When he gets to it, however, he is safe to enjoy himself for the remainder of his life, for the supply of dull boys is as sure as frost in November.
“Pretty tough game of ball you boys had to-day,” said Brayton, after the lesson was over.
“Good game,” said Val. “Bar plays like a professional.”
“Is that the way so many of them got battered?” asked Brayton.
“No, sir,” said Val; “they got that in the boxing lesson.”
“Boxing lesson?” exclaimed Brayton. “Why didn’t you use gloves?”
“They were in too much of a hurry for that,” replied Bar. “In fact, Dr. Dryer seemed to disapprove of it. He came out and stopped us before it was finished.”
“Hum! Yes. I think I see how it was,” said Brayton. “You’d better wear gloves next time, Bar. You’ve knocked quite a piece of skin off your left hand.”
“That?” said Bar. “Oh, Hy Allen ran his head against it. He has a very hard head.”
Brayton took Bar’s injured hand and deliberately felt of his arm, muttering to himself: