“Yes, but—but what is the score?”
“Nine to six, and that’s good enough. How do you feel?”
“Oh, I’m all right, feeling fine. Nine to——”
“No goal!” someone cried, and “No goal!” ran the verdict as the throng broke up to follow the ball back to the center of the field.
“Who kicked?” asked Kendall, as Jensen, substitute tackle, came by trailing his blanket in the mud.
“Fales. Missed it by only a foot, I guess. That was a great run, Burtis.”
“Can you walk all right?” asked Andy. Kendall got to his feet and tried it, finding that the dizziness was gone. “Then go on up before the crowd starts,” directed the trainer. “Get your duds off and take a hot tub. I’ll look after you when I come up.”
“Couldn’t I see the rest of the game?” begged Kendall.
“You could not,” answered Andy shortly. “Do as I tell you to do for once. First thing you know them howling hyenas will be wanting to lug you around on their shoulders and you’ll get hurt again. Off with you now. Go slow, but keep going!”
“All right. Will you find my sweater for me?”