“Nothing but to make him easy,” he answered. “I will treat his arm and wrist and bind them up. Then one of you had better remain with him to attend to his wants.” Tony Larcom, being the only one of us in his ordinary clothes, consented to stay, while Ray and I agreed to change our suits and return immediately after dinner to relieve Tony. Dick Palmer had already gone over to the telegraph office to send word to Fred’s parents, who lived at Springfield. Feeling that everything had been done to contribute to the invalid’s comfort, the rest of us took our departure, leaving Fred in the hands of Tony and the doctor. CHAPTER XX CAUGHT IN THE ACT “Ah, this is like old times!” exclaimed Ray with genuine satisfaction, as he sunk back into the large easy chair that stood by the hearth in his front room. “Yes,” I answered. “It seems months since we were in these rooms before. They appear to have been well cared for; no dust anywhere.” “Oh, I told the janitor I was going to return this evening, so he was in here during the morning cleaning. Now let us light up the gas and make ourselves comfortable.” Ray scratched a match, and lit every burner in the room. “An illumination in honor of our return,” he called out, while I put down the parcels I had carried over for Ray, and dropped on the sofa, stretching myself out at ease. At dinner Ray had asked me to help him to get a few of his things over from the room we had occupied, as he was anxious to take possession of his old apartments without delay. Accordingly we gathered his necessities together, and brought them with us on our way back to Fred Harrison’s room, where we expected to find Tony. We discovered, however, that Harrison’s roommate had come in during our absence, and had relieved Tony, who had gone away shortly before we arrived. We found Fred resting quietly, and, though still suffering some pain, much improved in condition. He seemed greatly distressed when he saw us, and in a broken and almost tearful voice confessed having taken brandy before the game, and condemned himself for his folly in unmeasured terms. The sorry exhibition he had made of himself, and the injury he had sustained, affected him but little. These he regarded as but the natural consequents of his foolish act, which he fully deserved; but that the college should have suffered so humiliating a defeat through his weakness grieved him most, and he could find no words of self reproach severe enough. We comforted him as best we could, and then left him with the promise that we would call the next morning. “And now,” said Ray, as he drew the heavy curtains to, “I could almost feel reconciled even to our absurd defeat, it is so pleasant to get back here again. We can lie off and look at the matter calmly and comfortably.” Here he resumed his chair.