“I can try,” was Dick’s quiet answer, as he lifted the polished candlepin ball and stood with his eyes fixed on the pins. “Watch him!” muttered Arlington, seeking to divert the bowler’s attention. “He knows we’re all looking at him. See him get two pins with that ball.” It’s a sure thing that mind as well as body plays a prominent part in scientific bowling. Not only does it require brains to secure the best result, but the bowler must fix his mind on the object he desires to accomplish most, seeing in advance what success he would attain, and must, in rolling a curving ball, behold in advance the sweeping movement he wills the ball to take. It is sometimes the case that a player may secure a good string by rolling carelessly, without any particular mental effort. This is always a matter of chance. But the heady bowler who uses his brains, and seems to control the ball with his mind, is one who persistently and repeatedly accomplishes surprising results. Arlington knew something of this, and he understood that it was often a fatal mistake for a player to let his mind be diverted in the least, at the moment when he starts to deliver the ball. This being the case, it was Chester’s object to “rattle” Dick if possible. He failed utterly. Advancing three steps to the line, Dick sent the ball down the polished alley, striking the pins with a clattering crash, leaving but one standing on the corner. Dick had won the string with a ball to spare. The boys gave a shout of satisfaction, while Arlington bit his lip in disgust. “Dern my picter!” cried Obediah Tubbs. “I kinder thought that I was going to beat you by my rotten bowling, Dick; but you pulled us out of the hole.” “That was clever,” laughed Chet, as he stepped onto the runway of the alley; “but still I believe it was nothing more than luck. As I have just said, I can bowl a little myself, and I don’t depend on luck. I challenge you to go me a string, Merriwell.” Dick was becoming wearied by these repeated challenges on the part of Arlington. Defeat after defeat made no difference with Chester. He persisted with bulldog determination in his efforts to beat Merriwell at something. Hal Darrell was annoyed by the insolent manner in which Chester forced himself among them. His eyes blazed as he said in a low tone: “This party is made up. We’re bowling among ourselves now! When we have finished, get your friends and take the alley! Don’t butt in!” “I am not speaking to you, sir!” retorted Chet haughtily. “I have issued the challenge to Mr. Merriwell. Perhaps he doesn’t dare accept. If that’s the case, of course I will retire.” “Gug-gug-gug-gug-go chase yourself!” said Jolliby. “You know he isn’t afuf-fuf-fuf-fuf-fraid of you!” “Actions speak louder than words,” said Chet. “I am here on the spot, and I have issued my challenge. I am feeling just like bowling him now, and it will show he hasn’t the nerve if he tries to put it off.”