“You fellows have it your own way,” said Arthur with a sigh of resignation. “I know what I saw.”
“Well, we will have to keep a lookout and see if we can catch him at it again,” said Dan. “And, for goodness’ sake, fellows, ask everyone you know. If there really is a goal-kicker in our midst we can surely find him.”
“Well, he will have to show me,” said Tom, still unconvinced. “Look here, Arthur, it wasn’t Wallace, was it?”
“No, I’d know Hammel a mile off. Besides, I met and spoke to him ten minutes later in the corridor. No, it wasn’t he.”
“Let’s advertise,” suggested Holmes. “A notice in Oxford might fetch him.”
“Sure,” Simms agreed. “‘If the student who practiced goal-kicking on the field last week will call on Dan Vinton he will hear of something to his advantage.’ Something like that, eh?”
“I’ll try that if everything else fails,” said Dan grimly. “A good drop- or place-kicker will be worth about a million dollars to me this season.”
“We’ll find him all right,” said Fogg. “He’s probably one of the subs who has discovered he can kick and hasn’t the sense to say anything about it.”
“As for me,” said Tom, “I’m like the countryman at the menagerie when he saw the hippopotamus; I don’t believe there’s no such critter!”