Winning His "Y": A Story of School Athletics

by Ralph Henry Barbour

The first score was made by Broadwood at the end of eight minutes. She had carried the puck down along the boards on the left, and Yardley had foiled her attempts to uncover long enough to shoot until the puck was past the front of the goal. Then Took evaded Goodyear and Felder and slipped the disk out in front of the cage. There was a wild mix-up for an instant and then the Broadwood sticks waved and Broadwood sympathizers shouted. The Green had drawn first blood, the puck getting past Dan’s skate and lodging against the net just inside of goal.

“Never mind that!” called Alf. “Get after them. And play together, fellows!”

Yardley evened things up shortly afterwards, and there was no fluke about that score. The forwards worked the puck down to within six yards of goal and Hanley made a difficult shot from the side. In less than a minute more the Blue had scored again, Goodyear slamming the disk through from a scrimmage. Then Broadwood stiffened, and for awhile Yardley was kept busy defending her goal. Dan made some remarkable stops that wrought the audience up to a high pitch of excitement and enthusiasm, but with only a few moments to play the Green evened things up with its second tally, the puck going by Dan into the cage knee high and at such a clip that, as he said afterwards, he scarcely saw it from the time it left the ice until it was reposing coyly at the back of the net. So the first half ended with the score 2 to 2, and it was anybody’s game.

The two teams seemed to be pretty evenly matched, for, although Broadwood outskated her opponent, Yardley had the better of the argument when it came to stick work. At passing Broadwood was more adept and at shooting Yardley appeared to excel, although so far she had had fewer opportunities to prove it. As the teams went off the ice Alf called to Gerald, who was standing near by:

“Say, Gerald, will you do something for me?” he asked. “I told Tom to bring that leather wristlet of mine from the room and he forgot it. Would you mind running up and getting it? You’ll find it somewhere around; on the mantel, I think, or maybe on the table. This wrist of mine is as weak as anything.”

“Yes, glad to,” answered Gerald. “On the mantel or table, you say? And if not there, look for it, I suppose?” he added laughingly.

“Well, it’s there some old place. I saw it this morning. You might look on top of the bureau. Thanks, Gerald.”

Gerald hurried off up the path toward the gymnasium. He didn’t want to miss any of the game, and wouldn’t if he could find the wristlet and get back within the ten minutes allowed for intermission. At the gymnasium corner he cut through between that building and Merle Hall and crossed the Yard toward Dudley. He didn’t meet a soul, nor was there anyone in sight. Yard and buildings were alike deserted and all the school was down at the rink.

The object of his journey wasn’t found at once, for it was in none of the places mentioned by Alf. But after a minute Gerald discovered it on the floor, where it had probably dropped from the top of the bureau. He thrust it into his pocket, closed the door behind him and hurried back along the corridor. But at the entrance he stopped short and, after a moment, drew cautiously into the shadow. For across the corner of the Yard, at the farther entrance of Whitson, stood Jake Hiltz.