Billy Mac, of course, would be backstop. He had been practicing all afternoon with Merry, and Chip had found that he could ask no better partner. The lanky Dan McCarthy would cover third, and looked as if he would do it efficiently. Jim Spaulding made a bid for the central sack. He was one of the town players who had been ousted by Bully Carson, and was correspondingly bitter against the Clippers. Chub Newton would take care of short. “We won’t be a cl-l-lassy-l-l-lookin’ bunch,” announced the little fellow, as he inspected the ancient and tattered uniform he had brought along, “but we’l-l-l be right there when it comes to bal-l-l pl-l-laying!” “You bet!” chuckled McCarthy, eying his own faded green shirt and baseball pants. “If I don’t bang out a two-bagger, I’ll quit tryin’ to play ball, by gum!” The outfield would be taken care of by Moore, also an ex-Clipper; Henderson, who had been a high-school star two years before, and a tremendously built young chap named Nippen. This Nippen was almost a giant in build, possessed of terrific strength, and apparently had the general aspect and intelligence of a cow. He was the one member of the gathering who did not impress Merriwell as being especially adapted for baseball. Billy, however, reassured his friend in a whispered aside that Nippen would produce the goods. “He doesn’t look up to much, Chip, and he lumbers around like an overgrown puppy. But when he lands on the ball, he kills it, and the way he covers center field is something wonderful to watch. You wait!” So Merry smiled and waited. Every one present displayed inspiring eagerness to work. There was one thing, however, which troubled Merriwell. This was the ill feeling which they displayed. “You’ve got to watch that, fellows,” he said. “I noticed to-day that you weren’t a bit anxious to avoid trouble. Now, if we start in to win that game, it’s going to make the other crowd sore. They’ll try to get us into a fight and break up things. I want you to promise me that whatever they say or do, you’ll keep your heads and let the scrapping wait till later. We can’t afford to get rattled, you know.” All save McCarthy recognized this fact and readily extended their promise. The lanky third baseman held back, however. “If that feller Squint Fletcher gets gay, I’m goin’ to paste him,” he declared stubbornly. “I won’t take any talk or any dirty work from him.” “All right,” said Merry quietly. “We’ll have to find another man to cover third, I’m afraid. We can’t take any chances that way, fellows.” McCarthy was taken all aback by this. When he found that Merriwell was in earnest, he scratched his head and reconsidered. “All right,” he said, “I’ll promise not to start anything like a scrap, no matter what Squint does. But I’m goin’ to file my spikes, jest the same. I reckon we’d better make Merriwell captain, fellers.” There was an instant shout of agreement. Chip held up his hand.