"Keep off the ground."
"Off the ground, yes."
"Go right in; right at him; tackle him hard; shake him up."
"All right," he said, for the tenth time. He had heard nothing that had been said. He was standing erect, looking in a dazed way at the hundreds of eyes that were dancing about him in the living, breathing pit in which he stood. He heard a jumble of roars and cheers, and one clear cry, McCarthy crying:
"Good old Dink!"
Some one was rolling up his trousers to the knee; some one was flinging a sweater over his bared back; some one was whispering in his ear:
"Get right to him. Go for him—don't wait!"
"Already, there," said Captain Dana's quiet, matter-of-fact voice.
"Already, here."
"Shake hands!"