“Yes, he was all by his lonesome, and he looked sort of tall; about your height, maybe. He had his coat off and wore darkish clothes. That’s all I could see.”
“But why the dickens didn’t you say something about it? Have you seen him since?”
“No, but I haven’t looked for him. I didn’t say anything about it because I forgot it. And, anyway, I supposed you knew; thought you’d sent him down there to practice.”
“I wish I did know! A chap who can kick five goals out of ten would be a find. You’re not joking, Arthur?”
“Of course I’m not,” responded Arthur impatiently. “If you really don’t know who he is I advise you to find him, for he certainly could kick goals that day!”
“You bet I’ll find him! I’ll find him if I have to hire a regiment of detectives! Anyone guess who he is?”
But they all shook their heads.
“The only explanation I can offer,” said Tom, “is that Arthur went to sleep and dreamed it. I don’t believe there’s a fellow in school who can stand on the thirty yard line and drop-kick a goal from an angle once out of two tries. Either you were dreaming, Arthur, or what looked like goals weren’t.”
“That’s so,” agreed Dan. “At that distance it would be hard to tell. Sometimes you’re mistaken from the end of the field.”