“All right,” replied Chick wearily. “Come on, Bert.”
Outside Bert asked anxiously: “Sure you’d better not ride, Chick? It won’t take a minute to find a cab.”
“I’d rather walk. The air feels good. Gosh, that was a nasty thump he gave me!”
“[Who did it? How did it happen?] Never mind now, though. Better take my arm, old chap.”
[“Who did it? How did it happen?”]
Chick accepted the suggestion and for a few minutes they went slowly along the street, making their way with difficulty through the throng. Chick had set his cap on his head and it partly covered the blood-soaked bandage, and so his appearance attracted no attention. Presently, reaching West street and less crowded sidewalks, Chick began to talk.
“I suppose it’s after ten, isn’t it? Afraid I’m making a mess for you, Bert. Hope we don’t run into a faculty.”
“Only a minute or two after,” answered Bert. “Keep your head down and we’ll make it, I guess.”
“Afraid I can’t.” Chick attempted a chuckle. “Have to hold it up, Bert. If I don’t it throbs horribly. Have we got any arnica in the room?”