But there was something else to be considered. Costigan had seen considerable of Merriwell’s pitching, and he knew Frank was at his best when forced to send them over. Merry had great control, and no one was better aware of it than Joe Costigan. Frank decided that Costigan would think that the next one was sure to be straight over and swift. “He will try to line it out if it looks good,” decided Frank. Then he made a delivery that seemed to put all the speed possible into the ball, which started as if to go straight over the plate. Frank had made no mistake in his reasoning. Costigan bit, but, as it was an outcurve, he did not touch the ball. “Two strikes!” Bart tossed the ball back to Frank. Costigan looked disgusted, and Capt. Hardy cried: “It would have been a ball if you had waited.” No one knew that better than Costigan himself. Without delay Frank sent in another. This time it was an outcurve, but it was started straight at the batter. Costigan was a trifle mixed and he started back. Too late he saw what kind of a ball it was, and weakly swung his bat at it. He missed. “Three strikes--man is out,” called the umpire. Hodge flung down his mask and sent the ball rolling down toward the pitcher’s box, while Merriwell and his “scrub” team came in from the field. “Who said they would bat me out of the box?” laughed Merry. “Wait,” grinned Bink Stubbs, trying to appear pleasant and jovial. “The game has just begun.” “That was crafty work, Merriwell,” complimented Capt. Hardy. “I will give you the credit of that.” “Thank you,” said Frank, pleasantly. “Jeffers gave me a shock, and that made me brace up.” “That farmer out there on the left lawn gave all of us a shock,” said Hardy. “How did he catch that ball?” “With his hands,” smiled Frank. “I didn’t think he caught it with his feet, but there was a time that it seemed as if he had just as good show to catch it with his feet as with his hands. How did you know he could play ball?” “Oh, I’ve talked with him considerable, and I discovered that he knew all the fine points of the game. Then he told me that he used to play on a strong country team up in New Hampshire--sort of a league team.” “Huah!” grunted Hardy. “That would bar him from playing with Yale, even if he should prove fast enough. Without doubt he has taken pay for playing.” “I don’t know about that.” “It would make him a professional, if he had. Say, how about that Fort Worth business? I understand you and Hodge played with the team down there. Were you paid for it?” “Not a cent.” Hardy looked relieved. “I was afraid you had taken pay,” he said. “If you had been that foolish, we would be in a scrape, for you might be barred as an amateur, you know.” “And that would give some of my very particular friends great satisfaction,” smiled Frank. “But you need not let that worry you at all. We played with Fort Worth for the sport of it, and did not receive a cent for doing so.”