“Don’t boast!” called his sister, with a laugh.
The girls sent messages of condolence to Sid. Tom and Phil hurried to tell their chum all about it. Sid had improved enough to enable him to be moved to their room, and there, with him in bed, the game was played all over again.
“It wasn’t the poor playing of any one man, or any two or three men,” declared Tom. “It was the fault of the whole team. We’re crippled, that’s what we are, and we’ve got to get in shape for the rest of the season, or——”
The possibility was not to be mentioned.
“I don’t suppose anything like this would happen again in years, that we’d lose so many players,” spoke Phil. “We can’t always play in luck.”
“Kindlings feels it pretty fierce,” said Tom. “He couldn’t talk when he came off the field.”
“Yes, it’s got him bad,” agreed Phil. “Well, we’ll have to do better, that’s all. I think Simpson is booked for good on the ’varsity, after the dandy game he put up in the second half.”
“Yes,” came from Tom. “The Snail means all right, but he’s too slow. Frank will help the team a whole lot.”
“Tell me about his playing,” urged Sid, and they gave it to him, point by point.