CHAPTER XXII--THE BALL GAME
Up, up into the air sailed the little ball.
With a shout the players rushed to get beneath it.
Frank found himself on the side opposite Swiftwing.
John was the first to strike the ball after it had been batted intoplay.
Down came the little black sphere, and, poising himself on one foot, theCarlisle "buck" swung his bat and sent the ball straight toward Frank.
The trick was done with marvelous skill, and it seemed to be achallenge.
Frank squared himself in a fraction of a second, and then----
Crack!
Back sped the ball.
A whoop of delight went up from Frank's side.
"Shimminy Gristmas!" cried Hans. "Don'd dot peen a pird! Gif id to him,Vrankie!"
Crack!
Swiftwing hit the ball, and, with equal skill, he shot it back atMerriwell.
Frank was expecting this, and he returned it with all the skill of aprofessional tennis player.
The spectators roared their applause.
For some moments this "volleying" was kept up, and then the ball glancedfrom Swiftwing's bat and went high in the air.
Frank had come out best in this first struggle, much to his surprise,as, not being familiar with the game, he had not anticipated suchsuccess.
The white men in the crowd gave a yell of delight.
Frank caught a glimpse of Inza's face, and he fancied there was anexpression of disappointment on it.
"I believe she would have been pleased if he had vanquished me!" thoughtFrank, a trifle bitterly. "I do not understand her at all of late."
He could discern the look of admiration on the girl's face as sheregarded the magnificent Indian who commanded the players on the sidethat opposed Merriwell.
Frank was somewhat dismayed when he discovered that Whirling Bear wasthe commander of his side.
The young Indian who had been drunk at Embudo the day before wasstraight enough now, and he seemed to be somewhat of a favorite amongthe Pueblo athletes.
Not a few of the Indians showed a strong dislike for John Swiftwing, andFrank understood this was because he had been away to the white man'sschool. They wished to see him beaten at everything that he might knowhow weak he had become while he was learning the white man's knowledge.
When the ball glanced from Swiftwing's bat it was not allowed to fall tothe ground. A lithe savage ran under it and sent it spinning into theair.
Far over Whirling Bear's side sped the little black sphere.
Whirling Bear shouted a command.
Like a flash three of the rearmost bucks darted after the ball, and oneof them, who had the speed of the wind, ran under it as it was fallingto the ground. Without stopping or pausing, he swung his bat and hit theball.
Oh, what a shout of delight pealed from white men and Indians alike!Surely the ball had been kept from the ground in a most amazing manner,for the batter was not able to stop and turn till he had passed at leastforty feet beyond the point where he hit the ball.
There was a rush on Swiftwing's side, and the ball was returned.
The one who struck it sent it straight at Hodge.
Bart met it with a good crack and sent it back.
Barney Mulloy poised his bat.
"Begobs! Oi'll knock the paling off it wid me shtick!" he cried.
With all his might he struck.
And missed it!
But one of the young Indians was on hand, and he seemed prepared forsuch an emergency, as he struck the ball before it could reach theground, lifting it into the air again, and saving the first defeat forSwiftwing's side.
Hans Dunnerwust saw the ball coming in his direction, and he resolved toget some glory out of the game.
He ran to meet it, tripped himself, fell down, rolled over, sat up, andswung his bat. In some manner he succeeded in hitting the ball as he saton the ground, and he sent it into the air again.
"You don'd done dot mit me!" he cried, and the spectators roared andcheered, the white men laughing loudly, and not a few of the Indiansbetraying mirth.
"Gol darn my punkins!" exclaimed Ephraim Gallup, joyously. "This is morefun than a darg-fight! Never see nothing like it before! Let me git arap at that ball!"
But when he made a run for it, his long legs got tangled with his bat,and he was tripped with such suddenness that he flipped into the air asif sent with a spring, turned over and dropped on the back of his neck.
An Indian struck the ball, however, and it did not touch the ground.
"Say!" snorted the Vermonter, as he sat up and glared around, "p'int meaout the critter what done that!"
No one paid any attention to him, so he got up, secured his bat, andwaited for a chance to get at the ball without running after it.
Crack! crack! crack!--the bats were rapping the little ball in quicksuccession, and the players and spectators were feverish withexcitement.
The Indians were betting madly on the outcome of the game, and the whitewitnesses were taking "chances" on it.
Dan Carver, cool and serene, was covering everything that came his way,backing Swiftwing's side.
Frank was watching an opportunity to get in a good "drive." He observedthat the most of the Indian players knocked the ball into the air, andhe fancied that a drive that would place it might be successful.
His opportunity came at last.
He gave the ball a fierce crack, sending it shooting over the heads ofthe other side, just out of the reach of their bats.
It dropped in a clear space, before a player could reach it, and a greatshout of victory went up.
Whirling Bear, although the commander of the side that Frank was on, hadsaid nothing to Merriwell, and he seemed to show signs of disgust, as ifhe were not pleased that it should have been a white lad who had knockedthe ball.
Dan Carver did not seem at all disturbed by what had happened, butcontinued to take bets, offering to place any sum on Swiftwing at one ortwo.
In a moment the game was resumed, and it went forward with moreintensity than before. The players seemed warmed up to the work, andtheir skill in keeping the ball in the air was astonishing, to say theleast.
Several of the white players won some glory.
Both Diamond and Rattleton got in good strokes, and Bruce Browningstruck once with all the power in his muscular arms, sending the ball sohigh into the air that it was a mere speck and almost went out of sight.
"Begorra! it's not such fun as this Oi've had since Oi attinded me larstOirish fair!" cried Barney, who was in his element. "This b'ates awake!"
"It's a darn sight more fun than shuckin' corn at a huskin'-bee!"grinned Ephraim Gallup. "Take that, gol darn ye!"
He managed to hit the ball at last, after missing it three times, andnearly turning himself wrong side out with the violence of his efforts.
"Whee!" he squealed, as the little sphere carromed off his bat andwhizzed into the air. "I bet a squash that started the bark on her!"
Toots got a crack on the shins that upset him and made him howl withpain.
"Land ob wartermillions!" he wailed. "Nebber see no such mess as dis am!Dutchmans an' Irish all mixed up in a stew! An' ebry one ob um seemstryin' teh git a crack at de nigger's shins wif dem sticks! I's gwan tehretellyate on some pussen bimer-by--yes, sar!"
Once Harry Rattleton was able to save Swiftwing's side from a second andfinal defeat. An Indian struck and missed the ball, but Harry caught itwith his bat, having struck almost at the same instant.
"Gear she hoes--I mean here she goes!" he yelled. "Can't do it againover there! We're going to do you up, after all!"
Finally three players on Whirling Bear's side ran for a ball. Dunnerwustand Toots were two of them, and they both fell down, while an Indianfell on top of them.
Over the three sailed Bart Hodge, his bat poised and his teeth set. Hereached the ball and kept it from striking the ground, but it glancedfrom his bat and went off sideways.
It went in
a bad direction.
Whirling Bear tried to reach it, but failed, and it fell to the ground.
And now the sides were tied with the chances even for the finalstruggle.
Frank Merriwell's Athletes; Or, The Boys Who Won Page 22
