to go on an' tell the story to
yourself.

"Oh! all right, all right. Well, anyway, up goes the goal umpire's
hand for a goal, and down goes the umpire for the count, for Tip Doolen
of the Stars cracks him a wallop on his brain factory you could hear a
mile away. And all the Easts piles on to Tip and it took the police
fifteen minutes to get 'em untied. And the police sergeant he says,
it's Tip to the station, but the goal umpire wakes up and says he
wouldn't lodge no complaint, for Tip and him's friendly, only would
they please get a new goal umpire, he says, and they did.

"Then the police sergeant wouldn't let 'em go on playing till he'd had
a little say, and you'd oughter heard it. He says, 'It looks to me
like most er you fellers is spoilin' for a clubbin', and I'd hate,' he
says, 'to disappoint you if that's the case. But I'm willing to stay
on duty a few hours beyond me time,' he says, 'in order to please you.'

"And the fellers swear they're ready to go on with the game and play
like kinder-gart'ners. So the sergeant says, 'Let her go,' he says.

"So it went all right for quite a while and there wasn't much doin'
except the noise, for both sides had big gangs there and you cert'nly
could hear 'em.

"At the end of the second quarter it was a tie--two goals each, and not
more'n half the players on the mourners' bench.

"What! You don't know what the mourners' bench is? Say, if you'd only
study the English language 'stead of loading your think tank with them
furrin' words you wouldn't need nobody to tell you that the mourners'
bench is just another name for the penalty bench.

"But when the third quarter gets nicely started! Well, say, the
referee he puts one of the Easts off the field for trippin', and
another one of the Easts he swings his stick on the referee's slats for
all he's worth, an' the referee just has time to kick him in the shins
before a third feller gives the referee a biff under the ear and lays
him out. About half the people made a mad rush for the Easts and the
other half rushes for the Stars, and there's only six policemen there.
But the sergeant--say, my Pa knows him well--he's the wise guy. He
lets 'em all get going and you couldn't see anything but people shovin'
and crowdin' and hittin'. And then he chases for the caretaker of the
park where the flats are an' gets two lines of hose fixed on a hydrant
and two cops a holdin' the hose. And pretty soon two streams er water
hi