stands fair to lose for once in his life."

"Come on, Aaron, put the bay mare in the buggy. We'll drive down to the
field. We haven't got much time to spare."

Aaron backed the mare out of her stall and hitched her to the
mud-bespattered buggy, and the two men drove off with the wooden pigeons
under the seat. They had not far to go, to a large field intersected
with various footpaths and with, a large bare space, which evidently
served as a football gridiron. "This field is used like town property,"
explained the doctor, "but the funny part of it is, it belongs to an old
woman who is, perhaps, the richest person in Alton, and asks such a
price for the land that nobody can buy it, and it has never occurred to
her to keep off trespassers. So everybody trespasses, and she pays the
taxes, and we are all satisfied, especially as there are plenty of
better building sites in Alton to be bought for less money. That old
woman bites her nose off every day, and never knows it."

On this barren expanse, intersected with the narrow footpaths, covered
between with the no color of last year's dry weeds and grass, were
assembled some half dozen men and boys. They rushed up as the doctor's
buggy came alongside. "Got 'em?" they cried eagerly. Doctor Gordon
fumbled under the seat and drew out the batch of wooden pigeons, which
one young fellow, who seemed to be master of ceremonies, grasped and
rushed off with to the queer-looking machine erected in the centre of
the football clearing, for the purpose of making them take wing. The
others went with him. Doctor Gordon got out of his buggy, accompanied by
James, and they, too, joined the little group. "Got the others?" asked
Gordon in a half whisper.