"That's all right, Davis," said Mr. Augustus Higginbottom, "we are going to make no mistake about him."
Night fell, the referee blew his whistle, the match was at an end, and still not a goal had been scored. Utterly weary, covered with mud from head to heel, the twenty-two players trooped back to the dressing-room. They flung off the reeking garments of battle and fought for the icy shower bath, the heroic Ginger still the foremost in the fray.
"Look slippy into yer duds, young feller," he breathed hoarsely in the ear of the Sailor. "We've pleadin' well got to catch that kermittee afore it goes."
XII
Ginger might have spared himself all anxiety in regard to the "kermittee." The Great General Staff had made up its mind in the matter already. The directors would like to see Harper in the committee room before he went.
"What abaht me?" said Ginger.
"It's Harper they want to see," said their emissary. "They don't want to see no one else."
"Oh, don't they!" was Ginger's eloquent comment to himself.
"Ready, Harper?" said the emissary, with the air of a law-giver. "I'll show you the way."