Frank Merriwell waited for Gamp. Joe had his eyes on the ground as he came up. Merry took his arm, and they walked in together. “Dud-don’t touch me!” said Gamp huskily. “I’m a lul-lobster!” “You made a wonderful run for that ball, Joe,” said Merry. “I didn’t think you could get anywhere near it!” “Th-three inches mum-mum-more and I’d ha-had it!” groaned the sorrowful fellow. “I lul-lost the gug-game!” “Nothing of the sort!” “Yes, I did!” “I lost it myself. I couldn’t control the ball, and I gave that batter one just where he wanted it.” “It’s all right for you to sus-say that, Merry; but I didn’t cuc-catch that fly.” “No fielder could have caught it, and not one in a thousand could have touched it.” Still Gamp blamed himself. Hodge had flung aside the mask and body protector. He glared at Joe as the tall fellow came up. “Why didn’t you get your paws onto that ball?” he snarled. “I ought to,” said Joe. “Of course you had! That would——” “Stop, Bart!” commanded Frank promptly. “You know, as well as I, that Joe came amazingly near getting it.” “Well, why didn’t he?” “Because it was beyond human accomplishment. You have no right to speak to him that way. Better take it back.” Bart muttered something and began overhauling the bats to get hold of his own stick, which he religiously cared for at all times. The sting of defeat was hard to bear. Merry was not satisfied. “You know who lost the game, Bart,” he said. “You know I am alone to blame. Don’t try to put the blame onto any one else. Kick at me for my rotten pitching, if you like.” Hodge said nothing now. He had found his bat, but he glared at the stick as if that were somehow to blame for the misfortune that had befallen them. Dunnerwurst seemed on the verge of tears, while Rattleton looked sad enough. The loss of this particular game had depressed the whole team more than anything that had happened on the entire trip. Finally Hodge turned to Gamp, who was pulling on his sweater. “I beg your pardon, Joe,” he said sincerely. “I was wrong. I know it. You were not to blame.” “Yes, I was!” persisted Gamp, willing and ready to shoulder the burden. “Not a bit of it,” asserted Bart. “It was fate. We had to lose the game. We were all to blame. We couldn’t hit Wolfers! I’d like to try it again!” he savagely ended. “We’d all like to try it again,” said Browning. “Can’t we?” eagerly asked Rattleton. “Let’s!” grunted Badger. “Get together, fellows,” directed Frank. “We’ll give Elkton a cheer.” “It’s their place to cheer us first,” objected Hodge. “Never mind that. We’ll get ahead of them. Open it up good and hearty. Let’s show them that we can lose without crying baby. None of us fancies a baby.” He gathered them about him and led the cheer, which was hearty enough.