Carl’s elation at his having scored was shortlived at seeing that the fellow who had made his score possible was ‘out’ on the play. He reached Lank’s side as Lank was lifted up.
“Good work, Carl!” Lank complimented. “I knew—if I could get you through there...!”
Carl winced. “It’s all my fault,” he blamed. “You were doing what I should have done. I scored on your nerve!”
“You’re welcome to it,” proffered Lank, as they carried him toward the sidelines, Carl skating alongside. “Nerve is such a little thing compared to a fellow who can play hockey like you can!”
Taber’s crack hockey player swallowed. A flash came in his eyes. Turning to fellow team members he cried: “Get me that puck, you guys! That’s all you’ve got to do!... I’ll take it down the ice!”
Whiz Deagen, noting his rival’s change of attitude, turned to his team-mates. “I’ll handle this baby!” he assured.
With the next facing off of the puck at center ice, an electric thrill passed through the crowd as the long-anticipated clash between the two great hockey stars arrived! It was now anybody’s game and very likely that the next goal would decide the victor. Whiz, catching the puck on his stick as it slid along the ice on a pass from Siddall’s center, started a dodging, twisting drive into Taber territory. Carl Hemmer, however, was on his heels, dogging every stride of his journey. The two swooped together in front of Taber’s cage and went down in a heap as the puck upended and rolled to the sideboards.
“Carl prevented a sure score then!” cried a spectator.
Both stars were up in an instant and giving pursuit as team-mates dived in. And now it was Carl who stick-handled the puck out of the mêlée and broke away for a dash, with Whiz frenziedly bringing up the rear.
“Atta boy, Carl! Down the ice!” shouted a familiar voice from the sidelines.