Frank Merriwell's Son Part 33

"Evidently you were mistaken in thinking the man drowned," said Frank quietly. "We've had all this trouble for nothing."

"Oh, eet ees not so easee to keel Jose Murillo!" sneered the rascal.

"Where he fall in the lake the water ees not so deep. He stand up, with hees head out. He walk to the sh.o.r.e. He see Carkaire look for heem, and he keep steel. Now he look for Carkaire. Better have a care, gringo, for Jose Murillo weel find the time to strike you yet! _Adios!_ He weel see you lataire!"

The man turned and hurried away.

CHAPTER XXVI.

A LIVELY GAME.

When the Farnham Hall baseball team came out for practice that afternoon they found another team on the field. This team was dressed in blue suits, and on the breast of each shirt was a large white letter M.

Frank Merriwell had found these old suits stored away and brought them forth. At sight of them his friends were seized with the old-time enthusiasm for the great American game, and it did not take them long to get into the suits and onto the field.

"What's this?" cried Dale Sparkfair, as he surveyed Merry's team. "We seem to have intruders here. We'll have to put them off the field, boys.

We'll have to do them up."

Hans Dunnerwurst paused, with his hands on his hips, and stared at Dale.

Half a dozen persons shouted at the Dutchman, but he failed to heed their warning, and a ball thrown at him struck him on the head, bounding off.

"Hey!" squawked Hans. "Who threw me at dot brick? Vos dot der vay you vill dood us upness? Py Chiminy! You fellers vant to vade right in und let it try you. I pelief ve can play paseball all aroundt yoursellufs.

You vos challenched to meet us a game into. Yah! Vill you exception dot challench?"

"Where's the interpreter?" asked Spark.

"Der vot?"

"The interpreter."

"Vot you vant py him?"

"You need some one to interpret your conversation, my Irish friend."

"Irish? Irish?" yelled Hans, in exasperation. "Don'd you callt mineselluf Irish! Parney Mulloy vos der only Irishman der party into, und he vos der greenest pogtrotter dot efer come der Emerald Isle oudt uf."

"G'wan, yer Dutch chaze!" said Barney. "Go talk to yersilf. n.o.body understands yez at all, at all."

"If you're looking for practice, Dale," said Frank, "perhaps we can accommodate you. We feel like playing a little baseball ourselves."

"Yah!" put in Hans, who declined to be repressed. "Ve pelief der game uf paseball can play us some. Der practice vos oudt uf us a whole lot, but all der same ve vill dood our pest to dood you up. Between der acts I vill gif you a melodious selection der flute on. Der flute brought me vid it to der paseball groundt."

"Av you attimpt to toot thot flute, Oi'll hit ye wid a bat!" growled Mulloy.

"Oh, you vos chealous--you vos chealous pecause der flute coot not play you!" sneered Dunnerwurst. "As Spokeshire observations, 'Show me der man who haf not music into his soul alretty, und I vill show you a son uf a gun dot vos fit for blotting a.s.sinations, general defiltry und all padness.' Dot vos you, Parney Mulloy."

The idea of playing a practice game with Merry's team delighted the Farnham Hall lads, and arrangements were quickly made.

"I presume you'll give us a show, Mr. Merriwell," said Sparkfair. "Are you going to pitch?"

"I don't think I'll start the game," said Merry.

"I vill pitch mineselluf," announced Hans. "I vos der createst paseball pitcher dot efer seen you."

Sparkfair flipped a coin, and the choice of innings fell to Merry.

"We'll take the field," said Frank. "Go behind the bat, Hodge.

Dunnerwurst will pitch. You'll play your old position at first, Browning. Diamond will cover second, and we'll have Mulloy on third.

I'll play short."

"The middle lawn for me," announced Ephraim Gallup.

"That's all right," nodded Frank. "Badger will take left field and Carson right field."

When the players had taken these positions Dunnerwurst held up his hand and asked permission to pitch a few over the plate.

"Chust gif me the privilege of letting my arm limber me up, vill you?"

"Go ahead," laughed Sparkfair.

Hodge adjusted the body protector and pulled on the big catching mitt.

"Keep open your eye for der curf uf der ball," warned Hans. "Uf I use too much speed for you, chust let me tell you so."

He presented a comical spectacle as he flourished, his arm with a windmill motion and delivered the ball to Bart. It was high and wide, but Hodge cuffed it down.

"Ho! ho!" shouted the Dutchman. "Did dot rise see you? Vosn't it a peauty, Part?"

"That was a great rise!" said Hodge. "Better try a drop next time. Get 'em lower."

On receiving the ball Hans made another flourishing motion, shut his eyes, and threw the sphere with great force straight at the ground in front of him.

"Mine cootness!" he gasped. "I vill haf to look oudt for dot drop. It vos a corker."

"Better start off with a straight ball," advised Hodge. "Give these youngsters a show. They can't hit your curves, Hans."

"I pelief me," nodded Dunnerwurst soberly. "Your advice vill took me."

A few moments later he announced that he was ready, and Bob Bubbs stepped out as the first batter.

Hans. .h.i.t Bob with the first ball pitched, and Kilgore, who was umpiring, sent Towser to first.

"Vy did you not dotge?" demanded Dunnerwurst, in exasperation. "Any vun vould pelief der ball did not see you coming. Vos you plind your eyesight in?"

"Oh, I knew I couldn't hit," chuckled Bubbs, "so I got hit. That's part of the game."