“Will they keep me out of the game? Will I be in decent trim to play, if they do put me in? Have my wind and nerve been hurt by the last few days?”
The fast train seemed scarcely to move, so anxious was Hike to get back, and see where he stood with the coach and Captain McDever.
CHAPTER XXVII
WILL HIKE PLAY?
Hike got off the train at Santa Benicia, weary now and looking a little worn. It seemed strange to alight at this familiar dowdy wooden station, after the brilliant desert nights and the terrible grandeur of battle.
He walked slowly toward the Academy, and around a corner swung Bluggy Blodgett and two classmates, on a walk. “Hello, Hike,” they cried excitedly. “Back?”
That same excited question as to whether he was back was asked by at least fifty before Hike reached Captain McDever’s room, where he found McDever and the coach, talking over the coming afternoon’s practise. They both rose from the window-seat, and, running him by the shoulders into a better light, by the windows, looked him over sharply. The coach shook his head. “You’re pretty well done up. What you been doing?”
“Aeroplaning,” was all Hike would say.
“Well, that may be all very well,” said the coach severely, “but it doesn’t put you into very good trim for football, strikes me. Now you beat it to your room, and I’ll see that you get a good diet and rest, and there may still be a chance to put you in for the San Dinero game. But you can’t play day after to-morrow—Saturday—Fresno game, at Fresno.”
A week before the Thanksgiving game—a week during which he was treated as a baby. Hike protested, but he was overruled by a council of the coach, Bill McDever, and Poodle. He would have had the Lieutenant persuade them that he never did such good work as when he was tired. He thought of his ride to Anarcon and the battle, coming after a sleepless night of siege. But the Lieutenant had gone back to Mexico for a short time.
Hike had to submit to going to bed at eight-thirty, and to eating nothing more exciting than beefsteak and oatmeal. He had to avoid all “nervousness”—by which the coach meant hard practise, horseback riding, fierce boxing, and everything else that was interesting. In their place, he had foolish bendings and twistings, nice easy exercises which bored him excessively.