a sort of towel to dry their hands. A kicked ball had been
fumbled on the goal line and there was a battle royal on the part of the
players to get the coveted ball. I dived into the scramble of wriggling,
mud-covered players to detect the man who might have the ball. The
stockings and jerseys of the players were so covered with mud that you
could not tell them apart. As I was forcing my way down into the mass of
players I heard a man shouting for dear life: "I'm an Indian! I'm an
Indian! It's my ball!"

When I finally got hold of the fellow with the ball I could not for the
life of me tell whether he was an Indian or not. However, I held up the
decision until some one got a bucket and sponge and the player's face
was mopped off, whereupon I saw that he was an Indian all right. He had
scored a touchdown for his team.

An official in the game is subject to all sorts of criticisms and abuse.
Sometimes they are humorous and others have a sting which is not readily
forgotten.

I admit, on account of my size, there were times in a game when I would
get in a player's way; sometimes in the spectators' way. During a
Yale-Harvard game, in which I was acting as an official, the play came
close to the side line, and I had taken my position directly between the
players and the spectators, when some kind friend from the bleachers
yelled out:

"Get off the field, how do you expect us to see the game?"

I shall never forget one poor little fellow who had recovered a fumbled
ball, while on top of him was a wriggling mass of players trying to get
the ball. As I slowly, but surely, forced my way down through the pile
of players I finally landed on top of him. I shall never forget how he
grunted and yelled, "Six or seven of you fellows get off of me."

It was in the same game that some man from the bleachers called out as I
was running up the field: "Here comes the Beef Trust."

There was a coach of a Southern college who tried to put over a new one
on me, when I caught him coaching from the side lines in a game with
Pennsylvania on Franklin Field. I first warned him, and when he
persisted in the offense, I put him behind the ropes, on a bench,
besides imposing the regular penalty. It was not long after this, that I
discovered he had left the bench. I found him again on the side line,
wearing a heavy ulster and change of hat to disguise himself, but this
quick change artist promptly got the gate.

I knew a player who had an oppor