THE STEAM-SHOVEL MAN
contusions were of small account. A few days would mend them. But his aching, disabled arm was quite a different matter.
"You were born lucky or you would be in the morgue," said the genial young surgeon of the accident ward.
"I am damaged enough," sighed Walter. "What about this arm?"
"No fracture. A severe wrench that will make it pretty sore for a month or so."
"A month or so!" and Walter winked to hold back the tears. "Why, I have to pitch a game of ball with this arm next week."
"Nothing doing," decreed the surgeon. "You had better stay here for two or three days and we'll try our best to patch you up in record time. Do you want to notify any friends?"
"Yes, indeed," cried Walter. "Please send word to Mr. Harrison, captain of the Cristobal nine."
"'Bucky' Harrison?" The surgeon showed lively interest. "Then you must be the new pitcher for Cristobal. We heard about you. You are in the enemy's camp, but we will treat you kindly."
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