Pat sat up and put away his pipe. He made silent motions to Tennelly,
and the two picked up the unresisting Courtland and laid him on the
couch. Pat's face was unusually sober as he gently put a pillow under
his friend's head. Courtland opened his eyes and smiled.
"Thanks, old man," he said, and gripped his hand understandingly. There
was something in Pat's face he had never noticed there before. As he
dropped his eyelids shut he had an odd sense that Pat and Tennelly and
the Presence were all taking care of him. A sick fancy of worn-out
nerves, of course, but pleasant all the same.
Down the hall a nasal voice twanged at the telephone, shouting each
answer as though to make the whole dormitory hear. Then loud steps, a
thump on the door as it was flung open:
"Court here? A girl on the 'phone wants you, Court. Says her name is
Miss Gila Dare."
CHAPTER VII
The messenger had imitated Gila Dare's petulant childish accent to
perfection. At another time the three young men would have shouted over
it. Now they looked at one another in silence.
"Sha'n't I go and get a message for you, Court?" asked Tennelly. For
Courtland's face was ashen gray, and the memory of it lying in the
hospital was too recent for him not to feel anxious about his friend. He
had only been permitted to return to college so quickly under strict
orders not to overdo.
"No, I guess I'll go," said Courtland, indifferently, rising as he
spoke.
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