Wearers of the dark blue arose and made Rome howl. Tom also arose, pulling down his vest and assuming the air of virtue triumphant, but he sat down again very forcibly, and Dan and Alf vented their disappointment on him until he was glad to subside from the settee and beg mercy from the floor. As they were in the back of the hall, and as nothing they might have done could have been heard above the noise, they made Tom perjure himself over and over; made him declare that Cambridge had won the debate fairly, without a shadow of a doubt, that the judges were biased, ignorant and mendacious, that he personally didn’t know oratory from a ham sandwich, and that Cambridge was the greatest debating society the world had ever known. Then, after he had cheered for Cambridge—twice, because the first time he had spoiled the effect by giggling—they allowed him to get up. Somehow in the operation of arising he managed to upset the bench backward, and in the subsequent confusion they departed hurriedly from the hall.
Two days later school was depopulated of all save a few boys who lived too far away to travel home for vacation and who had not been invited to spend the ten days with friends. Gerald, Tom, Alf and Dan traveled together as far as New York. Gerald remained there, while Tom crossed to his home in New Jersey and Dan accompanied Alf to Philadelphia. Dan’s own home was in Ohio, and as the trip there and back would have spoiled four of the precious days of vacation, he had gladly accepted Alf’s invitation to visit him.
[CHAPTER XIX]
THE HOCKEY TEAM AT WORK
A gray day, still and cold. The river winding away into the misty distance, a green ribbon of glaring ice. A thin powder of crisp snow over the frozen earth and a feeling in the air as of more to come. From the buildings on the hill the smoke rises straight up, blue-gray against the neutral tint of the sky. From the rink by the river comes the sound of voices ringing sharply on the motionless air and the metallic clanging and scraping of skates on the hard ice. The Yardley Hockey Team is at practice. School has been open a week and, although St. John’s has fallen victim to the prowess of the blue-stockinged skaters by the score of two goals to none, Alf is far from satisfied with the work of his charges and to-day that much abused word “strenuous” best describes what is going on.
Alf has got his boards and an eight-inch barrier surrounds the rink, the planks being nailed to stakes driven into the ground and their lower edges frozen solid in the margin of the ice. Beyond the boards is a retaining wall of earth some eighteen inches high from the top of which at the present moment some twenty or thirty spectators, well wrapped against the cold, are watching practice. Two benches, borrowed from the tennis courts, are piled with sweaters and extra paraphernalia.
At this end of the rink, his knees bent behind the big padded leg guards and his body unconsciously following, with his eyes, every move of the puck, stands Dan, one hand resting on the top of the goal and the other grasping his broad stick. In front of him Alf is poised at point. Then comes Felder at cover point. The forwards just at present are inextricably mixed with the Second Team players, but three of them you know by sight at least; Goodyear and Roeder playing the centers of the line and Durfee at right end. The left end is Hanley, a Second Class boy.
The Second Team consists to-day of Norcross at goal, Sommers at point, Coke at cover point, and Dick French, Arthur Thompson, Dickenson, and Longwell as forwards. Along the barrier are the substitutes of both teams, three of whom we know; Gerald Pennimore and Eisner and Ridge of the football eleven. Dickenson is captain and under his leadership the Second is putting up a strong game these days. Along the side of the rink, following the play, skates Andy Ryan, his twinkling green eyes ever watching for off-side play and his whistle ever ready to signal a cessation of hostilities. It does so now, and the players pause and lean panting on their sticks while Andy captures the puck. Dickenson and Roeder face-off, the puck is dropped and play begins again. Dickenson captures the puck, and the Second’s line is quickly formed to sweep down the rink. Dickenson passes clear across to French. Hanley checks him for an instant, but he recovers the disk and slides it across to Arthur. Then the First Team’s defense takes a hand. Felder hurls himself at Arthur, but the puck slips aside just in the nick of time, and Dickenson, whirling about a half-dozen yards from goal, eludes Hanley and shoots. Alf has been put out of the play by Longwell and the puck skims by him knee-high, and in spite of Dan’s efforts with stick and body lodges cosily in a corner of the net. The attack waves its sticks wearily and turns back up the ice as Andy blows his whistle. The score is three to two now in favor of the First, and there remains but a few minutes of the second half. Gerald, who has been appointed timekeeper, announces the fact from the side. So both teams put in their substitutes, and Gerald, eagerly handing the stop-watch over to Goodyear, pulls his ulster off and leaps the boards. Besides Goodyear, Felder, Durfee, and Roeder retire from the First. Sanderson takes Felder’s place, and Eisner, Gerald, and Ridge play forward.
The puck goes back to the center of the ice, Dickenson and Ridge face-off, the whistle blows and the struggle begins again. Back comes the rubber to Goodyear and down the rink sweep the First’s line, low and hard, the puck traveling back and forth across the powdered surface. Down goes Ridge with a crash and a splintered stick, but the remaining three are still line-abreast. Then the Second’s cover point flies out, there is a wild mêlée in front of goal, and away skims the puck. Gerald reaches it, but is quickly shouldered across the barrier, and Dickenson steals away toward the First’s goal, the disk sliding along easily at the point of his stick. Eisner flies to challenge him, Dickenson passes too late, and once more the First is sweeping toward the enemy’s goal. Hanley passes to Ridge ten yards from the net and Ridge, eluding the opposing point, carries the puck on, with Eisner close behind him. Sticks clash and skates grind; Eisner goes down carrying Sommers with him; the puck flies here and there in front of goal; and then Gerald, slipping in between the battling players, reaches the rubber with the tip of his stick and, before he is swept aside, slides it past the goal-tender’s foot. Andy’s whistle announces a score and stops play.