Heffiner, however, was forced to bathe his arm in witch hazel frequently, and as he went toward the box for the last time he said to Frank with a rueful smile: 

“You’ll have to get into shape to pitch the last game of the series with these chaps.  My arm is the same as gone now, and I’ll finish it this inning.  We must win this game anyway, regardless of arms, so here goes.”

He could barely get the balls over the plate, but he used his head in a wonderful manner, and the slow ball proved a complete puzzle for Harvard after they had been batting speed all through the game, so they got but one safe hit off Heffiner that inning and no scores.

There was a wild jubilee at Yale that night.  A bonfire was built on the campus, and the students blew horns, sang songs, cheered for “good old Yale,” and had a real lively time.

One or two of the envious ones asked about Merriwell—­why he was not allowed to pitch.  Even Hartwick, a sophomore who had disliked Frank from the first, more than hinted that the freshman pitcher was being made sport of, and that he would not be allowed to go into the box when Yale was playing a team of any consequence.

Jack Diamond overheard the remark, and he promptly offered to bet Hartwick any sum that Merriwell would pitch the next game against Harvard.

Diamond was a freshman, and so he received a calling down from Hartwick, who told him he was altogether too new.  But as Hartwick strolled away, Diamond quietly said: 

“I may be new, sir, but I back up any talk I make.  There are others who do not, sir.”

Hartwick made no reply.

As the third and final game of the series was to be played on neutral ground, there had been some disagreement about the location, but Springfield had finally been decided upon, and accepted by Yale and Harvard.

Frank did his best to keep his arm in good condition for that game, something which Pierson approved.  Hicks was used as much as possible in all other games, but Frank found it necessary to pull one or two off the coals for him.

Heffiner had indeed used his arm up in the grand struggle to win the second game from Harvard—­the game that it was absolutely necessary for Yale to secure.  He tended that arm as if it were a baby, but it had been strained severely and it came into shape very slowly.  As soon as possible he tried to do a little throwing every day, but it was some time before he could get a ball more than ten or fifteen feet.

It became generally known that Merriwell would have to pitch at Springfield, beyond a doubt, and the greatest anxiety was felt at Yale.  Every man had confidence in Heffiner, but it was believed by the majority that the freshman was still raw, and therefore was liable to make a wretched fizzle of it.

Heffiner did not think so.  He coached Merriwell almost every day, and his confidence in Frank increased.

“The boy is all right,” was all he would say about it, but that did not satisfy the anxious ones.