CHAPTER XXVI.

THE CHALLENGE OF MR. HAZARD.

“‘Mr. Jack Hazard,’” said Frank Merriwell, reading the name on the card that had been brought him by the bell-boy.

“Another Jack?” exclaimed Jack Ready. “What, ho! Who is the gent, Merry?”

“Ask me!” smiled Frank.

“From thy manner I should infer that thou art well acquainted with him--not.”

“The inference would be correct.”

“Me curiosity is awakened. Prithee let him enter, and banish me not from thy presence. He may be some bold bad man who is seeking to do thee harm, in which case it behooves thee to have a faithful friend at hand.”

“Say, Jack, let up on that kind of chatter! It becomes tiresome after a while.”

Then Frank turned to the bell-boy and directed that Mr. Hazard be brought up.

Merriwell and his friends had reached New York on their triumphal baseball tour, and they were stopping at the Herald Square Hotel.

The arrival of Frank Merriwell had been noted by the newspapers, several of which had contained lengthy interviews with him. In these interviews Merry had stated that his ball-team would disband in New York, as the end of the season was reached and they had no desire to play longer. For himself, he declared that he had no intention of becoming a professional ball-player, although he had received offers from both the big leagues. The rumor that he would sign or had signed with New York for the coming season was entirely groundless. He had watched with great interest the manner in which New York had worked a remarkable young college pitcher during the season just closing, and had decided that it would take a man with an arm of iron to withstand the strain and remain in form. Besides that, he had not the least desire to become a professional, finding far more satisfaction and pleasure in purely amateur sport.

The interviewers had not failed to ask questions concerning Dick Merriwell, who had received no small amount of advertising. Dick was spoken of as a “Boy Wonder,” with astonishing speed and bewildering curves, who had shown himself capable of pitching against some of the fastest teams in the country and winning his games with good support. It was said that his jump ball fooled the surest batter, and that it might in time become quite as well known as Frank Merriwell’s double-shoot. The romantic story of Merriwell’s discovery of his brother was also told.

As a result, large crowds of curiosity-seekers hung around the hotel, seeking to catch a glimpse of Frank or Dick, not a little to the annoyance of both.

“He’ll turn out to be another chap who wants to see you just a moment for nothing in particular,” said Ready. “You should have demanded his business.”

“Oh, I can stand another one,” smiled Merry. “Let him come.”

In a few moments there was a rap at the door, and Frank called, “Come in.”

The door opened to admit a rather remarkable-appearing man, with the face of a youth of twenty and the white hair of a man of sixty. He was dressed in the very height of fashion and carried a cane. His smooth cheeks were ruddy with the flush of health, and his blue eyes were clear as an unclouded sky.

“Mr. Merriwell,” he said, advancing as Frank rose, “I beg your pardon, sir; I knew you must be annoyed by the crowds hanging about. I feared you might decline to see me.”

“Mr. Hazard?” questioned Frank pleasantly.

“That is my name.”

“If you had stated your business----”

“I did not for fear you would decline to see me.”

“Is it, then, so unpleasant?”

“Well, I hope not; but I saw by the papers that you intend to play no more baseball this season, and that your team will disband here.”

“Which is correct.”

“As my business is connected with baseball, and I hope to induce you to change your mind, I thought it best to meet you before making a statement.”

Merry smiled again.

“I fear you are giving yourself too much trouble,” he said.

“At least, you will not decline to talk the matter over?”

“No; but I am tired of baseball. The first cool days of autumn have given me a desire for sport of a different order, yet no less exciting.”

“You mean----”

“Football.”

“Will you play this fall?”

“I cannot say, as I am out of college; but I shall be interested in the sport, and I expect to do some coaching.”

“Would you mind saying where?”

“I have no objections. I have been invited to coach the team at Fardale, where I once attended school. As I hope to enter my brother there this fall, I shall accept the invitation.”

“Your brother--he is the youthful pitcher concerning whom the papers had so much to say this morning. The story of your meeting with him was most romantic.”

Now Merry frowned a bit.

“In many particulars the story was not quite accurate,” he declared. “I saw the reporters were determined to tell some kind of a yarn about it, and I gave them the bare facts. They were not satisfied, and some of them resorted to imagination in their elaboration of the particulars.”

Jack Ready had remained in the background, but now he stirred slightly, upon which Merriwell at once introduced him to the visitor.

“Mr. Hazard,” said Jack, bowing profoundly. “I see you are delighted to meet me. It is a great honor. You may tell your grandchildren about it as they gather about your knees.”

Hazard regarded the queer fellow with a puzzled expression.

“This is our third-baseman,” said Frank. “He is a very entertaining chap, both on the diamond and off.”

“Thanks, Merry,” chirped Ready. “So good of you to say it.”

“Occasionally,” Frank added, “he is taken for a fool, but I assure you, Mr. Hazard, he is simply an idiot.”

“That’s all right,” said Jack; “but even my long suffering has a limit. Don’t you dare call me a lunatic.”

“Is he dangerous?” smiled Hazard.

“Perfectly harmless,” assured Merry.

Hazard took a seat.

“Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “you have been very successful in baseball this season, but I think I know why.”

“That’s easy,” nodded Ready. “It’s because he is it.”

“I admit that Mr. Merriwell is a good pitcher, but you must have encountered some good twirlers during your tour.”

“That’s right.”

“And you have defeated some of the fastest amateur and professional teams in the whole country.”

“Correct.”

“Now, I think I know why. In every case you have been too swift for the amateurs.”

“Thank you.”

“And the professionals have made the mistake of underrating you. They have fancied they could defeat you without doing their level best, and that has led them into the bad mistake of not playing from the start in their best form. This has given you opportunities to win your games before they awakened to the fact that it was necessary for them to work hard.”

“Have you taken notice of the scoring of the games by innings?” asked Merry.

“Not particular notice.”

“I thought not. If you had, you would have seen that we have won almost every game in the final innings, those with the professionals being no exceptions to those with the amateurs. By the time they had played six or seven innings the most of these teams should have discovered what they were up against.”

“Possibly so,” nodded the visitor, “but professionals generally fancy they can win out against amateurs at any stage of the game. I am satisfied that this has caused you to win more than one hard game against professionals. They have neglected their opportunities. Now, Mr. Merriwell, I am here to make you a proposition. I have a baseball-team that I regard quite as fast as yours, or faster. It is made up of college men mainly, with a few others--and none of the others are professionals.

“I am confident that my team can defeat your team--so confident that I challenge you to a game on the Polo Grounds to-morrow afternoon at half-past three. I hope you will have the courage to accept after defeating so many teams this season, as I am sure the game must draw a large attendance here. New York is anxious to see you play, and the fans will be out in force. I will see that it is advertised as your final game for the season, and we will play on any terms you may see fit to name, the winning team to take seventy-five per cent. of the gate-money--or the whole of it. You cannot say this is not fair, and I think you cannot afford to refuse.”

Merry was silent for some moments, looking straight at Mr. Hazard.

“What team is this you wish us to meet?” he finally asked.

“I call it The Mysteries.”

“Ah-ha!” cried Ready, with a flourish. “Refuse me! My rubber-neck disposition is aroused.”

“How do we know this is on the level?” asked Frank.

“I am well known to the proprietor of this hotel and to a number of men in the city who will assure you that my word is reliable. You shall have such references as you desire. If I cannot satisfy you in every particular, you need not play the game.”

“But how about the Polo Grounds?”

“There is nothing going on there to-morrow, unless we play, and I have been assured that I may have the grounds.”

“Then you put yourself to the trouble of finding that out before coming to me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You must have fancied there was some prospect that I would play with you?”

“I did.”

“Why so?”

“Because you have the reputation of being ready for almost anything in the way of honest, straightforward sport, and several of my team assured me that there was not the least doubt but you would meet us when you understood the matter fully.”

“You say there are a number of college men on your team who know me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do I know them?”

“You do.”

“Who are they?”

Jack Hazard smiled in a mysterious manner.

“I had rather not state, Mr. Merriwell,” he said, “but I assure you that there is a big surprise in store for you if you accept my proposition. My men know you like a book, and they feel confident that they can defeat your team.”

“Merriwell,” said Ready solemnly, “it behooves us to remove some of their confidence. We must get against the festive Mysteries and bump ’em hard.”

“Then you will play the game?” questioned Hazard.

“If I find your references satisfactory,” said Frank, “we will play the game to-morrow, which shall be our last game for the season.”

“Good!” laughed the visitor. “You’re beaten!”

“Nit!” chuckled Ready.