CHAPTER XIX—NED IS MISSING
Ned ate almost no breakfast, and Laurie noted the fact, but, after a glance at his brother’s face, said nothing. After all, he reflected, there were probably others of the squad who were displaying no more appetite this morning. Afterward, on the way to School Hall for their only recitation of the day, he asked off-handedly: “How are you feeling, Neddie?”
Ned didn’t answer at once. When he did, he only replied laconically: “Rotten!”
“How do you mean, rotten?” Laurie disguised anxiety under flippancy. “Tummy out of whack? Or is it a case of ingrowing signals?”
“I don’t know what the trouble is,” answered Ned seriously. “I feel perfectly punk. And I—I’m scared, Laurie. I’d give a million dollars if I didn’t have to go to the field this afternoon. I wish to goodness I could duck somehow. Say, feel my forehead. Isn’t it hot?”
Laurie felt, and shook his head. “Cool as a cucumber, you old fakir. Buck up, Neddie! You’ll feel better after a while. Did you sleep all right?”
“I guess so,” replied the other dispiritedly. “I dreamed a lot. Dreamed I was kicking goals over a bar as high as a mountain. And the ball was as big as a hogshead. And there were about a million folks watching me, and Mr. Cornish was beating a bass-drum.”
Laurie laughed. “Some dream, Neddie! Tell you what. After we get out of here, we’ll take a nice, long hike. Mulford wants the players to stay outdoors, doesn’t he? Didn’t you tell me he said you were to walk or something?”
Ned nodded. “I’m too tired to walk, though, Laurie. Guess I’ll get a book and go over to the park. Or go down and jump in the river!”
“Fine idea!” scoffed Laurie. “What have you got against the river? It never did anything to you, did it?”