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

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“Good! good! We’ll win! You really want me to play, Frank?”

“I want you to play, and I want Old Joe on the bench. The combination will give us good luck.”

“Old Joe him go to see Dick play. Him great little boy at um baseball.”

“Then it is all up with the Omaha Stars,” laughed Frank. “We’ll beat them for sure.”

There was a burst of coarse, sarcastic laughter near at hand, and Frank turned quickly, to see Hazen and Derring there. He looked at the men intently, and they returned his stare in a most insolent manner.

“What do you think of that, Hazen?” laughed Jim Derring. “Merriwell thinks he’ll be able to win the game just because he has that kid to put on the team.”

“I think Merriwell is an idiot,” rumbled Hazen.

A flash of fire came into Dick Merriwell’s dark eyes, and he sprang toward the men.

“Who are you?” he cried. “What do you know about baseball?”

“I knew all about the game before you was born, kid,” said the treacherous umpire.

“Well, you don’t know enough to be a gentleman!” flashed Dick, in his fearless manner.