“What’s the matter, cap’n?” he asked. “Are they really winning the game?” “Well, if there’s not a change in things pretty quick, it looks as if they might,” confessed the sailor. “I expected to arrive here before this old game started. Had I done so, I would have warned Richard Merriwell to cut out those signals. Every batter knows just what he is going to throw. That’s why they are hitting him this way.” Madison missed the first ball. The next one was wide, and he let it pass. The third was a drop, and he drove it far into the outfield. Jolliby made a desperate run and a wonderful one-hand catch. Knowing the ability of Fardale’s centre-fielder, Gibbs had stuck close by third. When the ball fell into Jolliby’s hands Gibbs scooted for the plate. Chip made a magnificent throw into Buckhart’s hands, but failed to stop the score. “Rah! rah! rah!” cheered the Franklin crowd. “Well, brand me good and deep if this doesn’t beat anything I ever saw!” growled Buckhart, in deep disgust. Dick advanced to the plate and the Texan met him in front of it. “We’ve got to stop this hitting streak right away, Brad,” said the Fardale captain. “There’s something wrong.” “Sure thing, pard,” nodded Buckhart; “but whatever it is I can’t make out.” “The signs of the times are altogether too apparent!” shouted Cap’n Wiley. Dick gave a slight start as he heard these words. “You signal, Brad,” he instantly said. “No matter what sort of a signal I make, I will take your sign for the ball.” Then they returned to their positions. Dick received a sign for a drop from the Texan, but gave a hitch at his trousers with his hand, which meant under ordinary circumstances that he would use a rise. He threw a drop. Jarley struck over it at least eighteen inches and looked surprised. “The signs of the times are not so apparent!” chirped Wiley from the bench, a grin of delight overspreading his swarthy face. When the ball was returned to Dick, he held it with both hands and lifted it above his head, which was his usual signal for an outcurve. At the same time Brad gave him a sign calling for a straight ball. Dick threw a straight one. Jarley leaned forward and swung at it, expecting it would curve over the outside corner. Instead the ball struck the bat close to his fingers and went bounding slowly and weakly down to Merriwell, who easily picked it up and tossed it over to Singleton for an “out.” “The tempest has abated,” chuckled Wiley. “It is growing calmer.” Knealy, the next hitter, watched Dick’s signals closely, and, to his surprise, every ball delivered took a curve he did not anticipate. The result was that he struck out in short order, and Franklin was retired with two runs in the first inning. CHAPTER XXVIII. AGAINST TEN MEN. “Ah! ha! Richard Merriwell,” exclaimed Wiley, as he grasped Dick’s hand. “It thrills my palpitating organism to again press your perspiring palm.”