“Well,” said Hughie, in a loud voice, to the master, and with a careless laugh, though at his heart he was desperate, “they are giving us a little taste of our own medicine.”
The master dropped to buckle his skate, deliberately unwinding the strap, while the umpire allowed time.
“Give me a hand with this, Hughie,” he called, and Hughie skated up to him.
“Well,” said Craven, smiling up into Hughie's face, “that's a good, swift opening, isn't it?”
“Oh, it's terrible,” groaned Hughie. “They're going to lick us off the ice.”
“Well,” replied the master, slowly, “I wouldn't be in a hurry to say so. We have a hundred minutes and more to win in yet. Now, don't you see that their captain is their great card. Suppose you let the ball go for a game or two, and stick to Dan. Trail him, never let him shake you. The rest of us will take care of the game.”
“All right,” said Hughie, “I'll stick to him,” and off he set for the center.
As the loser, Hughie again held the drop. He faced Dan with determination to get that ball out to Fusie, and somehow he felt in his bones that he should succeed in doing this. Without any preliminary he dropped, and knocked the ball toward Fusie.
But this was evidently what Dan expected, for as soon as Hughie made the motion to drop he charged hard upon the waiting Fusie. Hughie, however, had his plan as well, for immediately upon the ball leaving his stick, he threw himself in Dan's way, checking him effectually, and allowing Fusie, with Don and Scotchie following, to get away.
The Front defense, however, was too strong, and the ball came shooting back toward the line of Reds, one of whom, making a short run, passed far out to Dan on the right. But before the latter could get up speed, Hughie was upon him, and ignoring the ball, blocked and bothered and checked him, till one of the Twentieth centers, rushing in, secured it for his side.