"Another peculiar accident, and only two days before our game with Chichester! See Dr.Bentley about your wrist at his office this afternoon.
I'm beginning to think, Prescott, that it's a fortunate thing for you that the medical director is paid out of the fund.

You'd bankrupt an ordinary citizen if you're going to keep on having these tumbles." Dr.Bentley's verdict was that, while the wrist was not in a condition that need bother men much in ordinary callings, yet, as a pitcher's wrist, it would need rest and care.
"I've just got the tip that I'm to pitch in the Chichester game," said Dave, coming to his chum that afternoon.
"Yes; Doe thinks I ought to look after this wrist---that it wouldn't stand extraordinary strain during the next few days.

But, Dave, old fellow, watch out! Keep your eye on the sidewalks near your home.

Don't prowl in lonely places after dark.

Act as if you were made of glass until you get on the field at the Chichester game." Darrin glanced shrewdly at his friend, then nodded.
"I'm on, Dick! Confound that fellow, Ripley.