“Ptomaine poisoning’s a pretty bad thing,” said Joe, looking at them rather quizzically. “It usually hangs on for days. You’re lucky to get over it so quickly.”
“You look fit as a fiddle,” added Jim, dryly. “Or is it the hectic flush of disease that gives you such a good color?”
“I guess it was only a slight attack,” said Jackwell. “Just enough to put us out of our stride for the day.”
“I’ve got to get to the hotel and get there quickly,” declared Joe, a twinge going through his foot as he stepped down from the threshold of the clubhouse. “Mabel will be at the hotel, wondering what on earth has happened to me.”
“By jiminy, that’s so!” cried Jim, turning to stare at his chum. “What will you think of me, old boy, if I confess that in the excitement of the game I’d forgotten about her coming?”
“You wouldn’t have been so quick to forget if Clara had been able to come along with her,” he said, as he walked along gingerly, favoring his injured leg.
“Say, Joe, that leg must be pretty bad,” said Jim, anxiously. “Better rest a while, don’t you think, before starting out?”
“I tell you I’ve waited too long already,” returned Joe. “Just call a taxi, will you? and we’ll spin down to the hotel in no time.”
Jim went personally in search of a conveyance. It was not hard to find one, and he returned almost immediately to find Joe limping toward him with the aid of a cane furnished by Dougherty. The latter had offered him his shoulder, but Joe, with a smile, refused.
“I may be a cripple, but I refuse to be treated as such,” he told Jim, in response to the latter’s protest. “Next thing you know, they’ll be offering to carry me on a stretcher.”
Nevertheless, Jim noted that Joe sighted the taxicab with eagerness, and leaned back in its shabby interior with a sigh of relief.
“Hate to show myself to Mabel in this shape,” he said ruefully. “Looks as though I’d had the worst end of the fight.”
“Rather step up lively to the tune of ‘Hail the Conquering Hero Comes,’ I suppose?” said Jim, with an understanding grin. “I think I get your train of thought all right, old man. But I wouldn’t worry, if I were you. Nothing you could do would ever make Mabel think you anything but a hero.”
“Let’s hope you have the right dope,” said Joe.