the possibility of defeat for Frank's team. Never before had he been troubled by such doubts, and fears. Finally he sought the Franklin Square Hotel, in the lobby of which he was sitting in moody meditation when Frank and Barney appeared.

"Is it a trance you're in, Oi dunno?" cried Mulloy, as he gave Gallup a sharp nudge. "Wake up, me bhoy!"

"Eh?" grunted Gallup, looking up and starting to his feet. "Why, hanged if I noticed yer when yeou come in!"

"Your mind seemed to be far away," observed Merry. "You actually looked troubled and careworn. What's the matter, Eph?"

"Not a thing—not a blamed thing," declared Gallup, forcing a sickly smile to his face.

"What were you thinking about so glumly?"

"Oh, nuthin'. I was jest kinder meditatin' on the fact that most folks are 'tarnal fools, and I guess I'm abaout the biggest fool I know."

"That's hardly like you. You're not usually troubled with such thoughts."

"He's gitting older and wiser, Frankie," chuckled Mulloy. "Oi think he's becomin' acquainted wid himself."

"Yeou ain't gut nuthin' to say!" snapped Eph. "Yeou wanted to make a bet with Mr. Silent, didn't ye?"

"Oi did," nodded Barney. "Av it hadn't been for Frankie to kape me sinsible, Oi'd cracked up me money on the shpot. It's Frankie whot's got the livel head, Gallup. The rest av us are chumps, begobs!"

"I guess, by gum, that's correct!" nodded Eph. "The older I git, the bigger chump I become."

"What's it all about?" laughed Merry.

"Oh, nothing, nothing," again asserted the Vermonter. "I was jest kinder meditatin' on some of my foolish breaks. I don't believe I know enough to paound sand."

"I can't understand what's made you so pessimistic concerning yourself. A man who can make ten thousand dollars of his own accord at your age and salt it away where it's safe has no right to be ashamed of himself."

"Who knows whether it's safe or not?" muttered Eph.

"It's pretty safe in the Wellsburg Bank, old man. You needn't worry about that. I think I'll find Toots and have the horses hitched up. We'll strike out for Bloomfield right away."

Mulloy lingered with Gallup as Frank turned away.

"Whativer is atin' yez, Ephie?" demanded Barney. "Phwoy don't yez spake up and tell the truth?"

"Haow do yeou know I ain't told the truth?" asked Gallup, with mingled offense and shame.

"Oi've bunked with yez for a year. Oi've known yez under all sorts of circumstances, me laddie buck, and I can tell when you're spakin' the whole truth and whin you're tryin' to hide something. Oi'm yer fri'nd, Eph, and ye know it. Phwoy don't ye spake out and make a clane breast av it? Phwat's the mather?"

"I don't like to have nobody stomp on my co't tail," mumbled the Vermonter. "When a man rubs me the wrong way it kinder riles me, and I'm pretty apt to resent it. Yeou'd made a bet with old Silence if Frank hadn't happened araound, wouldn't ye?"

"Oi would," confessed Barney. "Oi'd been just chump enough to go him for any owld sum up to foive hundrid dollars. All the same, Ephie, thot was foolishness on my part."

"What's a feller goin' to do when one of these top-lofty critters comes araound a-rubbin' it into him?" demanded Gallup. "Nobody likes to have 'em a-sneerin' and a-chucklin'. I like to shet them kind of folks up and shet 'em up good and hard. I've seen old Silence sence we left the bank."

"Phwat?" gasped Mulloy, a sudden light breaking upon him. "Ye don't mane it, Ephie? Begorra, ye've been bettin' on the game!"

"That's jest what I have," nodded Gallup grimly. "Arter yeou and Frank went off and I went to roamin' araound I run up ag'inst the big bear. He give me a cigar, and we went into Priley's Hotel. He wanted me to have a drink with him, but I didn't take nuthin' intoxicatin'. Silence was there, with a whole lot of them baseball fellers. They was makin' a lot of talk abaout haow they'd trim us to-morrer. They gut my blood to b'iling, and I told 'em a few things. That critter, Silence, begun to give me the laugh. He said us fellers made a lot of talk, but we didn't have sand to back it up. Dod bim him! I guess I showed him I had sand!"

"Ephie," said the young Irishman soberly, "you and Oi are a little too suddin in making back talk to thim kind av crathers. Shtill Oi can't blame yez, my bhoy."

"Don't yeou tell Frank nuthin' abaout it, Barney," entreated Gallup. "I wouldn't have him find aout for anything."

"Thot's the bad part av it, Gallup—thot's kaping a secret from Frankie. It's doing something we know he wouldn't countenance."

"I guess that's what made me feel so rotten mean abaout it."

"How much did yez bet wid him? Did yez put up a hundrid?"

"More'n that."

"Two hundrid?"

"More'n that."

"Begobs, ye did plunge, my bhoy! Well, it won't break yez av we should happen to lose."

"I dunno abaout that," half groaned Gallup.

Barney looked puzzled and somewhat excited.

"How much did yez bet, Ephy?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, old mon. Spake up."

"'Sh!" hissed Gallup. "Don't say another word! Here comes Frank!"

Merriwell rejoined them.

"We'll start right away, boys," he said. "Toots will have the team round in less than five minutes."



CHAPTER XXXV.

REMORSE.

As they were passing Priley's Hotel Casper Silence hailed them.

"Pull up, Toots," said Merry. "Let's see what he wants."

The colored boy stopped the horses, and Silence came out.

"One point, Mr. Merriwell," he said. "We haven't decided on the umpire for that game."

"It's generally understood that the home team furnishes the umpire, I believe," returned Frank.

"That's a matter of accommodation. In this case it won't be any particular accommodation for us."

"Is that so?"

"That's right. If you don't mind, we'll furnish the umpire."

"What if I do mind?"

"Why should you?"

"I happen to have a good man who will officiate for us. He knows the game, and I know him."

"But I don't know him," protested Silence.

"I give you my word that he is square."

"I've been told such things before. I've had plenty of experience, Mr. Merriwell, and I know the sort of square umpires to be found through the country."

"I've had a few experiences myself," returned Frank, "and I confess they were not pleasant ones. I've been up against crooked umpires more than once. Nevertheless I promise you I'll supply a man who is thoroughly honest and conscientious."

"It doesn't satisfy me. You'll supply one of your friends, of course."

"That's right," nodded Frank.

"I shall have to object, sir," said the proprietor of the Rovers. "It would be the most natural thing for your friend to favor you in close decisions."

"It might seem a natural thing, but I've often observed that the most conscientious umpires are so very careful that frequently they give their own friends the worst end of a deal."

Silence shrugged his shoulders and laughed languidly.

"I don't think that happens very often," he said, "and I wouldn't expect it to happen in this case. If it should, you'd be sore. On the other hand, if your friend gave you all the close points, we'd be sore. Let's get around that. Let's take a man who will have no particular interest in either team. Let's have an umpire from somewhere outside of your town."

"No," returned Frank firmly; "I'll furnish the umpire. I did not seek this game. You came to Bloomfield looking for it, and if you're not satisfied with the arrangements I'll make, you can easily cancel the engagement."

"I don't want to cancel it. All I want is an umpire who'll give both teams a fair show. Now I understand they have such a man here in Wellsburg—a chap who is capable of handling a game right up to the mark. His name is Bowers."

Merriwell laughed.

"I happen to know this Bowers," he said. "I've seen him work, and the recollection is hardly a pleasant one. He does know the game, but he can be influenced. That's putting it in a mild fashion. I have reasons to believe that Bowers deliberately tried to give my Farnham Hall team the short end of a game played here in this city. No, sir, I'll not accept Bill Bowers."

"Well, we can find some one else."

"Don't put yourself to the trouble. I've told you I would supply the man, and I've guaranteed his honesty. If you don't like that, you're at liberty to cancel."

"Why not have two umpires? We'll furnish one, and you may furnish the other."

Under most circumstances Frank would have accepted this proposition without demur. Just now he had a feeling that Silence was determined to obtain some advantage in the umpire. He knew Greg Carker to be honest from his head to his feet, and therefore he resolved not to yield a point to the proprietor of the Rovers.

"There'll be only one umpire, Mr. Silence," he said. "It's useless to argue over that point."

Casper Silence frowned.

"You're an obstinate young man!" he exclaimed. "I think we'll have to call that game off."

"Oh, very well," smiled Merry, "we'll cancel the engagement now, and I'll step in here and telephone the Wellsburg Herald to that effect."

"That's right, Frank," put in Gallup, "don't fool with 'em a bit."

Silence gave the Vermonter a queer look.

"You seem rather anxious, my friend," he drawled. "No doubt you'd like to have the game canceled. You appear to be frightened. No, we won't cancel it, Merriwell; we'll accept your umpire. But I want to give you fair notice now that we'll stand for no partiality on his part. We'll have a fair show, or we'll make trouble. If he tries to rob us, he'll get thumped."

It was Frank's turn to laugh.

"I wouldn't advise you or any of your players to attempt to thump any one on Farnham Field," he said. "If you do, you'll precipitate a riot, and I don't believe you'll like what'll happen. Don't threaten me, Mr. Silence. I don't like it, and I may take a fancy to cancel the game anyhow."

"Oh, go ahead!" sneered Silence. "I know you're frightened! Cancel it if you like, and I'll tell the facts to the Wellsburg Herald. I want you to understand that this game means something to me."

"Indeed! Why, yesterday you entered into an agreement to play in Bloomfield with the greatest reluctance. You didn't seem to think it would pay you."

"It won't pay as far as the gate receipts go. Of course we expect to take the entire gate money, but I'm not fussing about that. I've made a little wager on this game, and I propose to win it."

"Is it possible you found some one in Wellsburg who was willing to back us against your professional team?" questioned Merry.

"Oh, yes, I found some one in Wellsburg who was willing to do that," answered the man, again glancing toward Gallup.

Ephraim was worried, for he feared that Silence would break his agreement not to tell about the bet. He frowned and shook his head a bit, without being observed by Frank.

"I've promised you a square deal, Silence," said Merriwell. "If you'll take the trouble to inquire, you'll find plenty of people in this little city who will assure you that I always keep my word. We're due home at dinner, and we'll have to drive along. Good day, sir."

Toots chirruped to the horses, and they were off.

"I don't fancy going back on an agreement with any one," observed Merry, "but I'm rather sorry that we made arrangements to play that team. Those men are professionals, and they're not in our class. It's evident Silence is a gambler. Gambling ruins any sort of a game. The man who bets money is liable to take 'most any questionable advantage in order to win. Betting is bad business anyway you look at it. It ruins a man's fine principles."

"Yeou don't think that allus happens, do ye, Frank?" asked Gallup. "Don't yeou believe some decent fellers bet occasionally?"

"Oh, yes, occasionally. But the man who gets into it in a small way is pretty sure to keep it up. If he wins, it baits him on to repeat. If he loses, he feels that he must take another chance to get even. I saw many bad results of gambling both at school and at college. At Yale lots of young fellows who had no right to do so made bets on baseball, football, and other games. In most instances the money they risked had been supplied by their parents. They knew their parents would not countenance gambling, yet they gambled. It was not honorable. No man has a right to risk money on which any other person has a claim. Now, for instance, you, Ephraim, would have no right to risk your money on an uncertainty of this sort. You're married. You have a child. Both your wife and child have claims on the money you possess. Were you to wager that money and lose it, you would be robbing them of their just rights. I presume you've thought of this matter?"

"Never thought of it that way," mumbled the Vermonter huskily. "S'pose I should put my money into some sort of business and lose it. Would that be robbin' Teresa and the youngster?"

"That's a different thing. Business is business. No man has a right to plunge into a reckless venture, but if it seems legitimate and he has investigated it carefully, he cannot be blamed if the venture proves a failure. The best and shrewdest men sometimes fail in business enterprises. I've never yet seen a genuine gambler who was thoroughly upright, conscientious, and respected by decent people. I have seen gamblers who were honest to all appearances, but they were not respected. There's something degrading in gambling. The man who gambles is compelled, as a rule, to associate with a class of men who have no standing in respectable society. He places himself on their level. Now, you, Ephraim, would not care to be estimated on the same level as Casper Silence. He's not a man you would invite to your home, introduce to your wife, and dine with at your table."

"Not by a blamed sight!" growled the Vermonter.

"Another bad feature of gambling is the effect on the individual who indulges in it. It spoils his taste for legitimate money making. If he's successful for a time as a gambler, the regular methods of making money seem tame and insipid to him. Very few, if any, thoroughbred gamblers ever accumulate a fortune or a competence and retain it. Once the germ of gambling gets into their blood, they never quit. Let them make a small fortune, and they're determined to double it. Let them make a large fortune, and they still pursue gambling for the excitement there is in it. In the end, nine out of ten go broke. If others depend On them, they bring hardship and suffering upon those dependent ones. Most gamblers die poor."

"It's logic, begobs!" put in Mulloy.

"You both know," pursued Frank, "that the loss of a few hundred dollars on a baseball game would not mean a great deal to me. I might have made a wager with Casper Silence. Had I lost the bet, it would not have brought immediate hardship or deprivation on any one. It was not the mere loss of a hundred or a thousand dollars that restrained me. It was the principle of the thing—I looked at that. I figured this thing out years ago, and that's why I've been opposed to gambling. More than once I've been tempted to set aside my scruples when some blatant, loud-mouthed chap has challenged me and shook his money in my face. Such a thing stirs my blood. It's mighty unpleasant to have one of these chaps accuse me of lacking nerve. I have one consolation, however. It's not a sign of nerve or courage to be led into anything wrong through the taunts of another. Usually it's a sign of cowardice. The boy who does a hazardous and unwise thing simply because a companion dares him to do it is the one who lacks nerve. He lacks nerve to say, 'No, I won't.'"

"I guess yeou're right, Frank," confessed Gallup dolefully. "By hemlock! I've been dared into a lot of tomfool things in my day. Next time anybody tries it on me I'm goin' to remember what yeou've jest said. I'll say no, by thutteration, and I'll say it mighty laoud, too!"



CHAPTER XXXVI.

A FRIEND WORTH HAVING.

They arrived at Merry Home in time to wash up and sit down to dinner with the rest of Frank's jolly house party.

"It peen some red-hot paseball practice we put into us this afternoon, Frankie," said Dunnerwurst. "Py Chorge! Der game vill play us to-morrow on."

"We'll have to play the game to win, boys," said Merry. "This Rover baseball team is no ordinary wandering aggregation. It's composed of professionals with records."

He then told them about the players who made up the Rovers. There were many exclamations of surprise, for these men were known by reputation to nearly all of Frank's friends.

"Waugh!" cried Badger. "It's a whole lot plain We're going to have a hot rustle to-morrow. I'm seething to get into that game. That's whatever!"

"It'll seem like old times," rumbled Browning.

"I hope you're not worried about the game, Frank?" questioned Diamond. "We've been practicing team work for a week, and we ought to do a good turn at it."

"Oh, I'm not worrying," smiled Merry. "We can't win every game we play. There's something in being good losers."

Hodge frowned.

"Never heard you talk like that before, Frank," he said. "Seems to me you think we're going to lose."

"Dot game vill nefer lose us der vorld in!" cried Dunnerwurst. "How coot it dood it? Vill der ball not pitch you to-morrow, Frankie? Vid you der box in, der game vos as good as skinched. Yah!"

Ephraim Gallup had little to say, and his appetite seemed unusually poor. Teresa noticed this, and she began to worry about it.

"You must be seek, Ephraim," she whispered. "You do not eat enough to keep the bird alive."

"I'm allus that way jest before a baseball game," he declared. "Don't yeou mind it, Teresa. Don't yeou pay no 'tention to me. I'm all right."

After dinner, however, she drew him aside and persisted in questioning him.

"There ees sometheeng on your mind," she said. "You cannot fool your Teresa."

"Oh, fudge!" exclaimed Gallup. "There ain't nuthin' on my mind. I ain't gut mind enough for that. I'm too big a dratted fool, Teresa."

"I nevaire hear you talk that way before. Ees eet the babee? That must be the trouble, Ephraim—you worree about the babee."

"Thutteration! I don't believe I've thought of the baby in twenty-four hours."

"Oo, how could you be so cruel not to theenk of the babee?" murmured his wife. "I theenk of eet efry hour. I hope you are not going to be seek, Ephraim."

"Bless ye, Teresa, I couldn't get sick if I wanted to. Jest yeou let me alone, and I'll be all right. Guess I've gut a case of fan-tods."

"What ees them fan-tods? Ees eet the same as the malaria I hear you say they have sometimes een the United States?"

"Nope. The fan-tods are something like the blues. A feller gits them when he realizes he's one of the biggest chumps walkin' raound on two laigs."

She could get nothing more out of him, and finally she sought her friend, Juanita Garcia, to whom she confided her fears that Ephraim was on the verge of a sick spell.

Gallup wandered off by himself and strolled around the grounds, with his head down and his hands in his pockets, occasionally muttering and growling in a disgusted manner.

Barney Mulloy found an opportunity to follow Ephraim.

"Come on, Eph," he said, slipping an arm through Gallup's, "let's you and Oi go for a warruk. You nade it, my bhoy—you nade it."

"If yeou'll jest take me daown to the lake and kick me in, I'll be much obleeged to ye, Barney," said the Vermonter.

"It's moighty bad you're faling, Oi dunno?"

"By gum! I oughter feel bad. Yeou heard Frank talking about jest sech gol-dinged chumps as I be. He made me so tarnal disgusted with myself that I wanted to find a hole and crawl into it. The trouble was that I didn't know where I could find a hole small enough."

"It's a livel head Frankie has, Ephie."

"You bet your boots!"

"Whin he got through talkin' Oi was ashamed to think Oi'd ever even contimplated makin' a bet."

"And I was the blamed idiot that done the betting, Barney! I thought I was kinder showin' my nerve. Naow I know I didn't show much of anything but foolishness. Barney, I'm married. I've got one of the finest little women that ever stood in shoe leather. And the kid—by gum! the kid's a ripper! Together me and yeou have made a pretty good thing in that railroad business. I was brung up on a farm in Vermont. It was called a pretty good farm, too. My old man was reckoned well off in that community, but his whole farm wasn't wuth more'n half what I've made in the last year. It took him years of hard diggin' and scratchin' to git that place and clear it of debt. Daown in them parts a man that's wuth ten thousand dollars is reckoned slappin' rich. They make every cent caount there, Barney. If them folks want anything that costs a dime and they kin git along any way without it, they git along without it and save the dime. That's what they call New England thrift. My dad had to scratch gravel pretty hard to send me to school. I helped aout some myself, but I'd never gut my schoolin' if he hadn't pinched and saved for me. Naow here I be, wuth more money in my own right than he's ever been able to scratch together in his life, and I'm jest darned fool enough to resk that money on a game of baseball. I kinder cal'late we're goin' to win that game, but it's jest as Frank says—we may lose it. If we do, where'll I be?"

"Howld on, Ephie—howld on!" exclaimed the young Irishman. "Tell me something, my bhoy."

"What is it?"

"How much did yez bet on thot game?"

"If I tell ye, I want yer to promise never to say nuthin' abaout it to Frank. If I win that bet, I'm goin' to give every cent of my winnings to some charitable institution. I mean it, by ginger! If I win that bet, yeou'll never ketch me in a scrape like this ag'in if I live to be four thousand years old."

"Thot's a good resolution to make, Ephie. Ye know you can trust me. Oi'll say nivver a worrud about it to Frankie. How much did yer bet?"

"Ten thousand dollars."

Mulloy came near falling in his tracks. He caught Gallup by the arm and held on to support himself.

"Tin thousand?" he gasped. "Tin thousand dollars? Ye don't mane it!"

"That's jest what I bet. Dad bim me for a fool!"

"Howly saints! It's crazy ye were, Ephie!"

"Call me anything yeou want to."

Barney was completely overcome. He realized that Gallup had spoken the truth, and now he understood why his old comrade had appeared so worried and broken up.

"Oi don't blame yez for wearing a face a yarrud long, Ephie," he said. "Tell me how it happened, me bhoy."

Gallup related the particulars. As he told how Silence had sneered and mocked, the young Irishman began to grow warm.

"It's roight Frankie is about betting," said Mulloy; "but divvil a bit different could Oi have done mesilf, Ephraim. It's wake and feeble crathers we are. Gallup, me bhoy, Oi'm your side parthner. We're going to do our bist to win thot game to-morrow. But if we lose, so help me, Oi'll nivver spake to yez again unless we take half the money Oi have in the Wellsburg Bank! Oi'll divvy with ye to me last cint. Now do brace up, Ephraim. It's not broke ye'll be. Ye'll have plenty av time to think what a thunderin' fool ye've made av yersilf. But let's not cry over it now."

"I couldn't take half of your money, Barney. That wouldn't be right. No, sir, I'll never do that."

Gallup clenched his fist and pushed it up under Ephraim's nose.

"Ye'll take it or Oi'll knock the stuffin' out av yez!" he said. "Ye'll take it or ye'll have a doctor to bind up yer wounds. Thot's sittled. Come, now, let's go back to the house and make belave we're happy. To-morrow we'll play baseball loike the divvil himsilf!"



CHAPTER XXXVII.

A PROTEST.

The morning paper from Wellsburg arrived in Bloomfield at seven o'clock. Before the coming of Frank Merriwell to Bloomfield this morning paper had been able to boast of barely a dozen regular subscribers or purchasers in the little town. Now, however, things were different, and Bloomfield took fully fifty copies of the paper each morning. The formerly indifferent citizens had become eagerly anxious to get the paper as soon as possible after its arrival each morning in order to be posted on the county and State news.

The increasing circulation in Bloomfield had been noted by the editor of the Herald, who wisely decided to have a regular correspondent in that town who would furnish a daily news letter. This correspondent had faithfully reported the reunion of Frank Merriwell's old flock and the doings of the house party at Merry Home.

Between eight and nine o'clock each forenoon Frank found a short period of rest from his duties at Farnham Hall. On the morning following the arrangements for the ball game with the Rovers he jogged into town in company with Hodge and called at the post office for his mail.

Something unusual seemed to be taking place at the post office. More than a dozen villagers were assembled there in two or three groups, all of them talking earnestly and some appearing decidedly excited. Merry observed that many of them held Wellsburg Heralds in their hands.

"What's up, Frank?" questioned Hodge. "Suppose the advertisement of that game to-day has kicked up all this disturbance?"

"I can't tell," answered Merry. "Perhaps we'll find out."

As they stepped inside they heard a tall, thin-lipped man declaiming in a sharp, rasping voice:

"You'll find out, neighbors, that my predictions will come true. They're coming true already. The spirit of frivolity and sin is running riot in this town. Wickedness is rampant. Staid and respectable citizens are losing their dignity. Good church members are becoming afflicted with this worldly spirit. And who's to blame for it all—who's to blame? There's only one man. He's created this indescribable change. The foolish ones have regarded him as a public benefactor, but I insist that he's doing untold harm. He brought about the downfall of Brother Hewett, who was respected and revered by every one in Bloomfield for years. You're afraid of him—that's what's the matter. You don't dare to speak out and express yourself. Now I'm not afraid of him. I am ready to denounce him in public. I'm ready to denounce him to his face. You know who I mean. His name is—— Er, hum! How!"

"Good morning, Deacon Crabtree," said Frank, as the speaker stammered and hemmed, having ceased abruptly in his remarks. "I notice that, as usual, you are denouncing sin and wickedness. Bloomfield should be proud of the fact that it has one man who makes no compromise with iniquity. Evidently you stand firmly rooted on the rock of righteousness."

"Yes, sir—yes, sir, that's right," said Crabtree. "I'm not one of these whiffle-minded creatures who changes his opinion every time the wind changes."

"That's a very good thing," nodded Merriwell. "I haven't much patience with people who are so extremely changeable. At the same time, it must be admitted there is some truth in the saying that only mules and fools never change their minds."

Jeremiah Crabtree turned red in the face.

"Is this a jab at me, young man?" he snapped. "Are you personal in your remarks?"

"I hope you won't take it as personal unless it happens to hit your case, Mr. Crabtree. People seldom care to wear clothes that do not fit them. What has happened now that's caused all this commotion and talk?"

"Mebbe you haven't seen the Herald this morning."

"I confess I haven't."

"Well, you'd better read it. If you'll look in the second column on the first page you'll find something about a great ten-thousand-dollar baseball game that's going to take place in Bloomfield to-day."

"A ten-thousand-dollar game?"

"Yes, sir. Don't you know anything about it?"

"Well, I'm aware that there's to be a baseball game here this afternoon. I was not aware it was to be a ten-thousand-dollar game."

"Well, look at that—look right there!" snapped Crabtree, holding up the paper and pointing a long bony finger at an article in the second column. "Notice the heading in big black type. Notice it says that Frank Merriwell's own baseball team will play the Rovers, the champion independent team of the country, for ten thousand dollars."

Merry smiled.

"I think that's an exaggeration," he said. "I think that's simply an advertising dodge, Mr. Crabtree."

"Do you mean to say you ain't made no arrangement to play this team for a sum of money? Do you mean to say there ain't been no betting on the game? This article distinctly states that one of your friends, and a player on your team, has made a wager of ten thousand dollars that you'll beat the Rovers."

"I mean to say I know nothing whatever of such a wager, and I do not believe that a bet of that sort has been made. I was in Wellsburg yesterday and gave the Herald certain information to be used in advertising this game, but I assure you I gave them no information concerning a wager of that sort. On the face of it the yarn appears decidedly preposterous. I think Bloomfield citizens are generally aware of the fact that I am opposed to betting in any form."

"I know you've always claimed you was," said Crabtree, with a sneer; "but, 'cordin' to some of the things I've heard about ye, you've been a mighty sportin' young feller in your day. You've lived pretty high for a youngster, and you've had dealings with sportin' people. They tell me you don't drink, you don't gamble, you don't swear, and you don't do any of them things; but I fail to understand how any man can associate with persons who do drink and swear and gamble without acquiring such habits himself. Now, sir, it's a well-known fact that professional ball players are generally dissolute and disreputable. These Rovers are professionals—they claim to be. When you play ball against them you sort of put yourself in their class."

"Well, not exactly, Mr. Crabtree," denied Frank. "I presume you are aware that a number of college baseball teams play games early every season with teams of the National and American Leagues. Yale usually plays the New York Nationals in New York. The Yale team is made up of non-professional college men, amateurs in good standing. They do not become professionals by engaging in a game with the New York Nationals. I don't care to discuss this matter with you, Mr. Crabtree. I simply give you my assurance that I know nothing whatever of this ten-thousand-dollar wager, and I am satisfied that no such wager has been made. The story is intended to arouse excitement and interest, with the evident purpose of bringing out a crowd of spectators to witness the game."

"Then it's a fraud and a deception!" cried Jeremiah, flourishing the paper in his right hand and shaking his clenched left hand in the air. "It's a falsehood—a barefaced lie! It's an imposition on the public! You're concerned in it, sir! You can't get out of it! If you don't know anything about it, you're concerned just the same."

"I fail to see how you make that out."

"When you make an agreement to play them professionals you knew what sort of men they were. If they've originated this yarn for the purpose of deceiving people, you're responsible because you've had dealings with them."

"That's rather far-fetched, Mr. Crabtree."

"Nothing far-fetched about it."

"If I should purchase a horse of you for a hundred dollars, and, in order to increase the apparent value of that horse, with the idea of selling him to some one else, I should go around informing people I had paid three hundred dollars, would you be responsible in any way? Do you feel that in any manner you would be party to the falsehood?"

Rufus Applesnack had been listening to the talk, and now he gave Crabtree a jab in the ribs.

"He's gut ye, deacon—he's gut ye!" chuckled the grocery man. "He's gut ye right where the wool is short!"

"I fail to see it! I fail to see it!" rasped Crabtree. "There ain't no similarity in the two cases. My mind is made up on the point, and I don't propose to change it."

"Which sorter reminds me of the mule Mr. Merriwell mentioned a few minutes ago," declared Applesnack, as he turned away.

Frank secured his mail and was leaving the post office, when outside the door he came face to face with Owen Clearpath, the new parson of the village church.

"I'd like to have a word with you, Mr. Merriwell," said the parson; "just a word."

He drew Frank aside, while Hodge waited.

"I don't see how Merry keeps his patience and temper in dealing with these hide-bound yokels," muttered Bart.

Clearpath seemed confused and ill at ease. He hemmed a little while Merry waited quietly for him to speak.

Suddenly the young minister began, as if forcing himself with a great effort to say something he regarded as decidedly disagreeable.

"You know, Mr. Merriwell," he said, "that I hold you in the highest estimation. You know I'm considered by the members of my church and the people of this town generally as a liberal preacher. In fact, I'm entirely too liberal to suit some of the church members. You've done a splendid work for Bloomfield, and you're doing a splendid work. I'm proud of you, sir."

"It isn't necessary to sugar coat the pill, parson," smiled Frank. "Just hand it out to me, and I'll swallow it."

"Well, you know there's been several unpleasant, not to say sensational, occurrences in this town of late. I don't suppose you're to blame for everything that has happened. I have insisted that you could not be blamed for the unfortunate misstep of Brother Hewett, who was tempted to take a little more hard cider than was really good for him. Your detractors have insisted that the deacon was led into this action through his exuberance over the arrival of your friends. Some of them have tried to hold you responsible for Brother Hewett's temporary downfall."

"I'm very sorry the deacon did such a thing," asserted Frank. "I hope you've not been too harsh with him, parson."

"I haven't mentioned the matter to him. I've thought it best to overlook it, for I'm certain he feels deeply humiliated and downcast. I know for a fact that he's heard of it from other quarters. I've tried to show him that my confidence is unshaken."

"Which I believe was a very wise course to pursue."

"Another thing that caused a great sensation was the unfortunate death of that Mexican who broke into your house some ten days ago. There have been all sorts of rumors about that affair. I'm positive the facts were given to the coroner's jury, who failed to find any one save Murillo responsible."

"No one could feel more disturbed over the matter than I have," said Frank.

"You see your enemies are inclined to use such matters against you, if possible. A number of persons have come to me this morning and shown me an item in the Wellsburg Herald."

"I've just seen that item," said Frank. "Let me assure you, parson, that so far as I have the slightest knowledge, I'm positive there's not a word of truth in the statement that a ten-thousand-dollar wager has been made on the result of the baseball game to be played this afternoon."

Clearpath looked relieved.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," he breathed. "I decided to ask you about it. Have I your authority to deny the truth of that statement?"

"You may say I gave you my word that I knew nothing whatever of the matter."

"I'll do so, sir—I'll do so. If you think the game will be clean and respectable, I may decide to witness it myself."

"It's not my intention to permit anything on Farnham Field that may not be witnessed by you, by any lady, or by any child in town. I hope to see you at the game this afternoon, parson."



CHAPTER XXXVIII.

A CONFESSION.

Ere leaving the village Frank called on Bill Hunker, the constable.

"Mr. Hunker," he said, "I need your services this afternoon. I want you at the baseball ground, and you had better bring along five or six good husky assistants. Let them all have authority as deputies. Every man will be paid regular wages for special service."

"Be you lookin' for trouble?" asked Hunker.

"No, I'm not looking for it," smiled Frank. "I'm determined that there shall be no trouble. I have a premonition that we'll see an unusually large crowd, and I'm confident the crowd will contain a rough element. It is my purpose to suppress any symptoms of disorder."

"All right," nodded Hunker; "I'll be there with the boys. You can depend on me."

Frank was right in believing the game would bring out an astonishing number of spectators. That afternoon all roads seemed to lead to Bloomfield. With the opening of the gates an hour before the time for the game to begin, a stream of spectators commenced pouring on Farnham Field. This stream grew steadily in volume.

Hunker and his companions, with their badges prominently displayed, were on hand at the gates and held the impatient crowd in check. The ticket sellers and ticket takers were kept busy as bees.

The stand soon became packed to suffocation, while the temporary seats which had been erected overflowed before either team appeared on the field. Frank had taken the precaution to have ropes stretched for the purpose of holding the crowd back. It was well that he did so.

Thirty minutes before the hour set for the game two large touring cars brought the Rovers onto the field. They were received with cheers. A party of Farnham Hall boys escorted them from the cars to the dressing rooms reserved for them.

In the meantime, Merriwell and his players were making ready for the contest. When they were prepared to go out Frank called them around him.

"Boys," he said, as he looked them over, "it's going to be a hard game, and I hope every man is prepared to do his best. Before we go out I have a question to ask. You know there's a report that a wager has been made on the result of this game. The Wellsburg Herald made the statement that some one of this team has wagered ten thousand dollars with Casper Silence. I've regarded the yarn as preposterous. At the same time, I've decided to ask you, one and all, frankly and fairly, if you know anything about such a wager. Do you know anything about a wager of any sort? If there's any one present who knows, it's up to him to speak out here and now."

A few moments of dead silence followed. Then Ephraim Gallup, pale and agitated, pushed Barney Mulloy aside and stepped forward.

"I guess, by gum, it's up to me, Frank," he said. "I don't blame yeou for thinkin' yeou didn't have no friend here who was chump enough to make such a bet. I'm the chump."

"Vot vos dot?" gasped Hans Dunnerwurst. "You don'd pelief me! Dit ten thousand dollars pet you, Ephie? Mine cootness cracious sakes alife! You vos a spordt!"

"I'm a tarnal fool!" mumbled Gallup. "I know it."

"Then you did make a bet, Ephraim?" said Frank, unable to repress his feeling of dismay.

"Yes, I done it! I hope the whole blamed bunch will kick me! I ain't goin' to make no excuses, but when that critter, Silence, tried to rub it into me I gut so tarnal hot-headed that I right up and told him I'd go him for any old figger. I didn't s'pose he'd make it so large. Your talk abaout betting has made me so all-fired disgusted with myself that I jest want to jump off the earth."

"This is bad business—bad business," muttered Frank. "Give me all the particulars, Gallup."

Ephraim did so.

When the Vermonter had finished, Merry drew a deep breath.

"You can't afford to lose that bet, Gallup," he said. "What are you going to do with the money if you win?"

"Do with it? Dad birn it, I'll burn it up!"

"That would be still more foolish. If you lose, you will be down to bed rock again."

"Yes, I'll be jest abaout the same as busted."

"Divvil a bit av it!" cried Barney Mulloy. "Gallup is me owld side parthner. Av he loses, Oi'll divvy wid him."

"But he mustn't lose," said Frank. "Philanthropists in Wellsburg are endeavoring to raise money to found a hospital for consumptives. There's an ideal location some ten miles from Wellsburg. If you win, Gallup, would you donate your winnings to the hospital fund?"

"Yeou bet I will!" cried Ephraim eagerly. "I'll give 'em every cent of it!"

"That's good," nodded Frank. "Now, boys, we're going into this game to win it. If we ever played ball in our lives, we're going to play it to-day. I think and hope this experience will teach Gallup the folly of betting. I shall use all the skill I possess in the game, and I want you boys to back me up. We can't lose! We won't lose!"

Although his words were spoken in a quiet tone, they aroused something in every listener that stirred his blood and caused it to leap in his veins.

"That's right! that's right!" they cried. "We'll win to-day!"

"Come on," said Merry, "we'll go out now."

As he marched onto the field, with his friends and comrades following at his heels, the great crowd rose and uttered a roar of welcome.

"Batting practice, fellows," said Frank. And they went at it at once.

Three minutes later the Rovers, in tigerish suits of yellow and black, trotted out from their dressing rooms.

Back of the ropes near first base a tough-looking crowd of Wellsburgans greeted the professionals with a cheer.

"Eat 'em up, McCann!" howled a husky fellow with a broken nose. "Take some of the conceit outer this Merriwell to-day! He's been crowing over Wellsburg long enough!"

Merry glanced around and saw Hunker, with several of his assistants, gathering in the vicinity of this tough crowd.

"Bill is onto his job," muttered Frank. "If there's any disturbance those fellows will make it."

The Rovers took the field for practice. They handled themselves like professionals, and many of their clever catches or stops elicited exclamations of wonderment and applause.

Casper Silence and Basil Bearover approached Frank.

"Where's your umpire, Merriwell?" demanded Bearover.

Merry looked round and motioned to Gregory Carker. Carker promptly stepped forward.

"Here he is," said Frank.

Bearover placed himself in front of Carker, at whom he glowered.

"See here, young man," he said, "we want no monkey business to-day. If you don't give us what's coming to us, you'll get into trouble in short order. We know how to deal with crooked umpires."

"Evidently you do not know how to deal with gentlemen," said Greg. "You'll get your due and not a whit more. Bullying and browbeating will not give you an advantage."

"Oh, you're rather a stiff-necked young man, ain't ye?" growled the big bear. "Let's understand the ground rules before we begin. How about a wild throw into the crowd, Merriwell?"

"Perhaps we'd better make a rule that such a throw will give the base runner the privilege of advancing one base and no more," suggested Frank.

"That's satisfactory to us," nodded Bearover. "Do you think you can keep the crowd off the outfields?"

"I have six officers here for the purpose of handling this crowd. Not only will I see that the spectators do not intrude on the outfields, but I'll guarantee that those officers will suppress any riot or disturbance. They have full authority to arrest any one who attempts to make trouble here to-day."

Casper Silence yawned and lighted a cigarette.

"There won't be any disturbance unless you chaps try to steal this game," said Bearover.

"We don't have to steal games," returned Merry, quick as a flash. "We can win them."

Silence smiled scornfully as he breathed forth a whiff of smoke.

"That may have been your experience in the past," he observed, "but you're up against a different proposition to-day, young man."

"Will you give your batting order to our scorer?" asked Bearover.

"You'll find our scorer sitting yonder," said Merry. "He'll give you the batting order."

"One more point," suggested Silence. "You seem determined to have things pretty much your own way here. I know it's customary for the home team to take its choice of innings. In this case it's possible you may be able to concede a point and give us the choice."

"Why, certainly," replied Frank, with a smile. "You may choose."

"Then we'll let you bat first."

A few minutes later the Rovers came in, and Merry's team trotted onto the field.

The scorers recorded the batting order of each team as follows:

MERRIES. ROVERS.

Mulloy, 3d b. McCann, ss. Hodge, c. Mertez, rf. Merriwell, p. Grifford, cf. Badger, 2d b. Holmes, 1st b. Diamond, ss. O'Day, 3d b. Browning, 1st b. Clover, 2d b. Gallup, cf. Roach, lf. Carson, lf. Bancroft, c. Dunnerwust, rf. Bender, p.

Practice was soon over, and Merry called his team in.

Again the Rovers trotted onto the field.

Greg Carker broke open a box and tossed out a snow-white ball. Bender caught the ball with one hand and promptly proceeded to soil it by rubbing it on the grass outside the pitcher's box.

"Play ball!" called Carker clearly.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

JOLTS FOR BULLIES.

Bender was a thin, sinewy, long-armed, hatchet-faced chap, who looked like an Indian. He had "traveled in fast company" for years, but was said to be a hard man to handle, having jumped more than one contract and being of a sullen and revengeful disposition.

Bancroft, the catcher, was a rather stocky individual, inclined to be a trifle too fat. The general observer decided him out of condition and unfit for baseball. His position under the bat was awkward, and his face wore an expression of blankness, which seemed to indicate a lack of that quick wit and keen intelligence to be found in every exceptional baseball player.

Nevertheless, Bang Bancroft was one of the cleverest players on the Rovers. He was a great short-arm thrower to bases. He could bat like a fiend, and he had a knack of coaching and steadying a pitcher which brought out the best there was in any slab artist who "handed 'em up" to him.

McCann, shortstop and captain of the team, was a fighting Irishman with a peppery temper and a bullying disposition. This chap had a trick of bulldozing umpires and opposing players, and he generally played what is commonly called "scrappy baseball."

The other members of the team took their cues from McCann, and their aggressiveness was made apparent almost before the first ball was pitched over the plate.

"Here's a mark, Bender!" cried McCann, as Mulloy stepped out with his bat. "Eat him up!"

"Come on, Mitt," came from O'Day, "burn a few hot ones over! Make him dizzy!"

"Get back from the plate!" rasped Bender, as Barney took his position. "Get back, or you'll get hit!"

"Hit him if he crowds," came from Holmes; "but don't kill him. You know you killed one man last year and broke another man's jaw."

"Go ahead and hit him," came from Clover. "He's Irish, and you can't kill him."

Frank Merriwell's eyes began to gleam with a peculiar light and his lips tightened.

"They fancy they're up against a lot of youngsters they can intimidate," he thought. "They mean to frighten us at the start."

Again Bender motioned for Mulloy to move back from the plate.

"Pitch the ball, me fri'nd—pitch the ball," said Barney. "Oi'm in me box, and I'll shtand here."

An instant later Bender delivered the ball, deliberately snapping a swift one straight at Mulloy.

Barney might have dropped to the ground and thus avoided being hit, but, instead of doing so, he leaned far forward, with his left shoulder advanced and his right shoulder held well back. In this manner he escaped being hit fairly by the ball, which glanced from the back of his right shoulder.

"Take your base!" called Carker promptly.

Instantly there was a howl of protestation from the crowd back of first base.

McCann made a rush at Carker.

"Call him back!" snarled the captain of the Rovers. "He didn't try to dodge that ball! He didn't try to get out of the way!"

"The pitcher hit him deliberately," said Greg calmly. "He was threatened before the ball was pitched. Get back into your position."

McCann placed his hands on his hips and glared at Carker.

"Who are ye tellin' to git back?" he rasped. "Do ye know who ye're talkin' to, young feller?"

"I'm talking to you," said Greg, in the same calm manner. "If you don't get back in your position and play the game, I'll put you on the bench."

"What?" shouted the Irishman. "Put me on the bench—you put me on the bench? I'd like to see you do it!"

Greg pulled out his watch.

"I'll give you just thirty seconds to get into your position and go on with this game," he said.

"If you put me on the bench, I'll take my team off the field!" threatened McCann.

"And I'll forfeit the game to the home team," retorted Carker. "Twenty seconds. You have ten seconds more."

McCann turned and retreated to his position, growling and muttering in an ugly manner.

"Play ball, boys!" he called. "We can win the game, even if the umpire is against us!"

Basil Bearover hurried to the bench of the home players and grasped Frank Merriwell by the shoulder.

"Is this the kind of square deal you promised us?" he demanded.

Merry rose, turned, and faced the man.

"What's the matter?" was his question. "You know Mulloy was entitled to his base."

"But your umpire threatened to put one of my men out of the game."

"He has authority to put any player out of the game. He can't fine the men, but he can order them off the field if they raise a disturbance and make back talk to him. If one of my players should rush at him the way McCann did, I should expect him to put the man on the bench or off the field. If he didn't do it, I'd do it myself. You know Bender threw that ball at Mulloy to drive him back from the plate, and you also know that Mulloy was in his proper position."

"Aren't we going to have any sort of a square deal here?" gurgled Bearover furiously.

"You're going to have as square a deal as you ever received in all your career, but you're not going to bulldoze the umpire or any one else on this field."

"If we don't get what we want, we'll stop the game in the very first inning," threatened Bearover.

"You can stop it by refusing to play," said Frank. "You heard Carker tell McCann that he would forfeit the game if he did such a thing. It will be all over in short order in case you or your captain pulls the team off the field."

"But look at this crowd! You'll disappoint this crowd! You'll have to refund the gate money!"

"Which I'll do," said Merriwell. "I'll refund every cent that's been taken at the gate. Did you read the Wellsburg Herald this morning? If so, Mr. Bearover, I presume you saw a little item regarding a ten-thousand-dollar bet. Now, if such a bet has been made, and you lose this game through forfeit, you'll likewise lose the bet. It may not cost you anything, but it will cost Mr. Silence ten thousand dollars. I don't think you'll take your team off the field to-day."

Bearover was purple with anger.

"Look at that bunch of boys back of first," he directed. "If you are not careful, Mr. Merriwell, they'll waltz onto the field and wipe up the earth with you and your team and the umpire."

"I don't think they will," said Frank. "At the present time they're being watched by six deputies, every man of which carries a billy and a pair of handcuffs. In case your tough crowd from Wellsburg attempts to make a disturbance, the ringleaders will find themselves in Bloomfield lockup. We've made preparations for you and your paid thugs, Mr. Bearover."

While this conversation was taking place Bender had pretended to busy himself in tying a shoestring, which he untied and retied several times before it seemed satisfactory to him.

"If you can win this game squarely, Bearover, you'll win it," said Frank; "but you'll never win it through intimidation and bulldozing. Now don't bother me any more. Better keep on your own side and let your men play the game. They'll have to play the best game they know if they want to win."

All this was quite unexpected by the "big bear" and his companions. Feeling that he was up against an unusual proposition, Bearover returned to the visitors' bench, where Silence was somewhat nervously smoking a cigarette.

Bart Hodge was in position to strike. Bender whipped the ball over. Hodge let it pass.

"One strike!" announced Carker.

Bender's curve had carried the ball over the outside corner.

The visiting pitcher followed this up with a sharp drop, which came down across Bart's shoulders. Again Bart declined to swing.

"Two strikes!" cried Carker.

Bart did not kick. He did not even frown, although he realized he had failed to swing at two fair balls.

The next ball was wide. Then followed a high one.

Hodge hit the next ball and put up an infield fly, which was easily captured by McCann. Mulloy had promptly returned to first as soon as he realized the ball was going to the infield.

Frank Merriwell received an ovation from the crowd as he stepped out with a bat in his hand. He held the bat in a position which was a signal for Mulloy to attempt to steal on the first ball pitched.

Merry swung at the ball, but was careful not to hit it. Mulloy went down to second.

Bancroft made a sharp short-arm throw. Clover took the ball handsomely, and Mulloy was tagged as he slid.

"Out!" announced Carker.

"Why, the kids think they can steal on ye, Mitt!" sneered McCann, while the Rovers, with the exception of Bender, shouted with laughter.

Two men were out, and there was a strike on Merriwell. Bender tried to pull Frank with a couple of wide ones. Failing in this, he whipped over a sharp shoot.

Merry fouled it.

"Foul ball—two strikes!" came from Carker.

The tough crowd back of first howled with satisfaction.

"Strike him out, Bender!" they cried. "Show him up!"

Bender followed with a drop, but it was a ball, and Frank declined to swing at it.

"Three balls," said the calm, clear voice of the umpire.

"A valk vill take you, Frankie!" cried Dunnerwurst, from the coaching line. "He vill made you a present to der virst pase. Yah!"

Bender pretended to kick a pebble from beneath his feet. Suddenly, without any preliminary swing, he sent over a swift straight ball.

Smash!

Merriwell nailed the ball on the trade-mark.



CHAPTER XL.

A DETERMINED FRONT.

Frank drove the ball out on a line and reached second base by sharp running.

"Vale! vale! vale!" spluttered Dunnerwurst, as he danced round like a huge fat toad. "Dot peen too pad! It vos an awful surprise dot der ball dit not make a home run vor him!"

"Naow we're started, gol ding it!" shouted Gallup excitedly, as he pranced out to coach. "Let's keep her a-goin', fellers!"

Ephraim was in a wildly excited condition. He felt himself tingling and shaking all over. At one moment he was hot and burning, and the next moment he was cold and shivering.

Buck Badger looked dangerous to Bender. The solid, stocky, square-shouldered Westerner seemed like a man who would hit the ball a terrible crack if he hit it at all.

In the stand, sitting amid the ladies of Merriwell's house party, was Winnie Badger, whose eyes gleamed with pride as she watched her husband.

"I hope Buck will get a hit," she murmured. "He used to hit well."

"Oo, eet ees the strange game!" exclaimed Teresa Gallup. "What ees eet Ephraim ees doing now? Does he have to hollaire so loud?"

"He's a coach," explained Elsie.

"A coach?" questioned Teresa. "Why, the coach ees sometheeng for a horse to pull. Ees Ephraim sometheeng for a horse to pull?"

"He isn't just that sort of a coach," laughed Inza. "He's out there to give Frank instructions about running bases."

"Oo!" murmured Teresa. "Does he know more about the way bases to run than Frank knows?"

"Perhaps not," smiled Inza. "But you see the runner can't keep watch of the ball and the players while he's running. He can't tell just what every one is doing if he has to pay attention to himself. A coach can tell him what to do."

Juanita Garcia had not spoken since the beginning of the game, but now she ventured to ask:

"What ees eet Senyor Carkaire he play? He keep saying: 'One ball! One strike! Two ball! Two strike!' but he do nothing else."

"He's the umpire. He is the judge who gives the decisions."

"Oo!" breathed Juanita. "He ees the judge! He ees the magistrate! Then he must know everytheeng about the game. He must know more than every one else. Eet ees splendeed! I am so proud of Senyor Carkaire!"

Suddenly Winnie Badger clapped her hands, uttered a cry of delight, and started up.

Buck had hit the ball.

A moment later Winnie's joy turned to dismay, for, with a leap, O'Day thrust out his gloved left hand and caught Badger's liner. It was the third put-out, and Merry was left on second.

"That's playing ball!" roared the man with the broken nose. "Now get after Frank Merriwell, and send him to the stable! Put the blanket on him! Polish him off!"

The Rovers trotted in, while the home team took the field.

Casper Silence lighted a fresh cigarette as the players in yellow and black settled down on the bench.

"Beyond question you faced the four leading batters of that team, Bender," said the proprietor of the visitors. "You know now what Merriwell and Badger can hit. If O'Day had not made a great catch, Merriwell would have scored."

"Oh, I'll get onto their style of hitting, all right," nodded Bender. "Neither of those chaps will touch me next time."

Bearover was speaking to McCann.

"We want to make some runs in this inning, Mike," he said. "If we can roll up a few tallies, it ought to discourage the youngsters. It's not easy to bluff them, but we may be able to get their tails down, and an uphill game is a hard game for any team to play. Start us off, McCann."

The captain of the visitors walked out and hit the first ball pitched to him, although it was fully six inches higher than his shoulders. The hit was a sharp drive into the field, and Carson took it on the first bound and promptly sent it to Badger, which held McCann at first.

Frank believed Mertez would try to bunt, and he kept the ball high. Mertez fouled the first one, and a strike was called.

McCann was forced to return to first after getting a big start toward second.

Merry fancied he saw a signal exchanged between the batter and the base runner. Something told him McCann would try to steal.

Nevertheless, Frank appeared careless in permitting the captain of the Rovers to get a lead off first. When he pitched, however, Merry whistled the ball over high and wide so that it came into Bart's hands in such a manner that Hodge was in perfect position to throw to second.

McCann was scooting down the line.

Bart threw to second.

Badger covered the sack, took the ball and tagged McCann as the runner was sliding.

It was a close play, but Buck caught McCann as the latter's hand was fully six inches from the bag.

"Out at second!" declared Carker.

There was a hush as the runner scrambled to his feet.

"What?" roared McCann, rushing at Carker and seizing him in a fury. "Did you call me out, you chump? What do you mean?"

He swung Greg round roughly.

Frank promptly reached for the back of McCann's neck. His fingers closed there, and he sent the fellow reeling to one side.

"Hold on, Carker," he said, as Greg started to speak. He realized it was the umpire's intention to put McCann out of the game.

There were indications that the crowd of toughs contemplated rushing onto the field.

Bill Hunker sprang in front of those men and roared:

"I'll put the irons on the first son of a gun who ducks under that rope!"

That stopped them.

McCann was livid with fury. It seemed that he meant to spring at Merriwell, who stood calmly facing him.

"Hold on, you!" said Frank, shaking a finger at the captain of the Rovers. "I want to say just one word, and then you may come at me if you feel like it. I kept the umpire from putting you out of the game. You were out at second, and you know it. If you lift your hand against Carker during the remainder of this game or make any insulting talk to him, I'll back him up if he orders you off the field. Perhaps your team can get along without you. Perhaps it will be better off without you. Take the matter into consideration."

On the temporary bleachers a crowd of Farnham Hall lads, led by Dale Sparkfair, gave a cheer for Merry.

As this cheer died away Uncle Eb Small rose in the stand, waved his crooked cane, and shrilly cried:

"That's right, Frank—that's jest right! We're here to see a game of baseball and not a fight! All the same, if them fellers start a row, we'll back you up to the finish! We know you're a gentleman on the baseball field and off it. You've gut the sympathy of every decent man here."

"That's right! that's right!" came from all sides of the field.

Basil Bearover stepped out from the bench and called McCann's attention.

"Play ball, Mike," he said. "We can win, anyhow. Let the umpire alone."

Muttering to himself, the captain of the Rovers walked in from the field.

Things simmered down at once. At last the visiting players and the sympathizing crowd of thugs realized that the sentiment of the crowd would not tolerate such conduct as McCann's. The Merries were not frightened by it, and Frank had prepared to quell any outbreak of ruffianism.

Toby Mertez tried hard for a hit, fouling the ball a number of times. Finally he put up a high foul, which Hodge gathered in.

Grifford was regarded as one of the heaviest and surest hitters among the visitors. Nevertheless, to his astonishment, he missed the first two balls pitched by Frank, although both crossed the pan. Two wide ones followed, and then Hodge called for the double shoot.

Merry threw his great curve for the first time that day, and again Grifford missed.

"Three strikes—you're out!" rang forth Carker's decision.

The first inning was over.



CHAPTER XLI.

THE HOUR AND THE MAN.

Casper Silence succeeded in repressing his anxiety and disappointment as inning after inning passed and neither side secured a run.

The Rovers had fancied ere beginning the game that it would be an easy thing to down Merriwell's team. They had believed Frank's reputation as a pitcher to be exaggerated. They were confident of their batting ability, but gradually that confidence weakened before the wonderful boxwork of Merriwell, who seemed in his best form. Fortunately most of the decisions against the visitors were not close, and there were few excuses for kicks had McCann and the men been inclined to keep it up.

Ephraim Gallup could not throw off his feeling of anxiety and nervousness, and he was thankful as the innings passed and no opportunity came for him to display what he could do in the field. At bat he was a failure. In past days Gallup had batted well, but to-day Merriwell's wisdom in placing him far down on the batting order became apparent as the Vermonter continued to strike out. In the sixth inning Ephraim had a chance to drive in a run, for, with two men gone, the Merries pushed a runner round to third.

Again Ephraim struck out.

"You vos a peach uf a hitter—I don'd pelief!" sneered Dunnerwurst.

"Gol dinged if I could hit a haouse!" muttered Gallup. "I'm jest abaout the rottenest thing that ever swung a bat! I wish I was to hum on the farm!"

In the last of the seventh the Rovers had their opportunity. With one man out, they landed a runner on the third corner. The next hitter succeeded in lifting a short fly to center field.

Gallup made a wonderful run for the ball, but muffed it, although it struck fairly in his hands. As Ephraim dropped the ball the runner at third started for the plate.

Now Gallup had a reputation as a thrower. Many a time from deep center he had cut off a man at the plate. With remarkable quickness for one who seemed so awkward he caught up the ball and lined it to Hodge.

Had Ephraim taken more time it would have been better for him. His anxiety caused him to throw with too much haste, and, as a result, the ball passed fully ten feet over Bart's head.

The runner scored.

Before Hodge could recover the ball and return it to the diamond the man who had hit it was safe on third.

Basil Bearover slapped Casper Silence on the shoulder.

"We've got them now!" he chuckled. "They'll never get a run off Bender! The game is ours! You've won that ten thousand!"

"It looks that way," replied Silence, as he produced a fresh cigarette and lighted it. "It's a pretty good thing for me that we have got them. I counted on winning this game a great deal easier than this. Had we lost, I'd been practically busted. I'm afraid the Rovers would have been compelled to disband."

Imagine the feelings of Gallup. After making that throw Ephraim walked round and round in a circle for at least half a dozen times.

"That's abaout the most expensive gol-darned fool thing I ever done!" he mumbled to himself. "Waal, by gum, I deserve it! Any man that's fool enough to bet every dollar he's gut in the world on a baseball game oughter lose. I don't keer a rap for myself, but Frank was right in saying I had no business to throw away money that my wife and kid has a claim on. I guess this will teach me a lesson. I won't be able to look Teresa in the face arter this game is over."

He was aroused by Merry's voice calling him to take his position and play ball.

"Better put a baby in my place, Frank." he said dolefully. "Any blamed fool could do better'n I'm doing to-day. I guess I've lost the game."

"The game isn't over yet," said Frank grimly. "We'll play it out."

The Rovers secured no more runs in that inning. Nevertheless, Bender had no difficulty in blanking the Merries in the first of the eighth.

In the last of the eighth just three men faced Merriwell. He struck them all out.

"It's all over!" cried Mike McCann, with a grin, as the Rovers again took the field. "This finishes it!"

Frank was the first man up.

In spite of Bender's skill Merriwell cracked out a clean single. Badger followed with a bunt that advanced Merry to second. Buck was thrown out at first.

Diamond tried hard for a hit, with Frank leading off second ready to do his best to score.

Jack finally drove a grounder into the hands of McCann, who whistled it over for a put-out.

"Two gone!" shouted the captain of the Rovers. "Only one more to git, Bender, me boy!"

A few of the disappointed spectators began to leave the field.

The first two balls pitched by Bender were strikes, Browning touching neither of them. Then the pitcher tried some wide ones on the big first baseman of the Merries. Bruce had a good eye, and he let the wide ones pass.

Two balls were called. Bender attempted to curve one over, but missed the plate by fully six inches.

"Three balls!" came from Carker.

"Smash it if he puts one over!" called Frank.

Browning gripped his bat and stood ready.

The crowd was silent and breathless.

Bender tried to put a speedy ball across Bruce's shoulders, but it was far too high.

"Four balls—take your base!" cried Carker.

"The best thing you could have done, Mitt," laughed McCann. "Here comes the tall jay, and he never made a hit in his life."

Ephraim Gallup's hands were trembling as he picked up a bat and walked out. His legs were weak, and there was a mist before his eyes.

"I'll never touch it!" he whispered to himself. "There's too much depending on it; I can't do it!"

As if from a great distance he seemed to hear Frank Merriwell crying:

"Just a little single, Ephraim! You never failed in a pinch in all your life! You can't fail now!"

Those words seemed to brush the mist from Gallup's eyes, and something like confidence crept back into his heavy heart.

Nevertheless he merely fouled Bender's first shoot.

"One strike!"

The next ball was far too high, but Gallup swung at it and missed.

"Two strikes!"

"All over! all over!" whooped McCann.

The spectators in the stand and on the bleachers were standing.

"I knowed I couldn't do it!" thought Gallup.

Once more he heard Frank calling to him.

"For Teresa and the baby!" cried Merriwell. "Lace it out, Gallup! Get against it!"

For Teresa and the baby! Those words rang through Ephraim's brain. Was it possible he was going to prove himself a miserable failure under such circumstances? With only himself to consider he might fail, but he had believed himself capable of great things for the sake of Teresa and the baby. He was capable of great things! He knew it now, and suddenly his hands were steady as iron. There was not the slightest quiver of his nerves. His eyes were clear, and his face wore a look of confidence as he watched Bender prepare to deliver the ball.

The pitcher started the ball wide, but, with a sudden break it took an inshoot across the plate.

Gallup knew he was going to hit the ball when he swung at it. He hit it fairly and squarely with all the strength and skill that he possessed. It brought a wild roar from the crowd as the ball went sailing out on a line about fifteen feet from the ground.

Apparently Grifford would have little trouble in catching the ball. He changed his position a foot or two and prepared to take it. Just before it reached him he made a sudden backward move and then leaped desperately into the air, thrusting up his hand.

Instead of dropping, as Grifford had expected, the ball held up in a marvelous manner and passed fully two feet beyond his reach as he made that leap. It finally touched the ground and went bounding away, with Grifford rushing after it as fast as he could race over the turf.

The white chalk of the base lines seemed to spin out beneath Gallup's feet like a thread as he literally flew over the ground. He heard a sound like the roaring of many waters. It was the joyous shouting of the great crowd as Merriwell crossed the plate and Diamond came speeding in from third.

Gallup did not realize that these two runs put the Merries in the lead. He was determined to score if possible. As he came up from second he saw Hans Dunnerwurst dancing like a clown and furiously waving his arms, while he yelled:

"Ephie, you vos a tandy! Ephie, you vos a peach! Ephie, I luf you! Dot score vill git you, und don'd nobody forgit him! Mine cootness, dot vos der most peautiful home run you efer saw in my life!"

A homer it was, for Gallup reached the pan ahead of the ball, which Grifford had returned to the diamond.

Frank seized Ephraim by the hand as he came over the plate. The rest of the team rushed at the Vermonter, hammering him joyously over the head and shoulders, much to the agitation of Teresa, who feared her husband had done some terrible thing and that his friends were beating him on that account.

Bender looked sick and weary as Carson seized a bat and rushed out to the plate. The pitcher delivered an easy one, which Berlin drove into left field. Roach took the ball on the run, and this made the third out.

Casper Silence was like a caged tiger as the Rovers gathered at the bench.

"Get in here and win this game, you slobs!" he hissed. "If you don't, this team disbands to-night!"

Against Frank Merriwell's pitching there was no chance for them, however. As in the previous inning, only three men faced Merry, and all three struck out.

Gallup overtook Frank ere the excited crowd that rushed onto the field could reach Merry.

"It's ten thousand for the consumptives' home at Wellsburg, by ginger!" laughed Ephraim.

"Remember your promise, Gallup," said Frank, as he seized the Vermonter's hand. "You'll never bet again."

"Never again!" vowed Ephraim.

Then, like Merriwell, he was caught up by the rejoicing spectators, who triumphantly bore these two heroes of the game around the diamond, while they cheered themselves hoarse.

When Merry at last had been successful in freeing himself from the grasp of jubilant admirers, he joined Inza and the ladies who had watched the game from the stand. Frank and his wife had fallen a little behind the others as they were approaching the house, and they were speaking quietly when a heavy slap on Frank's back caused him to turn around quickly. He was confronted by Berlin Carson.

"A great game, Merry, old man!" exclaimed Berlin enthusiastically. "By Jove! that wing of yours has lost none of the tricks that enabled it to send team after team to the bad in the old days at Yale. And Gallup—Gallup! What a wallop that was he gave the ball in the last, eh? Great Caesar, I feel almost as exultant over it as if I had made it myself, but I'm more than half inclined to believe that it was something you called to him that put him on his mettle. What was it, Merry?"

But before Frank had an opportunity to speak, Bart Hodge, who was several paces distant, called Berlin's name.

"See you later—see you later, Merry," laughed Berlin, as he patted Frank on the back and broke away.

Then, with almost boyish lightness, he ran in the direction of Hodge.

Frank and Inza looked after him smilingly. Inza laid a hand on one of her husband's arms.

"These last few days appear to have made quite a difference in Berlin," she said.

"Yes, Inza," replied Frank, as he pressed his wife's hand, "yes, and the fact that the old chap is a boy again is due to that suggestion of yours. Had it not been for you, the 'old flock' would not have been here, casting over Merry Home the glamour of the good old times. The spirit which our old friends have invoked is one that could not be resisted even by faithful old Berlin Carson, who had learned to love, and since has learned to forget, the unfortunate young woman who tried to rob Frank Merriwell of his son."

"And, after all, it is Frank Merriwell's son whom we have to thank for the happiness which these last few weeks have brought," Inza murmured softly.

THE END.

No. 138, the next thrilling tale to appear in the MERRIWELL SERIES is "Dick Merriwell's Team Mate," by Burt L. Standish.



BOOKS FOR YOUNG MEN

MERRIWELL SERIES

Stories of Frank and Dick Merriwell

Fascinating Stories of Athletics

A half million enthusiastic followers of the Merriwell brothers will attest the unfailing interest and wholesomeness of these adventures of two lads of high ideals, who play fair with themselves, as well as with the rest of the world.

These stories are rich in fun and thrills in all branches of sports and athletics. They are extremely high in moral tone, and cannot fail to be of immense benefit to every boy who reads them.

They have the splendid quality of firing a boy's ambition to become a good athlete, in order that he may develop into a strong, vigorous, right-thinking man.

ALL TITLES ALWAYS IN PRINT

1—Frank Merriwell's School Days By Burt L. Standish 2—Frank Merriwell's Chums By Burt L. Standish 3—Frank Merriwell's Foes By Burt L. Standish 4—Frank Merriwell's Trip West By Burt L. Standish 5—Frank Merriwell Down South By Burt L. Standish 6—Frank Merriwell's Bravery By Burt L. Standish 7—Frank Merriwell's Hunting Tour By Burt L. Standish 8—Frank Merriwell in Europe By Burt L. Standish 9—Frank Merriwell at Yale By Burt L. Standish 10—Frank Merriwell's Sports Afield By Burt L. Standish 11—Frank Merriwell's Races By Burt L. Standish 12—Frank Merriwell's Party By Burt L. Standish 13—Frank Merriwell's Bicycle Tour By Burt L. Standish 14—Frank Merriwell's Courage By Burt L. Standish 15—Frank Merriwell's Daring By Burt L. Standish 16—Frank Merriwell's Alarm By Burt L. Standish 17—Frank Merriwell's Athletes By Burt L. Standish 18—Frank Merriwell's Skill By Burt L. Standish 19—Frank Merriwell's Champions By Burt L. Standish 20—Frank Merriwell's Return to Yale By Burt L. Standish 21—Frank Merriwell's Secret By Burt L. Standish 22—Frank Merriwell's Danger By Burt L. Standish 23—Frank Merriwell's Loyalty By Burt L. Standish 24—Frank Merriwell in Camp By Burt L. Standish 25—Frank Merriwell's Vacation By Burt L. Standish 26—Frank Merriwell's Cruise By Burt L. Standish 27—Frank Merriwell's Chase By Burt L. Standish 28—Frank Merriwell in Maine By Burt L. Standish 29—Frank Merriwell's Struggle By Burt L. Standish 30—Frank Merriwell's First Job By Burt L. Standish 31—Frank Merriwell's Opportunity By Burt L. Standish 32—Frank Merriwell's Hard Luck By Burt L. Standish 33—Frank Merriwell's Protege By Burt L. Standish 34—Frank Merriwell on the Road By Burt L. Standish 35—Frank Merriwell's Own Company By Burt L. Standish 36—Frank Merriwell's Fame By Burt L. Standish 37—Frank Merriwell's College Chums By Burt L. Standish 38—Frank Merriwell's Problem By Burt L. Standish 39—Frank Merriwell's Fortune By Burt L. Standish 40—Frank Merriwell's New Comedian By Burt L. Standish 41—Frank Merriwell's Prosperity By Burt L. Standish 42—Frank Merriwell's Stage Hit By Burt L. Standish 43—Frank Merriwell's Great Scheme By Burt L. Standish 44—Frank Merriwell in England By Burt L. Standish 45—Frank Merriwell on the Boulevards By Burt L. Standish 46—Frank Merriwell's Duel By Burt L. Standish 47—Frank Merriwell's Double Shot By Burt L. Standish 48—Frank Merriwell's Baseball Victories By Burt L. Standish 49—Frank Merriwell's Confidence By Burt L. Standish 50—Frank Merriwell's Auto By Burt L. Standish 51—Frank Merriwell's Fun By Burt L. Standish 52—Frank Merriwell's Generosity By Burt L. Standish 53—Frank Merriwell's Tricks By Burt L. Standish 54—Frank Merriwell's Temptation By Burt L. Standish 55—Frank Merriwell on Top By Burt L. Standish 56—Frank Merriwell's Luck By Burt L. Standish 57—Frank Merriwell's Mascot By Burt L. Standish 58—Frank Merriwell's Reward By Burt L. Standish 59—Frank Merriwell's Phantom By Burt L. Standish 60—Frank Merriwell's Faith By Burt L. Standish 61—Frank Merriwell's Victories By Burt L. Standish 62—Frank Merriwell's Iron Nerve By Burt L. Standish 63—Frank Merriwell in Kentucky By Burt L. Standish 64—Frank Merriwell's Power By Burt L. Standish 65—Frank Merriwell's Shrewdness By Burt L. Standish 66—Frank Merriwell's Set Back By Burt L. Standish 67—Frank Merriwell's Search By Burt L. Standish 68—Frank Merriwell's Club By Burt L. Standish 69—Frank Merriwell's Trust By Burt L. Standish 70—Frank Merriwell's False Friend By Burt L. Standish 71—Frank Merriwell's Strong Arm By Burt L. Standish 72—Frank Merriwell as Coach By Burt L. Standish 73—Frank Merriwell's Brother By Burt L. Standish 74—Frank Merriwell's Marvel By Burt L. Standish 75—Frank Merriwell's Support By Burt L. Standish 76—Dick Merriwell At Fardale By Burt L. Standish 77—Dick Merriwell's Glory By Burt L. Standish 78—Dick Merriwell's Promise By Burt L. Standish 79—Dick Merriwell's Rescue By Burt L. Standish 80—Dick Merriwell's Narrow Escape By Burt L. Standish 81—Dick Merriwell's Racket By Burt L. Standish 82—Dick Merriwell's Revenge By Burt L. Standish 83—Dick Merriwell's Ruse By Burt L. Standish 84—Dick Merriwell's Delivery By Burt L. Standish 85—Dick Merriwell's Wonders By Burt L. Standish 86—Frank Merriwell's Honor By Burt L. Standish 87—Dick Merriwell's Diamond By Burt L. Standish 88—Frank Merriwell's Winners By Burt L. Standish 89—Dick Merriwell's Dash By Burt L. Standish 90—Dick Merriwell's Ability By Burt L. Standish 91—Dick Merriwell's Trap By Burt L. Standish 92—Dick Merriwell's Defense By Burt L. Standish 93—Dick Merriwell's Model By Burt L. Standish 94—Dick Merriwell's Mystery By Burt L. Standish 95—Frank Merriwell's Backers By Burt L. Standish 96—Dick Merriwell's Backstop By Burt L. Standish 97—Dick Merriwell's Western Mission By Burt L. Standish 98—Frank Merriwell's Rescue By Burt L. Standish 99—Frank Merriwell's Encounter By Burt L. Standish 100—Dick Merriwell's Marked Money By Burt L. Standish 101—Frank Merriwell's Nomads By Burt L. Standish 102—Dick Merriwell on the Gridiron By Burt L. Standish 103—Dick Merriwell's Disguise By Burt L. Standish 104—Dick Merriwell's Test By Burt L. Standish 105—Frank Merriwell's Trump Card By Burt L. Standish 106—Frank Merriwell's Strategy By Burt L. Standish 107—Frank Merriwell's Triumph By Burt L. Standish 108—Dick Merriwell's Grit By Burt L. Standish 109—Dick Merriwell's Assurance By Burt L. Standish 110—Dick Merriwell's Long Slide By Burt L. Standish 111—Frank Merriwell's Rough Deal By Burt L. Standish 112—Dick Merriwell's Threat By Burt L. Standish 113—Dick Merriwell's Persistence By Burt L. Standish 114—Dick Merriwell's Day By Burt L. Standish 115—Frank Merriwell's Peril By Burt L. Standish 116—Dick Merriwell's Downfall By Burt L. Standish 117—Frank Merriwell's Pursuit By Burt L. Standish 118—Dick Merriwell Abroad By Burt L. Standish 119—Frank Merriwell in the Rockies By Burt L. Standish 120—Dick Merriwell's Pranks By Burt L. Standish 121—Frank Merriwell's Pride By Burt L. Standish 122—Frank Merriwell's Challengers By Burt L. Standish 123—Frank Merriwell's Endurance By Burt L. Standish 124—Dick Merriwell's Cleverness By Burt L. Standish 125—Frank Merriwell's Marriage By Burt L. Standish 126—Dick Merriwell, the Wizard By Burt L. Standish 127—Dick Merriwell's Stroke By Burt L. Standish 128—Dick Merriwell's Return By Burt L. Standish 129—Dick Merriwell's Resource By Burt L. Standish 130—Dick Merriwell's Five By Burt L. Standish