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

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Among the spectators were two men who were watching the game with deep interest. One man was stout and red-faced, with a stubby mustache, while the other was slender and dark, wearing a suit of blue. The stout man choked and gurgled when the umpire declared Merry safe at the plate.

“Rotten!” he snarled. “He was out by a foot!”

“I don’t think so, Hazen,” said the other man.

“Why, what ails you?” gurgled the portly man. “Do you want to see us lose this game, Wescott?”

“Not much,” answered Wescott. “It means something to me. I have over two hundred dollars bet on the Stars.”

“Two hundred!” exploded Hazen. “I have almost a thousand! I spent half of last night hunting bets, and I took everything I could get at any odds.”

“Well,” said the man in blue, “I’m afraid we’re in a bad box. This fellow Merriwell is lucky. He has a way of winning at anything and everything.”

“But those kids can’t beat our boys!”

“They may. The score is tied.”

“How in blazes can you take it so easy?”

“What’s the use to fret? It won’t win the game.”