Fuller quickly jotted down the score. “This is Merriwell’s grand opportunity!” cried Grafter. “I have a finger and thumb into your pocket, Manton.” The Eagle Heights bowler turned away and sat down, mopping his perspiring face. Fisher stepped over and sat down beside him. “Merriwell will slump, also,” he said, in a low voice. “It almost always happens that way. If the leading man falls down, the one following takes a tumble.” “That’s something no one can count on,” muttered Manton. “Great Scott!” gasped Fisher. “You’re not giving up?” “Hardly; but that was infernal luck.” It was almost certain that Denton Frost felt quite as bad about it as Manton, but he said nothing. His face was like a cake of ice. “It’s the golden moment, Merry!” muttered Hodge, in the ear of Manton. Frank knew it. There was nothing mechanical about him, yet he was steady as a piece of machinery. Through life he had tried to grasp his opportunities. This was an opportunity he must not miss. The pins were up when he stepped onto the runway. He picked up his ball and took his position. There was a hush. In the midst of it Frost turned to Grafter and whispered: “He’s shaking; he’ll blow up now.” The whisper was loud enough for every one to hear, and Frost was rewarded by several hisses from the spectators. Boom!—the ball sped down the alley. “It’s another strike!” exclaimed an excited watcher. Crash! A dozen persons shouted, for it was a strike. “Still he’s only one hundred and twenty-nine in his fifth, against your one forty-seven,” murmured Fisher, in the ear of Manton. “But his strike gives him the advantage on the next two boxes,” muttered the gentleman pugilist huskily. “He can’t beat you if you get right down to it.” “I’ll do all I can.” Fisher was disappointed in the manner of his companion. Manton did try hard the next time, but two pins were left standing. “I’m getting my whole hand into that pocket,” said Grafter. Manton clipped off the two pins with his second ball, and secured a spare. “That may hold Merriwell,” said Frost. “His turn is coming.” Apparently Frank struck the pins perfectly, but there was another shout when it was seen that he had left two standing. “I told you!” said Frost. A gleam of hope came to Manton’s face. Frank waited for the ball to be returned. Then he tried a difficult shot in the hope of getting a spare, but missed the first pin by the merest fraction of an inch. Fuller swiftly marked down the score, and a perfect roar filled the alley when the result was seen. Merry had one hundred and fifty-seven in the sixth box and one hundred and seventy-five in the seventh, which tied Manton at that point. In the eighth box he had one hundred and eighty-three, with the result of Manton’s spare to be recorded in that box, which, without doubt, would again put the Eagle Heights man in the lead. “You have him!” hissed Fisher, in Manton’s ear. “Keep your nerve now and you’ll beat him out easily!”