Book: Frank Merriwell at Yale

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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.




CHAPTER XXIX.

THE END OF THE GAME.


Now the New Haven crowd took their turn, and took it in earnest.
Rattleton stood upon the shoulders of a friend, and fell off upon the
heads of the crowd as he was cheering. He didn't mind that, for he kept
right on cheering.

"Merriwell, I believe you have broken the streak!" cried Old Put, with
inexpressible satisfaction.

"Well, I sincerely hope so," returned Frank. "I rather think we are all
right now, but we've got a hard pull ahead of us. Harvard is still five
in the lead, you know."

"If you can hold them down--"

"I am going to do my best."

"If you save this game the boys won't do a thing when we get back to New
Haven--not a thing!"

The next batter flied out to shortstop, and Griswold remained on second.

Now there was suspense, for Yale had two men out. A sudden hush fell on
the field, broken only by the voices of the two coachers.

Coulter had not recovered his nerve, and the next batter got a safe hit
into right field, while Danny Griswold's short legs fairly twinkled as
he scudded down to third and then tore up the dust in a mighty effort to
get home on a single.

Every Yale man was on his feet cheering again, and Danny certainly
covered ground in a remarkable manner. Head first he went for the plate.

The right fielder secured the ball and tried to stop Danny at the plate
by a long throw. The throw was all right, but Griswold was making too
much speed to be caught.

The instant Old Put, who had returned to the coach line, saw that the
fielder meant to throw home, he howled for the batter to keep right on
for second.

Griswold scored safely, and the catcher lost little time in throwing to
second.

"Slide!" howled a hundred voices.

The runner obeyed, and he got in under the baseman, who had been forced
to take a high throw.

It is impossible to describe what followed. The most of the Yale
spectators acted as if they had gone crazy, and those in sympathy with
Harvard showed positive alarm.

Two or three men got around the captain of the Harvard team and asked
him to take out Coulter.

"Put in Peck!" they urged. "They've got Coulter going, and he will lose
the game right here if you do not change."

At this the captain got angry and told them to get out. When he got
ready to change he would do it without anybody's advice.

Coulter continued to pitch, and the next batter got first on an error by
the shortstop.

"The whole team is going to pieces!" laughed Paul Pierson. "I wouldn't
be surprised to see Old Put's boys pull the game out in this inning, for
all that two men are out."

"If they do so, Merriwell is the man who will deserve the credit," said
Collingwood. "That is dead right."

"Yes, it is right, for he restored confidence and started the work of
rattling Coulter."

"Paul," said the great man of the 'Varsity crew, "that fellow is fast
enough for the regular team."

"You said so before."

"And I say so again."

Now it became evident to everybody that Coulter was in a pitiful state,
for he could not find the plate at all, and the next man went down on
four balls, filling the bases.

But that was not the end of it. The next batter got four balls, and a
score was forced in.

Then it was seen that Peck, Harvard's change pitcher, was warming up,
and it became evident that the captain had decided to put him into the
box.

If the next Yale man had not been altogether too eager to get a hit,
there is no telling when the inning would have stopped. He sent a
high-fly foul straight into the air, and the catcher succeeded in
gathering it in.

The inning closed with quite a change in the score, Harvard having a
lead of but three, where it had been seven in the lead at the end of the
sixth.

"I am afraid they will get on to Merriwell this time," said Sport
Harris, with a shake of his head.

"Hey!" squealed Rattleton, who was quivering all over. "I'll give you a
chance to even up with me. I'll bet you twenty that Harvard doesn't
score."

"Oh, well, I'll have to stand you, just for fun," murmured Harris as he
extracted a twenty-dollar bill from the roll it was said he always
carried and handed it to Deacon Dunning. "Shove up your dough, Rattle."

Harry covered the money promptly, and then he laughed.

"This cakes the take--I mean takes the cake! I never struck such an easy
way of making money! I say, fellows, we'll open something after the
game, and I'll pay for it with what I win off Harris."

"That will be nice," smiled Harris; "but you may not be loaded with my
money after the game."

The very first batter up, got first on an error by the second baseman
who let an easy one go through him.

"The money is beginning to look my way as soon as this," said Harris.

"It is looking your way to bid you good-by," chuckled Harry, not in the
least disturbed or anxious.

Merriwell had a way of snapping his left foot out of the box for a throw
to first, and it kept the runner hugging the bag all the time.

Frank also had another trick of holding the ball in his hand and
appearing to give his trousers a hitch, upon which he would deliver the
ball when neither runner nor batter was expecting him to do so, and yet
his delivery was perfectly proper.

He struck the next man out, and the batter to follow hit a weak one to
third, who stopped the runner at second.

Two men were out, and still there was a man on first. Now it looked dark
for Harvard that inning, and not a safe hit had been made off Merriwell
thus far.

The Harvard crowd was getting anxious. Was it possible that Merriwell
would hold them down so they could not score, and Yale would yet pull
out by good work at the bat?

The captain said a few words to the next batter before the man went up
to the plate, and Frank felt sure the fellow had been advised to take
his time.

Having made up his mind to this, Frank sent a swift straight one
directly over, and, as he had expected, the batter let it pass, which
caused the umpire to call a strike.

Still keeping the runner hugging first, Frank seemed to start another
ball in exactly the same manner. It was not a straight one, but it was a
very slow drop, as the batter discovered after he had commenced to
swing. Finding he could not recover, the fellow went after the ball with
a scooping movement, and then did not come within several inches of it,
greatly to the delight of the Yale crowd.

"Oh, Merry has every blooming one of them on a string!" cried Rattleton.
"He thon't do a wing to 'em--I mean he won't do a thing to 'em."

The Yale men were singing songs of victory already, and the Harvard
crowd was doing its best to keep up the courage of its team by rooting
hard.

It was a most exciting game.

"The hottest game I ever saw played by freshmen," commented Collingwood.

"It is a corker," confessed Pierson. "We weren't looking for anything of
the sort a short time ago."

"I should say not. Up to the time Merriwell went in it looked as if
Harvard had a walkover."

"Gordon feels bad enough about it, that is plain. He is trying to
appear cheerful on the bench, but--"

"He can't stand it any longer; he's leaving."

That was right. Gordon had left the players' bench and was walking away.
He tried to look pleased at the way things were going, but the attempt
was a failure.

"Merriwell is the luckiest fellow alive," he thought. "If I had stayed
in another inning the game might have changed. He is pitching good ball,
but I'm hanged if I can understand why they do not hit him. It looks
easy."

Neither could the Harvard lads thoroughly understand it, although there
were some who realized that Merriwell was using his head, as well as
speed and curves. And he did not use speed all the time. He had a fine
change of pace, sandwiching in his slow balls at irregular intervals,
but delivering them with what seemed to be exactly the same motion that
he used on the speedy ones.

The fourth batter up struck out, and again Harvard was retired without a
score, which caused the Yale crowd to cheer so that some of the lads got
almost black in the face.

"Well! well! well!" laughed Rattleton, as Deacon Dunning passed over the
money he had been holding. "This is like chicking perries--I mean
picking cherries. All I have to do is to reach out and take what I
want."

"If the boys will capture the game I'll be perfectly satisfied to lose,"
declared Harris, who did not tell the truth, however, for he was
chagrined, although he showed not a sign of it.

"How can we lose? how can we lose?" chuckled Harry. "Things are coming
our way, as the country editor said when he was rotten-egged by the
mob."

It really seemed that Yale was out for the game at last, for they kept
up their work at the bat, although Peck replaced Coulter in the box for
Harvard.

Merriwell had his turn with the first batter up. One man was out, and
there was a man on second. Coulter had warned Peck against giving
Merriwell an outcurve. At the same time, knowing Frank had batted to
right field before, the fielders played over toward right.

"So you are on to that, are you?" thought Frank. "Well, it comes full
easier for me to crack 'em into left field if I am given an inshoot."

Two strikes were called on him before he found anything that suited him.
Harris was on the point of betting Rattleton odds that Merriwell did not
get a hit, when Frank found what he was looking for and sent it sailing
into left. It was not a rainbow, so it did not give the fielder time to
get under it, although he made a sharp run for it.

Then it was that Merriwell seemed to fly around the bases, while the man
ahead of him came in and scored. At first the hit had looked like a
two-bagger, but there seemed to be a chance of making three out of it as
Frank reached second, and the coachers sent him along. He reached third
ahead of the ball, and then the Yale crowd on the bleachers did their
duty.

"How do you Harvard chaps like Merriwell's style?" yelled a Yale
enthusiast as the cheering subsided.

Then there was more cheering, and the freshmen of 'Umpty-eight were
entirely happy.

The man who followed Frank promptly flied out to first, which quenched
the enthusiasm of the Yale gang somewhat and gave Harvard's admirers an
opportunity to make a noise.

Frank longed to get in his score, which would leave Harvard with a lead
of but one. He felt that he must get home some way.

Danny Griswold came to the bat.

"Get me home some way, Danny," urged Frank.

The little shortstop said not a word, but there was determination in his
eyes. He grasped his stick firmly and prayed for one of his favorite
high balls.

But Peck kept them low on Danny, who took a strike, and then was pulled
on a bad one.

With two strikes on him and only one ball, the case looked desperate
for Danny. Still he did not lose his nerve. He did not think he could
not hit the ball, but he made himself believe that he was bound to hit
it. To himself he kept saying:

"I'll meet it next time--I'll meet it sure."

He knew the folly of trying to kill the ball in such a case, and so when
he did swing, his only attempt was to meet it squarely. In this he
succeeded, and he sent it over the second baseman's head, but it fell
short of the fielder.

Merriwell came home while Griswold was going down to first.

And now it needed but one score for Yale to tie Harvard.

The man who followed Griswold dashed all their hopes by hitting a weak
one to short and forcing Danny out at second.

Harvard cheered their men as they came in from the field.

"We must make some scores this time, boys," said the Harvard captain. "A
margin of one will never do, with those fellows hitting anything and
everything."

"That's exactly what they are doing," said Peck. "They are getting hits
off balls they have no business to strike at."

"Oh, you are having your troubles," grinned a friend.

"Any one is bound to have when batters are picking them off the clouds
or out of the dirt. It doesn't make much difference where they are."

"This man Merriwell can't hold us down as he has done," asserted
Dickson, Harvard's first baseman.

"I don't know; he is pretty cagey," admitted Nort Gibson.

"I believe he is the best pitcher we'll strike this season," said
another.

"Here, here, you fellows!" broke in the captain. "You are getting
down-hearted, and that won't do. We've got this game and we are going to
hold it; but we want to go in to clinch it right here."

They didn't do much clinching, for although the first man up hit the
ball, he got to first on an error by the third baseman, who fumbled in
trying to pick it up.

Blossom was the third baseman, and he was confused by his awkwardness,
expecting to get a call down.

"Steady, Blos, old boy!" said Frank, gently. "You are all right. The
best of us do those things occasionally. It is nothing at all."

These words relieved Blossom's feelings and made him vow that he would
not let another ball play chase around his feet.

Frank struck the next man out, and held the runner on first while he was
doing it. The third man sent an easy pop-fly to Blossom, who got hold of
it and clung to it for dear life.

Then the runner got second on a passed ball, but he advanced no farther,
for the following batter rolled a weak one down to Frank, who gathered
it in and threw the man out at first.

In three innings not a safe hit had been made off Merriwell, and he had
struck out five men. No wonder his admirers cheered him wildly as he
went to the bench.

Yale started in to make some scores. The very first man up got a hit and
stole second. The next man went to the bat with the determination to
slug the ball, but Old Put signaled for a sacrifice, as the man was a
good bunt hitter.

The sacrifice was tried, and it worked, for the man on second got third,
although the batter was thrown out at first.

"Now we need a hit!" cried Put. "It takes one to tie and two to win. A
hit ties the game."

Rattleton offered to bet Harris two to one that Yale would win, but
Sport declined the offer.

"It's our game fast enough," he said. "You are welcome to what you have
won off me. I am satisfied."

But the game was not won. Amid the most intense excitement the next man
fouled out.

Then Peck seemed to gather himself to save the game for Harvard. He got
some queer quirks into his delivery, and, almost before the Yale crowd
could realize it, two strikes were called on the batter.

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