“Hold on!” exclaimed Mel Fraser, Arlington’s roommate. “You can’t say that. Didn’t Merriwell go in? Wasn’t the game lost with him in the box? Don’t pile this whole thing onto Chester.” “Waugh!” exclaimed Brad Buckhart. “They made two runs off Dick and seven off Arlington. That’s the size of it. And one run was made through a fielding blunder.” At that moment a stocky, square-shouldered boy, who had remained silent, spoke up: “I lost the game,” he said. “I am the only one to blame. Every one tells me that Merriwell shouted for Jolliby to take that fly. I didn’t hear him.” The speaker was Dave Flint. “I suppose that lets Merriwell out,” half sneered Fraser. “All the same he was in the box when the game was lost.” Instantly Buckhart was aroused. “I want to tell you fellows one thing,” he said. “I am going to tell it right here and now. I have kept still just as long as I propose to. My pard had no business to go in to pitch. He was not in condition.” “Oh, was that it?” inquired Fraser insinuatingly. “Strange we never heard about it before.” “Nothing strange in it!” fiercely retorted the Texan. “Dick don’t go around any whatever telling his troubles. Any one who knows anything about him could see Saturday that he used neither speed nor curves. He couldn’t. He was a heap used up. He had a lame side that kept him from pitching at his best. He had it a week ago, too, and he won that game by setting his teeth and pitching when every ball he threw nearly cut him in two. If he hadn’t pitched against Hilsboro his side would have been all right last Saturday. That is straight goods, and any galoot who says different is a prevaricator. You hear me warble!” “Why didn’t he tell us about his side?” asked Earl Gardner. “Why didn’t he? Because he didn’t want to knock the confidence out of his team. That’s why he didn’t tell.” “How did he get this lame side?” inquired Fraser, still in a sneering manner. Buckhart took a stride and confronted Arlington’s roommate. “I will tell you how he got it,” he snorted. “He got it while doing Chet Arlington a good turn. He was jumped on by a bunch of Arlington’s associates and knocked against the edge of a pool table. That’s how he got it, Cadet Fraser.” “We will take your word for it,” said Fraser, backing off, as he was somewhat afraid of the fighting Texan. “Well, it’s a right good thing that you do,” growled Buckhart. At this point a burst of laughter caused the boys to start and turn. They saw Chester Arlington pushing into the crowd. “Well, I have expected something like that,” cried Chet. “I didn’t believe Dick Merriwell would take his medicine without making some sort of an excuse. A lame side, eh? Well, that sounds first rate; but, if you fellows have noticed it, it is a fact that a pitcher who loses a game always has a lame shoulder, a lame arm, or a lame side to put the blame on after the game is over.”