“What do you think of that, boy?” he demanded. “That fellow didn’t seem to know what he was standing up there for.” “He did appear doped,” admitted Wallace; “but I think this one will wake up.” He was right, for Morgan smashed the first ball delivered. It hummed along the ground in the direction of Wiley. The sailor leaped for it and it struck his hands, bouncing out. Like a cat springing on a mouse, Wiley pounced on the ball, caught it up and whistled it across the diamond in time to put Dade out at first. “Too easy to get it the first time,” he said. “In order to show my superb style, I had to drop it and pick it up again. Bat them all to me. It’s the easiest way you can get out.” Buck Badger, grim and sturdy, strode forth to the plate. “A gent from the wild-and-woolly, unless I have been incorrectly informed,” said Wiley. “Whoop! Yi, yi, ye-ee! Yow! Notice the coyotelike melody of my voice. Give him a slow one.” “About like this, eh?” said O’Neill, as he delivered a “dope” ball. Badger had noted the speed of the pitcher, and he struck too soon. “One strike!” called the umpire. “Behave! behave!” exclaimed Wiley. “Why, he really tried to hit it before it left your hand, O’Neill.” “Confound that fellow!” grated Hodge. “He’s getting on my nerves.” “Don’t let him do that,” advised Frank. “It’s a part of his game. He always tries to worry the opposite side.” Buck had better luck with the second ball, for he sent a little Texas Leaguer over the infield and easily reached first. “What do you think of that?” cried the sailor. “O’Neill, you’re getting careless. You make me blush for you. Note the rosy color that suffuses my dimpled cheeks.” As Merry picked out his bat and walked to the plate he was given a round of applause. “Ahoy there, my old college chump!” hailed the sailor. “Waft an energetic one in this direction and permit me to demonstrate my dexterity by placing my diligent digits upon it.” Frank seemed to obey, for he smote the ball full and fair on the trade-mark and sent it sizzing through the air straight at the speaker. Wiley seemed to have no more than time to put up his hands. The ball struck them and bounded off toward second base. Roden went for it as Badger came down the line. He could not get it in time to tag the Kansan, but he made a sharp throw to first and Frank was declared out. “Score an assist for me!” cried Wiley. “I think I’ve lost a mitt, but I want to be credited with an assist. I’ll never ag’in invite him to bat the ball in my direction.” “Why didn’t you dodge it?” cried a spectator. “I didn’t have time,” confessed the Marine Marvel, as he designated himself. Mike Grafter had his face screwed up in a dozen hard knots. “They got one hit, but it didn’t amount to anything,” he said. “I’ll wager something the Outcasts do better than Merriwell, son?” “If I had any money left, I’d go you, dad,” said Wallace. “I thought you had good sporting blood. You seem to have a bad case of frosty feet.”