“Of course it is,” went on his mother. “That's what the game is for, to teach the boys to command their tempers. You remember 'he that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city.'
“O, it's all right,” said Hughie, “and easy enough to talk about.”
“What's easy enough to talk about?” asked the master, coming up.
“Taking a city,” said Mrs. Murray, smiling at him.
The master looked puzzled.
“Mother means,” said Hughie, “keeping one's temper in shinny. But I'm telling her it's pretty hard when a fellow clubs you on the shins when you're away from the ball.”
“Yes, of course it's hard,” said the master, “but it's better than being a cad,” which brought a quick flush to Hughie's face, but helped him more than anything else to keep himself in hand that day.
“Can't understand a man,” said the master, “who goes into a game and then quits it to fight. If it's fighting, why fight, but if it's shinny, play the game. Big team against us, eh, captain?” he continued, looking at the Front men, who were taking a preliminary spin upon the ice, “and pretty swift, too.”
“If they play fair, I don't mind,” said Hughie. “I'm not afraid of them; but if they get slugging—”
“Well, if they get slugging,” said the master, “we'll play the game and win, sure.”