“Laugh!” he exclaimed. “I know what I am talking about! I have traveled with Frank Merriwell, and he is all right.” “From his head up,” said a voice. “Oh, it’s you, is it, Pooler. Well, you are the one I’d expect would make such a remark.” Pooler strode forward, scowling blackly. “Why, you miserable fool!” he snarled; “do you dare talk to me like that? I’ll--I’ll----” Hodge looked Pink straight in the eyes. “I am going to tell you now that I do not think but little of you, Mr. Pooler,” he said. “You are always croaking. Now you are howling about Yale’s ball team. I’m willing to bet fifty dollars that Yale beats Princeton next Saturday, and I’ll bet fifty more she wins the college championship.” Pooler was digging down into his pockets. “Money talks!” he cried. “It’s a shame to rob a fool, but I can’t stand everything. Here is my money. I’ll put it in the hands of Gooch.” “Put it in Halliday’s hands and I will cover it,” said Hodge, hotly. “All right. I’m not fussy. Halliday suits me.” The money was staked and covered. CHAPTER XIX. THE DOUBLE SHOOT. “You have speed to burn, Merry,” cried Bart Hodge, as he rounded up on catching a ball that had come flying like a bullet from Frank’s hand. “There must be powder behind those whistlers.” Frank laughed. His hat, coat and vest were off, and he was perspiring freely. Together with Bart, he was putting in a little practice. Frank was in the pink of condition. His eyes were clear and bright, his complexion almost girlish in its pink-and-white, while his legs, arms, muscles, all were firm and hard. The flesh of his arm, from which the sleeve was rolled back, was white as marble. “Some of the fellows who have been croaking about your ‘dead wing’ will drop dead when they see you shoot ’em over,” said Hodge, his face glowing with enthusiasm and earnestness. “There are always croakers, Bart,” said Frank, indifferently. “A fellow is a fool if he permits them to bother him.” “They make me thundering mad.” “Mustn’t notice them.” “Can’t help it.” “Can if you try.” “No. I am not built like you.” “It all comes of practice. If you keep trying, in a short time you get so you do not notice it at all. Get on to this twist, old man.” Then Frank made a jumping motion with his body, but held his feet on the ground, and sent in a ball that made Bart blink and gasp. “Talk about chain-lightning!” cried Hodge. “Why, that one was a regular dodger! How’d you do it, Frank? or did my eyes fool me?” Merriwell laughed heartily over Bart’s surprise. “I call that my double shoot,” he explained. “I’ll give it to you again.” Bart tossed back the ball, and Frank carefully wound his fingers round it; then made the jumping motion, sending it whizzing through the air again. This time Hodge dodged and let it go past. “Scissors!” he cried. “That fooled me. I thought it was going the other way. It took a queer shoot on the last end.” Again Frank laughed. “That was the double curve the other way,” he said.