“They might start a rough-house with me,” mused Joe, “and then my ankle would be more on the blink than ever. I’ll go home.”
He started off, rather excited over the events of the night, and found that even his brief spell of standing still had stiffened him so that he could hardly proceed.
“Wow!” he exclaimed, as a particularly sharp twinge shot through him. He had gone about two blocks when he heard someone coming behind him. He turned in apprehension, but saw only a single figure.
“Hello! What’s the matter?” asked a young man as he caught up to Joe.
“Twisted my ankle.”
“So? What’s your name?”
“Matson—I’m a Freshman.”
“Oh, yes. I think I saw you at Chapel. Kendall’s my name.” Joe recognized it as that of one of the Juniors and a member of the ’varsity nine. “How’d it happen?”
“Oh, skylarking. The Sophs. were after us to-night.”
“So I heard. You’d better do something for that foot,” he went on, as he noticed Joe’s limp.