Frank and Bart left the lot in company with the officers and the others. They saw nothing of the members of the gang who had taken flight. “You see my warning was one to be heeded, Merriwell,” said Grafter, as he was about to leave Frank. “Hobe Manton is vicious, and he’ll do everything in his power to injure you. He’ll stop at nothing. Better swear out a warrant for his arrest and put the police after him.” “I’ll consider it,” said Merry. “It would give me some satisfaction to settle the matter with him personally. I have a strong desire to show him that he received nothing but a mere taste when we had our little fight at Eagle Heights.” “I don’t blame you, Merry!” cried Hodge earnestly. “I always like to settle such matters myself! I’d like to have a turn at him. He thinks he’s a fighter; but I wouldn’t mind meeting him on even footing.” “It seems to me that your friends are fighters, Grafter,” said McGann. “You’ll think so after the game next Saturday,” retorted Wallace. CHAPTER XV. GRAFTER GROWS UNEASY. The game that was to be between Frank Merriwell’s team and the great Outcasts was thoroughly advertised. Much was said about it in the sporting columns of the New York papers. The sporting writers were one and all inclined to doubt the ability of the Merries to check the triumphant career of the Outcasts. One well-known sporting writer demonstrated in his paper, to his own satisfaction, at least, that it was utterly impossible for Merriwell’s team to defeat the fast nine formed from the very best of the “timber” left over from the big leagues. It must not be fancied that Frank himself felt certain of winning. He knew the sort of a “proposition” he and his comrades were going up against. It aroused all his sporting blood and determination. It likewise aroused the others. Hodge was the only man on the team who seemed confident of victory, but all were resolved to play for their very lives. At least, it would be no disgrace if they met defeat. They practiced faithfully, and each day Merry worked at his new curve. “Bart,” he said, “I hope I can fool those chaps with that ball. I hear they are wonderful batters. I have been told that they have found a man who throws something like the double-shoot, and they have been practicing batting with him as pitcher. They expect to fall on me when I hand them up the double-shoot and hammer me to the four winds.” “You’ll fool them, Merry,” nodded Hodge positively. “If they get a single hit off that curve I shall be surprised.”