“Well, if you’re not we’ll be glad to have you stay here as long as you care to. I’ll see that you have some supper sent over. And if there’s anything else you can think of--How about having a doctor look at that knee, Mr. Gifford? There’s one a couple of miles from here and I can get him on the ’phone in a minute.” “What do you say, Sam?” asked Mr. Gifford. Sam shook his head decisively. “No, indeed, thanks! It’s quite all right now. And I don’t think you need to send my supper here. I guess I can hobble over to the dining-hall without trouble.” “Better not try it,” said Mr. Collins. “Rest up to-night and you’ll feel better for it to-morrow.” So Sam made the best of it where he was. The knee ached dully, but didn’t worry him much as long as he kept it quiet. Mr. Williams loaded him with magazines and papers and for an hour and more he lay there and read and listened to the sounds that came from outside. Now and then one of the boys would tiptoe in to express embarrassed regrets. He heard the cheers that were exchanged when Greenwood started back to camp, and, later, the sound of voices as The Wigwam boys trooped past to supper. Steve appeared a few minutes after that with a well-laden tray, and, when he had changed the bandage on the injured knee, helped Sam into a sitting position and placed the tray before him. Sam discovered that his appetite was excellent and that the supper, generous as it was, was none too much to satisfy it. The light was too dim now to read by, so, setting the tray on the floor, he straightened out and fell to thinking about things. He went over the afternoon’s game again and, which was like him, viewed his own work critically and pointed out to himself the mistakes he had made. There was that time, for instance, when he had been caught flat-footed off third. Sam grunted disgustedly as he recalled the incident. Then, too, he had more than once failed to work the batter right. That bunt of Mr. Collins’ in the sixth inning--or had it been the seventh?--should never have been allowed him. And then---- But at that moment there were voices outside and then footsteps on the porch and Mr. Langham and York came in. After inquiring about the knee, Mr. Langham said: “Sam, Mr. York here wants to kidnap you.” Sam smiled a little doubtfully, inquiringly. “Yes, Craig,” said the second visitor, “I want to take you down to my place until you get ready to join your crowd. I’ve got lots of room down there; half a dozen bedrooms standing idle, in fact. Of course, Mr. Scovill will be glad to have you stay here if you’d rather, but I fancy you’ll be a lot more comfortable with me. I’ve spoken to him about it and he says I can have you. And Mr. Langham’s agreed, too. Now what do you say?” “Why--thank you very much,” stammered Sam, “but I guess I won’t bother you. I dare say that by morning this knee will be all right. I’d like to start with the others if I could, sir.” The latter part of the remark was addressed to Mr. Langham.