One of these proved the undoing of Rooster after he in his turn had received the ball and started to run. He had gone about fifteen yards when his feet found one of those mud-filled pockets in the ground. Down he went in one grand splash, while his mates gathered round to gibe at his downfall. The ball fell under him, and when Rooster struggled to his feet it was hard to tell which was muddier, the ball or himself. "Is that what you call making a touchdown?" asked Dick Randolph, with a grin. "Cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed Ted. Rooster regarded his tormentors with a sour expression of countenance. "You're a great bunch, you are!" he grumbled. "The next one that grins will get this pigskin right on the end of his nose. Now laugh that off." Before this formidable threat the boys scattered, still jeering, though at a safe distance from Rooster and his weapon. Garry, laughing, held out his hands. "Chuck it," he invited. "I'll give it a punt that will shake some of the mud off of it." Rooster complied, and Garry received the ball gingerly, holding it at either end with the palms of his hands only. Then he opened his hands. The ball dropped, met his foot squarely, and went whizzing through the air. At the same moment a tall, thin, preoccupied gentleman turned from the street into the lot. Ball and man came together with a plop. "Oof!" exclaimed the man explosively. CHAPTER IV AN AWKWARD ENCOUNTER The tall thin gentleman had been struck squarely in the face. The shock and the hurt must have been considerable. But apart from this, insult was added to injury by the mud on the ball that spattered over the man's immaculate shirt front and vest. Garry, in dismay at what he had unintentionally done, ran swiftly across the field in pursuit of the offending pigskin, intent upon making his peace with the victim of the accident. Peace, however, was the last thing in the thoughts of the stranger, who had taken out his handkerchief and was busily engaged in wiping the mud from his face and clothes. He stared angrily at Garry when the boy approached, out of breath and full of apologies. "I didn't see you coming," Garry panted, genuinely penitent. "I'm awfully sorry, sir. I hope it didn't hurt you much. It was only an accident." "Accident!" sneered the man in a voice trembling with rage. "Quite an unfortunate accident, young man. You ought to be ashamed of yourself." "I'm dreadfully sorry," repeated Garry. "I wouldn't have done it for the world!" "I suppose it was an accident, too," the stranger went on, as though Garry had not spoken, "that you happen to be playing football in a vacant lot close to a fairly populous thoroughfare. Any passerby is in danger of being assaulted as I have been." Garry stared at the man helplessly, hardly knowing what answer to make to the stilted, pedantic speech.