“You bet!” cried Billy excitedly. “And I’ll catch you in a real game--my eye!”
“Let’s hope we don’t make exhibitions of ourselves,” said Merry.
That evening, the McQuade homestead thrummed with eager voices. Six of the best local players, carefully picked by McCarthy, had gathered. A good many more had offered their services, but most of these had more enthusiasm than baseball knowledge.
“We sure need a first baseman,” exclaimed Spaulding. Merry smiled.
“I wired my chum, Owen Clancy, this afternoon,” he explained. “He’s at Fardale now, and has been out West. He’s just getting over a sprained ankle, but I think he can cover first for us all right. Now, let’s get down to business and map things out.”
Billy Mac, of course, would be backstop. He had been practicing all afternoon with Merry, and Chip had found that he could ask no better partner. The lanky Dan McCarthy would cover third, and looked as if he would do it efficiently.
Jim Spaulding made a bid for the central sack. He was one of the town players who had been ousted by Bully Carson, and was correspondingly bitter against the Clippers. Chub Newton would take care of short.
“We won’t be a cl-l-lassy-l-l-lookin’ bunch,” announced the little fellow, as he inspected the ancient and tattered uniform he had brought along, “but we’l-l-l be right there when it comes to bal-l-l pl-l-laying!”
“You bet!” chuckled McCarthy, eying his own faded green shirt and baseball pants. “If I don’t bang out a two-bagger, I’ll quit tryin’ to play ball, by gum!”
The outfield would be taken care of by Moore, also an ex-Clipper; Henderson, who had been a high-school star two years before, and a tremendously built young chap named Nippen. This Nippen was almost a giant in build, possessed of terrific strength, and apparently had the general aspect and intelligence of a cow.
He was the one member of the gathering who did not impress Merriwell as being especially adapted for baseball. Billy, however, reassured his friend in a whispered aside that Nippen would produce the goods.
“He doesn’t look up to much, Chip, and he lumbers around like an overgrown puppy. But when he lands on the ball, he kills it, and the way he covers center field is something wonderful to watch. You wait!”