Dr. Pickett looked grave when told of the cause of the injury.
“Well, let’s have a look at the arm,” he suggested, and when he saw a slight swelling he shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t pitch to-morrow,” he said.
“I’ve got to,” replied Joe simply.
“Can’t you give him some liniment to rub on to take the stiffness out, doctor?” asked Joe.
“Hum! Nature is something that doesn’t like to be hurried, young man,” responded the physician. “However, it might be worse, and perhaps if that arm is massaged half the night and up to the time of the game to-morrow, he might pitch a few innings.”
“That’s good!” exclaimed Joe.
“And it’s me for the massage!” cried Tom. “Now give us some stuff to rub on, doctor.”
Dr. Pickett showed Tom how to rub the arm, and how to knead the muscles to take out the soreness, and gave the boys a prescription to get filled at the drug store.
“Come on!” cried Tom again. He seemed to have taken charge of Joe as a trainer might have done. “I must get you home and begin work on you.”
And Tom did. He installed himself as rubber-in-chief in Joe’s room, and for several hours thereafter there was the smell of arnica and pungent liniment throughout the house. Tom was a faithful massage artist, and soon some of the soreness began to get out of the wrenched arm.