Frank Merriwell's Cruise Part 18

They did! They threw up their hands, tossed their caps into the air, and yelled as loudly as they could.

"Great Scott!" gasped Frank. "See what they have done! Why, everybody on the street is staring at us!"

It was true. The spectators had been attracted by the shrill cheers of the small boys, and they were looking toward the three embarra.s.sed lads on the corner by the bank.

A man who was pa.s.sing stopped and asked one of the boys why they were cheering so loudly.

"See that handsome feller there with the lace on his suit?" asked the boy, pointing Frank out.

"Yes, I see him."

"That's Frank Merriwell," declared the boy, excitedly and proudly.

"Frank Merriwell?" repeated the man, doubtfully. "Who is he?"

"W'at?" yelled the boy, voice and face expressing the greatest amazement and scorn. "Didn't ye never hear of Frank Merriwell? Wat's ther matter with yer? Why don't you go die!"

His contempt was crus.h.i.+ng and humiliating, and the man pa.s.sed on, wondering who in the world Frank Merriwell could be that he was so well known and famous.

But there were plenty of men and youths who had heard of Merriwell, and the report that the great Yale pitcher was in town flew like wildfire.

Only the small boys stared at Frank with absolute rudeness, however.

Those older looked at him with interest, but were careful not to make their attentions embarra.s.sing.

Merry and his friends walked up into the village, going toward the post office. There were pretty girls on the street, and some of them flashed a brief, admiring glance at the trio of handsome lads in yachting suits.

The small boys trooped along behind, talking excitedly among themselves.

Their chatter was amusing to hear.

"Look here, Jimmy," cried one, in fierce contradiction of a statement made by another, "that ain't so, an' you oughter know it! Harvard never got fourteen hits offen Frank Merriwell in one game!"

"Fourteen hits!" yelled another, in derision. "W'at yer givin' us, Jimmy! They never got ten hits offen him in one game! You better go read up about him! You're woozy, that's w'at's ther matter with you!"

"That double-shoot of his is w'at paralyzes 'em," put in another. "He can make ther ball cut all kinds of riggers in the air."

"That's all right," said Jimmy, sullenly. "Slatridge sez ther ain't no such thing as a double-shoot. He says that 'riginated in ther mind of some of them newspaper fellers w'at's writin' up stories 'bout Frank Merriwell."

Then there was a howl of scorn from all the others, and one shook a finger under Jimmy's nose, shouting:

"Slatridge knows it all--in his mind! That feller's too tired to play baseball. He can pitch sometimes, but he don't git woke up only when he thinks he's likely to lose his job. Don't you take stock in ev'rything he says."

"Fellers," said a tall, solemn-looking boy, out at knees and elbows, "I'd give a hundred thousan' dollars to see Frank Merriwell pitch against Rockland an' use his double-shoot on 'em."

"I'd give more'n that to see it, if I jest had the price of admission ter git inter ther game," declared a barefooted boy.

"Why don't Moslof nail him?" fiercely demanded a freckle-faced youngster. "If I was manager of the Camdens, I wouldn't let Frank Merriwell go away alive if he wouldn't play ball for me! I bet Rockland will have him if Moslof don't git him."

"If Rockland gits him, Camden might jest as well crawl right into the smallest hole she can find, and pull the hole in after her. She won't never win another game."

The most of this talk could be distinctly heard by Frank and his friends, and it proved very amusing.

In the window of the drug store near the post office hung a printed poster announcing a game of ball in Camden that afternoon between Rockland and Camden. The bill also stated that Rockland and Camden were tied for first place in the Knox County League, so that the result of one game would put one or the other team at the head.

"We'll have to see that game, fellows," said Frank. "It is evident that there is plenty of baseball excitement down in this part of the country."

At this moment two young men came down from the rooms of the Business Men's a.s.sociation in the Opera House building, and Frank uttered an exclamation of satisfaction.

"There are two Dartmouth men, boys," he said; "Moslof and McDornick.

Moslof is managing the Camdens and playing third. Let's go over and see them."

They walked over to meet the Dartmouth men.

CHAPTER XI.

FALSE REPORTS.

Moslof seized Frank's hand and shook it heartily.

"That Rockland affair didn't amount to anything, after all, did it?" he asked.

"No," said Merry; "the chap who caused my arrest skipped out when he learned that Jack Benjamin, the man I bought the yacht of, was in Rockland. He didn't stay to press the complaint of theft. He thought Benjamin had gone to Alaska. It must have been a frightful shock to him.

You've met Diamond? Yes. Let me introduce Bart Hodge."

"Hodge!" cried Moslof. "You caught for Merriwell this season? Jove! but you made a record for a freshman! I am glad to know you, Hodge."

They shook hands, and Moslof said:

"Here is McDornick, our left fielder, the biggest little crank on earth and the best base runner in the Knox County League, if I do say so! We need more of them, too."

McDornick shook hands all round, spluttered a little about the "beastly luck" the Camdens had been having, and ended by swearing that Camden would "wipe up the earth" with Rockland before the season was over. He was very vehement in his expressions.

"We've been awfully weak in the box," said Moslof. "Bas...o...b.. of the University of Maine, is a good little man, but he has had poor luck against the Rocklands. That's the trouble with our pitchers. They are all right against Thomaston, but they do not work to advantage against Rockland, and I'll swear that Thomaston has the heaviest batting team."

"If often works that way," said Frank.

"But the worst of it is," Moslof went on, "Rockland has a pitcher who is a hoodoo for Camden. He is pie for Thomaston, but he makes monkeys of our men."

"Who is he?"

"Dayguild, late of the New England League. Rockland has found out that he can play thunder with Camden, and they hold him back for us all the time. They don't care about Thomaston; it's Camden they want to beat."

"How is it with Camden?"

"Well," laughed Moslof, "to tell the truth, the feeling is just as strong up there. We'd give our boots to down Rockland, and we don't care so much about Thomaston. I played with Rockland last year. They used me well down there, but said I couldn't bat any. That made me mad. This year for the first two weeks of our season I led the league in batting.

I am falling off a little, but still I am ahead of the average. They are beginning to change their mind down there about my batting."