might pull around in time to play at least part of the game, but the doctor soon put an end to this thought.
"It's utterly out of the question," he said, and Phil, with a groan, turned his face to the wall.
As if Randall did not have trouble enough, more developed the night before the game. There had been a final meeting of the eleven, and Phil had managed to limp to it on a crutch. Final instructions were given by the coach, some new plays were decided upon, and a particular code of signals, of which there were several in use, was adopted.
"No objections to taking a glass of ginger ale before we turn in, is there, Mr. Lighton?" asked Jerry Jackson of the coach, who was a strict trainer.
"I'll allow you one," he answered.
"Come on then, fellows, I'll stand treat. Got something extra in my allowance this month," went on the Jersey twin, and he led a crowd of his chums to a small refreshment place that did a thriving business just outside the college grounds.
Whether it was the ginger ale, or the excitement caused by anticipating the game, was not ascertained, but it was a fact that in the night Sid Henderson was taken ill. Tom heard his chum groaning, and, sitting up in bed, asked:
