[CHAPTER XXVIII—COMRADES ALL.]
Charley was sitting on a big chair, his bandaged ankle resting on cushions piled in another chair, when Ned Osgood came to see him at noon the following day. Ned had visited him early that morning, but now he returned with his face aglow and his tongue eager with a message.
“How’s the ankle, Shultzie?” he cried.
“Oh, it’s pretty well,” was the answer. “Of course it gives me fits, especially when I have to move it a little, but then, I guess I can stand it.” He looked at Ned almost entreatingly.
Osgood drew a chair close and sat down.
“The fellows all want to know how you’re coming on,” he said. “Of course I’ve had to tell them all about it.”
“Confound it!” exclaimed Shultz. “I don’t count in this business. How’s Hooker? That’s what I want to know.”
“I’ve been to see him, too. He didn’t come to school this morning, but he’s all right, just the same. Says he’s stiff and lame, and all that, but thinks he’ll be frisky enough in a day or two.”
“Does he—does he seem to be all right—in his head?” faltered Charley anxiously.
“Oh, sure. There’s nothing the matter with him.”