Frank Merriwells Reward | Page 3

cab that had brought them thus far, and he and
Merriwell went into the nearest restaurant.
"I understand you don't smoke, or I might be tempted to order cigars,"
he said, as a waiter came forward for their orders, after they had taken
seats at a table in one of the small side rooms. "I wanted to have a talk
with you about certain matters. Not about Agnew, but concerning Buck
Badger!"

When the waiter had gone he continued:
"I am interested in Badger's pitching. The fellow has good pitching
ability. But he is erratic. Sometimes he pitches wonderfully. Then the
very next time he will fall away down. I am convinced that what he
needs as much as anything else is the right kind of encouragement."
"I consider him one of the very best of the new men who have come up
with pitching ambitions," said Merriwell. "I have noticed the things you
say."
"You were kind enough some time ago to recommend him to my
notice," Kirk went on, as if feeling his way. "You would be glad to help
him, perhaps."
"I shall be very glad to help him, if I can, and to serve you in any way,
Kirk. But you know he doesn't like me very well. There must be a
willingness on both sides, you see--just as it takes two to make a
quarrel!"
"I haven't sounded him, but I fancy he would be willing. He isn't doing
any good lately. You may have noticed that, too?"
"Yes."
The waiter brought the things ordered, and went away again.
"That Crested Foam affair is the cause, I fancy," Dunstan Kirk went on,
breaking a cracker and helping himself to some cheese.
Frank Merriwell had thought the same, but he did not wish to say so.
"He hasn't acted right since then. And by right, I mean natural, you
understand! I suppose it grinds him to know that such a fellow as
Barney Lynn could drug and rob him in that way."
Merriwell flashed Dunstan Kirk a quick look. It was evident that the
captain of the Yale baseball-team did not know that Buck Badger was
intoxicated when he was lured aboard the excursion steamer, Crested

Foam.
A similar imperfect knowledge of the true condition of affairs at that
time had been noticed by Merriwell in the conversation of others. The
newspapers in the notices of the burning of the steamer had given
attention chiefly to Lynn, merely stating briefly that Badger had been
drugged and robbed by the ex-boat-keeper.
"I shouldn't think it would be a pleasant reflection," Frank answered.
"Very humiliating to a man of Badger's character. And it has just taken
the heart out of him. Until that time he was one of the most promising
of the new pitchers at Yale. I was expecting good things from him.
Now he seems to be nothing but a blighted 'has-been!'"
Merriwell smiled.
"And of all the sad words of tongue or pen, The saddest are these: 'It
might have been!'"
"Just so," assented Kirk. "It's too bad to see a capable fellow go to the
bone pile! I don't like it. I talked with him and tried to encourage him,
but it had no permanent effect. He braced up for a little while, and then
slumped again."
"At heart, Badger is very proud!" Frank explained. "He wouldn't admit
it, perhaps, even to himself. He craves popularity, too, though he
affects not to care at all for the opinions of others. It has been his
misfortune not to be popular. His disposition is against it. This has
made him very sore at times, though he has tried to conceal the fact.
Now you can see that to a man of his disposition the things that
happened on the Crested Foam would be tremendously depressing."
The captain of the ball-team would have seen even more clearly how
depressing they were if he had known all that Merriwell knew.
"Somehow, he seems to me like a man who is under the impression that
he has lost all of his friends," said Kirk. "He needs to be assured that

such is not the case--that his friends and acquaintances have no desire
to cut him. I think if that could be done he would come out of the
slough of despond and be worth something. We may need him this
summer; or a man who has his pitching ability ought to develop into
something worth while."
Frank saw that Dunstan Kirk was edging toward some kind of a
request.
"If there is anything I can do!" he invited.
"Well, as your picked nine is to play Abernathy's nine, of Hartford, on
the ball-grounds here next Saturday, I wondered if you would be
willing to let Badger pitch. It is an unheard-of sort