Merry took a bottle out of his pocket and poured some of its contents on the handkerchief. Then, having restored the bottle to his pocket, he bound the handkerchief about his wrist with remarkable ease and skill, and without assistance.
“Well, we are in a bad way!” cried Birch. “Is there a man who did anything worth doing on the team to-day who was not hurt?”
Up rose a round-faced, red-cheeked fellow. He saluted with a flourish.
“Gentlemen,” he said, “behold me! I am the man. I’ll permit you to touch the hem of my garment—if your hands are clean.”
There was a shout. Men crowded forward. The one who had risen and proclaimed himself the only uninjured player folded his arms and struck an attitude, with his hat on the side of his head.
“Napoleon crossing the Delaware,” he cried. “No, I mean Washington crossing the Alps. Am I not real interesting to behold? Look at me carefully.”
“Well, they should put that in a cage!” exclaimed Harry Rattleton.
“Sir, how dare you!” squawked the student. “Are you aware whom you are undressing?”
“Who is he?” asked several, who could not obtain a good view.
“It’s Ready—Jack Ready, the freshman who kept Brown from scoring.”