Читать книгу Frank Merriwell's Support; Or, A Triple Play онлайн

18 страница из 69

As Carker approached the plate, Frank Merriwell was not twenty feet behind him. The fielder had secured the ball and thrown it to the first-baseman, who ran out to take it.

Then the baseman whirled and lined the ball to the plate.

Carker did not slide, but he barely went over the plate ahead of the ball. Frank, however, threw himself forward in a long headlong slide.

Hanson took the ball and touched Merry, but Frank was lying with his hand on the plate.

“Safe!” declared the umpire.

Frank had stretched a three-bagger into a home run, and the score was tied.

Of a sudden, a great change had come over the game.

“It’s all over, boys!” laughed Ready. “We can’t help winning now! It’s another scalp for us!”

“That’s Frank Merriwell!” cried an excited boy on the bleachers. “You can’t beat him! The whole world can’t beat him!”

Batch was sore. A short time before he had been smiling, but now there was no smile on his face. He looked serious enough as Ready came up. Jack was determined to “keep the ball rolling,” and he got a nice hit off the second ball pitched.