Hoyt Dale, not long a resident in Parker, believed in speaking his mind. One would have thought, to hear him, that he was captain of the team. But Hoyt’s nature was such he could not keep still for long. Team mates had to give him credit for an aggressive, unrelenting style of play. He was always diving into the midst of mêlées, slashing his stick about madly and bumping opponents right and left. Occasionally he made trips to the penalty box as the referee fouled him for tripping, hitting or illegally checking a rival but Hoyt was soon back on the ice as scrappy as ever. His willingness to mix it with the opposition had established him as the most colorful player on Parker’s sextet.
“I don’t see how it will hurt any for Hoyt to help us out,” supported Captain Walt Lowery, with a clash between Parker’s two defense men imminent. “And you could afford to listen to him, too, since three goals were scored down your side the ice today!”
“You know why?” flashed Rudie. “It’s because Hoyt was grandstanding. He wasn’t back in position where he should have been and I was left to guard both sides the ice.”
“Aw, dry up, Rudie!” snapped Walt. “If you can’t take a little criticism you don’t belong on the team. Hoyt’s going to teach us a few new wrinkles which may come in mighty handy against Hallstead. And you’d better pay close attention yourself.”
“I’ll pay attention all right,” rejoined Rudie, and glowered his defiance at the fellow who had volunteered to impart his superior knowledge to the squad.
It was decidedly unpopular, Rudie knew, to oppose a player who had turned in a spectacular brand of hockey all season but he had not liked Hoyt and his methods from the start. In Rudie’s estimation, Hoyt was a type who had to have the limelight at all times. If he didn’t get it he would either sulk or assume an indifferent attitude, placing the burden of responsibility upon someone else. Hoyt liked winners and winning—so much so, Rudie felt, that he would be inclined, in a pinch, to sacrifice the elements of sportsmanship for it. However, if the fellows were disposed to give him their ear, it was evident that Rudie would place himself in disfavor by offering further opposition.
“I’ve already gotten myself in dutch with the gang,” Rudie observed. “Besides, Hoyt’s got it in for me and he’ll try to make me look bad if he can. Only thing for me to do, from now on, is keep my mouth shut and watch my step.”
Hoyt Dale’s secret hockey lesson proved something of a sensation. It was Coach Hogart’s practice, at the finish of the daily session on the ice, to hurry off to attend to his professorial duties, leaving the players to take their showers and change back to street togs. This particular afternoon, the squad loitered on the rink until the coach had departed when Hoyt took charge.
“First thing you guys want to learn,” he snapped, importantly, “is how to guard against being spilled. You can’t play good hockey flat on your back and that’s where most of you are a good many times each game. If you were onto your business you could spill the other fellow instead of letting him spill you!”
And Hoyt picked Ralph Randall, substitute wingman, to illustrate how a man could be body-checked and set down heavily upon the ice.