agony, and he grinned that way just to show that he was a hero, and
before he could get his face straight they had the plaster on. He gets
credit for being much better natured than he really is."

"Credit!" said South. "I get worse than that. 'Sandy' saw me grinning at
him in class yesterday and got as mad as a March hare; said I was
'deesrespectful.'"

"But how did it happen?" asked Neil, struggling with his laughter.

"Lacrosse," replied South. "Murdoch was tending goal and I was trying to
get the ball by him. I tripped over his stick and banged my face against
a goal-iron. That's all."

"Seems to me it's enough," said Foster. "What did you do to Murdoch?"
South opened his eyes in innocent surprise.

"Nothing."

"Nothing be blowed, my boy. Murdoch's limping to beat the band."

"Oh!" grinned South. "That was afterward; he got mixed up with my stick,
and, I fear, hurt his shins."

"Well," said Neil, when the laughter was over, "football seems deadly
enough, but I begin to think it's a parlor game for rainy evenings
alongside of lacrosse."

"There won't be many fellows left for the Robinson game," said Sydney,
"if they keep on getting hurt."