“Oh, shut up!”
Kirkwood’s right wing stared at Frederick unbelievingly.
“What did you say?”
“I said shut up!” repeated Frederick, a look in his eyes that Rand had never seen before.
Fellow team mates gasped their amazement. Was Frederick actually commencing to come to life?
“How’s your ankle?” the coach asked Don Keith, concernedly.
“Holding up okay,” answered Kirkwood’s veteran. “That Melville defense is the toughest I ever went up against. We never got a puck near their cage this period. They broke up practically every formation at mid-ice. And that guy Scotty is seemingly in every play! Fred wasn’t to blame for that score.... Scotty went through the entire team...!”
The second period was a torrid repetition of the first except that neither six was able to score. Frederick twice got in the battle for three minutes each, renewing his feud with Scotty but accomplishing nothing. Instructions were to play defensive hockey while the spares were in. Should Melville jam through another goal, Kirkwood’s every chance would be gone. Now there was a glimmering possibility of a tie resulting could Kirkwood get the puck past goalie Pete Hardy who was fighting to establish a season’s record of not having been scored upon.
“My ankle begins to feel lame,” Don admitted during the intermission between the second and last period. “Come on, boys—let’s give ’em everything we’ve got. I’d like to take the grin off that Scotty’s face!”
“So would I!” echoed a voice, impulsively.