Then there was a shout, for Chester had made another strike. Instantly his look of anxiety disappeared, and he smiled again as he sat down. “I can’t bother with spares now,” he said. “I will have to scoop a few strikes.” “Gug-gug-gug-gug-great thutteration!” stuttered Jolliby. “This is gug-gug-gug-gug-getting almighty hot!” Although Dick rolled with the greatest care, he made a bad break with his first ball and was able to secure only eight pins in the seventh box, making a total of seventy-four. Arlington seemed on his mettle, for his first ball gave him eight pins, and he followed this up by cutting off the remaining two, thus making another spare, which gave him twenty in his seventh box and a total of eighty-six. “That clinches it,” he nodded. “Sure thing!” agreed Mel Fraser. “This is going to be a corking old string!” Of all Dick’s friends Brad Buckhart was the only one who seemed entirely unshaken in confidence. The Texan remained firm in his belief that Dick would win. With only three boxes to roll and Arlington twelve points ahead in the seventh box, the case looked desperate indeed. But Merriwell was one who never gave up as long as there was a shred of hope left, and now he delighted his friends by sending a graceful curve into the pins and sweeping them all down except one on the corner. This pin stood and tottered until a rolling deadwood struck it. Then it fell! “Whoop!” burst from the Texan, as he smote his thigh a crack. “There it is! There’s a strike for you!” “He needs it,” said Fraser. “Well, he has it,” retorted Buckhart. “This yere game isn’t finished yet, not by a long shot! You hear me chirp!” Arlington was not disturbed by Dick’s success. With his nerves perfectly steady he prepared for the next effort. But he only got six pins, which gave him sixteen on his spare and a hundred and two, all told, in the eighth frame. “Look at that! Look at that!” smiled Fraser. “There’s a score for you! One hundred and two on eight rolls! He will make a hundred and twenty!” “I am afraid he is out of reach,” muttered Barron Black. “I am afraid Merriwell can’t touch him.” “Hi dunno habout that,” said Billy Bradley. “There’s a chance left, don’t y’ ’now!” “A mighty slim one!” “Well, Dick his the boy to make hit hif hit can be done. ’Ere he goes!” Seven pins fell with the first ball, and but one was left standing when Dick rolled the second. This gave him nineteen on his strike, with a total of ninety-three against Chester’s one hundred and two. At that point Arlington was nine points in the lead. With the remaining ball Dick tried to secure the last pin standing, but barely brushed it, and it did not fall. At the end of the ninth the score stood one hundred and eleven to one hundred and two in Arlington’s favor. Chester made ready for the final effort. “He can’t beat me now,” Chet was exultantly thinking. “I have him at last!”