"They know better than that!" exclaimed the manager of the Camdens, flushing. "We gave them a shock by winning from them in our opening game. They thought they had a snap. They have been hustling since then, but we held the lead for a long time. Now we are tied with them for first place, and this game to-day decides who holds the position. If Woods and Makune arrive on the twelve o'clock car, we'll try to give Rockland a surprise this afternoon." "Woods is a pitcher, isn't he?" "He is, and he's a good man, too, but his arm is not in the best condition. He hurt it a few weeks ago, and it hasn't got back yet. All the same, he says he will pitch for us this afternoon--telephoned me to that effect. He's on the level, and he wouldn't want to pitch if he didn't think he could win." "Then I don't see why you want anything of me," smiled Frank. "Woods can play any position," said Moslof, quickly. "With you in the box, we'd have the strongest nine ever seen in this State." "You have started my baseball blood to boiling," laughed Merry; "but I think I'll keep my head cool and not play." At this moment some one announced that the twelve o'clock car was coming, and all hurried out to see if Woods and Makune were on it. They were. They were met by Moslof, who shook hands with them and then introduced them to Merriwell. "What?" exclaimed Makune. "Frank Merriwell, the Yale man?" "The same," confessed Frank. "Why, Portland tried to get you two weeks ago, but couldn't get track of you. Moslof, you did a good trick when you nailed Merriwell." "But I haven't nailed him," said the manager of the Camdens. "I've tried every way possible to get him. He is stopping here on his own yacht." Woods did not seem to be much of a talker, but when he shook hands with Merry, many in the crowd noticed a strong resemblance between them. Merriwell was the taller and darker. Woods was very quiet in his manner, and he impressed the observer favorably at a glance. He had the air of a gentleman, even though he was a professional ball player. That day Woods, Makune, Moslof and Merriwell dined together at the Bay View, and Frank told himself that never had he met a pleasanter set of fellows. There was something about Woods that drew Merry to him in a most remarkable manner. Frank had not known him an hour before he felt as if they were old friends. "Do you think you can win from Rockland this afternoon, Walter?" asked Moslof. "I can try," said Woods, quietly. "Win!" exclaimed Makune. "Why, he is sure to win! If you have the team you say you have, we'll eat Rockland." "How's your arm, Walter?" asked Moslof. "I think it's all right," assured Woods. "All right!" cried Makune. "Of course it's all right! Never was better. You didn't hurt it much, anyway, Walt." "Yes, I did," declared Woods, truthfully. "I thought I had killed it, and I reckoned that my ball playing days were over. I didn't care much, either. If it hadn't been for you, Makune, I'd quit, anyway."