CHAPTER XXIV.

THE ATHLETICS TAKE THE LEAD.

A roar arose from the crowd--a roar of anger at the outrageous action of the ruffianly catcher. The witnesses saw Frank Merriwell leap out from the bench and dart toward McCann, and it seemed that a thousand voices shouted:

“Go for him!”

Frank needed no urging. He might have restrained himself under other circumstances, but the sight of his brother’s bloody face had caused him to cast aside all restraint.

McCann saw Merry coming and cast off the big catching-mitt, whirling to face the furious brother of the youth he had injured.

Not a word escaped Merry’s lips, but he went straight at the ruffian. McCann stepped forward to meet him, but Merry could no more be stopped than could an avalanche under way. Frank found an opening in the fellow’s guard and knocked him down instantly.

Up sprang the hard-headed bruiser, but he went down as quick as he rose. Again McCann jumped up, and again he went down. Each time he was knocked more than ten feet away, and Merriwell followed him up closely.

As Merry struck the fellow the fourth time Squinty Jim endeavored to get in and take part in the affray. He made a dive for Merry, swinging a bat.

But a bloody-faced lad who had risen from the ground was on hand to balk Squinty’s project, and the young thug received a jolt under the ear that sent him spinning to one side.

Then the players of both sides rushed in and the fight was over.

The moment he realized everything that had happened Frank Merriwell was very sorry.

“Before all these people!” he said. “It’s a shame! They came here to witness a game of baseball, not a prize-fight. Where is Dick?”

“Here.”

Dick came up, wiping the blood from his face with his handkerchief. One cheek was bruised and his chin was cut.

“Hurt bad?” asked Frank.

“Not very,” was the answer.

“I thought you must be. Your face looked bad when that big brute got off your head.”

“He stunned me for a minute.”

“Methinks he hath been duly repaid,” chuckled Ready. “He looks like a dish-rag about now.”

In truth, McCann was badly done up, and in no condition to catch further during that game. He had found at last that he was no match for Frank Merriwell.

So it was necessary to get yet another man into a suit before the game could be continued.

Nick Robinson tried to excuse the action of McCann, but he could not say much, and even his own players would not back him up.

Frank, however, became more and more regretful over what had happened.

“Never took part in any such disgraceful affair on a ball-field before to-day,” he said. “I wonder what people will think.”

Ready had reached second, and Carson came up with great hopes of sending him home.

The new catcher’s name was Corday. He was a tall fellow and a good thrower. He gave a sample of his throwing when Ready played far off second on a pitch. Down to the bag Corday lined the ball, and Jack barely got back in time to escape being caught.

Carson managed to hit the ball all right, but the left-fielder captured it, after a long run, and the first half of the inning was over.

“Now, boys, we must shut them out and hold our lead,” said Merriwell. “Everybody keep on his toes.”

McGlinkey was the first hitter, and he smashed the second ball pitched, driving it along the ground past second base. This was a good opening, and the rooters for the home team opened up earnestly.

Waldron sacrificed McGlinkey to second in very handsome style, and it began to look like a possible score for the professionals.

Corday, however, was not a heavy hitter, and the best he could do was to sacrifice the runner to third.

With two out, Webster came to the plate.

Hodge called for the double-shoot, but Merry shook his head. Bart was puzzled, as Frank had ceased using that curve after the first inning.

Webster was crafty and did not try to kill the ball. Instead he hit it just hard enough to drop it over the infield, and McGlinkey came racing home with the score that tied.

Hodge was angry.

“What’s the use?” he muttered to himself: “Merry might have stopped that score. Why won’t he use the double?”

“Hard luck, Merriwell,” grinned Robinson. “But you have done very well for a youngster. You’ll make a good pitcher with more experience.”

“Thank you!” said Frank, aroused by the words of the man.

Then he proceeded to strike out Robinson in short order, saying, as Nick fanned the final time:

“Too bad, Mr. Robinson! You’ll make a batter some day, but you’ll have to learn to hit those easy ones. Almost anybody ought to hit those.”

“That’s right!” Robinson muttered, smiling sickly.

Again Frank sought to impart some of his energy to his players as they came up to hit. Hodge started well with a hit, but Browning flied to the infield. Gamp fouled out, and Bart remained on first.

“They can’t hit him safely!” said Hodge to Frank, who was coaching near first.

“Of course not!” laughed Hayward, the baseman. “You’ve obtained more hits off him now than you ought to have.”

“Why, we haven’t begun to hit him!” said Merry. “Wait till our streak comes.”

“You need it pretty soon, for the game is getting along.”

“Lots of time. It’s not quite half-over.”

Nesbitt was well satisfied when he finally retired the Merries without a man reaching second.

“Great pitching!” cried his admirers.

Again Merry went into the box and pitched steadily, although two clean hits were made off him. He was able to prevent anybody from scoring by his clever work.

In the sixth one of Merry’s men got around to third, but was left there.

Waldron was the first hitter for the professionals, and he sent a hot one at Ready, who failed to get it over in time to catch him at first.

Then Corday came up and sacrificed Waldron to second.

Webster met the ball squarely and drove out a two-bagger that sent Waldron home.

Once more the home team had taken the lead, but that did not satisfy them, for Robinson sent out a long fly, on which, after it was caught, Webster advanced to third.

Two men were out, but the professionals had a runner on third.

Again Bart called for the double-shoot. Again Frank shook his head.

Maloney was fierce to get in a rap, and Frank hoped to make him fan. But the center-fielder of the Athletics managed to lift out a dinky hit that let Webster come home with yet another run.

Frank resorted to speed now, and forced Flobert to fan twice. Then he fooled the batter with one of Nesbitt’s own, which was a slow ball that came up like a lump of dough. Flobert hit it, but knocked it straight into the hands of Ready, who took pains to make his throw to first good.

The score was four to two in favor of the professionals.