“What’d I tell yer? Oh, you’re a knowin’ feller, you are! He done a lot, didn’t he!” Spud made some kind of retort, but the roaring of the delighted crowd drowned his words. Wolfers was the hero of the moment as he swaggered in toward the local bench. Hans Dunnerwurst could not believe the evidence of his eyes. “A misdake has made you,” he muttered, as he stared at the umpire. “Nefer in his life dit der pall strike him oudt.” “Into the field, boys,” said Frank. “We must hold them down and get another inning. We still have a chance for this game.” “How could you strike out, Merry!” muttered Bart Hodge. “How could you!” Frank saw that his companions were badly broken up over what had happened. His reputation as a safe hitter at critical moments was such that a failure seemed impossible. “Brace up, fellows!” he sharply commanded. “The score is still tied.” Morgan was angry. “What’s the matter with you fellows?” he sharply demanded. “You think a man ought to hit all the time. Keep in the game, and Merry will pull it off the coals.” The Elks were jubilant. They patted Wolfers on the back and complimented him on his cleverness. “Get out!” he growled. “It was no trick at all. I can strike him out four times out of five. I know his weak spot.” “I’ve been told he has no weak spot,” said Billy Cronin. “That’s rot! He has a weak spot, all right enough. I wish all the others on his team were just as easy.” “Well, you’ve made yourself solid in this town, anyhow,” said George Rush. “The crowd was frightened. A hit just then might have fixed us.” “Well, you must jump in and get some runs now,” said the manager. “We may as well wind the game up. The crowd is satisfied, and the town will back this team after to-day.” “If we ever get a chance at the other teams in this old league we’ll trim them for fair,” grinned Rush. “But I’m afraid we’ll frighten them so they’ll continue to hold us out.” “They can’t do it,” declared Lawrence. “The Central League can’t run without us. A three-cornered league is rotten, and the other towns must have us. They’ll come to time pretty soon. If we can get games enough, we’ll lose no money while this thing is hanging fire. We’ll make something on the game to-day. It might have hurt us if we’d lost, as I agreed that the winners should take two-thirds of the net receipts. Merriwell made the terms. He’ll have to be satisfied with a third if we carry off the game.” “We’ll carry it off,” said Sprowl, as he selected a bat. “This inning ought to be enough.” “Aw, it’ll be enough,” nodded Wolfers. “Go ahead and get first, Chuck. I’ll drive you round. That feller can’t pitch any better than he can bat.” Wolfers had a very poor opinion of Merriwell’s ability. Sprowl hit the first ball pitched. It skimmed along the ground about four feet inside the line to first base. Browning sprang in front of it, but he did not touch it with his hands, and it went between his legs.