All Comers, yet
under his inspiration and skilful generalship, the team made such a
brilliant recovery of form and came so near victory that Sam was carried
from the field in triumph shoulder high and departed with his new and
enthusiastically grateful comrades to a celebration.

Larry, however, was much too miserable and much too unhappy for anything
like a celebration. The boy was oppressed with a feeling of loneliness,
and was conscious chiefly of a desire to reach his car and crawl into
his bed there among the straw. Stumbling blindly along the dusty road; a
cheery voice hailed him.

"Hello, Larry!" It was Jane seated beside her father in his car.

"Hello!" he answered faintly and just glanced at her as the car passed.

But soon the car pulled up. "Come on, Larry, we'll take you home," said
Jane.

"Oh, I'm all right," said Larry, forcing his lips into his old smile and
resolutely plodding on.

"Better come up, my boy," said the doctor.

"I don't mind walking, sir," replied Larry, stubbornly determined to go
his lonely way.

"Come here, boy," said the doctor, regarding him keenly. Larry came over
to the wheel. "Why, boy, what is the matter?" The doctor took hold of
his hand.

Larry gripped the wheel hard. He was feeling desperately ill and
unsteady on his legs, but still his lips twisted themselves into a
smile. "I'm all right, sir," he said; "I've got a headache and it was
pretty hot out there."

But even as he spoke his face grew white and he swayed on his feet.
In an instant the doctor was out of his car. "Get in, lad," he said
briefly, and Larry, surrendering, climbed into the back seat, fighting
fiercely meanwhile to prevent the tears from showing in his eyes.
Keeping up a brisk and cheerful conversation with Jane in regard to the
game, the doctor drove rapidly toward his home.

"You will come in with us, my boy," said the doctor as they reached his
door.

By this time Larry was past all power of resistance and yielded himself
to the authority of the doctor, who had him upstairs and into bed within
a few minutes of his arrival. A single word Larry uttered during this
process, "Tell my mother," and then sank into a long nightmare, through
which there mingled dim shapes and quiet voices, followed by dreamless
sleep, and an awakening to weakness that made the lifting of his eyelids
an effort and the movement of his hand a weariness. The first object
that loomed intelligible through the fog in which