The gloved hands of the woman quivered as she restored the whip to the driver. She did not look back, although an expression of disappointment came from her hidden lips.
“Lucky for him he moved lively,” said Frank, as she sank down at his side.
“Some evil charm protects him!” breathed the mysterious woman. “I did not wish to kill him—then. I hoped to drive over him and maim him!”
“It is plain that you have no liking for the man.”
“Like him? I loathe and detest the sight of his wicked face, his treacherous eyes and his cruel mouth! When I behold him something in my heart struggles and burns until it is only by the utmost restraint that I keep myself from flying at him.”
“He has done you a great wrong?”
“Yes, me and one dearest to me in all the world.”
“He knows you, and that is why you keep yourself veiled?”
“He has never seen my face.”
By the time the driver had quieted and restrained the frightened horse, and Merry looked back. He saw at a distance his companions making all haste in that direction, and he knew Cameron had not interfered with them, which gave him a feeling of relief.
“The boys are coming,” he said. “I thought that man might try to stop them.”
The woman directed the driver to pull the horse down to a walk, which he succeeded in doing.
“I do not wish to seem inquisitive,” said Merry; “but it is no more than natural that I should be greatly interested in Carey Cameron after what has happened.”
“Quite natural,” admitted the woman. “He is a gambler.”
“I thought it by his appearance.”
“He has traveled much, making his living by gambling. His former home was here, and he returned here a few months ago. As a boy he was a baseball enthusiast, and that explains his wonderful interest in the game. When he came back here he sided with the vicious element, and I believe he has been appointed manager of the team they mean to put in the place of the one organized by Gaddis. I do not know much about it, but I have learned that they believe this team will be able to defeat anything in these parts. He has secured a number of players blacklisted in the big leagues. Cameron will run the team to make money for himself.”
“How can he make money out of baseball in a town like this?”
“He will gamble on the games.”
“But if he has a team that is far superior to any team it meets he’ll find no one to bet on the other teams.”
“When that happens he will bet on the other teams himself.”
“You mean——”
“That I know his treacherous nature. He will betray his friends. He’ll not wager money openly on an opposing team. It is likely he will openly bet small sums on his own team. His supposed-to-be friends will do the betting. Some agent of Cameron will bet Cameron’s money, and you may be sure that his team will lose that game.”
“In short, he will double-cross his friends, and that is the worst form of treachery.”
“That man is capable of anything, Mr. Merriwell! To carry out his ends he would commit murder!”
“He’ll reach the end of his rope some day.”
“I trust that day is not far in the future!”
By this time they had reached the outskirts of the town. The road led up a low hill, near the crest of which, set back amid some trees, could be seen a rather gloomy-looking house. This house the mysterious woman indicated with a slight gesture, explaining that they were bound thither.
“It is your home?” questioned Merry.
“For the time being it serves me as home,” she replied. “I have occupied it two months.”
“You do not belong in this town?”
“No; before coming here two months ago I had never seen the place. I shall be happy when I leave it to return no more.”
“You do not like Cartersville?”
“I detest the place! It is run by hoodlums and ruffians. There are some respectable people here, but the vicious element predominates, and respectable people are afraid to stand up for their rights.”
“A fine place in which to play baseball!” laughed Merry.
“No worse place in Iowa.”
“Perhaps it is just as well that we are not going to play here.”
“You are better off.”
The boys were not far behind when they reached the gate and turned into the grounds surrounding the gloomy house amid the trees. The house was shuttered, and many of the shutters were closed.
At the front step Merry sprang from the carriage and assisted his strange companion to alight.
As the others of his party came up Frank said:
“Fellows, although this lady has been kind enough to offer us the shelter of her house, I fear we are intruding in a certain way. I am sure we are putting her to great inconvenience, and I wish to——”
“Mr. Merriwell,” interrupted the veiled woman, “I have tried to make it plain that you are not placing me at any inconvenience. I will add that my circumstances are such that the sum you may pay me for the accommodation of yourself and friends will be very acceptable. Oh! I’m going to take pay! You may give whatever sum you choose; I am satisfied that it will be satisfactory. I think this should put you more at your ease.”
“To a certain extent it does,” admitted Merry.
“Then come in.”
The woman turned toward the door, which opened at once. As Merry followed her he saw the door had been opened by a singularly grave-looking Chinaman.
“John,” said the mysterious woman, “these are my guests.”
“Velly well, miss,” nodded the Celestial.
“They will remain as long as they choose and are to have the best the house affords while here.”
“Velly well, miss.”
“Take them upstairs and let them select their own rooms.”
“Velly well, miss.”
Then, turning to Frank, the woman said:
“Dinner will be served in an hour. I think you will be ready by that time.”
“Yah,” muttered Hans. “I vos readiness alretty soon.”
“If you wish to send to the station for anything in the way of baggage I will call a man to attend to that.”
“There is nothing at the station that we shall need to-night,” said Frank. “We had better leave our stuff there. We have everything necessary for present wants in our hand bags.”
“Show them up, John.”
“Velly well, miss.”
They followed the Chinaman of the solemn and respectful manner and the limited vocabulary.
“Well, this is not half bad,” grunted Browning, as he stretched himself on one of the double beds which had delighted his eyes. “It’s a lot better than camping outdoors overnight.”
“Thou speakest truly, weary knight,” said Ready. “The prospect of a supperless bed on the greensward was not at all cheerful to me, and the lady with the somber drop curtain over her radiant features came to our rescue at the proper time.”
“This is the experience of a lifetime,” put in Morgan. “I’m wondering over it yet. Can you shed any light on the subject, Frank?”
Merry told them what he had learned while in the carriage with the mysterious woman.
“Well,” smiled Starbright, as he finished, “we can thank our stars that she has no use for Mr. Carey Cameron. Evidently she has offered us this hospitality because we seem to be the special objects of Mr. Cameron’s spite.”
“She did come plenty near hiking over Cameron when he tried to hold her up,” said Badger. “It sure was a close call for that gent. Way he acted after that, I thought he was going to pull a gun and try to pot you both.”
“And then I th-th-thought he was going to cuc-cuc-come at us,” observed Gamp.
“It was lucky for him that he decided to let us alone,” declared Hodge.
“Yah!” cried Hans. “You bet my life he vos luckiness!”
“This whole affair is most peculiar from start to finish,” said Dade Morgan. “It has many mysterious features, and not the least mysterious is this strange young woman who keeps her face hidden by a heavy veil and who lives here in this gloomy house. Who is she? and what is she?”
“I scarcely think you will find any one in Cartersville who can answer those questions,” said Frank. “It is not for us to be too inquisitive while accepting her hospitality.”
“In one sense, we are not exactly accepting hospitality,” asserted Stretcher. “What we receive we’re going to pay for.”
“It is hospitality none the less.”
“I dud-dud-don’t believe she tut-tut-took us in because she needs the mum-mum-money,” declared Gamp.
“That was a bluff,” nodded Hodge.
“She made that assertion,” said Frank, “in order that we might accept her kindness with greater freedom. It was very good of her to attempt to make us feel more at home and less like intruders by giving us a chance to pay for what we shall obtain.”
“Vainly I speculate upon her looks,” murmured Ready. “I wonder be she dark or be she light?”
“Young or old?” came from Badger.
“Plain or pretty?” put in Rattleton.
“Sus-she’s a bub-blonde,” declared Gamp positively.
“Nix; she vos a prunette,” said Hans, just as positively.
“She’s about thirty-five years old,” guessed Starbright.
“Not a day over twenty,” asserted Morgan.
“I’ll guarantee she’s as homely as a hitching post,” grunted Browning.
“I would like to make a wager that she is exceptionally good-looking,” said Stretcher.
“All this speculation about her leads to nothing,” interrupted Frank. “Besides that, as long as we are beneath this roof too much curiosity concerning her is a matter of poor taste. It’s up to us to accept what she has provided, pay for it liberally, and be very grateful for her kindness. That she is a person of courage she has demonstrated by defying the ruffianly element of the town, which has the entire place subjugated and trembling beneath a reign of terror. I admire her nerve, and I am ready to render her assistance or give her protection if occasion arises.”
“You are mit me in dot!” exclaimed Dunnerwurst. “I vill stood by her vid my last drop uf gore. How apoudt you, Choe? Speech up und declaration yourseluf.”
“I gug-gug-guess she can depend on the whole of us to bub-bub-back her,” said Gamp.
“We’re still in the land of the hostiles,” reminded Jack Ready. “His nibs, Mattie Madison, must still be smarting a trifle over what happened to him when he endeavored to lay violent hands on our leader, and it is probable that he will seek retaliation.”
“Besides that,” smiled Badger, “Carey Cameron must be some sore because he failed to hold Merry up and the lady whipped the horse in an attempt to run him down. I have a notion we’ll hear further from him. That’s whatever.”
Darkness came on slowly. The rooms were supplied with oil lamps, which the boys lighted. They prepared for dinner, and at the expiration of an hour after they entered the house a set of chimes in the lower hall summoned them.
They filed down and were conducted to the dining room by the same solemn Chinaman who had admitted them to the house.
The dining room was almost severe in its plainness, but a long table was tastefully spread and decorated, being lighted by lamps and candles. They began to find seats around it before they discovered there were only eleven chairs.
“It’s all right,” said Merry, in a low tone. “It’s plain we’re not to enjoy the society of our hostess during this meal.”
When they were seated two women in black, with white aprons, appeared and served soup.
At first the boys were somewhat oppressed by the situation, but Merry soon started things up with a jest and they began to enjoy themselves.
“Although we met a warm reception in this town,” said Frank, “it was not much worse than the reception given Ready the first time he visited Niagara Falls. When Jack stepped off the trolley he found several carriages waiting for passengers. He capered over to one of them and asked the man to drive him to the falls. The man said he would be pleased to drive him there, but he didn’t have a harness that would fit him.”
“That man was a trifle nearsighted,” declared Jack, good-naturedly taking the laugh this had aroused. “He failed to note my marvelous beauty, and he thought he could get gay with me. He lost as much as fifty small coins of the realm by that joke.”
“You should remember, Jack,” said Rattleton, “that beauty is only din skeep—er, that is skin deep.”
“But I’m very thick-skinned,” retorted Ready promptly. “Tra-la-la!”
“Vale, in Puffalo,” said Dunnerwurst, “I vos consulted.”
“Insulted, Hans,” corrected Morgan.
“Shoot yourseluf apoudt der bronunciation,” gurgled Hans. “Dese vos der vay in vich id habbened. A street car vos riding on me ven a chent who vos intoxicated came apoard. A numper uf laties peen on dot car, und I thought id vos a shame. I rose me up und caldt to der corn doctor. Says I to dot corn doctor: ‘Do you bermit intoxicationed men to ride der cars ondo?’ ‘Yah,’ saidt der corn doctor. ‘Sid down und shut up und nopody vill know you vos drunk.’ Dot made a seddlement by me, und don’d you vorget him.”
“Did you notice that terrible thing about the epidemic in Chicago?” asked Frank seriously.
“The epidemic? What epidemic?” asked Rattleton instantly.
“Why, the whole city is sick. I saw it in the newspaper this morning. The first words I read in the paper were: ‘Chicago, Ill.’”
Somebody groaned. It was Browning, who had dropped his fork and seemed about to collapse.
“That makes me ill myself!” he gasped huskily. “I never thought it of you, Merry! You are rapidly descending to the level of such buffoons as Ready and his kind.”
“I admit it was a bad one,” smiled Frank, “and I promise not to do it again.”
In this manner they caused the meal to pass off merrily, and an excellent meal it proved to be. All were hungry, but when the dessert was over even Dunnerwurst confessed that he was more than satisfied.
As they were leaving the dining room Frank was about to ask for the hostess, when she appeared. Merry again protested that they feared they were causing her great inconvenience.
“Not at all,” she declared. “I shall not be home to-night, and I decided to caution you before leaving the house. At the top of the stairs and at the rear there is a room with a black door. Although you have perfect liberty in the rest of the house, I wish it understood that you are to keep away from that room with the black door.”
“You may depend on it that we’ll not go near the room,” pledged Merry instantly.
“And should you hear strange sounds in the night there will be no cause for alarm. Pay no attention to anything you may hear. That is all. I shall return before you leave in the morning.”
She then bade them good night in a pleasant manner, and, being dressed for the street and still heavily veiled, left at once.
“More mystery!” grunted Browning, as they were once more gathered in the big room upstairs.
“A room with a bub-bub-bub-black door!” exploded Gamp.
“Und stranch noises may hear us in der nighdt!” cried Dunnerwurst. “Poys, you vos indo a haunted house!”
“La! la!” said Jack Ready easily. “I am ne’er disturbed by departed spirits. They alarm me not.”
“Why did she go out to-night?” questioned Hodge.
“It is my idea,” laughed Frank, “that we will occupy about all the beds in the house. Quite likely she went out to find a place to sleep. I feel guilty over it, but she insisted that we were putting her to no inconvenience.”
“And prevaricated like a lady,” said Ready.
“There isn’t a bub-bub-bit of danger that I’ll go poking round on the top floor looking for a room with a bub-bub-black door,” declared Gamp.
“I’m afraid I’ll not sleep very well to-night,” acknowledged Rattleton.
“I vos anodder,” confessed Hans. “Vrankie, vos ghosts afraidt uf you?”
“Not that I know of,” answered Merry.
“Vale, in der room vich you haf selectioned dere vos a couch, as vell as a ped.”
“Yes.”
“Couldt you bermit dot couch to sleep on me?”
“You want to sleep on the couch in that room?”
“Yah.”
“All right; I’m willing.”
“But don’t you dare to snore,” warned Hodge. “I’m going to sleep with Frank, and I can’t sleep when I hear any one snoring.”
“I vill nod dood id,” promised the Dutchman. “I vill nod snore so loudt as a visper.”
“All right,” nodded Bart; “the couch for you.”
“If we escape from this town with our lives I’ll be thankful,” said Harry.
“Lo, and behold! you are exceedingly timid,” mocked Ready.
They soon fell to joking and laughing, after their usual manner, and, in spite of the mystery which seemed to hover near, the evening passed pleasantly.
Some time in the night Frank was awakened by something that caused him to lift his head from the pillow and listen.
At first he could not make out what it was, but after a while he decided that it was some person singing somewhere in the house. Finally the singing became somewhat more distinct, and he decided that it was the voice of a woman. The song, as best he could determine, was a lullaby, such as a mother might croon above the crib of her sleeping babe. It was strangely pathetic and gave Frank a peculiar sensation of sadness. To him it seemed as if the person who sang that song had met with a terrible affliction and was thus softly pouring forth the grief of a broken heart.
Merry thought of the warning of the mysterious veiled woman and how she had cautioned them to pay no attention to anything they might hear. Still he could not resist the impulse to slip softly from the bed, steal to the door, open it and listen.
The singing seemed to come from the upper part of the house. A moment after he opened the door it stopped, and, although he remained there for fully ten minutes, he heard it no more.
Hodge was sleeping soundly, and Dunnerwurst breathing heavily, on the verge of snoring, when Merry crept back into bed.
It was some time after that before Merriwell again closed his eyes in sleep. He longed to investigate the mystery, but the promise made to the veiled woman restrained him. He was inclined to fancy he had not slept at all when he was once more awakened.
Something soft and cold, almost clammy, was touching his cheek gently with a patting motion.
In a twinkling he was wide awake, but he did not stir.
He felt a presence near him and knew some one or something was bending over the bed!
A chill ran over him.
The touch on his cheek was like the cold hand of a dead person!
Then he heard a voice—that of a woman—which softly murmured:
“Sleep, my baby—sleep! Mother is near!”
Fear passed from Frank in a twinkling, and he stirred, making a grab at the hand that had touched him.
Quick as he was, he was not quick enough, although he barely missed as the hand was snatched away.
Springing up, he saw a shadowy figure in white gliding toward the door.
At that moment Dunnerwurst awoke and beheld the figure as it flitted past the couch.
Uttering a squawk of terror, the Dutchman rolled off the couch with a crash.
Hodge leaped from the bed and grappled with Frank as Merry came round the foot in pursuit of the mysterious visitor. Before he could realize his mistake Hans had clutched them both round the legs, chattering:
“Safe me from der ghost! Safe me! safe me!”
Frank broke away, but the visitor was gone. Merry rushed out of the room, but he was too late.
This racket had aroused the others, and they came flocking from their rooms, demanding the cause of the trouble.
“Hans had a bad case of nightmare, I think,” said Merry.
They found the Dutchman with his head under the couch, whither he had attempted to crawl. Bart struck a light and Merry pulled Dunnerwurst out.
“Vos der ghost gone alretty yet?” asked Hans, his teeth chattering.
“There was no ghost,” assured Frank.
“Don’d you toldt me so!” palpitated the frightened fellow. “Der ghost seen me mit my own eyes! Yah!”
“Nonsense,” said Merriwell. “I tell you there was no ghost.”
“Vot vos id dot seen me all in vite?” demanded Hans.
“That was either Bart or myself. If you’re going to kick up such a disturbance you’ll have to sleep somewhere else.”
It proved no simple matter to convince the Dutchman that he had not seen a ghost. The boys ridiculed him until he relapsed into sulky silence, and finally all went back to bed.
“What was it, Merry?” asked Bart, when they were once more in bed. “Wasn’t there some person in this room?”
“Sh!” cautioned Frank. “Don’t let Hans hear you. Some one was here.”
“I thought so. What happened?”
Merriwell told of hearing the singing and again falling asleep, to be finally aroused by the touch of an ice-cold hand and to hear the voice of a woman who seemed to fancy she was speaking to a sleeping babe.
“I take no stock in spooks,” said Hodge; “but I’ll be rather pleased when we get out of this ranch.”
“On the contrary,” averred Merry, “if it were not a breach of hospitality I’d like to remain here for the purpose of solving the mystery.”
Ten minutes later he was sound asleep, and he slept soundly until morning.
The boys were finishing their breakfast when John, the Chinaman, appeared and stated that there was a gentleman at the door who wished to speak with Frank.
Frank left the table and went to the door, Hodge following him, in case there should be trouble.
Carey Cameron was waiting on the step.
“That heathen is decidedly inhospitable,” laughed Cameron pleasantly, removing a cigarette from his lips and holding it between a discolored thumb and forefinger. “He left me standing out here, like a huckster. But I understand that visitors—with the exception of yourselves—are not welcome in this house.”
Merriwell waited for the man to announce why he had called.
“I presume you’re surprised to see me here at this early hour,” said the man. “Oh, I’m alone! There’s no trickery about it. You need not be alarmed.”
“You quite mistake my feelings,” assured Merry.
“I have a proposition to make to you.”
“Have you?”
“I fancy you think it nervy of me, but I’m willing to explain and apologize. You may have learned of the baseball mix-up in Cartersville.”
“I have heard something about it.”
“Well, perhaps you know that I am manager of the new Cartersville baseball team. Gaddis and his bunch of stiffs have been put out of business. He has taken to the woods. Two of his best men have signed with me. The others are in retirement.”
Merriwell wondered what the man was driving at.
“My team will be complete to-day and every man on hand ready for business. I had arranged to open the season to-morrow with Bloomfield. Received a message late last evening that Bloomfield would not appear. The duffers! They are afraid to come.”
“If what I have heard about past methods of conducting baseball here is true,” said Merry, “I don’t wonder that Bloomfield canceled.”
“Oh, somebody has been giving you a lot of hot air. You can’t believe all you hear. It is possible the rooters have been rather rough on visiting teams in the past, but I’m going to cut that out.”
“Are you?”
“Sure thing.”
“It’s a good idea,” said Hodge sarcastically.
“There’ll be no need of winning games in future by intimidating visitors,” said Cameron. “When you learn the line-up of my team you’ll agree that I have the players. Among them I have Johnson, the great colored player, formerly of the Chicago Giants. Then there is Moran, from Springfield; Hickey, of Indianapolis; Tonando, with the Kansas City team last season; and Weaver, the great Indian fielder. The others are just as good. I have a team that can defeat anything on the turf in the middle West, and when we get into trim we’ll be able to make some of the big leaguers hustle. I’m going to give Cartersville and southern Iowa such baseball as was never before seen in these parts.”
“How does this interest me?” inquired Frank.
“I’m coming to that. I presume you’re rather hot over your treatment in this town.”
“You presume correctly.”
“Well, I don’t blame you; but you see Gaddis was given fair notice to quit, and he persisted in holding on. He had no business to make a contract with you. At that time he had been told to get out and warned that he would not be able to play after a certain date. He had an idea that the law would support him, and he attempted to fight me and the majority of baseball people in town. We had to make it good and hot for him. We began by driving visiting teams out of the place without giving them a chance to play. We thought Gaddis would throw up the sponge when he found he couldn’t get teams here. At last we were compelled to get after Gaddis himself, and yesterday he tumbled and skipped.”
“All this explaining does not justify you in the least.”
“Perhaps not; but there you are. I’m ready to apologize, if that suits you better.”
“Even an apology can’t square it,” asserted Hodge.
“I’m very sorry,” declared Cameron. “I’ve told the boys that you are to be treated with the utmost courtesy during the rest of your stay in town.”
“Which will be very brief,” said Frank. “We shall leave on the ten A.M. train to-day.”
“I hope not. I am here to offer you inducements to play with my team to-morrow. It will be the opening game, and I know we’ll turn out a mob of people.”
“When it comes to nerve,” said Bart, “that is just about the full limit!”
“If you’ll play,” Cameron went on, “I’ll give you a fixed sum, or I’ll pay you two-thirds the net gate receipts, win or lose. Besides that I’ll put you up at the Mansion House, and the best Cartersville affords shall be yours. Can you ask for anything fairer?”
“It sounds very fine,” laughed Merry; “but what we have seen and heard has taught us the folly of dealing with you and the class of people you represent.”
“Then you refuse?”
“Yes, sir!”
“You’re afraid! That’s what’s the matter! You have made a great reputation, and you’re afraid of being defeated.”
“That is the very least of my fears, sir. We opened in Los Angeles with the Chicago Cubs, defeating them two out of three games. I hardly think we would fear you after that.”
“Oh, I don’t know! If you had lost all three games to the Chicagos it would have been no disgrace. After your triumphant career this season, you might feel sore if you dropped a game to a new team here in Cartersville.”
“As far as possible,” said Merry, “I seek to deal with gentlemen.”
Cameron flushed the least bit, and a wicked look came to his eyes.
“I don’t fancy the insinuation!” he exclaimed. “I have apologized and endeavored to set things straight. If you are looking for further trouble——”
He checked himself, changing his manner in a moment.
“That’s nonsense!” he laughed. “I’m sorry you are afraid. I have heard of you, Mr. Merriwell. You have a reputation for nerve, but it seems that you have very little real nerve. You are challenged to play my team. You dare not play! You know I can defeat you. You’re a squealer!”
“All that sort of talk never drove me into anything I had decided not to do, and never could,” said Frank.
Then, to his surprise, the mysterious woman, still wearing the heavy veil, stepped quickly from the house and placed a hand on his arm.
“Accept the challenge, Mr. Merriwell,” exclaimed the lips hidden behind the veil. “Play him for my sake—and defeat him! You can do it!”
“Do you realize, miss, the manner in which we shall be handicapped? We are in a strange town, and a place where there is little chance that we’ll be given a fair show. Even the umpire would be against us.”
“To satisfy you on that point,” cried Cameron, “I’ll permit you to select your own umpire. How is that? If you have a man with you who can umpire the game, I’ll accept him. You can’t squeal—if you have the nerve.”
“Play him!” again urged the mysterious woman. “For my sake!”
“With the understanding that I am to furnish the umpire——” began Merry.
“It’s a go!” cried Cameron, in satisfaction. “With the team I shall put onto the field, it will be an easy matter to defeat you. There’ll be no need of anything but straight and legitimate baseball to do that.”
“Very well,” said Merry. “We’ll play you, Mr. Cameron.”
As Cameron departed the strange woman spoke excitedly to Frank.
“You will win!” she declared. “I feel it! I know it! He is confident there is no need to resort to crooked methods to defeat you. He’ll try to get bets on the game. I hope he loses heavily. I’ll back you! I have money. You shall take it and cover his bets.”
“I beg your pardon, miss,” protested Frank, “but I have certain scruples about betting. I may have made wagers in the past, but I am sure I shall never again do so, either with my own money or that of another.”
“Let her bet on us, if she wants to,” urged Hodge warmly. “I, too, feel it in my bones that we’ll take a fall out of Cameron’s great aggregation. I know every fellow on the team will play as if for his very life.”
Merry shook his head.
“I can make no exceptions to the rule I have laid down for myself,” he said. “Even if Cameron is confident of success, and begins a square game, he may resort to treachery if he becomes alarmed before the finish. He’ll not intend to lose the opening game with his team. That would disgust the tough element that is backing him. He would lose prestige at once.”
Frank was immovable on his point.
The boys were greatly surprised when Merry informed them of the challenge and acceptance.
“Py Shimminy!” cried Dunnerwurst. “Ve vill gif them der greatest run their money for that you efer saw. Id vill peen a satisfaction to dood them up. Yah!”
Frank explained that they were to supply the umpire, which caused no small amount of satisfaction.
“We are to move to the Mansion House, fellows,” he said. “We’ll impose on Miss Blake no longer.”
“You have not imposed on me in the least,” assured the hostess. “If you defeat Cameron, I shall be more than repaid.”
“But we are going to pay you good, cold cash for what we have received. That was the agreement.”
She began to demur, but Frank insisted that she had made that a part of the agreement when she took them in, and at last she consented to accept payment.
Having settled by compelling her to take twenty dollars, although she was unwilling to the very last to accept more than ten, the boys picked up and started off gayly for the hotel.
“I toldt you vot,” said Hans, as they descended the hill, “I vos glat to got dot house oudt uf. No matteration vot you say, I vos postiveness I seen a ghost last nighdt indo. Id scooted me by like a streak of vind, und id gif me der shiverings all ofer your back. Dot blace been haunted.”
Although they laughed at him, the Dutchman continued to insist that he had seen a ghost.
As they marched into town they were observed with curiosity by the people of the place. A mob of youngsters quickly gathered and followed them along the street.
At the Mansion House they found Mat Madison and several of his companions of the previous day standing on the steps. Apparently they had been waiting for Frank and his team to appear.
Madison leered at Merry.
“Say,” he cried, “you won’t prance with your head so high in the air after our team gits through with you to-morrow. We’ll take some of the starch outer you.”
“Great blizzards!” exclaimed Badger. “Does that play on Cameron’s team?”
“You bet,” answered the bruiser. “Cameron signed me for my hittin’. There ain’t no pitcher in the business that I can’t hit.”
“That should make you tremble, Frank,” laughed Morgan.
None of the young thugs offered to molest Merry or his party as they entered the hotel.
Cameron was waiting for them in the office.
“Here you are, I see!” he cried. “I was afraid you might back out, after all, and try to skip out of town.”
“Your fears were quite groundless,” said Merriwell.
“Well, everything is fixed for you here. I told you I’d arrange it. You’re to have the very best the house affords, and I’ll settle the bills. I can afford to, considering the trimming we’re going to hand out to you to-morrow.”
“You seem inclined to count your chickens before they are hatched,” said Frank.
“Do you have an idea that you’ll win?”
“Of course.”
“Want to make a little wager?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I never bet.”
“A poor excuse is better than none. Of course, that means you dare not bet.”
“It means just what I said—I never bet.”
“Oh, well, if any of your bunch feels like sporting a little I’ll be open for business up to the time the umpire calls ‘Play!’ It adds interest to any event to make a little wager on it. I’m not in baseball for my health. We’re going to pay you the biggest part of the gate money, and so I’ll have to catch some money somehow. Considering your record, there ought to be some sports with nerve enough to take a chance on you.”
Cameron’s manner was offensive, although it was not likely he meant it to be.
The accommodations at the Mansion House were none too good, and the place seemed poor enough after the plain comforts of the private house they had just left. Nevertheless, they were inclined to make the best of everything, kicking being in disfavor among them.
At the earliest opportunity Merry took occasion to seek information concerning the mysterious woman who lived on the hill; but he soon discovered that no one in the place knew much about her, save that she had appeared some ten weeks before and leased the house for the summer. The place was furnished, its owner having gone abroad after the death of his wife. When Miss Blake moved in, no one seemed to know. Shortly after taking the house she reappeared in Cartersville, and the people of the town discovered that she as occupying the house, together with a number of servants, both male and female.
“No one could be found who had ever seen her without her heavy veil. She had discouraged all efforts at familiarity or friendliness on the part of the villagers. It appeared to be a matter of wonder that Merriwell and his friends had been admitted to the house, as they were the only ones outside the members of her household to cross the threshold since she took possession. One old woman gossip of the town had made repeated attempts to get in on one pretext or another, but had been rebuffed each time. The townspeople were not only piqued and mystified by the woman, they were not a little offended, and the rougher element had threatened to tear the veil from her face in order to see what she looked like.”
All this was interesting but unsatisfactory. Merry felt that he would sincerely regret to leave Cartersville without solving the mystery of the veiled woman.
The expected members of the new local team arrived before noon that day. In the afternoon Cameron had them out for practice.
They were, indeed, for the most part, well-known players, seven of them, at least, being professionals with records. Several were league men who had been blacklisted for one offense or another. Taken all together, they were a tough set and just the aggregation to win a game by bulldozing when other methods failed. They made a team that was certain to be heartily approved by the local toughs.
These players, the most of them, also stopped at the Mansion House. They looked Frank’s team over, with no effort to conceal their merriment and disdain. To them Merry’s players were a lot of stripplings.
“We’ll eat ’em up,” said Big Hickey, the Indianapolis man. “Why, dey won’t last t’ree innin’s.”
“Sho’ not,” chuckled Wash Johnson, the colored player from the Chicago Giants. “Dey is a lot o’ college fellers. Nebber seen none o’ dem college fellers dat could play de game wid professionals. No, sar.”
“They ain’t got-a da nerve,” observed Tony Tonando, the Italian from Kansas City. “Sometimes they play one-a, two or three-a inning first-a rate; but they no keep-a it up.”
“Easy frightened, easy frightened,” grunted Wally Weaver, the Indian. “When they play too well, then jump in and scare them. That’s easy.”
“Look here, you chaps,” said Tunk Moran, who had made a great reputation on the Springfield, Illinois, team, but had been fired for drinking, “I happen to know something about Frank Merriwell, and you’re off your trolley if you think you’re going to win from him by scaring him. If you beat that chap you’ll have to play baseball, and don’t you forget it.”
The others laughed at this and ridiculed Moran.
“All right,” he growled. “Just you wait until after the game and see if you don’t agree with me.”
The appearance of Cameron’s team in suits when they left the hotel to march to the ball ground was the signal for a great demonstration on the part of the youngsters of Cartersville, who were waiting to escort them. The cheering brought a number of the Merries to windows to look out, and they saw their opponents-to-be set off down the street, followed by the admiring crowd.
“Behold the gladiators whom we are to meet in the arena!” cried Jack Ready.
“They’re a hot bunch of old-stagers,” grunted Browning.
“It will keep us busy to cool them off,” said Frank. “Don’t get the idea that they are has beens. Half of them could play on fast league teams if they were not crooked and rebellious. They will go after us savage, with the idea of taking the sand out of us at the very start.”
“On the other hand,” said Rattleton, “if we get a start on them early in the game all the hoodlums will be against us and we’ll be in danger of the mob.”
“I have thought about that,” declared Frank. “I have a plan. Come, fellows, and we’ll talk it over.”
They gathered in one room, and Merry explained his plan, speaking as follows:
“Rattleton is right in fancying it will not do to get a big lead on those fellows at an early stage in the game. Of course, we might not be able to do so, even if we tried; but should the opportunity offer, we must still refrain from it and take chances on our ability to pull out toward the end. Cameron has no idea of permitting us to take the game under any circumstances. If we started off like winners the hoodlums would be set on us. I’ve had more than one experience with hoodlums. They can make it hot for any team by crowding down to the base lines, insulting the players, stoning them and doing a hundred things to rattle them. I am confident that, as long as the crowd has a belief that the local team is sure to win it will behave in a fairly decent manner. Cameron will make an effort to hold the toughs in check. Therefore, we must resort to the stratagem of keeping close to the enemy all through the game, with the hope of winning at the very finish by an unexpected spurt that will take them by surprise. Of course, we may lose in this manner; but I am confident it is also our only chance of winning.”
“I think you are right, Merry,” agreed Hodge. “If you could fix it with Cameron so that we may have our last turn at bat, there is a possible show for us.”
“I’ll do what I can,” assured Merriwell, “although it is possible he will refuse such a request if I make it. If we can’t get our last turn at bat we’ll have to do the best we can. But I wish you all to keep in mind the scheme I have proposed, and play from the start with the idea of holding them down and keeping close to them, so that we may have a chance at the finish.”
To this they agreed readily enough.
During the remainder of the day they saw nothing of the strange woman who had befriended them.
The following morning, directly after breakfast, a stranger appeared at the Mansion House.
He was a quiet, smooth-faced young man, and he registered as “Warren Doom, Chicago.”
Doom betrayed interest at once when he learned there was to be a baseball game in town that afternoon, and when he was told that the locals were to meet Frank Merriwell’s team, his interest became genuine enthusiasm. He was purchasing a cigar at the counter when he received this bit of information.
“Going to play Merriwell’s team?” he cried. “Well, I struck this place at the proper moment! I’ve seen Merriwell pitch once, and he’s a wonder. I’ve always longed to see him again. Your team hasn’t a chance against him.”
“What’s that?” exclaimed the man behind the counter disdainfully. “I reckon you don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve got a team right here in this town that can skin anything outside the two big leagues. Our players are professionals and crackajacks. This Merriwell bunch looks like a lot of boys. They’re amateurs, and Cartersville will bury them up this afternoon.”
“Oh, come, come!” smiled Doom. “It’s plain you are the one who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I don’t care how many professionals you have, Merriwell will defeat you. I’ll bet on it.”
“How much will you bet?” was the hot inquiry.
“Anything from ten dollars to ten thousand.”
“That’s a bluff.”
“Is it? I’ll back it up.”
“Of course it is a bluff,” said another voice, as Carey Cameron, puffing at a cigarette, came sauntering up. “The cocksure gentleman never saw ten thousand dollars.”
Doom turned with his freshly lighted cigar in his mouth and his hands in his pockets, surveying Cameron critically.
“Who are you?” he inquired. “Why are you so sudden to chip into this?”
“I’m the manager of the Cartersville baseball team, and my name is Cameron. I happened to hear you making a lot of bluff betting talk, which I am positive you can’t back up.”
“How positive are you?”
“Positive enough to stake ten thousand dollars against a similar sum that Cartersville will win to-day. Put up—or shut up!”
“I don’t happen to have ten thousand dollars in cash on my person.”
“Of course not!” cried Cameron sneeringly. “Bluffers never are able to make good.”
“I believe you have a good bank in town?”
“Yes; the First National.”
“Well, I have with me a certified check for ten thousand dollars, and I believe the cashier at your bank will recognize it as good. If you are not running a bluff I’ll step out to the bank with you and deposit my check in the hands of one of the bank officials, with the understanding that I am backing Frank Merriwell and you are to put up a similar sum to back your own team. Now you put up—or shut up!”
Cameron was somewhat surprised, but he recovered quickly, still confident that Doom was still bluffing.
“Come on!” he almost shouted. “Come out to the bank! I can raise ten thousand dollars if your old check is good. I’ll do it, too! It will be like finding a small fortune.”
The man from Chicago was ready to go.
“But wait a moment,” said the manager of the local team. “I want to tell you something. I hate to be fooled, and it makes me very disagreeable. In case I accompany you to the bank and find this is what I believe it to be—a bluff—you’ll be very sorry. I warn you that you’ll leave Cartersville in such a condition that you’ll require medical attention for some time to come.”
“Come on, man,” said Doom, with curling lips. “You are wasting your breath. You’ll find I am in earnest, although I fancy you are the one who will squeal.”
Together they left the hotel and started for the bank.
The man who had sold Doom a cigar and overheard this conversation ran out after them and told what had happened to a number of loiterers who were in front of the hotel. Immediately these loiterers hustled away after Cameron and Doom, greatly excited over what they had heard.
“Ten thousand dollars!” exclaimed one. “Cameron will make a fortune off this first game!”
“I don’t believe it!” declared another. “Nobody is fool enough to bet Cameron ten thousand dollars.”
“The man is joking,” was the opinion expressed by a third.
“Then it will be a mighty poor joke for him when Carey Cameron is done with him,” said the first.
Outside the bank they lingered and waited. Cameron and Doom were inside a full quarter hour, but finally they appeared. Immediately the crowd besieged the manager of the local team to know if such a bet had really been made.
“Sure thing,” nodded Cameron, with a smile of confidence. “This gentleman had a certified check that was good, and I covered it. There is a wager of ten thousand dollars on the result of the game to-day.”
The report spread like wildfire. In less than an hour, it seemed, every man, woman, and child over six years of age in Cartersville knew of the amazing wager that had been made. The report was wired to surrounding towns and carried into the country in various ways.
By midday people from out of town began to appear in Cartersville. At first they straggled in, but as the time passed they came faster and thicker. They came from the country in conveyances of all sorts, while the 12.48 P.M. train brought at least a hundred. The streets took on a surprising appearance of life. Men gathered in groups and discussed the wonderful bet that had been made. Some were skeptical and pronounced it an advertising dodge on the part of Cameron. Others there were who knew the stakeholder, or knew those who did know him, and they protested that the wager was on the level.
At any rate, never had so much excitement over a game of baseball been aroused in such a brief time in the whole State of Iowa.
A later train brought a still larger number of visitors, and the influx from the country continued up to the hour for the game to begin.
No sooner were the gates opened at the ball ground than the great crowd waiting outside made a push to get in and secure seats. It required the united efforts of a number of local officers, who had been summoned by Cameron for that purpose, to hold the eager people back.
In the meantime Merriwell and his friends had learned of the wager. At first all were inclined to laugh over it, thinking, like many others, that it was an advertising scheme. After a while, however, they began to have reasons to believe there was something of truth in the report.
“By Jove!” cried Morgan. “We’ll be playing for a fortune this afternoon, boys!”
“If such a bet has actually been made,” said Rattleton, “we won’t have any show to win.”
“Wh-wh-why not?” demanded Gamp.
“Don’t you fancy for a moment that Carey Cameron is the sort to lose that amount of money. He’ll fix it somehow so he can win.”
“Dost hear the croaker?” inquired Jack Ready. “Rattles, you have a very weak heart.”
“See if I’m not right!” exclaimed Harry. “Cameron is no fool.”
“I am certain that he depends mainly on the skill of his players,” said Frank. “He cannot believe it possible that a lot of amateurs stand a show of downing those professionals. There will be nothing crooked as long as it appears to him that his players have the best chance to take the game. We must fool them, fellows.”
“We’ll do our best, Frank,” was the assurance they gave him.
Never had there been such a wonderful outpouring to witness a baseball game in all that region. When Frank and his players entered the inclosure they found the stand packed, the bleachers black with people, and a great gathering held back by ropes stretched on both sides of the field. Besides that, the officers employed by Cameron were kept busy chasing spectators out of the outfield.
Not only did it seem that all Cartersville was there, but more than a like number of people had come in from outside the town.
The Merries were received with a hearty cheer. They hurried to their bench, lost no time in laying out their bats, pulling off their sweaters, adjusting gloves and preparing for practice. At a word from Frank they trotted briskly onto the field, and practice began.
Merry warmed up with Stretcher as catcher, while Hodge and Starbright batted to the men practicing on the diamond and in the field.
Frank was slow and deliberate in warming up. He did not use speed, but limbered his arm gradually. Toward the last he threw two or three fairly swift ones and let it go at that.
The players, however, went at it in earnest from the very start, and both infield and outfield work was of a snappy and sensational order.
At a quarter to three the local players, with Cameron leading them, appeared. Instantly there was a great uproar from the toughs of the town who had been supporting Cameron. They rose up and yelled like a lot of Indians. Not only that, but they insisted that every one else should yell and threatened those who did not.
“Them’s our boys!” they cried. “Cheer, you duffers—cheer!”
If any one declined to cheer he suddenly found himself beaten over the head by two or three of the toughs, who insisted that he must “open up,” and this came near causing a general riot.
Not for at least five minutes after the arrival of the Cartersville team did the commotion cease. Even then there were symptoms of anger and resentment in a number of places amid the crowd, and it seemed as if a spark might fire the powder and bring about an explosion.
Frank called his players from the field, and the home team went out for practice.
Merry found an opportunity to speak with Cameron, but the local manager insisted on his privilege of choosing innings, declining to toss a coin for choice.
“All right,” smiled Frank. “Take your choice.”
Imagine his surprise when Cameron said:
“We’ll go to bat first.”
“Suit yourself,” nodded Frank, with pretended disappointment.
Cameron had played into his hands without knowing it.
The practice of the locals was soon over.
Then big Dick Starbright was accepted as the umpire. The time for the game to begin had arrived. Merriwell gave the signal, and his players ran out onto the field, scattering to their different positions.
Frank entered the pitcher’s box.
“Play ball!” cried Starbright.
At this point, to the astonishment of Frank, the mysterious veiled woman darted onto the diamond and grasped his arm with her gloved hand.
“Win this game, Frank Merriwell!” she urged huskily. “My fortune—yes, my life—depends upon it!”
“I assure you, Miss Blake, that I shall do my best to win,” said Merriwell wonderingly; “but I can’t understand what you mean by the statement that your fortune and your life depend upon it.”
“I am backing you.”
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“Why, I thought——”
“You know about the bet of ten thousand dollars on the result of this game?”
“Of course. A gentleman from Chicago, by the name of Doom, made that wager with Cameron.”
“Doom is my agent,” declared the woman.
“Impossible!”
“It is true. He wagered my money. It is all I have in the world. I also happen to know that ten thousand dollars is practically all Carey Cameron possesses. If I win he will be ruined. I must win.”
Frank was both perplexed and annoyed.
“I ask your pardon in advance for speaking plainly,” he said, “but I must tell you that I think you very foolish to take such a risk. You know all the chances are against us. If we win we must do so by strategy. I cannot understand why you should make such a venture.”
“I hate Carey Cameron!” she hissed. “I wish to ruin him—to strip him of his last dollar! He married my sister and treated her in the most brutal and inhuman manner until he forced her to give him all of her fortune, which he squandered in dissipation and gambling. After that he used her in the most inhuman manner, making her a prisoner in her own house. Her baby he starved and abused until the poor thing died. In the end my sister’s mind gave way, and he placed her in a madhouse.
“Why shouldn’t I hate him? Now you understand my reasons! I have sworn to ruin him, and for that purpose I am living here in Cartersville. He does not know me. He never saw my face, but I bear a strong resemblance to my sister as she looked when he married her, and I fear he might detect the resemblance should he behold me unveiled. For that reason I keep my face hidden constantly.
“You know my secret, Frank Merriwell. You are the first to whom I have revealed it since coming here. I hope to strike a blow at him to-day. If I fail—if you lose the game—my money will be gone, and I shall have no means of keeping up the struggle. What will there be for me then? I might as well be dead!”
At last Frank understood her secret, but that did not relieve him of his vexation on account of her folly, as he considered it. He saw that she was extremely impulsive. She had accepted this crude method of seeking revenge on Cameron, without sufficiently considering the danger that the result might be disastrous to herself; but now, as the struggle was about to begin, a full realization of the peril made her tremble and quake.
There was no rectifying her folly. The only way to save her was to win the game.
“Play ball! play ball!” howled the rough element of the crowed. “Put her off the field!”
“Merriwell has a mash!” shouted a man.
“Do your goo-gooing after the game,” advised another.
“Miss Blake,” said Frank earnestly, “you may rely on me to do my best; but I warn you in advance that the chances are strongly in favor of Cameron.”
“I have confidence in you,” she declared. “That is why I made that wager. I have had confidence in you from the moment when I first set eyes on you. Something tells me you are the sort of a man who triumphs. You will win—you must!”
“It would be a great misfortune for me to lose,” confessed Frank; “but you will be forced to bear uncertainty until the very end of the game, as we dare not take the lead too soon.”
Once more declaring her confidence in him, and seeming not to mind the cries of the crowd, she retired from the diamond and the game began.
Following was the line-up of each team:
CARTERSVILLE. MERRIES.
Grady, cf. Ready, 3d b.
Moran, ss. Morgan, ss.
Johnson, 1st b. Badger, lf.
Madison, rf. Hodge, c.
Tonando, 3d b. Merriwell, p.
Gibson, lf. Gamp, cf.
Hickey, 2d b. Browning, 1st b.
Collins, c. Rattleton, 2d b.
Weaver, p. Dunnerwurst, rf.
A yell of delight went up from the crowd as Grady met the first ball pitched and drove out a scorching single.
“We’re off! we’re off!” whooped Gibson, as he capered down to the coaching line back of first. “Keep it going, Moran!”
Moran responded by bunting and attempting to “beat it out.”
On the bunt Grady reached second, but Frank got the ball and threw Moran out at first.
“All right, chillun!” grinned Johnson, the colored player, as he ran out to hit. “Why, we’s gwine to make a hundred right heah.”
Frank gave him a swift inshoot.
“G’way dar, ma-a-an!” shouted Johnson. “Yo’ll sho’ hurt yo’ wing if yo’ tries to keep dat speed up.”
“One ball,” announced Starbright.
“Dat’s right, Mistah Umpiah,” commented the negro. “Make him git ’em ober de pan. If he do, I’s gwine to slam it right ober de fence.”
The next one was too far out.
“Two balls.”
“Come on, ma-a-an,” urged Johnson. “Yo’ll nebber fool dis chicken dat way.”
Merry tried a high ball, using lots of speed.
The batter hit it fairly and laced it on a line far into the field.
“Yah! yah! yah!” he whooped, as he scooted for first. “Dat pitcher was made fo’ me.”
Sitting on the bench, Carey Cameron saw Grady come home on the hit, while Johnson reached third base.
“This is going to be too easy,” said Cameron, to one of the substitutes. “It won’t do to run the score up too high and not give those poor dubs a show, for it will disgust the crowd and hurt baseball here for the rest of the season. I’ll have to hold the boys down the moment they get the game well in hand.”
The crowd began to ridicule Frank.
“Is that the great pitcher we’ve heard about?”
“He’s a fake!”
“That’s not the genuine Frank Merriwell!”
“Take him out!”
“Knock him out of the box!”
“Put him in the stable!”
Mat Madison was the next batter. The big bruiser made an insulting remark to Frank as he took his position at the plate.
“You’ll be a puddin’ for me,” he declared.
Instantly Merry resolved to strike Madison out. He gave Hodge a signal which Bart understood.
Frank began with the double shoot. Madison fancied the first ball pitched was just what he wanted and slashed at it with all his strength.
He missed.
“Strike one!” cried Starbright.
“Accident,” said Madison. “I’ll hit the next one I go after.”
Merry reversed the curve, and Madison missed again, much to his wonderment and disgust.
“Give me another just like that,” he urged.
“Here it is,” said Merry, and he actually pitched another of the same sort as the last.
“You’re out!” declared Starbright, as the bruiser missed the third time.
Madison was astounded and infuriated.
“Wait till my turn comes again!” he snarled, as he flung the bat down.
“Get-a ready to score, you black-a rascal,” cried Tonando to Johnson, as he danced out to the plate.
“I’s waitin’, ma-a-an,” retorted Johnson, dancing off third and back again. “Just yo’ git any kind of a hit an’ see me cleave de air.”
Tonando let one pass and then met the next, getting a safe single on a fast grounder that Rattleton failed to touch.
“Just as e-e-easy, chillun!” laughed Johnson, as he came home. “Why, dis is a cinch!”
The crowd now redoubled its ridicule of Merriwell.
Gibson prepared to hit, being overconfident. To his surprise, he missed twice. Then he put up an easy infield fly and was out, which retired the side.
Cartersville had made two runs in the first inning, and every man on the team felt that they might have obtained many more with ease.
Without letting them secure too many runs, Merry had placed them in a frame of mind that would enable him to deceive them for a while, at least, before they awoke to their mistake.
The first three batters for the visitors fanned the air, seeming utterly bewildered by the curves and speed of Weaver, the Indian pitcher.
“Oh, you’re pretty stickers!” derided a small boy. “You won’t git a hit to-day!”
In the second inning neither team scored, although it seemed more by bungling good fortune than anything else that the Merries held their opponents down.
The fact was that Cameron had warned his players not to get too long a lead. He was perfectly at his ease, fully believing his team quite outclassed the visitors and could win the game by heavy batting in a single inning, if necessary.
In this manner the game slipped along with neither side making further runs until the sixth inning.
In the last of the sixth the visitors sprang a surprise on Cameron’s men. Morgan led off with a hit, Badger sacrificed him to second. Hodge sacrificed him to third, and Frank brought him home with a slashing two-bagger.
That made the spectators sit up and take notice.
It also aroused Carey Cameron, causing him to realize the possible danger that the amateurs might make a spurt when such a thing was least expected. He was relieved when Weaver struck Gamp out.
“We must have some more runs, boys,” said Cameron, as his players gathered about him. “Jump right in now and make them. Not too many, but enough to have the game safely in hand.”
They responded by getting a single score, and it seemed that pure accident prevented the piling up of several more.
In the last of the seventh the Merries did not make a run, Weaver seeming to have them at his mercy.
Again in the eighth, although Cartersville got two men onto the sacks, no scores were made on either side.
The ninth inning opened with the score three to one in favor of the locals.
“That’s really lead enough,” said Cameron; “but one or two more runs will not spoil the game. I want you to make two scores, boys. You have a fine opening, for Moran starts it.”
“I’ll agree to get a hit,” said Moran, “if they’ll just help me circle the bags.”
He was positive he could get a hit then, but some of his conceit evaporated when he fanned twice and was fooled both times.
There had not been much complaint against Starbright’s work as umpire, for Cartersville was holding the lead and fancied that lead could be increased any time. Just now Moran was unable to kick, as he was swinging at the balls.
Apparently Merriwell put the next ball just where the batter wanted it.
But again Moran missed, greatly to his dismay.
“Oh, you’re a mark!” sneered Madison. “Wait till I git at him! I ain’t got no hits to-day, but I’ve been waitin’ for this chance.”
Johnson was in position to strike.
“Look out fo’ me, ma-a-an,” he grinned. “Dis time I puts it ober de fence. Allus does it once in a game.”
He tried hard—too hard, in fact. Like Moran, he fell an easy victim to Merriwell’s arts.
Frank was now pitching in his best form, having thrown off all attempt at deception.
Madison swore he would get a hit. He realized that his reputation as a heavy batter had suffered that day.
The crowd yelled and hooted at Frank, seeking to rattle him, but his face was perfectly grave and he seemed deaf to the uproar. In the stand he saw a veiled woman, who sat silent and rigid, her gloved hands clasped. He knew she was watching him, her heart heavy with despair, for it seemed that the locals had won.
At the beginning of the game Merry had resolved not to let Madison get a hit. Now, as the fellow came up for the last time, Frank pitched with bewildering speed, his curves being sharp and baffling.
Although every ball pitched was a strike, Starbright had confidence in Merry and declared two, at which the batter did not offer, to be “balls.”
Then Merry wound up with his surprising slow ball, which seemed to hang in the air, and Madison struck too soon.
“You’re out!” cried Starbright.
“Well, it’s all right, fellows,” laughed Cameron. “You have to hold them down, that’s all. It’s easy for Weaver. The game is ours.”
Frank spoke to his players in low tones as they gathered around him at the bench.
“We must go after it now,” he said. “There must be no tie. We must win it in this inning—or lose it. You’re the first batter, Bart.”
Hodge was grim and determined as he walked to the plate. He let the first ball pass, but hit the second and lined it out.
Hickey made a jump to one side, struck out his glove and caught the ball. It was a handsome catch of what had looked like a safe two-bagger.
Bart’s head dropped a moment as he turned back toward the bench, but it came up at once, and he spoke to Frank, making himself heard above the uproar, for the crowd was yelling like madmen:
“You can do it just the same, Frank. That was a case of horseshoes.”
Merry did not try for a long hit. One run would do no good. He attempted to place a safe single, and drove a liner into an opening in right field.
Gamp followed, but the hopes of the visitors sank when Joe fanned out in the most dismal manner.
The only chance now seemed for Browning to make a long, safe hit, and the big fellow tried for it. Instead of hitting as he expected, he sent a slow one rolling toward Moran.
Never in all his life did Bruce cover ground as he did then. Those who fancied him to be a huge, heavy, lazy fellow now saw him fairly fly over the ground, and he reached first a good stride ahead of the ball.
“Safe!” declared Starbright.
Sitting on the bench, Hodge groaned as he saw Rattleton, pale and unsteady, step out to strike.
“It’s all off!” Bart muttered. “Harry can’t hit that pitching!”
Weaver flashed over a speedy one.
Harry did not move.
“One strike!” declared Starbright, his honesty compelling him to declare it.
Weaver sent in another one.
Rattleton swung.
Crack!
Bart Hodge leaped into the air with a yell of astonishment and joy.
It was the hit of Rattleton’s whole career in baseball. Clean over the most distant portion of centre-field fence sailed the ball, disappearing from view.
A second yell escaped Bart’s lips, and he began “throwing cartwheels,” while Merriwell, Browning, and Rattleton capered round the bases and came home.
The spectators seemed dazed.
No one, however, was more dazed than Carey Cameron. He did not move from the bench.
Their experience with the sporting element of Cartersville had been so unpleasant that Frank and his friends had no desire to remain longer in the town. Greatly to their surprise they were not molested in any way by the friends of Carey Cameron, who seemed to have received a knockout blow, and the Merries left the town by the first train for the East.
Their objective point was Ashport, where a gentleman by the name of Robert Ashley had offered a magnificent trophy to be contested for by all legitimate amateurs who wished to enter a cross-country running contest. It was not that Frank, or any of his team, intended to enter the contest that had influenced Merry to take in Ashport on his journey to the East, but he had heard much about the man who was promoting the event, and what he had heard had been favorable.
Ashley was an Englishman, and shortly after graduating from Oxford he had found himself, at the death of his father, left with but a small portion of the fortune he had been led to believe he should inherit. Quickly realizing that the income of this reduced fortune would not support him in the style he desired, he put aside family and caste prejudice against “trade” and formed an unfortunate business alliance with a shrewd rascal, who quickly succeeded by crooked methods in robbing him of what he had left, and then threw him over to face the world.
By the sale of personal effects, Ashley raised something like three hundred pounds, and with this in his pocket he bade farewell to England and turned his face toward America.
There is no need to recount his career in this country, but let it suffice to say that, after many hardships and severe struggles, he “struck it rich” in Colorado. For him “the mining game” was a successful one, and within five years after fortune turned, he retired from the struggle, many times a millionaire. His success in the face of disappointment and hard luck he attributed to his persistence, endurance, and staying power; and many a time he averred that these qualities—to some extent hereditary—had been cultivated, developed, and brought to perfection by such school-day and college sports as cross-country running and hare and hounds.
Ashley had conceived a great admiration and love for the country in which he had retrieved his fallen fortunes. After a visit to his former home in the old country, he returned to the United States and finally settled near Ashport, on the Ohio River. Whether or not he was attracted by the name of the town it is impossible to say; but there he found precisely the sort of country he admired and his fortune permitted him to purchase a large estate.
He soon became actively concerned in many charitable works and he took a great interest in all sorts of healthy outdoor sports, participating in such as were adapted to his years and encouraging those in which he could not longer indulge. He founded the Ashport Amateur Athletic Association, which, although located in the country, was within easy range of many thriving towns and two large and prosperous cities; and, in the two years of its existence, it had made such rapid advancement in membership and achievement that it was regarded as one of the leading organizations of the sort in the country.
Among the members of the club were several former college men of note in athletics, not the least of whom was Carl Prince, who became known as the “Georgetown Wonder” when he had twice broken the American college record in the quarter-mile run.
Other ex-college men who had accomplished things on the track and the cinder path and later joined Ashport were Clifford Clyde, of Yale, and Hugh Sheldon, Michigan’s remarkable hurdler and steeplechaser.
Mr. Ashley had a theory that distance running was neglected in America, and he sought to arouse interest in it. For this purpose he had offered a prize to be contested for at Ashport on a certain date, by any and all legitimate amateurs of America who wished to enter the cross-country running contest.
The sporting columns of the newspapers had thoroughly advertised the coming event, and had commented much on the beauty and costliness of the trophy. Having seen these articles in the papers, Frank Merriwell planned to reach Ashport on the trip East with his athletic team in time to witness the contest.
It happened, however, that Paul Proctor, the president of the Ashport A. A., a Harvard grad, knew Merry well and took pains to extend him an invitation to participate in the contest.
Although Frank had not given any thought to a participation in the events, he had gladly accepted Proctor’s invitation, and on the day of the tryouts he watched them from the observatory of the clubhouse which was located at the shoulder of an oval mile track that had been constructed for all sorts of foot races. From this observatory could be obtained a clear and complete view of the track and grounds of the Ashport Athletic Association.
Back of the clubhouse and to the east lay Ashport, a thriving, up-to-date village. The river swept in a horseshoe-like curve to the south. To the north was the estate of Robert Ashley, comprising hundreds of acres of green fields, broad meadows, hills, valleys, and wild woodland. On one of the hillsides, surrounded by splendid old trees, stood Ash Hall. In order to build a home to suit himself, Mr. Ashley had razed a house that formerly stood on the same spot.
“Who is the pacemaker?” asked Merry, as he watched the runners through a pair of field glasses.
“That is Carl Prince, of Batavia,” answered Paul Proctor.
“Not Prince, the Georgetown Wonder?”
“The same fellow. He’s just as fast to-day as he was at college, when he became known as the Georgetown Wonder.”
“He was a great quarter-miler,” nodded Frank, having lowered the glasses for a moment; “but I don’t recall that he ever made a reputation as a long-distance man.”
“Not at college,” admitted Proctor. “He didn’t go in for long-distance work then. He has since becoming a member of the Ashport A. A.”
“I am inclined to fancy he has not changed his methods to any great extent, and you know long-distance work is much different from sprinting and dashes. True it is running, but runners are divided into three classes—the sprinters, the middle-distance men, and the long-distance or cross-country men. Those adapted for the second class named, or who have won records or events in that class, find it more easy to become cross-country men than do those of the first class.”
“What makes you think Prince has not changed his methods?”
“His stride, his carriage, and his tenseness. Sprinters are under strain from start to finish in a race, and their muscles are taut. They are liable to tie up in long runs. They forget to relax, and their muscles become overstrained. When a man ties up in a long run he’s liable not to finish at all. He finds himself run out at a time and point when he should be at his very best.”
“Hollingsworth has considerable confidence in Prince.”
“Who is Hollingsworth?”
“Our trainer. He’s an Englishman, and he knows his business. He was formerly the champion of the Middlesex Cross Country Club, in England. We were lucky to get hold of him here.”
“Long-distance and cross-country running seems to be a fad with your club, Proctor.”
“Naturally,” smiled the president of the club. “Mr. Robert Ashley, who founded the club, gave us our field and track and built this handsome clubhouse for us, is a crank on that sort of sport. In his day, he was the greatest cross-country and hare-and-hounds man in Oxford.”
“He is an Englishman?”
“Yes. That is, he was. He’s a naturalized American now. Made a fortune in mining and settled here. That splendid house you can see on the hill yonder is where he lives. It is modeled after the old English country mansion, and he calls it Ash Hall. Mr. Ashley claims that cross-country running is the finest sport in the world to develop staying power and endurance in a young man, and he says staying power is what the modern young man needs to make him successful in business. He thinks there are too many sprinters in business, who make a hot dash for a while, but are unable to keep up the pace until successful.”
Frank smiled and nodded.
“It is my opinion that Mr. Ashley is a man of wisdom and generosity,” he said. “The runners are coming down the straight course to the stand. We can get a better view of them now.”
He again lifted the glasses to his eyes, an example followed by several other persons.