A man bumped me, as I was getting on the car, and drove me against the iron dasher.

It was all an accident, due to the man's clumsiness.

But it barked my knee a good bit." "Let me see you walk about the room," ordered Coach Morton.

He watched closely, as Dick obeyed.
"Sit down, Prescott, and draw the trousers leg off on that side.
I want to examine the knee." While Mr.Morton went to work the other members of the team crowded about, anxiety written on all their faces.
"Does it hurt more when I press ?" asked the submaster keenly.
"Ah, I thought so! Prescott, you're not badly hurt for anything else; but your knee is in no shape to play this afternoon!" A wail of dismay went up from the team members.

The rueful look in Dick's face deepened.
"I was afraid you'd bar me out," he confessed.