"It was told to Pharaoh by Napoleon, when they were hunting for the North Pole," added Plum.
"Well, I don't think it hits Nat Poole's case," was Sam's comment. "He won't get any cruller in this game."
"Right you are!" cried Plum.
Plum was as anxious as anybody to defeat the money-lender's son. Since the former bully had turned over a new leaf Nat was constantly saying mean things about him, and it was only Gus's grim determination to "keep the peace" that kept him from pitching into Nat "rough-shod." In keeping his hands off Nat, Plum had a harder battle to fight than if he had attacked the money-lender's son bodily.
It had to be admitted that, as the day for the contest between the two Oak Hall sevens approached, Poole's team was in good shape. Nat had drilled them with care, and had profited by the work of two of the players who had been on another boarding-school seven the winter previous. One of these players knew several sharp tricks, and it was hoped that these tricks would help to defeat Dave's seven.
The game was to be played under the inter-scholastic rules of that year, with two halves of twenty minutes each, and an intermission of ten minutes. Mr. Dodsworth was the referee, and the accustomed goal umpires and timekeepers were also selected. The "field" had already been marked on the ice, and the goal nets set, so that everything was in readiness for the match. Each player had the regulation ice-hockey stick, and wore regulation hockey skates, well sharpened for the occasion.
"Well, we've got our work cut out for us," said Phil, as he came out for practice.
"Beware of off-side plays," warned Dave. "Don't give Poole's crowd a chance to claim off-play or fouls—and don't let them do anything unfair without a protest."
Just before the play was to start Chip Macklin beckoned to Dave.
"Look out for Bolton," he whispered, as Dave skated up.