But could she ever stop it? The ball was coming with all the force of Alice Metcalfe's leather-bound hockey stick behind it. It needed some courage to get in the way of one of Alice's slogs! Gerry wanted to slip aside and let the ball go by. How badly she wanted to do it nobody but herself could ever know. Surely it wouldn't be cowardice to get out of the way of a ball like that! But her determination not to let Muriel down this time was strong within her, and she fought down the panic which urged her to step aside, and remained grimly waiting the advent of that flying ball.
The next moment a great shout went up from the spectators, friends and foes alike.
"Stopped! Oh, well stopped! Stopped, indeed!"
"My hat! That must have hurt! Did you see? It ran right up her stick and caught her on the nose. Why—if it isn't German Gerry!" cried Vera Davies in amazement.
It was an amazement which was shared by the rest of the school. The girls were so dumbfounded that the cheer suddenly died down, and nobody applauded at all when Gerry, recovering from the first stunning shock of the blow, passed the ball to her inside wing, Dorothy Pemberton, before the Green half-backs could tackle her.
Then events moved quickly.
"Centre it, Dorothy," called Muriel, and flew to intercept the ball, which Dorothy passed to her. Dodging, tackling, dribbling, and passing, the head girl and her inside left carried the ball into the enemy's goal circle. And before the Green defence could recover from the unexpected onslaught, the ball was safely through their goalposts, put there by Muriel's stick. The whistle blew for goal and time simultaneously, and a perfect storm of cheering broke from the watching school. It had indeed been an exciting finish to the dormitory hockey final!
There were certain formalities to be gone through before the teams could leave the field. Alice Metcalfe, as captain of the defeated team, called for three cheers for the victors, to which Muriel had to respond by calling for three cheers for the runners-up for the Cup. Then the rival captains had to shake hands and thank each other for the good game—a little ceremony which had existed at Wakehurst Priory since hockey matches first began, and which was never omitted.
But directly these formalities were over, and the girls who had been watching the match came flocking around the dispersing teams, cheering and asking questions and pouring out congratulations, Muriel looked about for Gerry Wilmott and hastened to her side.
"Well done, Gerry! You were splendid!" the head girl exclaimed. "It was all through you that we scored that last goal. If you hadn't stopped that free hit so pluckily, we could never have done it. I'm jolly glad I put you in to play."