“The season has opened well, I hope,” went on the doctor. “And there are good chances for keeping the pennant here, I trust?”
“We’re going to try hard,” put in Pete, who, being on the other side, trusted to draw the attention of the president farther away from his brother. As for that hero he remained quiet.
“Pull your cap farther down!” again advised Bill in a hoarse whisper.
Whether it was that or whether he would have noticed it anyhow, the eyes of the president went straight to Cap’s bruised countenance. He saw the blackened eye, and the cuts and scratches.
“Ah, there has been an accident, I see,” he remarked, and he advanced closer to the lad.
“Er—yes—that is I—”
“Cut it out,” whispered Bill, nudging his brother in the back.
“Hit by a ball, I suppose,” went on the president. “And yet they say baseball is comparatively harmless. Why, you look almost as if you had been through a football scrimmage, Smith.”
“Ye—yes, sir,” stammered Cap.
“Better have it attended to right away,” continued Dr. Burton. “That eye looks very painful.”