"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!"
Andrew smiled. Then he stared thoughtfully at the table. At last he seized the roll of money, thrust it in his pocket and pushed back his chair. "Guess you're right, Joe," he said. "What time did you say the train goes?"
"Nine-five." Joe jerked out his watch. "You've got forty minutes. Better pack a toothbrush and a night-shirt, kiddo."
"Pack nothing," replied Andrew. "A toothbrush and a comb will see me through, and those go in my pocket. I want that brown book, though, and some sheets of paper. Better have my fountain pen, too. You'll have to take a message to Wynant, 29 Williams, for me, Joe. Better do it tonight. Tell him I'm called away and can't be around in the morning. I'll see him when I get back. Now, what about the dogs? Mind coming around in the morning and letting them out and feeding them? Good! We're off, then."
Andrew turned out the light and they fumbled their way to the door. Outside, Andrew gave the key to Joe. "Don't forget the dogs, Joe," he reminded. "Now, then, tell me again about these trains. It's Philadelphia I'm going to, is it?"
Joe explained carefully as they hurried through the illy-lighted streets toward the station. "Better get to Philadelphia by the first train you can make, Andy. You can sleep on the way, some. The first Sunday train for Port Foster leaves Philadelphia at twelve minutes past seven. There isn't another until ten-something. He may wait for that. You'll have to watch for him on the platform. For the love of mud, Andy, don't miss him!"