"Eighteen to nothing. Poor Dana—I wonder what he'll do?"
He remembered, in a far-off way, tales he had heard of other captains, disgraced by defeat, breaking down, leaving college, disappearing. He dreaded the moment when they should break silence, when the awful thing must be talked over, there in the gymnasium, feeling acutely all the misery and ache Dana must be feeling.
"All right there, Stover? Let yourself go, if you want to."
The voice was Tompkins', who was looking up at him anxiously, the gymnasium at his back.
"All right," he said gruffly, raising himself with an effort and half slipping to the ground.
"Sure? How's Dudley?"
He realized in a curious way that others, too, had gone through the game. Then Regan's arm was around him. He did not put it from him, grateful for any support in his weakness. Together they went through the crowd of ragamuffins staring open-mouthed at a defeated team.
"What's the matter with Dudley?"
"Played through all the last with a couple of broken ribs."
"Dudley?"