“Yes,” answered Wolcott, with wonder.
“Let’s pull the sofa out, then; I don’t want to smash a partition.”
The sofa out of the way, Laughlin began again. “You know how to charge?”
Wolcott nodded assent.
“A good way to practise it is to charge against a wall. You ought to do it outside, and of course if you have a charging machine with a padded surface to smash against, it isn’t so hard on the wrists; but I can show you what I mean right here.”
Laughlin crouched on the floor a yard from the wall, resting on his finger-tips and toes, with one foot somewhat behind him. Then he counted three and at the last number suddenly lifted and threw himself forward, catching himself with the palms of his hands against the wall.
“That’s a charging exercise. It’s hard on the wrists, but it’s good training. The main thing is to hold your head up and go like a shot when you hear the word. Try it with me.”
They stooped side by side on the imaginary line. At first Dave counted, afterward Wolcott. Each time, however, the old player, in spite of his weight, got off first and was the first to strike the wall.
“I beat you,” said Laughlin, reproachfully, “and they call me slow.”
“I’ll learn it,” declared Wolcott, resolutely.