“Two strikes!” declared the umpire. “That’s criminal, Merry—criminal!” exclaimed Wiley reproachfully. “How could you deceive your bosom friend like that? I thought guile and deception was not to be found in your heart, but now, alas! I realize that you are like other mortals of common clay.” Wiley now became the butt of ridicule for the crowd, but he did not mind it in the least. In fact, the more they tried to josh and guy him the more he seemed to like it. He declined to swing at two coaxers. “Nay, nay, Merry!” cried the sailor. “I am onto your tricks now. You would betray your bosom comrade. You’ll have to put it over before I wiggle my wand again.” “I see you are onto me,” said Merry. “It is useless for me to try to fool you, so I’ll give you one straight over. Here it is.” Merry threw his peculiar “dope ball.” Even though Wiley himself was a pitcher, and he often used a slow ball, he was fooled this time. It seemed to come up as large as a balloon, and he struck at it. He hit it, too. But he simply popped a tiny little fly into the air, and Merry sprang forward and caught it. The spectators roared and shouted, asking the sailor if that was his wonderful four-base hit. Wiley shook his head sadly. “Never again as long as I tread this terrestrial sphere shall I trust human nature,” he declared, ambling toward the bench. “I have been basely betrayed. But wait—my revenge is yet to come, and it shall be deep and terrible.” O’Neill longed to make a safe hit, but he was another of the batters that Merry fanned easily. Then came Creel, and he bunted. Again Ready got the ball in time to throw the man out, but once more he made a poor throw. Browning was dragged off the base, and Creel reached it in safety. Instantly Wiley appeared on the coaching line and opened up merrily. He gave Creel the signal to try to steal second. “May as well take chances,” he muttered. “We’ll never get a score any other way.” So the runner attempted a steal on the first ball Frank pitched to Marcey. The ball came whistling into the hands of Hodge. Bart seemed to pause a moment and watch Creel on his way to second. Then he made a throw that sent the ball down on a dead line and straight into the hands of Rattleton, who was waiting. Creel slid, but Harry nailed him, and the third inning was over. CHAPTER XIX. A GAME WORTH WINNING. “Well, what do you think of it, Gowan?” laughed old man Grafter, as the seventh inning closed with the score still one to nothing in favor of the Merries. McGann had joined Gowan. He showed that he was worried. “Think?” wheezed the corpulent backer of the Outcasts. “I think it’s something unreasonable. I believe Merriwell has bought the game!” “No, no!” said McGann, shaking his head. “You’re wrong, Bob.” “Then why don’t they bat that fellow?” “He’s using a new curve, and they can’t hit it. Hurley says it’s something absolutely novel.”