Dick did not look disturbed. There was in his eyes that strange, grim determination so often seen there on the diamond and the gridiron. “There’s a strike!” cried one of the watchers, as Merriwell’s first ball smashed into the pins, sending them flying. It was not. On the corner one pin remained tottering and swaying a little until it settled and stood still. Not a word of complaint came from Dick. Instead, he rolled his next ball with great precision, and removed the standing pin, thus getting a spare. “That’s all right,” exclaimed Black. “It wouldn’t surprise me to see him get as many pins on his spare as Arlington does on his strike.” CHAPTER XI. THE WINNER. “Oh! it wouldn’t surprise you, eh?” sneered Chet. “Well, if he gets as many pins on his spare as I do on my strike, I’ll eat my hat!” This confidence on Arlington’s part caused more than one to smile. Chester sent his first ball smashing into the pins, and five fell. “Here’s where I get another spare!” he laughed, picking another ball from the return. In truth, the standing pins were in such a position that a spare could be made without difficulty in case they were hit correctly. Arlington took pains to be very graceful in his movements as he sent the ball down the alley, and the mere fact that he thought of himself, without fixing his mind on the object he wished to accomplish, may have kept him from success. At any rate, he missed the pin he wished to hit and secured only two of the remaining five. “Seventeen on his strike! Fifty-seven in all!” announced Gardner, as he jotted down Chet’s score in the fifth box. With his last ball Chester obtained two more pins, making nine in the sixth frame, with a total of sixty-six. “There, I guess that will hold you for a while,” he said, with a glance at Dick, as he sat down. “Let’s see you get seven pins with your first ball!” Dick did his best, and hit the pins in what seemed to be a perfect manner, yet he secured but five of them, which gave him fifteen on his spare and fifty-four as a total in the fifth box. This left him three points behind Chester. A moment later, however, a shout arose, for with his second ball Dick cleaned the alley. He had made another spare. “What do you think of that for luck?” cried Arlington. “Luck!” burst from Buckhart. “Why, he earned it! It was good bowling.” Rising and facing the score board, Chester saw at once that Merriwell needed only two pins on his spare to get sixty-six in the sixth box. A grim look came to Chet’s face. At last he realized that the game was not going to be as easy as he had anticipated. “It’s up to you to get a spare yourself, Chester,” said Mel Fraser. “Dern my picter!” piped Obediah Tubbs. “I’ll bet he’ll need it.” “Pretty poor bowling! Pretty poor bowling!” cried Smart, as he reset the pins. Arlington stood quite still with his ball poised and his eyes fastened on the head pin. Sp-rr-rr-rr—crash!