“Are you in earnest about wishing to play?” he asked. “Do you really want us to win?” “Sure thing.” “Then put on your suit and come to the field. I’ve seen you pitch, and, with a catcher who knows his business under the bat, I am sure you can do a good turn. I pitched a hard game yesterday and another the day before that. Bold has rheumatism in the shoulder of his pitching arm, and he’s afraid he’ll not last through the game to-day. This climate with its fog has knocked his arm out. I shall start the game with Bold in the box. If he is batted hard some one will have to take his place. I don’t wish to use my own arm up, and it’s possible I might give you a chance to hand the ball up a few innings in case you were on our bench.” The eyes of Jack Cole actually gleamed. A strange look of eagerness came to his plain face. “You don’t mean it?” he cried. “You wouldn’t really and truly use me to pitch for you? Why, I’ve thought a hundred times that if I could pitch just one game with your fellers behind me I’d show some of the folks round here what I could do. I never dreamed I’d have the chance.” “I’m not promising you the chance to-day,” said Dick. “I am simply promising to try you a few innings in case you’re absolutely needed; but I wish you to understand that you must say nothing of this to anybody. You’re not to let a soul know you may play with us until you reach the field and sit on our bench. I don’t want any one to get after you and make any talk to you.” “I will keep mum,” promised Cole, “and I’ll be there, Mr. Merriwell. You can depend on me, you bet!” Saying which, he hastened away. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIV TRICKS COME THICK. Never before had such a roaring crowd assembled on the Maplewood ball field. Special cars came rolling into town, loaded down with men and boys, who sprang off and went marching away toward the field. They were loud and boisterous in manner, and many of them announced repeatedly that they were there to see the home team win. That a great number of them were toughs could be seen at a glance. When the game began, however, not all the spectators assembled on the field were of this tough class. The summer visitors of Maplewood were on hand in an unusually large body, and even while practice was going on some of them complained to Benton Hammerswell that the language of the roughs present was offensive. They asked the Maplewood manager if he could not do something to keep these offensive persons quiet. “I am afraid it’s impossible,” he answered. “I didn’t expect such a crowd to-day or I would have had officers present. I am sorry if they are offensive in their conduct or talk, but I can’t repress them without assistance.”