Explore "Frank Merriwell's Danger" by Burt L. Standish on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"You have speed to burn, Merry," cried Bart Hodge, as he rounded up on catching a ball that had come flying like a bullet from Frank's hand. "There must be powder behind those whistlers."
Frank laughed. His hat, coat and vest were off, and he was perspiring freely. Together with Bart, he was putting in a little practice. Frank was in the pink of condition. His eyes were clear and bright, his complexion almost girlish in its pink-and-white, while his legs, arms, muscles, all were firm and hard. The flesh of his arm, from which the sleeve was rolled back, was white as marble.