“Sure,” answered Joe impatiently. “What did you suppose? And you’ll have to get a hustle on, too: it’s about eight-fifteen now and your train goes at nine-five. I’d go in a minute, but I’m in training and the rule’s strict, and if I got caught—fare thee well!”
To Joe’s surprise, Andrew began to laugh. “Well, you’re a wonder, Joe,” he gasped. “Why, man alive, I can’t go traipsing all over the United States like that! I’m beastly sorry for Myron, but——”
“Why can’t you?” demanded Joe, scowling. “Some one’s got to, and that’s flat. If he’s caught away from school without permission they’ll chuck him as sure as shooting. Why do you say you can’t go, Andy?”
“Why—why, for one reason, I can’t afford it, you idiot! How much do you think it’ll cost to go to Philadelphia and back? I’m no millionaire! Why——”
“I thought of that.” Joe pulled a roll of bills from his trousers pocket and flung it on the table. “There’s twenty-five, all I have right now. It’s enough, I guess.”
Andrew stared at the money in surprise. “Well—but—look here, I’ve got an engagement in the morning. And how do you know I can get leave?”
“Take it! No one’ll know you’re away,” said Joe. “Gosh, we’ve got to risk something!”
“We have? You mean I have, don’t you?”
“Oh, what’s the difference? Myron’s a friend, ain’t he, and we can’t let him go and kill himself off like this without making a try, can we? Besides, the team needs him bad. If he’d hung on a bit longer he’d have been full-back and—and everything! I—I’d like to wring his silly neck!”