"Why, no; it doesn't hurt," Dick insisted. "I believe I could rub that knee a little, and then walk on it." "I hope that's right," Dave muttered, half incredulously. Dr. Bentley made some further examination before he stated: "I knew there was nothing broken there, but I feared that the ligaments of the knee had been strained. That might have put you out of the game for the season, Prescott." "I'll be able to sprint in the morning," declared the young pitcher, with spirit. "You fell on your hands, as well, didn't you?" asked the physician. "Yes, sir." "That saved you from worse trouble, then. The ligaments are not torn at all. The worst you've met with, Prescott, is a wrench of the knee, and there's a little swelling. It hurt to stand on your foot when you first tried to do so, didn't it?" "Yes, sir." "It would probably hurt a little less, now. No---don't try it," as Dick started to bolster himself up. "You want that knee in shape at the earliest moment, don't you?" "Of course I do, doctor." "Then lie very quiet, and do, in everything, just what you are told." "I've got to pitch to-morrow afternoon, you know, doctor. And I've got to run bases." Dr. Bentley pursed his lips. "There's a chance in a thousand that you'll be able, Prescott. The slight swelling is the worst thing we have to deal with, I'm glad to say. We'll have to keep the leg pretty quiet, and put cold compresses on frequently." "I'll stay here and do it," volunteered Dave, promptly. "You have to pitch to-morrow, Dave, if anything _should_ make the coach order me off the field," interposed Dick, anxiously. "And you ought to be home and in bed now." "If Mrs. Prescott will put on the bandages up to one o'clock to-night that will be doing well enough," suggested Dr. Bentley. "I shall be in to look at the young man quite early in the morning. But don't attempt to get up for anything, do you understand, Prescott? You know---" here Dr. Bentley assumed an air of authority---" I'm more than the mere physician. I'm medical director to your nine. So you're in duty bound to follow my orders to the letter." "I will---if you'll promise me that I can pitch," promised the boy fervently. "I can't promise, but I'll do my best." "And, Dave," pressed Dick, "you'll skip home, now, and get a big night's rest, won't you? There's a bare chance that you _might_ have to throw the ball to-morrow. But I won't let you, if I can stop it," Prescott added wistfully. So Dave departed, for he was accustomed to following the wishes of the head of Dick & Co. in such matters. Mrs. Prescott had come in as soon as the lad had been placed between the sheets. Dr. Bentley gave some further directions, then left something that would quiet the pain without having the effect of an opiate. "It all depends on keeping the leg quiet and keeping the cold compresses renewed," were the medical man's parting words.