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

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“Fellows,” said Frank, “we lost the mascot of the nine, and that’s what ailed us to-day. We played a bad game, but it might have been different if Dick had been with us.”

“Dick was a mascot,” agreed Browning. “Why, that little wizard can pitch ball like a veteran.”

“And Old Joe Crowfoot,” said Frank; “he was not with us. If he had been on hand to powwow round the home plate before the game, he might have put something into the team that seemed lacking.”

“I don’t suppose we’ll ever see that old varmint again?” said Jack questioningly.

“I think we shall,” nodded Merry. “He’s recovering from the wound he received, and I do not believe he will leave Dick when he gets well.”

“Are you going to bother with that soiled old scarecrow?” asked Jack.

“For Dick’s sake, I shall.”

“He’s made you no end of trouble,” declared Hodge. “It was he who induced Dick to rebel.”

“But he has learned his lesson. I saw that he was placed where he could have the very best care and nursing, and I left Dick with him.”