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

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Merry recovered and drew back his hand to throw to third, but instantly decided that it would be useless, knowing that a team often goes to pieces and loses a game in a single inning by getting to throwing the ball round in a hasty and reckless manner, so he held the sphere.

But the bases were full and but one man was out. Something told Frank that he was in a bad box. Still, he set his teeth and resolved to “pull out” if it were possible.

The coachers were talking from both sides of the diamond, and the excited crowd had not stopped its roaring.

Hodge was pale, and there was a fierce gleam in his eyes.

“Now we’ll hold ’em! Now we’ll hold ’em!” cried Rattleton, from second.

“Talk about your stars!” exclaimed Ready. “I saw a few that time!”

“They won’t get another hit, Merry,” assured Carson, who was playing short.

“Put ’em right over,” advised Browning.

“All a dud-dud-dinged accident!” asserted Gamp, from distant center garden.

Swiftwing and Carker were the only silent ones behind Merry, for even Hodge grimly asserted that it was all right.