“Your fault! Poppycock! That’s nonsense to talk like that,” responded Arthur. “Besides, there’s no harm done. My old knee will be as fit as a fiddle in a few days.”
“We’re going to miss you on the team, though,” said Dan mournfully.
Arthur laughed. “You’ll never know I’ve gone,” he said. “Now, for the love of mud, Dan, stop looking like a bereaved cow. Cheer up!”
“I’ve been trying to get him to cheer up all the evening,” said Tom, “and he hasn’t smiled a single smile yet. Honest, Dan, things aren’t half as bad as you look!”
Dan did smile then rather wanly. “I’m tired,” he said. “That’s all that’s the matter with me. Payson says I’ve got to lay off for a day or two, though. I guess I’d better, after the exhibition I put up to-day. Pretty poor, wasn’t it, Tom?”
“So-so,” replied Tom untroubledly. “Don’t let it bother you. We all go to pieces now and then. Payson’s right, though, old man, and you do need a bit of a rest. Next Saturday you’ll feel like a fighting cock and play like a house afire!”
“Hope so. Well, I told Payson I’d go down and see him for a minute. I’m awfully sorry about this, Arthur. If there’s any sort of thing I can do, let me know, won’t you? Good night. Good night, fellows.”
Dan departed. For a moment no one said anything. Arthur, however, raised his brows, and Tom shook his head as much as to say, “Don’t ask me!”
“He’s got it bad,” remarked Arthur finally. “Well, I daresay it’s not much fun being football captain at a school where nearly three hundred fellows are watching you all the time and expecting you to turn out a winning team no matter what the conditions may be. I guess it’s natural enough to get nervous now and then.”