All of Kirkwood sat on the anxious seat the day of the Melville game. It was biting cold and clear and the rink was in the fastest condition of the season. There could be no complaint of the day or of the ice. The only cause for concern was the Kirkwood team which had played uncertain hockey since the loss of Don Keith. But Coach Howard had been keeping a surprise up his sleeve for the fans. Don’s sprained ankle was well enough for him to play a part of the game, properly taped. When he reported for duty before the contest and told his overjoyed comrades that he had been working out secretly for the past three days, the old morale returned. The feeling of apprehension over Frederick, the Great, Barker vanished at once; in fact, Kirkwood’s new left wing was left completely out of the demonstration, sitting quietly on a bench in the corner of the locker room.
“I’m glad to see you back, Keith,” he welcomed, when Kirkwood’s veteran, limping slightly, came back to his locker.
“Glad to be back,” Keith rejoined, eyes gleaming. “We’ve got to take that chesty outfit today. Can you imagine their not even being scored on all year? Have to watch out for their crack centre, Scotty Lathrom. He’s the backbone of their offense and defense ... one of the best poke-checkers in the game!”
“We’ll lay for him all right,” promised right wing Rand Downey. “Boy, it seems like old times again. We’ve got the winning combination now!”
Frederick, marveling at the revival of spirit, studied the fellow who was responsible for it. Don Keith possessed, in addition to a sturdy physique, a radiant, aggressive personality. He commanded attention and inspired others to follow his leadership. Noting this, Frederick envied Don Keith sincerely.
“If you can’t feel a thing,” he said to himself, consolingly, “you can’t be a part of it.”
Coach Howard, as the team left the locker room for the rink, patted Frederick on the back.
“I’ll be using you to relieve Don,” he informed. “So be ready to go in there and tear loose!”
Frederick smiled, ironically. He knew he’d be regarded as doing his bit today if he merely helped hold the fort until Don should get his “breathers” and go charging back into the fray. Perhaps it was just as well. He’d only consented to play hockey as a duty to the school and, this way, whatever the outcome of the game, no one could hold him directly responsible.