“Hold up, boys,” he said quietly. “Something’s wrong.” He felt of Kendall’s collarbone, working clever fingers like lightning along the back of his neck. “Hurt?” he asked. Kendall shook his head. Andy’s fingers slid down along the left arm, his little green eyes watching Kendall’s face sharply. The boy held his breath and gritted his teeth. The awful fingers reached the wrist, closed―――― Kendall felt the blood ebbing away from his face, already pale, but he returned the trainer’s gaze unflinchingly. Andy’s fingers stopped kneading, lingered inquiringly at the wrist. Then his eyes left Kendall’s and Kendall, following the trainer’s gaze, saw a white lump on the back of his hand. Andy grunted. “Come off,” he said. “It’s nothing, Andy, really!” pleaded Kendall. “I――I don’t even feel it!” For answer Andy laid a compelling hand on his shoulder. “Sure, I know. ’Tis rather pleasant than otherwise, maybe. But just the same you’ll come along with me, Burtis, me boy!” Payson awaited them on the side-line. “Dislocated wrist,” announced Andy. “Sorry, Burtis. Fayette! Fayette! Right half, and hurry up!” “I may go in again, mayn’t I, Andy?” begged Kendall as he lowered himself to the bench. “Maybe. I don’t know. Hold your arm out. One o’ you boys put your arms around his chest. That’s it. Hold steady now.” Slowly Andy pulled at the hand and pressed against the white lump. There was a squirmish, gritting sort of jar as the bone fell into place again. “All right. Hold it so a minute.” Andy reached into his bag for splints and bandage just as a shout of satisfaction traveled across the field. Kendall, glancing quickly toward the Yardley goal, saw the pigskin dropping to earth beyond the farther upright. Nordham had failed at goal! With quick hands Andy wound the bandage. The shooting pains had already gone, but there was a dull, throbbing ache at the wrist, and Kendall viewed the white-swathed member scowlingly. “I wonder――――” he began. “What?” asked Andy as he tied the knot. “I wonder if I hurt that before I dropped the ball, Andy.” “Sure you did! You likely got it doubled under you when you went down.” “Did I? That’s not so bad, then, is it? I mean there might be more excuse for fumbling, mightn’t there?” “No man on earth would have held the ball after getting that,” responded the trainer, nodding at the hand. “Don’t bother your head about it, son.” He fashioned a sling of a broad strip of gauze and placed the arm in it so that the fingers lay over Kendall’s right chest. “Keep it so. We’ll have the doctor see it later. Time’s up! Get the blankets ready, boys!” CHAPTER XVIII KENDALL GOES BACK