It was Dan's drop. As he was preparing to face off, the master skated up and asked the umpire for time. At once the crowd gathered round.
“What's the matter?” “What's up?” “What do you want?” came on all sides from the Front team, now thoroughly aroused and thirsting for vengeance.
“Mr. Umpire,” said the master, “I want to call your attention to a bit of foul play that must not be allowed to go on”; and then he described Jimmie Ben's furious attack upon Hughie.
“It was a deliberate trip, as well as a savage swipe at a man's shins when the ball was not near.”
At once Jimmie Ben gave him the lie, and throwing down his club, slammed his cap upon the ice and proceeded to execute a war-dance about it.
For a few moments there was a great uproar, and then the master's voice was heard again addressing the umpire.
“I want to know your ruling upon this, Mr. Umpire”; and somehow his voice commanded a perfect stillness.
“Well,” said the umpire, hesitating, “of course—if a man trips it is foul play, but—I did not see any tripping. And of course—swiping at a man's shins is not allowed, although sometimes—it can't very well be helped in a scrimmage.”
“I merely want to call your attention to it,” said the master. “My understanding of our arrangements, Mr. Munro,” he said, addressing the Front captain, “is that we are here to play shinny. You have come up here, I believe, to win the game by playing shinny, and we are here to prevent you. If you have any other purpose, or if any of your men have any other purpose, we would be glad to know it now, for we entered this game with the intention of playing straight, clean shinny.”
“That's right!” called out Hec Ross; “that's what we're here for.” And his answer was echoed on every side, except by Jimmie Ben, who continued to bluster and offer fight.