“Well, a square feed will do you good, now that you are away from the training-table. Oh, that training-table! It gives every man a great appetite.”
But Starbright had no appetite.
“We’ll let you blow us at another time, Jack,” smiled Frank. “I don’t feel like stuffing myself to-night.”
“You never feel like stuffing yourself,” said the Virginian resentfully. “Ever since I can remember, you have been eating coarse bread, dodging pastry, eschewing pork and veal, and living like a dyspeptic.”
“With the result that I am as little like a dyspeptic as a man can possibly be. I eat coarse bread because there is little nutriment in white bread—all the important food-elements having been removed with the bran. The man who bolts his food is digging his own grave.”
“Hear, hear!” cried Diamond. “A lecture on diet by the great expert, Frank Merriwell! Look at him! Behold him! He is a perfect man, and all because he never ate improper food. Go thou and do likewise.”
Frank laughed a little.
“You are putting it pretty strong,” he said. “Merely eating the proper food will not make any man an athlete or give him perfect health. He must conform to other rules and regulations; he must take proper exercise, and he must not disregard the natural laws of health. A fellow who fancies he can indulge in excesses and retain his health is fooling himself in the worst way.”
“My dear fellow,” smiled Jack, “down in my country we are hospitable. We fling open our doors and invite our friends. Tables are loaded with the fat of the land, and every guest is supposed to take hold and eat his fill. You would find yourself out of order down there, with your rules and regulations.”
“Not at all. I should eat with the others, but I’d take care to eat slowly and not overload myself. That’s all. I have no use for cranks, but a man may stick to what he knows is right, and avoid what he knows is wrong, without giving anybody the right to dub him a crank.”