Frank Merriwells Reward | Page 7

me, you can do it. But I will not catch in that game. I refuse to play on any nine with Badger! I----"
"I remember to have heard you say those things before!" said Frank, turning short about. "We will not discuss it any further, Bart. You are a free man. You may do as you please. I shall not argue the matter with you. Badger is going to pitch for me Saturday forenoon. Good day!"
Hodge stopped and looked after him, all white and shaky, as Merriwell walked away.
Then the hot blood rushed in a tide into his dark face, and he, too, turned and walked off, filled with smothered exclamations and raging like a volcano.
CHAPTER III.
PIKE'S LITTLE PLAN.
Donald Pike was in a nagging mood. He walked up and down the room a few times, finally stopping in front of his chum, Buck Badger. They had been talking about the Saturday ball-game, and both were in bad humor.
"I don't know what's the matter with you, Badger! I'm disgusted with you!"
The Westerner shifted his feet nervously, but said nothing.
"Perhaps you consider it an honor to receive that invitation from Merriwell? I don't! I am surprised that he sent it."
Badger shifted his feet again, and shrugged his thick shoulders. His face was flushed and his eyes looked troubled.
"I am, too!"
"He had a motive, of course!"
Badger tossed a leg over the arm of his chair, and looked out of the window.
"It has been his boast all along that he would have you in his flock by and by! You have always sworn by all that's good and bad that you would never become a friend of his!"
"I'm not a friend of his!"
Pike laughed sneeringly.
"What do you call it? If I say a word against Frank Merriwell you want to eat me up. It's come to that! You were ready to fight him any minute, at first; now you're ready to lick the polish off his shoes, just like the rest of those fellows."
"Nothing of the kind!" Badger hotly declared.
"Well, you're going to pitch for his picked team Saturday!"
"Kirk asked me to."
"And Merriwell sent him?"
"Yes!"
"And they have become such friends that they're almost chums. The fellows are beginning to say that Dunstan Kirk manages the Yale ball-team, and Frank Merriwell manages Dunstan Kirk. They are about right, I guess!"
"I allow that I'm no nearer being Merriwell's chum than I ever was. We could never be chums. But I'm not going to forget what he did for me on the Crested Foam. He saved my life, then, Pike!"
"And proposes to wind you round his fingers and drag you at his heels to make you pay for it!"
"So, when he sent me that invitation, and I talked it over with Kirk, I thought I ought to accept it."
"Don't you know that Hodge will refuse to catch?"
"Don't talk about him!" Badger hissed.
"He has already said that he will not catch for such a scoundrel as you!"
"Did he say that?"
"He says you will lose them the game; that it's an outrage to put you into the box, and he won't be a party to it. He says you can't pitch."
"Can't I? He says that, does he?"
"He says that if Frank Merriwell takes up with you, he will never speak to him again. Anyhow, what good will it do you to pitch for Merriwell? You'll be no nearer getting a show on the regular nine."
Badger shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and showed his broad white teeth unpleasantly. Pike was again walking up and down the room.
"I'd almost be willing to become a member of Merriwell's flock just to spite Bart Hodge. My hands just naturally go up, and I want to fight whenever I see him. That's whatever!"
"Oh, you two will be as chummy as the Siamese twins in less than a month."
"Never! I hate him too badly."
"That's the way you were talking of Merriwell a month ago. You will come round to it!"
"Not on your life! Hodge is a different sort of fellow from Merriwell, I allow."
"And you are going to accept that invitation?"
"I told you, Pike, that I have already accepted it. I'm not Merriwell's friend, and I despise Bart Hodge; but I'm not ungrateful. Whatever other things we learn out West, we learn to pay back favor for favor. I'd be a dirty coyote if I refused to accept that invitation after what Merriwell did for me. That's the way I look at it. I know that I can pitch ball. You know it, too. I can twirl a ball just as good as Frank Merriwell, or any other fellow in Yale, and you know that, too. I reckon I'm able to ride my bronco alone, without Merriwell's help. I am not asking favors--none whatever! I'm simply returning a favor already given! You can see