Back Aa

Frank Merriwell at Yale; Or, Freshman Against Freshman

<h2> CHAPTER XXVIII. </h2> <h3> THE GAME GROWS HOTTER. </h3>  By the noise the Yale crowd made one might have fancied the game was theirs beyond a doubt. "Poor fellows!" said one languid Harvardite to an equally languid companion. "It's the only chawnce they have had to cheer. Do let them make a little noise." "Yas," said his companion, "do. It isn't at all likely they will get another opportunity during this game." There were cheers for Merriwell, but Frank walked to the bench and put on his sweater as if utterly unconscious of the excitement he had created. His unconcerned manner won fresh admiration for him. Old Put congratulated Frank as soon as the bench was reached. "That was great work, Merriwell. Keep it up! Keep it up!" "That kind of work will not win the game as the score stands," returned Frank. "Some batting must be done, and there must be some score getting." "You are right, and you are the second man up this inning. See what you can do." "If I had known I came so soon I wouldn't have put on my sweater." "Keep it on. You must not get chilly. We can't tell what may happen. Harder games than this have been pulled out. They lead us but five scores." "Blossom bats ahead of me, does he? Well, he never got a hit when one was wanted in all his life; but he's got a trick that is just as good, if he will try to work it." "Getting hit by the ball? He is clever at that. Tell him to work the dodge this time if he can. Get him onto first some way. We must have some scores, if we steal them." "I wish we might steal a few." "If I get first and Blossom is ahead of me on second, let us try the double steal. I may be caught at second or he may be caught at third, and there is a bare possibility that we'll both make our bags. At any rate, but one of us is liable to be caught, and if it is Blossom it will leave us scarcely any worse off than before. If it is myself, why, Blossom will be on third, we'll have one man out, and stand a good show of scoring once at least." Merriwell said this in a quiet manner, not at all as if he were trying to dictate, and Putnam made no reply. However, he spoke to Blossom, who was picking out his bat. "Look here, Uncle," he said, "I want you to get first base in some way. Do you understand?—in some way. If you can't make a hit or get it on balls, get hit." Blossom made a wry face. "Coulter's got speed to burn," he said, "but I'll try to get hit if he gives me an in, even though it kills me." "That's what I want," returned Old Put, grimly. "Never mind if it does kill you. We are after scores, and a life or two is of small consequence." "That's a pleasant way of looking at it," muttered Blossom as he advanced to the plate. "Here goes nothing!" The very first ball was an inshoot, and Blossom pretended to dodge and slip. The ball took him in the side and keeled him over instantly. He was given a little water, whereupon he got up and trotted down to first, his hand clinging to his side, but grinning a bit in a sly way. There was a brief discussion about giving Blossom a runner, but when one was chosen who could not run as well as he could himself, he suddenly found himself in condition to get along all right. Merriwell took his place at the bat, having selected a bat that was a trifle over regulation length, if anything. Frank saw a hole in right field, and he hoped to be able to place a hit right there. If he could do it, there was a chance for Blossom to get around to third on a single. Coulter knew nothing of Merriwell's batting, so he was forced to experiment on the man. He tried a drop that almost hit the plate, but Frank did not bite. Then Coulter sent over a high one, and still Merriwell refused to swing, and two balls had been called. Coulter had a trick of holding a man close on first, and so Blossom had not obtained lead enough to attempt to steal second. Frank felt that Coulter would make an attempt to get the next one over the outside or inside corner of the plate, as it would not do to have three balls in succession called without a single strike. Merriwell was right. Coulter sent one over the inside corner, using a straight ball. Still Merriwell did not offer at it, for he could not have placed it in the right field if he had tried. "One strike!" called the umpire. Although he seemed quite unconcerned, Sport Harris had been nettled when Rattleton won the ten-dollar bet, and he now said: "I will go you even money, Rattleton, that Merriwell does not get a hit. If he goes down on four balls the bet is off." "I'll stand you," nodded Harry, laughingly. "Why, Harris, I never dreamed you were such an easy mark! Merriwell is bound to get a hit." "Ha! ha!" mocked Harris. "Is that so? And he just let a good one pass without wiggling his bat!" "It wasn't where he wanted it." "And Coulter will not give him one where he wants it." "Coulter doesn't know anything about Merriwell's batting, and so he is liable to make a break at any moment." This proved right, for Coulter tried to fool Frank with an outcurve on the next delivery. He started the ball exactly as he had the one before it, to all appearances as if he meant to send another straight one over the inside corner. He believed Merriwell would bite at it, and he was right. But right there Coulter received a shock, for Merriwell leaned forward as he swung, assuming such a position that the ball must have hit him if it had been a straight one. It had a sharp, wide curve, and passed at least ten inches beyond the plate. Passed? Not much! Merriwell hit it, and sent a "daisy cutter" down into right field, exactly where he wished to place it. Down on the coach line near first little Danny Griswold had convulsions. He whooped like a wild Indian. "Spring, ye snails! Tear up the dust, ye sons of Eli! Two—make it two, Blos, old boy! Why, this game is easy now! We've just got started! Whoop! Whoopee!" In going over second Blossom tripped and fell heavily. When he scrambled to his feet he was somewhat dazed, and it was too late for him to try for third. He saw Halliday down by third motioning wildly for him to get back and hold second, but there was such a roar of voices that he could not hear a word the coachers were saying. However, the signals were enough, and he got back. Now the "Sons of Eli" were all on their feet, and they were making the air quiver. It was enough to inspire any man to do or die, and it is doubtful if there was not a man on the Yale team who did not feel at that moment that he was willing to lay down his life, if necessary, to win that game. When the shouting had subsided in a measure, Rattleton was heard to shout from his perch on the shoulders of a companion, to which position he had shinned in his excitement: "Right here is where we trick our little do, gentlemen—er—I mean we do our little trick. Ready to the air of 'Oh, Give Us a Drink, Bartender.' Let her go!" Then the Yale crowd broke into an original song, the words of which were: "Oh, hammer it out, Old Eli, Old Eli, As you always have, you know; For it's sure that we're all behind you, behind you, And we will cheer you as you go. We're in the game to stay, my lads, my lads, We will win it easily, too; So give three cheers for old 'Umpty-eight— Three cheers for the boys in blue! Breka Co ax, Co ax, Co ax! Breka Co ax, Co ax, Co ax! O—up! O—up! Parabaloo— Yale! Yale! Yale! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! Yale!" The enthusiasm which this created was immense, and the next man walked up to the plate filled with determination. However, Old Put was shrewd enough to know the man might be too eager, and so he gave the signal for him to take one anyway. Coulter was decidedly nervous, as was apparent to everybody, and it seemed that there was a chance of getting him badly rattled. That was exactly what the Yale crowd was doing its best to accomplish. Merriwell crept away from first for a long lead, but it was not easy to get, as Coulter drove him back with sharp throws each time. Then Blossom came near being caught napping off second, but was given "safe" on a close decision. Suddenly Coulter delivered, and the batter obeyed Old Put and did not offer, although it was right over the heart of the plate. "One strike!" was called. Now came the time for the attempted double steal that Frank had suggested. Putnam decided to try it on, and he signaled for it. At the same time he signaled the batter to make a swing to bother the catcher, but not to touch the ball. Frank pretended to cling close to first, but he was watching for Coulter's slightest preliminary motion in the way of delivery. It came, and Old Put yelled from the coach line, where he had replaced Griswold: "Gear!" Frank got a beautiful start, and Blossom made a break for third. If Blossom had secured a lead equal to Merriwell's he would have made third easily. As it was, the catcher snapped the ball down with a short-arm throw, and Blossom was caught by a foot. Then it was Harvard's turn, and the Cambridge lads made the most of it. A great roar went up, and the crimson seemed to be fluttering everywhere. "Har-vard! Har-vard! Har-vard! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! 'Rah! 'rah! 'rah! Harvard!" One strike and one ball had been called on the batter, and Merriwell was on second, with one man out. Yale was still longing vainly for scores. It began to look as if they would still be held down, and Coulter was regaining his confidence. Frank was aware that something sensational must be done to keep Coulter on the string. He longed for an opportunity to steal third, but knew he would receive a severe call down from Old Put if he failed. Still he was ready to try if he found the opportunity. Frank took all the lead he could secure, going up with the shortstop every time the second baseman played off to fill the right field gap. He was so lively on his feet that he could go back ahead of the baseman every time, and Coulter gave up trying to catch him after two attempts. Frank took all the ground he could, and seeing the next ball was an outdrop he legged it for third. "Slide! slide! slide!" howled the astonished Halliday, who was still on the coach line at third. Frank obeyed, and he went over the ground as if he had been greased for the occasion. He made the steal with safety, having a second to spare. Rattleton lost his breath yelling, and the entire Yale crowd howled as one man. The excitement was at fever pitch. Bob Collingwood was gasping for breath, and he caught hold of Paul Pierson, shouting in his ear: "What do you think of that?" "Think of it?" returned Pierson. "It was a reckless piece of work, and Merriwell would have got fits if he'd failed." "But he didn't fail." "No; that lets him out. He is working to rattle Coulter, but he took desperate chances. I don't know but it's the only way to win this game." "Of course it is." "Merriwell is a wonderful runner. I found that out last fall, when I made up as Professor Grant and attempted to relieve him of a turkey he had captured somewhere out in the country. I blocked his road at the start, but he slugged me with the turk and then skipped. I got after him, and you know I can run some. Thought I was going to run him down easily or make him drop the bird; but I didn't do either and he got away. Oh, he is a sprinter, and it is plain he knows how to steal bases. I believe he is the best base runner on the freshman team, if he is not too reckless." "He is a dandy!" exclaimed Collingwood. "I have thought the fellow was given too much credit, but I've changed my mind. Pierson, I believe he is swift enough for the regular team. What do you think of it?" "I want to see more of his work before I express myself." Merriwell's steal had indeed rattled Coulter, who became so nervous that he sent the batter down to first on four balls. Then, with the first ball delivered to the next man up, the fellow on first struck out for second. Merriwell was playing off third, and pretended to make a break for home as the catcher made a short throw to the shortstop, who ran in behind Coulter, took the ball and lined it back to the plate. But Frank had whirled about and returned to third, so the play was wasted, and the runner reached second safely. Then there was more Yale enthusiasm, and Coulter was so broken up that he gave little Danny Griswold a shoulder ball right over the heart of the plate. Griswold "ate" high balls, as the Harvard pitcher very well knew. He did not fail to make connection with this one, and drove it to deep left for two bags, bringing in two runs.       <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

1 of 2

2 of 2

Update Required To play the media you will need to either update your browser to a recent version or update your Flash plugin.