[CHAPTER XII]
JOE’S SILENCE
“Rather queer,” mused Joe, after a moment’s silence. “I wonder he didn’t say something to me after what happened. So he rooms here? It’s a great shack. I suppose if I stay here the full course I’ll be in one of these joints. But I don’t believe I’m going to stay. If I get a chance on the ’varsity nine next year and make good—then a professional league for mine.”
He limped out of the dormitory, and the pain in his ankle made him keenly aware of the fact that if he did not attend to it he might be lame for some time.
“Red paint,” he murmured as he let himself out. “I wonder what Weston was doing with it? Could he—— Oh, I guess it’s best not to think too much in cases like this.”
He reached his rooming place and trod along the hall, his injured foot making an uneven staccato tattoo on the floor.
“Well, what happened to you?”
“Where did you hike to?”
“Were you down to Glory’s all by your lonesome?”