“I believe there is a man in the National League that claims to do it. Those who have seen him work say he really does pitch such a ball.” “Impossible! The only drop it can have is the one given it by natural gravitation.” “I know it seems that way, but they say his ball rises steadily after leaving his hand till it is more than two-thirds of the distance to the batter, and then takes a most remarkable down shoot. It is said to be a wicked ball to hit.” “Well,” said Wallace, “I shall take no stock in such yarns till I am convinced by the evidence of my own eyes—and then I don’t know as I could believe it.” “It is plain that you are prejudiced, and any man will waste his time who tries to convince you. There are hundreds of people in the country to-day who will not believe it possible to throw any kind of a curve. Some of them will not be convinced. They are not worth wasting time upon.” With that Frank turned away. Wallace paled and pressed his lips together, for he felt that Merriwell’s final words were a thrust at him. Mart Woodock slipped up to Wallace and muttered in his ear: “That fellow thinks he knows it all. He makes me sick!” “Well, I’m not stuck on him myself,” sulked Wallace. “I do not fancy being given even a mild calling down by such a chap as he.” Then they drew aside by themselves and talked in low tones. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER III BACK TO THE YACHT. If Frank had accepted, he and his friends would have been taken care of at the best hotel at Belfast without finding it necessary to pay a cent for accommodations. The Belfast Wheelmen assured him that the city was his. He could take what he wanted, and they would settle the bill. But Frank explained that the accommodations on board the _White Wings_ were sufficient and he preferred staying on board, as he could watch his yacht. He did not wish to take chances of losing it, and it was possible Flynn might make another desperate attempt to take it. He was invited to accompany the club on an evening run to Northport, and accepted. They told him to bring along any of his friends who wished to go, saying wheels would be furnished for all. When he left the club he was forced to pass through the throng outside the door. As he appeared, a voice exclaimed: “There he is!” Then there was considerable pushing, and a small boy shouted: “Hooray fer Frank Merriwell! He’s a jim-hickey!” A yell went up from the boys. Frank laughed and bowed. “Why don’t ye come down here to live?” piped a little fellow. “Then Belfast could git inter the league an’ beat anything on top of the earth.” “Clear out, you young rascals!” cried Howard Dustan. “Don’t you know better than to block the way!” He started to drive them back, but Frank quickly interfered. “That’s all right, Dustan,” he said. “They are not in my way. Let them alone.”