"My ankle isn't as good as it ought to be," said Frank, looking down. "I was afraid of doing more damage to it."
"I'll take a look at that ankle in the gym," said Howard. "Maybe we can make a quarterback of you yet. I want you to come over to the Freshman training table after this."
It was a joyful gathering in Pierson that night, with a full attendance, for little by little the Armstrong-Turner-Gleason-Powers combination began to have a following in the dormitory and in the class. Friends began to drop in to talk over matters of the moment as they passed to and from their rooms, and if they were the right kind they always had a welcome. The room became the central one for spreads and parties, when the fun raged until ten o'clock.
"All over," Frank would shout. "Lights out." Both Turner and Armstrong believed in keeping strict training hours.
On this particular night the Codfish was in his element.
"Three cheers for our own little quarterback," he howled.
"Sit down, you fish," shouted Turner. "You didn't even see the game."
"O, but I have ears. All the little birds sang it as I was coming up from the boathouse this evening."
"How's the Freshman crew coming on?"