“Glory is not all. I can tell by the way McGann talked that they believe themselves the only ones on earth. He fancies he has a snap in the arrangement that the winning team shall take all the gate money. He’s chuckling in his sleeves over the fact that you refused his offer and then stepped into a trap by which we’ll get nothing at all. His manner made me sore. I’d rather take that game than any ten common games.” “We’ll go after it hard, Bart. If I can get the new curve down pat before that game, I may be able to bother some of the batters with it.” “Some of them! I’ll bet you’ll bother every one of them.” “Let’s try it some more.” They resumed practice, and both saw that Merry made progress in handling and controlling the new curve. Bart also advanced in the way of receiving it, for he grew accustomed to the sharp upward shoot of what seemed to be a falling ball. Finally they stopped and picked up their clothing, which lay on a pile of lumber near by. Frank had begun to adjust his collar when Bart said: “Look here, Merry—look quick! Who are these fellows?” Behind the cover of the lumber pile nine young men had approached. As soon as they realized that they were seen by Bart, they started on the run for the two youths. In their hands some of them carried heavy clubs. They had the manner of thugs. Merry took a look at them. “Great Cæsar!” he exclaimed, not wholly without dismay. “It’s Hobart Manton and a bunch of toughs! They’re after us, Bart, and we’re in for trouble!” Both Frank and Bart thought of taking flight. It seemed folly to stop there and face nine ruffians who were armed with clubs. Bart caught up his coat and vest and started. As he ran something fell from his vest. “Dropped my watch,” he exclaimed, stopping and turning back for it. It was a valuable watch in a certain way, being a present from his mother. He thought a great deal of it. Instantly Frank stopped and turned back. They did not find the watch at once. Just as Bart picked it up the thugs came rushing round both sides of the lumber pile and were upon them. “Yah!” snarled the leader, who was very well dressed, yet who had a face that seemed flushed with drink. “We have ye! Don’t try to run!” It was Hobart Manton himself. “Manton,” muttered Merry. “Yes, Manton!” cried the fellow. “And Frost!” came from Bart, as he pointed at another of the gang. “There’s Frost!” “And Necker, also,” said Merry, nodding toward a third chap. “Yes, we’re right here!” grated Manton, who was plainly the leader. “We’ve caught you just where I’ve been wanting to get you, too!” Merry surveyed the remaining six members of the gang, and he decided that they were genuine young loafers and desperadoes. Manton saw Frank surveying the gang, and he laughed harshly. “Oh, they’re scrappers, every one of them!” he cried. “They know you can fight, and they’re here to beat you up. You’ll get all that’s coming this day!” “What a fine, brave fellow Manton is!” grated Hodge.