CHAPTER V
HOCKEY AND JUST TALK
That was the beginning of a friendship that lasted—well, so far as I know, it’s still lasting and seems likely to continue lasting indefinitely. In the course of time the inseparable chums were facetiously referred to as the “two Jays” or the “Joejacks.” Months later each acknowledged, a trifle shamefacedly, since the acknowledgment bordered on sentiment, that he had taken to the other at the moment of their first meeting. That was as near an expression of affection as they came to, but within a week of that day at Proctor’s Pond Joe would have jumped off the top of the Adams Building if by so doing he could have benefited his friend, and Jack would have just as readily plunged into the river from the railroad bridge had a similar result impended. And since Jack at that time couldn’t swim a stroke, his deed would have compared favourably with Joe’s as a token of esteem!
Neither, however, was required to undertake such feats of self-sacrifice. Perhaps the nearest approach to them occurred when Joe stood about on the ice, with the thermometer hovering around zero, his feet numb and his fingers aching, while he admiringly watched Jack struggle for a position on the First Team, or when Jack, as became his custom when duties allowed, tramped by Joe’s side through slush or sleet or rain over Route 6! They were together whenever it was possible, and when it wasn’t they were either signalling across schoolrooms or using up Mr. Strobe’s and Aunt Sarah’s monthly allowance of telephone calls.
January passed into history very happily for Joe. He was earning enough to pay Aunt Sarah all but fifty cents a week for his accommodations, he was doing well at his studies, he was getting cheerful letters every few days from his mother, and he was enjoying the jolliest, finest sort of friendship. When the hockey team journeyed to Preston Mills to play the academy fellows and Jack went along as a possible necessary substitute forward, Joe went along also and huddled in his coat on a settee and held Jack’s ulster and saw the Brown-and-Blue go down in defeat to the tune of four to three in an overtime contest, and mourned with the others on the way back, and with them vowed dire vengeance when Preston paid a return visit. That day a substitute delivered Joe’s papers and he was short fifty cents the following Monday and went without pocket-money for a whole week. But he didn’t mind—much. It was worth more than that, much more, to accompany Jack to Preston Mills.
The hockey team didn’t meet with defeat on all occasions, however, although it can’t be denied that, in spite of the best endeavours of coach, captain, and players, they ended the season with fewer victories than beatings. But they did overwhelm Preston Academy nicely the first week in February and found the revenge sweet. The ice was in miserable shape that afternoon, for there had been a thaw, and the visitors suffered more in consequence than did the home team, for the latter had cannily spent the forenoon practising under the adverse conditions. The game was played on the river and inside a regular barrier and with net goals. Jack had at last proven his right to a place amongst the First Team substitutes, and in the second period that afternoon he went further and showed that he was as good a right-wing as high school could put on the ice. And Joe, excitedly and noisily admiring, was filled with triumph.
The score was two to one in Amesville’s favour when the whistle started the second half and Sid Morris faced off with the opposing centre. Each seven had shown a good defence and Amesville’s second goal had been rather in the nature of an accident, the puck slipping around the corner of the net when four or five sticks had been poking and hooking at it in a half-inch of water and the goal-tender’s skate had for an instant slipped aside. It was still anybody’s battle from all indications and both teams started in in whirlwind fashion. Preston’s gray-legged warriors kept the Brown-and-Blue busy for the first five minutes and hammered shot after shot at Sam Craig’s anatomy. Amesville forgot team-play in the effort to keep the enemy away from the goal, with the result that Preston fooled her time and again and forced the playing until Sid’s shrill appeals to “Take it away from them, High School!” rose high above the rattling of sticks, the grinding of skates, and the inarticulate cries of the players. Only an off-side play prevented a score for Preston four minutes after the whistle, for a hard, low shot got safely past Sam’s shins and into the net. But on the face-off it was Jack Strobe who stole the disc from between the feet of the two opponents and who, passing once across the rink to Captain Morris and drawing the coverpoint from position, took the puck on the return, upset the point and slashed past the goal-tender for Amesville’s third tally.
How Joe cheered and shouted! And how all the others did, too; all save the handful of faithful Prestonians who had journeyed down with their team! There was still nearly fifteen minutes of actual time left and Amesville, encouraged, recovered from her confusion and took the whip-hand. Time and again Jack and Sidney Morris, working together as though they had played side by side for years, swept the enemy off its feet and rushed down the ice with the puck, eluding the defence more often than not, and making shot after shot at goal. That Preston Academy was only tallied on five times in that second half was only because neither Sidney nor Jack nor the other forwards, Hale and Simpson, who infrequently found an opportunity to bombard the net, were especially clever shots. But Amesville was well satisfied with the final result of the game. Seven to one was decisive enough to more than atone for the defeat at Preston Mills. Joe walked back with his hero and was as proud as Punch.
It was that evening that Joe voiced a regret that had been troubling him for some time. The two boys were in Joe’s room, and Jack, a bit lame and more or less bruised, was stretched on the bed, something that Aunt Sarah would not have approved of. Aunt Sarah, however, was getting used to having boys around and was making the discovery that laws made for grown-up folks cannot always be applied to youths. At first Jack’s almost daily appearance at the door, followed by his polite inquiry, “Is Joe in, Miss Teele?” was greeted by doubtful, sharp glances. Then Jack’s smiles melted the ice, and Aunt Sarah confided to Joe one day that that Strobe boy seemed real nice. A day or two later, Joe, returning from his newspaper delivering, found that a strip of gray linen had been laid over the stair carpet and continued along the upper hallway to his door. Aunt Sarah, while reconciled to visitors, was not going to have her carpet worn out.