"Time's up!" announced Mr. Cobb.
Roy turned fiercely.
"It can't be up!" he cried, skating toward the referee.
"It is, though," was the answer.
"That's perfect nonsense!" said Roy hotly. "You said there was two minutes left just a minute ago!"
"That'll do, Porter," said Mr. Cobb coldly.
Roy dropped his eyes, swallowed something hard in his throat and examined a cut on his hand. Then,
"Beg pardon, sir," he said. "This way, fellows! A cheer for Hammond—and make it good!"
Well, it wasn't very good. But then you can scarcely blame them when another second would perhaps have tied the score. But they cheered, and Hammond answered it; and the hockey season had ended with a defeat for Ferry Hill. Schonberg skated over to Roy and held out his hand.
"You had us on the run, Porter," he said. "If we'd played five minutes longer you'd have won. You've got a slick team, all right! How about next year? You're going to keep the team up, aren't you?"