The cripple's love and longing for sport in which he could never hope to join seemed terribly sad and gave him a choking sensation in his throat.
"If I had been--like other fellows," continued Sydney, quite cheerfully, "I should have played everything--football, baseball, hockey, tennis--everything! I'd give--anything I've got--if I could just run from here to the corner." He was silent a minute, looking before him with eyes from which the usual brightness was gone.

Then, "My, it must be good to run and walk and jump around just as you want to," he sighed.
"Yes," muttered Neil, "but--but that was a good little run you made to-day." Sydney looked puzzled, then laughed.
"In the game, you mean?
Yes, wasn't it?
And I made a touch-down and won the game.

I was awfully afraid at one time that that Woodby quarter-back was going to nab me; that's why I made for the corner of the field like that." "I fancied that was the reason," answered Neil gravely.

Then their eyes met and they laughed together.
"Your friend Gale didn't play so well to-day," said Sydney presently.
Neil shook his head with a troubled air.
"No, he played rotten ball, and that's a fact.

I don't know what's got into him of late.