If the player did not succeed with thirty-five, he had lost the game.

I suppose that all the balls, taken together, weighed five hundred pounds, or maybe a ton--or along there somewhere--but anyway it was hot weather, and by the time that a player had sent thirty-five of them home he was in a drench of perspiration, and physically exhausted.
Next, we started cocked hat--that is to say, a triangle of three pins, the other seven being discarded.

In this game we used the three smallest balls and kept on delivering them until we got the three pins down.
After a day or two of practice we were able to get the chief pin with an output of four balls, but it cost us a great many deliveries to get the other two; but by and by we succeeded in perfecting our art--at least we perfected it to our limit.

We reached a scientific excellence where we could get the three pins down with twelve deliveries of the three small balls, making thirty-six shots to conquer the cocked hat.
Having reached our limit for daylight work, we set up a couple of candles and played at night.

As the alley was fifty or sixty feet long, we couldn't see the pins, but the candles indicated their locality.