I'll play, anyway." "Huh!" muttered Dave, incredulously.
Dr.Bentley was running his fingers over the left knee, which looked rather red.
"Does this hurt?
Does this?
Or this" inquired the medical man, pressing on different parts of the knee.
"No," Dick answered, in each case.
"We don't want grit, my boy.

We want the truth." "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.