Then Merriwell secured the puck, shooting it back to Ready, who boastingly claimed that he was always “Ready” for anything. Jack proved his worthiness of the name and drove the bit of rubber between Beckwith’s flags.
Morgan was determined to win the game from Merriwell, and when he and Frank again faced each other with the puck between their sticks, awaiting the word of the referee, this determination was increased by the fact that Merriwell’s team was now one goal ahead.
But in spite of his determination, Merriwell’s stick was the first to move the puck. But he could not drive it for goal. It went down to Bingham, the opposing cover-point, who whirled it back. Then Hodge’s stick cracked against it, and it skipped once more toward Beckwith’s goal-line. Harlan stopped it here, and an exciting scrimmage occurred.
Out of the welter it flew back toward Merriwell’s goal, against the stick of Harlan, who began to dribble it down the ice. Fearing to lose it, he sent it back to Bingham, who shot it to one side to Ned Silver, who drove it, amid cries of “off-side,” for Merriwell’s goal.
Carson and Browning both tried to stop it, but they failed. Another goal was added to Beckwith’s side, and the score stood four to four.
“Oh, this isn’t easy work!” squealed Bink. “This is the kind of playing that turns a fellow’s heart into a force-pump!”
“Hang it! I’d hate to have Merry beaten after all our howling,” Danny grumbled.
“You base skeptic!” said Inza, turning on him. “Doubters have no place in Merriwell’s camp!”
“I ain’t ‘doubtin’ him,’ as the old country woman said when told that her husband was having an awful fight with a bear. ‘I ain’t doubtin’ him a mite; but I’m kinder oneasy!’”
Morgan was fighting now with great coolness, but with a sort of fierceness under it all that was wonderful to see. He was marvelously skilful. He was as quick as lightning, and as he was able to skate fast or slow, he was not easily thrown off his feet by the body-checking, blocking, and interference of an opponent.