In a few moments the young athlete, the upper half of his body bared, stood before the medical examiner. For his height, weight and age Prescott was surely a fine picture of physical strength.
But Dr. Bentley, with the air and the preformed bias of a professional skeptic, went all over the boy's torso, starting with a prolonged examination of the heart action and its sounds.
"You find the arterial pressure steady and sound, don't you," asked Dick Prescott?
"Hm!" muttered Dr. Bentley. "Now, take a full breath and hold it."
Thump! thump! thump! went the doctor's forefinger against the back of his other hand, as he explored all the regions of Dick's chest.
A dozen more tests followed.
"What do you think, Doctor?" asked Mr. Morton.
"Hm! The young man recovers with great rapidity. If he goes into a mild game he'll stand it all right. If it turns out to be a rough game——-"
"Then I'll fare as badly as the rest, won't I, Doctor?" laughed Dick. "Thank you for passing me, sir. I'll get into my togs at once."
"But I haven't said that I passed you."