He had his opportunity a moment later, for Costigan, after fouling twice, drove out a grounder that could not be touched by the infield, and Brinkley took a chance to score on it. The ball was thrown to the plate, but the throw was bad and pulled Buckhart off so far that he could not tag Brinkley in time to stop the run. The Great Northern had now made six runs in this fatal inning, and Fardale was but one score in the lead. Costigan was on second, and not one of the hilarious visitors was out. “The game is lost!” declared Darrell. Immediately Day hurried to Dick. “Look here, Captain Merriwell,” he panted, “you have got to take that fellow out.” “Is that an order from you?” asked Dick. “It is an order from the committee.” “All right,” said Dick, as he quickly rose to his feet and made a signal. Immediately Buckhart stepped onto the home plate to prevent Wallace from hitting. Dick walked onto the diamond. Instantly the cadets rose in a mass and roared his name. “Well! well! well!” laughed Tom Grace. “At last we have put a blanket on your pitcher. He gets to the stable. Back, back to the stable, my pretty boy.” Chester was white as a sheet. The moment he saw Merriwell rise from the bench he dropped the ball and walked out of the box. “I am sorry, Arlington,” said Dick, in a low tone; “but I have got to take you out.” “I am glad of it!” declared Chet. “It is fiendish luck! What’s the matter with those duffers behind me? Have they gone to pieces?” “You are being hit hard, that’s all,” said Dick. “You’ve pitched a fine game up to this inning, but those Great Northern chaps are hitters, and they have solved your delivery.” “That’s what you think,” retorted Chet; “but I know I’m not getting proper support. I am ready to go out.” Although he was in no condition to pitch, Dick warmed up a little and went into the box. “Now we will give this baby his bumps,” laughed Grace. Merriwell had been studying the batters, and he felt that his only chance to stop the hitting was to “use his head.” He could not depend on his best curves, for his side was too lame to permit him to throw them. Chester had been using speed, and now Dick began pitching a slow ball, which proved troublesome to the batters. After swinging twice at these slow ones, Wallace snapped: “Oh! put a little ginger into your arm! What’s the matter with you? Speed up, kid—speed up!” “Well, here’s speed for you,” retorted Dick; but again he threw a provokingly slow ball, with the result that Wallace popped up a little fly that dropped into Merriwell’s hands. Like a flash Dick whirled and threw to second, catching Costigan off the bag, and two men were out. “Ha! ha! ha! ’Rah! ’rah! ’rah! Ziggerboom! Riggerboom! Merriwell! Merriwell! Merriwell!” burst from the cadets. “Talk about luck!” grated Chester Arlington, who had witnessed this play. “That’s his luck! Why can’t I have some of it?” “Say, youngster,” called Tom Grace, “let me see your horseshoe. Where do you keep it?”