ARRANGING FOR THE GAME. On an open lot within sight of the Harlem River Frank Merriwell and Bart Hodge were practicing. Merry was working to see what he could do with the “spit ball,” which he had found to be extremely difficult to control. “You have it all right, Merry,” declared Hodge. “Great Scott! doesn’t she take a sharp shoot!” “Always feel like I’m going to lose control of the ball when I deliver it,” confessed Frank. “You seem to have more speed when you spit on her.” “The ball leaves the fingers with greater speed. I suppose the sharp shoot is caused by the banking of air against the wet surface. You know air will bank heavier against the wet surface of a moving object than against a dry surface. About all the spit-ball pitchers have one way that they deliver the ball. I’ve been trying various ways. Watch this.” Merry swung his arm in a peculiar manner and the ball was delivered with his hand high in the air. It sped downward toward the outside corner of the stone which served as a plate. Suddenly it took a queer upward swerve. Hodge grabbed at it and was nearly upset. “What the dickens——” he cried, and stopped. Merry was laughing. “Do that again,” urged Bart, returning the ball. Frank complied. “That beats!” gasped Bart. “Why, the ball seems to come down from your hand on a straight line toward the outside of the plate. Four or five feet before it reaches the plate it swerves upward with a combined rise and incurve, passing over the inside corner. It’s marvelous!” “It’s something like an outdrop reversed—turned bottom up,” said Frank. “That’s just what it is; but I can’t see how you make it rise so much. Merry, can you control that?” “I don’t know. I’ve found out how to throw it. I presume control will come with practice.” “If you can control it, I’ll guarantee you can strike the best of ’em out with it. It will be even more effective than the double shoot. It’s marvelous! If you could start it toward the inside corner and give it the other sweep it would be magic.” “Let me see,” said Merry, taking the ball in his hand and studying over it. “How could that be done?” He tried several times, being rather wild, but finally Bart gave a shout. “That’s it! You did it then!” “It seemed to be it,” nodded Frank. “Wonder if I can repeat that?” He kept at it until he did repeat it, not only once, but a number of times. “Talk about sorcery!” cried Bart. “Certainly you are a sorcerer with a baseball!” “I think I shall keep after that until I can handle it,” said Merry. “I’d like to see what batters could do with it. I’ll try it in the next game we play.” “Who are these men coming this way?” said Hodge, scrutinizing two persons who were approaching across the lot. “I believe I know one of them.” “One looks natural to me.” “We met him at the Eagle Heights club the other day. It’s Wallace Grafter.” “Sure enough!” Grafter it was, and he was accompanied by Melvin McGann.