Roger started and shot a menacing look at the offender. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What’s the matter with you?” retorted Felton. “Pete wants you at the telephone.”
Roger dragged himself to the telephone. “Is that you, Roger?” sounded Talbot’s clear voice.
“Yes.”
“How are you? They told me this afternoon that you were under the weather. You aren’t going to be sick, are you?”
“No, it’s all right. I’m better to-night.”
“That’s good. Be careful what you eat, and get to bed early. We can’t afford to lose you. They assigned places this afternoon for the trials. We got the outside.”
“That’s bad, isn’t it?”
“I’m afraid so. There won’t be any current to help us, and a head wind would set us back a lot. They’re counting on our weakening at the finish. They don’t know us. I’m not afraid of any weakening in the first boat now that Pitkin is out.”
Roger groaned audibly. “What’s that?” asked Talbot.