Just then the whistle sounded.
"Do you know," declared Ingall, as we were crossing over, "I believe they're playing fifteen men."
Mason scoffed.
"Do you think, without giving us notice, they would play fifteen when they told us they were only playing fourteen?"
"Hanged if I don't count them!" persisted Ingall.
He did, and we all did. We faced round and reckoned them up. There were only fourteen, unless one was slinking out of sight somewhere in the dim recesses of the fog, which seemed scarcely probable. Still Ingfall seemed dissatisfied.
"They're playing four three-quarters," whispered Giffard, when the game restarted.
So they were—Wheeler, Pendleton, Marshall, and another. Who the fourth man was I couldn't make out He was a big, strapping fellow, I could see that; but the play was so fast that more than that I couldn't see.
"Who is the fourth man?"
"Don't know; can't see his face. It's so confoundedly foggy!"
It was foggy; but still, of course, it was not foggy enough to render a man's features indistinguishable at the distance of only a few feet. All the same, somehow or other he managed to keep his face concealed from us. While Giffard and I had been whispering they had been packing in. The ball broke out our side. I had it I tried to run. Instantly I saw that fourth three-quarter rush at me. As he came I saw his face. I was so amazed that I
