A colored boy had followed them into the room, and he had the pins all set up. At this point Grafter, Phipps, and Fisher appeared, apparently looking round for the visitors. They were surprised and interested when they found out what was taking place. “Just in time, Grafter!” cried Manton. “Have you plenty of the needful on your person? You know the sort of talk you were making on the veranda a while ago. Here’s the opportunity to part with some of your filthy.” Grafter was not one to back down. They stepped aside and spoke in low tones. “Bet you a hundred I beat him this string,” proposed Manton. Frank knew what was taking place, and he seized the opportunity to say: “Mr. Grafter, I’m not in my best bowling form, and bowling is not a specialty with me.” “I’ll go you, Manton,” said Grafter, without paying the least heed to Frank. The gentleman pugilist smiled with satisfaction. “No need to put the money up,” he said. “Then we won’t break any rules. Here’s where I begin to get into you. I hope Merriwell stays around until after the meet. I’ll have you going to your old man for change.” “For conceit,” returned Grafter, “you certainly take the cake. If you win my money, you’re welcome to it.” Frost was smiling as they returned and Manton made ready for business. Merry had been looking the balls over. They were a fine lot, but he weighed one after another in his hands, examined the finger holds and finally selected two of them as his favorites. A coin was tossed to see who would lead off, and it fell on Manton. He picked out a large ball, took his position on the right-hand side of the runway, bent forward, swung the ball at the end of his arm once like the pendulum of a clock, then ran forward and rolled. He started the ball from the right-hand side of the alley, rolling it toward the head pin, which it struck quarteringly. With a crash, every pin fell. “Pretty, old man!” cried Fisher approvingly. “That’s the way to start her off!” “It’s keeping it up that counts,” said Grafter. “Don’t worry about me,” advised Manton smilingly. Now the strange thing of the affair was that Grafter, although he had bet on Frank, was inclined to believe Merry would be beaten. He knew Manton to be a wonderfully good bowler, while he was not at all certain that Merriwell had ever accomplished much at it. Having made betting talk on the veranda, however, he was not the fellow to let Manton back him down, and, therefore, he had ventured a hundred dollars on the result. It is likely that Bart Hodge was the only person present who had perfect confidence in Merry as a bowler. Bart’s face was grave and unreadable as that of a stone image. Frank picked up one of the two balls he had selected. He was watched closely to note his “form” by all present. He poised the ball in front of his face, made a short run and a single swing. Seven pins fell. Denton Frost smiled chillingly. Farley Fisher shrugged his military shoulders.