Hodge knew Merry’s ankle was in poor condition, but he was not aware of Frank’s trouble in securing control of the ball. Therefore he was satisfied when he donned the body protector and mask that there would be a great and immediate change in the run of the game. He doubted not that Merriwell would check the run getting of the enemy. Cronin, the lank and lively third baseman of the Elks, was the first batter to face Frank. Merry knew Cronin was a great sacrifice hitter, his position being second on the batting list. Still the man had shown that he could hit out beautifully when occasion demanded, and, with no one ahead of him on the bags, he would be sure to try for a hit or a pass. This man’s only weakness was a high ball, close to the shoulder; and sometimes he could hit those safely. Frank’s first ball was handsomely placed and cleanly missed. “Str-r-r-rike—kah!” called the umpire. “Hit id vere id missed you!” yelled Dunnerwurst, from the field. “That’s the place, Merry,” laughed Hodge, all the clouds gone from his face. “It’s so easy!” “Verily it is a thing of great delight,” murmured Jack Ready. “How can he hit them when he can’t see them?” rumbled Bruce Browning. Dade Morgan, sitting on the bench, his left hand clasping his right arm above the elbow, smiled and nodded with satisfaction. “Merry will save the game,” he muttered to himself. “He’s a snap, Billy,” called Rush, the Elkton shortstop. “Let those whisker trimmers go.” Cronin nodded and winked. He was satisfied that he would have no trouble in getting what he wanted off Frank. As for Merry, he was agreeably surprised by his success in placing the first ball. “If I can only keep that up!” he thought. His next ball was lower, but still close. Cronin let it pass. “Ba-a-a-all—ah!” came from the umpire. “He’s got to put it over, Billy,” chirped Rush. Hodge snapped the ball back to Frank, who instantly returned it. Cronin was caught napping and did not try to hit. It cut the plate in halves. “Str-r-r-rike—kah two!” “Come, come, Mr. Batter!” yelled one of the spectators; “smoke up! You’re in a trance.” “It surely is a thing of exceeding great delight,” again murmured Ready. Cronin was somewhat disgusted. He was not, as a rule, the sort of chap to be caught in such a manner, and it made him sore. His face flushed and his eyes glinted. He gripped his bat and stood ready for anything. Frank tried an outcurve, causing it to sweep outside the plate. Cronin grinned derisively and let it pass. “Ba-a-a-all—ah!” “Even with him, Merry,” said Hodge. “Put the next one right over. Let him hit it a mile—if he can.” At the same time he called for a drop. Frank had abandoned the practice of shaking his head when about to pitch a ball different from the one called for. Instead, he assumed a position that plainly told Hodge he would use a rise or a very high ball. It proved too high, and Cronin did not move his bat. “Ba-a-a-all—ah three!” announced the umpire.