Frank Merriwell's Son Part 42

No one had noticed the quiet entrance of a man, who stood un.o.btrusively near, listening to the talk. With a yawn, this man now advanced, saying:

"I beg your pardon, gentlemen. I presume it's very rude, but I need some change right away in order to pay a sum to a man who wishes to catch a train. I've been unable to get this hundred-dollar bill changed. Would you mind if the cas.h.i.+er stopped long enough to change it for me?"

The speaker was Casper Silence, backer of the Rovers baseball team.

"Niver a bit do we moind," answered Barney. "It's all roight, sor; go ahead."

"Yes, go ahead," nodded Gallup. "We've gut loads of time."

Silence pushed the hundred-dollar bill through to the cas.h.i.+er, who glanced at it critically, asked what sort of change he desired and then gave, at his request, five tens and ten fives.

"I'm very much obliged, gentlemen--very much obliged," said Silence, bowing to Mulloy and Gallup. "I hope I haven't interfered with you, Mr.

Merriwell."

"Not in the least," answered Frank.

"Do you think we'll have good weather for the game to-morrow?"

"The indications are that the weather will be all right."

"And are you still confident that we will be able to bring out a thousand people or more?"

"Quite confident," laughed Frank. "One of my errands in Wellsburg is to get a notice of the game into a newspaper here. I thought of looking Mr.

Bearover up for the purpose of obtaining some facts concerning the Rovers, which might interest the newspaper readers."

"I can give you any information you desire," said Silence. "In fact, I have it here on this printed slip. Here's a whole history of the team and the players who make up the team. You'll see we've lost no games this season. If you'll read this slip through, you'll learn beyond question that our players form the most remarkable independent baseball organization ever a.s.sembled in this country."

While talking he had produced a leather pocketbook, from which he took a printed slip at least six inches long. This he handed to Frank.

As Silence opened the pocketbook both Mulloy and Gallup observed that it was well stuffed with bank notes, and the one on top proved to be another hundred-dollar bill.

"I don't wish to take up your time, Mr. Merriwell," said Silence, in his languid, drawling manner, "but I'll just run over the players so that you'll understand who they are and get an idea of the records they have made. You met Mike McCann, our shortstop. He's from Charleston, of the South Atlantic League, and he knows the game from A to Z. Toby Mertez, our right fielder, is a New England Leaguer, having played on the Nashua, N. H., team last year. Jack Grifford, our center fielder, is from Youngstown, the champions of the Ohio-Pennsylvania League. Hoke Holmes comes from Birmingham, in the Southern League. 'Peep' O'Day is the old National Leaguer, who was supposed to be down and out, but he astonished every one by his work with Jersey City, in the Eastern League, last year. He's our third baseman. Bill Clover, who covers the second sack, comes from Portland, of the Pacific Coast League. Sim Roach, who gambols in our left garden, is from Los Angeles, of the same league. 'Bang' Bancroft was the second catcher of the champion Pueblo team, in the Western League. Bancroft obtained the nickname of Bang through his slugging year before last. It's possible you've never heard of 'Mitt' Bender, our crack pitcher. He's been playing independent baseball, but the Boston Americans were hot after him this year. I had to open up handsomely in order to hold him. Our second pitcher is Mike Davis, who's had much more experience than Bender, but who can't pitch more than one game a week and do his best. When we go up against a light team we use Toby Mertez in the box and save both Bender and Davis. Now I think you understand the sort of team we have."

"Well," said Frank, "unless your men are has-beens they ought to make a hot combination."

"We haven't a has-been in the bunch," a.s.serted Silence quietly. "I think you'll find the combination hot enough to suit you, Mr. Merriwell. I understand you've never been batted hard. I understand that no team has ever obtained more than eight or ten hits off you in a game. We have an aggregation of hitters, and the chances are you'll get a proper good drubbing to-morrow."

"You alarm me," said Frank. "Like any other pitcher, I have been b.u.mped in my time."

"In that case the experience may not seem so unpleasant to-morrow,"

drawled Silence. "Fifteen or twenty hits are nothing for the Rovers.

We've averaged ten hits through the whole season."

"Oi'll bet a hundrid dollars ye don't git tin hits to-morrow!" exploded Mulloy, unable to keep silent longer.

"I'll have to take that bet," said the backer of the Rovers.

"Oh, no," interposed Frank; "I object. I don't think there'll be any betting as far as my players are concerned. Keep your money in your pocket, Mulloy."

Silence smothered a slight yawn behind his hand.

"I'm sorry you're so frightened, Merriwell," he said. "I'm sorry you haven't any more nerve. That hundred dollars would help me along in defraying expenses."

"Waal, gol derned if he don't figure it aout that he'd have the hundred cinched if he made the bet!" spluttered Gallup.

"I should consider it as good as mine the moment the money was posted,"

nodded Silence. "As long as we can't make a little wager, I'll move along and pay off the gentleman who is waiting for me. See you to-morrow. Good day."

He bowed himself out and leisurely walked away.

"Dod rap him!" snapped Gallup. "I'd like to take some of the conceit aout of him! We've gut to beat them Rovers to-morrer, Merry! If we don't, I'll be the sorest feller you can find in seventeen States and seven Territories!"

"I don't know where you'd discover so many Territories," laughed Frank.

"We'll do our best to beat them, boys; but we're not in good practice, you know."

"Begorra, we've been practicin' ivery day for a week!" came from Mulloy.

"That sort of practice isn't like regular games," reminded Merry. "We need to play a few games in order to get into first-cla.s.s form."

The cas.h.i.+er now pa.s.sed out a little bank book to each of the depositors, and followed it up with check books for their use.

"Well, gentlemen," he said, "I hope this is the beginning of a long and pleasant acquaintance between us. Mr. Merriwell is one of our most valued depositors. He's doing a great work for the little town of Bloomfield. We regret very much he's not a citizen of Wellsburg.

Bloomfield should be proud of him. I know it is proud of him. Wellsburg is proud of him, too. The whole county--the whole State is proud of him."

"By gum! I kinder think yeou've narrered it daown too narrer, Mr.

Carson," said Ephraim. "I kinder guess the whole blamed country is proud of him."

"I stand corrected," laughed the cas.h.i.+er. "I realize his fame extends much farther than the borders of our State. Yes, I believe you're right, Mr. Gallup--I believe the whole country is proud of Mr. Merriwell as a representative young man of to-day."

After leaving the bank Frank said:

"I have some business of my own to look after now, and I need a witness.

One of you might come along with me."

They both volunteered, but he explained that both were not needed, although they might come if they chose. Mulloy insisted on accompanying him.

"Waal, then, by hemlock," said Gallup, "I'll kinder ramble raound over taown and see the sights. Arter being buried daown in Mexico for the biggest part of a year, it seems all-fired good to git where there's people movin', street cars runnin', and plenty doin'. Where'll I meet yeou, boys?"

"Meet us at the Franklin Square Hotel at four o'clock," answered Merry.

"We'll be ready to start within ten minutes after four."

Not more than five or ten minutes after parting from Frank and Barney, Gallup came face to face with a man who stepped squarely in front of him and held out a pudgy hand.

"How do you do," said this man. "I'm glad to see you, young fellow. Saw you drive through with Merriwell. Did he bring that wonderful educated horse with him?"

It was Basil Bearover, the manager of the Rovers.