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

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Carson did not lose his head, but he was patient, which resulted in a base on balls.

Bart Hodge advanced to the plate.

“It’s all over!” cried Ready, as he danced about close to second. “He’ll hit it a mile!”

Batch caught Bart on a drop at the very start, Hodge missing the ball by several inches.

“Get under it!” called Ready. “If you let him strike you out, I’ll drop dead right here.”

The next one was a ball, but Bart hit the third one, making a clean single, on which Ready scored from second. Merriwell’s team had the lead for the first time during the game.

“You’ve lost your money, Hazen,” said Wescott.

But Hazen had suddenly started from the bleachers, jumped over the rail, and was moving toward the bench occupied by the visitors.

“What the dickens is he up to?” muttered Wescott, in surprise.

Frank felt a hand touch his arm, and, looking round, found the red-faced man at his elbow.

“Fifty dollars if you let them hit you in the next inning!” breathed Hazen huskily. “Throw the game and the money is yours!”