"Oops another sarter," said the svelte Smith coed as she heard a suspicious snap beneath her ski pants at the Darmouth winter carnival after negotiating Dead Man's Leap and landing in an undignified posture in Horror Gulch.
But is was a leg after all, and the cry went up, "is there a doctor in the house." Strictly speaking it wasn't a house but a lodge, but in the crisis of the moment no one stopped to consider details.
One Harvard doctor of Philosophy rushed to the leg-setting chores, but discovered, to his plque, that a Harvard doctor of Divinity had beaten him to the assignment.
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The Pop Concert
