CHAPTER XXII.

  A SURPRISE FOR FRANK.

  On the following morning Merriwell arose with a headache.

  "The smoke was too much for me last night," he said. "It was thickenough to chop in this room."

  "And you don't know how I wanted to have a whiff with the fellows," saidHarry, dolefully. "It was awful to see them enjoying cigars andcigarettes and not touch one myself!"

  "But you didn't," smiled Frank. "Good boy! Stick to that just as long asyou wish to keep a place in athletics."

  "I don't know which is the worst, smoking or midnight suppers."

  "Midnight suppers are bad things, and you will observe that I seldomindulge in them. If I was on one of the regular teams I could notindulge at all. I'll not have any part in another affair like that oflast night till after the race. From now till it is over I am going tolive right."

  "Well, I'll do my best to stick with you. If you see me up to anythingimproper, just call me down."

  "Agreed."

  There was no time for a cold bath before chapel, although Frank wouldhave given something to indulge in one. As it was, he dipped his head incold water, opened the window wide, and filled his lungs with fresh air,then hustled into his clothes and rushed away, with the chapel bellclanging and his temples still throbbing.

  The whole forenoon was a drag, but he managed to get through therecitations fairly well. Over and over he promised himself that he wouldnot indulge in another midnight feast until the time came when suchdissipation was not likely to do him any particular harm physically.

  At noon as he was crossing the campus he was astonished to see PaulPierson, a junior and the manager of the regular ball team, stop andbow. Unless it was Pierson who had pursued him on the previous night,Frank had never spoken a word to the fellow in his life. And this publicrecognition of a freshman on the campus by a man like Pierson was almostunprecedented.

  "Ah, Mr. Merriwell, I would like to speak with you," said Pierson in amanner that was not exactly unfriendly.

  Frank remembered that the fellow who chased him the night before hadpromised to see him again, but he had thought at the time that the mandid not mean it. Now he wondered what in the world Pierson could want.

  "Yes, sir," said Merriwell, stopping and bowing respectfully.

  "I understand that you are something of a sprinter," said Pierson as hesurveyed the freshman critically. "A--ah--friend of mine told me so."

  "Well, I don't know, but I believe I can run fairly well," repliedFrank, with an air of modesty.

  "My friend is a very good judge of runners, and he says you're allright. In doing so he settled a point in my mind. I have been watchingyour ball playing in practice this fall, and I have arrived at theconclusion that you have good stuff in you if you do not get the swelledhead. Young man, the swelled head is one of the worst things with whicha youth can be afflicted. When he gets it for fair it is likely to behis ruin."

  Pierson addressed Frank as if he were a father speaking to a boy. Frankfelt that the junior was patronizing to a certain extent, but thefellow's manner of stopping him on the campus was so remarkable that itmore than overbalanced his air of superiority.

  Wondering what Pierson could be driving at, Frank kept silent andlistened.

  "Now, I have a fancy," said the baseball magnate, "that you are ratherlevel headed. Still, the best of them get it sometimes, and that is whyI am warning you."

  Pierson spoke deliberately, still looking hard at the freshman, whowaited quietly.

  "He'll come to the point if he is given time," thought Frank.

  "I have seen you pitch," said Pierson, "and I have watched your deliveryand your curves. You are very good. More than that, you bat properly andyour judgment is excellent."

  He paused again, as if to note what impression this praise made upon theother. Frank felt his cheeks grow warm, but his voice was perfectlysteady as he said:

  "Thank you, sir."

  "I did not know just what you would do when it came to running till myfriend saw you run," Pierson went on. "He says you are all right. Now,if you will look out for yourself and keep yourself in condition, it isquite possible that you may be given a trial on the regular ball team inthe spring."

  Frank felt his heart give a great jump. On the regular team! Why, he hadnot dreamed of getting there the very first season. Was Pierson givinghim a jolly?

  "Are you serious, sir?" he asked.

  "Most certainly, Mr. Merriwell," answered the junior. "I can assure youthat you stand an excellent chance of having a trial. What the result ofthe trial is will depend entirely upon yourself."

  "What position, Mr. Pierson?"

  "Well, there is but one position that is not well filled. We've got mento burn for every other place. If you are tried at all, it will be inthe box. Heffiner is the only man we have, and he can't do all the work.There will come times when he will be out of condition."

  To pitch on the regular ball team! To be given an opportunity when thegreat Heffiner proved out of condition! That was glory indeed. No wonderFrank Merriwell tingled with excitement in every part of his body; butit was a wonder that he appeared so cool and self contained.

  Pierson was surprised by the freshman's manner, for he had expectedFrank to show excitement and delight.

  "What sort of a fellow is this?" he thought. "Does he really understandme, or is he a little thick?"

  Then he saw by Frank's fine and highly sensitive face that he could notbe thick, and he began to perceive that the freshman had nerve. That wasone of the great requirements for a successful pitcher.

  "I have spoken of this to you, Mr. Merriwell, so you may be keepingyourself in condition through the winter, as you will then stand all thebetter show of making a favorable impression when you are given atrial."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "If I were in your place I would not make any talk about it, forsomething may happen that you will not be given a trial, in which caseit would be very humiliating if you had publicly stated that you were tohave a show."

  "You may be sure I will say nothing about it, Mr. Pierson."

  "That is all. Good-day, sir."

  "Good-day, sir."

  Pierson passed on, quite aware that a number of students were regardinghim with the utmost amazement, plainly wondering that he should havestopped to talk with a freshman on the campus.

  Walter Gordon had seen the two speaking together, and he hastened tocall the attention of some friends to it.

  "Look there!" he cried. "As I live, Merriwell is talking with Pierson!What'll you bet the fellow's not making a try to get on the regular ballteam? Ha! ha! ha! He's got crust enough for it."

  "And I am not sure he hasn't the ability for it," said Easy Street.

  "Oh, rats!" snapped Walter. "He'd go to pieces in the first inning.He'll never make a pitcher in his life."

  "There are others," murmured Lucy Little.