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

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“Robber! robber!” cried many. “Teller dropped the ball and Maloney picked it up!”

Frank “kicked” against the decision, but Morrisy stuck to it. Merry had seen the ball strike in Teller’s hands, and he had not seen it pass to the hands of Maloney. The affair was rather singular, yet he could not say he had seen Teller drop the ball. Such being the case, he was compelled to abide by the decision of the umpire. That retired the side, with the score unchanged.

“We must get together and hold the enemy prostrate,” said Ready. “It’s the way to win this game.”

Frank went into the box. Hodge knew Merry would start with the double-shoot, meaning to strike out the first batter up.

Hanson, of the home team, stepped up to the plate. Frank gave him a dazzler, and Hanson fanned.

But again that pain shot the whole length of Frank’s arm, and it felt as if something had broken.

“Guess some of the glass cracked,” thought Frank.

When Bart returned the ball, Merry took plenty of time in delivering it again. Then he tried the double-shoot once more, but threw the sphere high over Bart’s head.