“Ha! well done, captain!” came Craven's voice across the ice, and Hughie felt his nerve come back. If he could hold Dan, that deadly Front combination might be broken.
Meantime Don had secured the ball from Craven, and was rushing up his right wing.
“Here you are, Hughie,” he cried, shooting across the Front goal.
Hughie sprang to receive, but before he could shoot Dan was upon him, checking so hard that Hughie was sent sprawling to the ice, while Dan shot away with the ball.
But before he had gone very far Hughie was after him like a whirlwind, making straight for his own goal, so that by the time Dan had arrived at shooting distance, Hughie was again upon him, and while in the very act of steadying himself for his try at the goal, came crashing into him with such fierceness of attack that Dan was flung aside, while Johnnie Big Duncan, capturing the ball, sent it across to the master.
It was the master's first chance for the day. With amazing swiftness and dexterity he threaded the outer edge of the ice, and with a sudden swerve across, avoided the throng that had gathered to oppose him, and then with a careless ease, as if it were a matter of little importance, he dodged in between the heavy Front defense, shot his goal, and skated back coolly to his place.
The Twentieth's moment had come, and both upon the ice and upon the banks the volume and fierceness of the cheering testified to the intensity of the feeling that had been so long pent up.
That game had revealed to Hughie two important facts: the first, that he was faster than Dan in a straight race; and the second, that it would be advisable to feed the master, for it was clearly apparent that there was not his equal upon the ice in dodging.
“That was well done, captain,” said Craven to Hughie, as he was coolly skating back to his position.
“A splendid run, sir,” cried Hughie, in return.