Young Merriwell had found Connor a difficult hitter to deceive, but he now resolved to use his cleverest curves on the Maplewood shortstop. Opening with the jump ball, he caused Connor to lift a foul over Buckhart’s head, although Brad was unable to get back in time to catch it. The Texan called for the combination ball, and Dick nodded. Even though this remarkable curve was used, Connor again touched the ball. This time it was the slightest sort of a foul tip, but the ball was slightly deflected, and struck Buckhart on the end of his right thumb. When Brad stooped to pick up the ball, which had fallen to the ground, he noticed that his thumb had been put out of joint and was split. The umpire called time while Buckhart’s injury was examined by a doctor, who pulled the thumb into place and dressed it. “You can do no more catching to-day,” said the doctor. “Don’t you believe it, doc!” exclaimed the plucky Texan. “I opine I will stay right under the stick and finish the game.” Nor could Buckhart be persuaded by any one to retire from the game. For all of his injury, he returned to his position. Now, however, Dick felt that he must consider Brad’s condition, and in doing this he gave Connor a ball which the fellow hit and sent flying along the ground between first and second for a single. Halligan followed with a scratch hit, and the bases were filled when Bold permitted Lumley’s hot grounder to get past him. It was a time of great anxiety, as the game was drawing near its close, seven innings having been agreed upon in advance. “Too bad that catcher got his bum thusted—I mean his thumb busted,” spluttered Harry Rattleton. “Dick hasn’t dared let his wing out since then.” Bart Hodge had joined Merriwell’s party, and he now seized Merry by the arm, eagerly panting: “What do you think, Frank—had I not better offer to go into that game? Hadn’t I better take Buckhart’s place? Dick can’t pitch to Buckhart now. You can see he’s afraid to let himself out. Don’t you think I’d better go in?” Merriwell shook his head. “No, Hodge,” he said. “Let them fight their own battle. Let them win or lose with their own team. Keep out of it.” “Oh, I am sorry you won’t let Bart go!” almost sobbed Elsie Bellwood. “I know they are going to lose unless some one else goes in to catch.” “Frank is right,” declared Inza. “Let Dick win or lose without assistance from outsiders.”