CHAPTER XXV.

MERRIWELL’S POWER.

So it happened that Hock Mason appeared on the field for practise the following day. His appearance was generally unexpected. It was thought that, having discovered the universal sentiment, Merriwell could not help dropping the South Carolinian from the team.

Hock walked into the field with his head up and his lips pressed together. He knew he was being eyed in a curious, scornful manner, and the fact gave him an air of defiance.

“Look at the nerve of him!” muttered Dick Starbright, who could not get over the fact that Hock had dropped that first fly in the Princeton game.

Dick had hoped to pitch that game through to a successful finish, but the dropping of that fly had rattled him so that Merriwell was compelled to take his place. Starbright did not pause to consider that before the long fly came the bases were filled. Nor did it occur to him that, under ordinary circumstances, it would have been a most fortunate thing for him had the long fly been driven straight into the hands of the center-fielder instead of going far to one side and out of reach.

He only knew that the center-fielder had dropped the ball, lost it in the short grass near his feet, and four scores had come chasing in for Princeton.

Mason could not help feeling the air of cool scorn, but he had nerved himself to meet this sort of thing, and he made a pretense that he did not mind it at all.

“It takes nerve to get along in this world,” declared Ready fliply. “Now I’ve begun to learn playing the cornet. How is that for nerve?”

“Everybody knows you have plenty of it,” said Browning. “Learning to play the cornet, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Who is your teacher?”

“Oh, I haven’t one. I’m my own tooter.”

Then Jack got out of the way, for he knew the big senior might smash him.

Merriwell met Mason.

“Just in time, Hock,” he said pleasantly. “We’re going out for field practise. You know your position.”

Several students had come out to the field to witness the practise. They heard what Frank said to Hock, and it created a buzzing among them.

The men trotted onto the field, and Mason went down to the middle garden.

Now, of course, there was a manager for the team, although he was a mere figurehead. It was known throughout the college that Merriwell was the real manager, as well as the captain, and he could run things to suit himself. But the ostensible manager had been given a hint from the board of directors, and he braced up to approach Frank. His name was Filkins, and he could put on a great front.

“Mr. Merriwell,” he observed pompously. “I wish to speak with you.”

Frank nodded, and followed Filkins aside.

“It’s a serious matter,” Filkins began. “Of course we rely on your judgment, Merriwell, but even the best of us sometimes make--er--ah--breaks, you understand. Of course, I’m not casting any--er--reflection on--on--anything you may have seen fit to do; but it is the universal opinion that--ah--something must be done. I don’t like to--to--ah----”

“Come to the point, Mr. Filkins,” urged Frank. “Time is precious. What do you wish to say?”

He knew well enough what the fellow was driving at, but Merry had no intention of helping him out. Somehow Filkins’ air of pomposity vanished.

“I’m not doing this on my own accord,” he declared. “But I’ve been compelled to do it. You understand? As I said, we’re well pleased with your judgment generally; but there is one matter that is not satisfactory. We do not think center field is properly filled.”

“Is that it?” said Frank grimly. “Well what about it?”

“I would suggest a change.”

“Very well.”

“You will make it?” exclaimed Filkins, in great relief.

“I did not say so.”

“But you said ‘very well.’”

“Which simply meant that I would hear your suggestion.”

Filkins’ relief changed to uneasiness again. He had been instructed to be firm and impress on Merriwell that a change must be made, and he had promised to do so. Now, however, he found all his firmness oozing before the steady gaze of that grim-faced athlete.

“But you--you must act on it,” he said huskily.

“Must?” said Frank, still more grimly. “Who says so?”

“Why, I--er--we--the board says so. There is general dissatisfaction.”

“Filkins, I believe it is generally understood that I am to use my own judgment in handling this team?”

“Why, yes; but----”

“When I took hold of the nine it was in a very bad way. Yale was desperate. I had an understanding with you and the board of directors. You know what followed. I was given full power. I turned out a host of new men to practise, and out of them I found some good timber for the nine, filling the very gaps that were open. I confess that many of the players are my personal friends, but they have been trained to play ball under me, not only here but last summer and the summer before during vacation. I knew the kind of stuff to be found in Browning, Gamp, and Ready.

“Parker, who tried to make the team, and who played with us last summer, did not succeed because I found a better man. That man is Mason. He has in him the making of a remarkable outfielder. He has played well so far, with the exception of that last game. He is not popular, and just because he lost that game for us there has risen a general outcry, and an attempt is being made to push him off the team. Some of my own friends are helping, or trying to help, get rid of him. But let me tell you this, Filkins: Until I have further evidence of Mason’s incapacity, he remains on the team. When I am satisfied that I have made a mistake, I’ll drop him, but not a minute before. That’s business, and you may report it to the board.”

Then Frank left Filkins, and the fellow felt that he hadn’t a leg to stand on.

“Great gash!” he gurgled, glaring after Merry. “Think of it! Think of the captain of a ball-team daring to talk to the manager like that! Oh, jiminy! Never was another man at Yale could do it and hold his job a minute. Merriwell knows he has us in a hole. Just as he says, the team is made up mainly of his friends, and they’d quit quicker than a wink if anything were done to him. That would leave us in the soup.”

It was true that never before had any man at Yale possessed such complete authority and power. No man but Merriwell could have obtained such a hold; but he had it, and he felt that he was doing right in standing by the position he had assumed.

So those who had gathered at the field expecting Mason would be shelved if he appeared to practise were greatly disappointed. Hock filled the middle field, and the practise he put up that day was gilt-edged.