In the end Dr. Bentley read off some figures he had jotted down, and explained to Prescott what he must regard as a satisfactory heart performance after each bit of training work.
"Now, whenever you don't bring your work, fairly close to these limits you'll know that you're overdoing the training," Dr. Bentley explained. "If you overdo on training then you injure the chances of the men of your squad. The wise trainer keeps within limits. Keep within such limits, and you'll find that, bit by bit, your men can endure more and more, and still pass satisfactorily as to diminishing heart speed after stopping grilling."
"It's mighty good of you to explain all this to us, sir," Dick protested, gratefully.
"Not in the least," replied Dr. Bentley. "You may recall the fact that I'm medical examiner to the High School Athletic Association."
"And I also recall, sir," Prescott rejoined, "that for your work with the high school athletes you accept a salary of only one dollar a year, in place of the hundred dollars that the Athletic Association offered."
"Well, if I cut prices in selected instances, that's my own affair, isn't it?" smiled the physician.
"Now, we'll go on with the training work," Dick soon announced, stepping forward. "Reade! Darrin!"
So the work went on, though it was not quite so grilling after that. The girls looked on with interest, at first, but there was no contest in hand—-nothing for any "side" to win, so presently the high school girls found the spectacle less interesting.
Tom, standing by, mopping his face, turned to see that Miss Marshall, her red parasol resting over one shoulder, had strolled away.
"That was kind of Clara," laughed Tom.