[CHAPTER XXVI]
WINNING HIS “Y”
Once past the gymnasium the sounds from the rink reached him clearly; the grinding and clanging of skates, the clatter of sticks, the cries of the players and, at intervals, the savage, triumphant cheers of the onlookers. From the slope of the hill he could look over the heads of the spectators around the rink and see the skaters charging about on the ice, the blue and green costumes bright in the sunlight. Even as he looked there was a gathering of the players about the south goal, a mad moment of excitement and then the green-bladed sticks waved in air. Broadwood had scored again! Gerald wondered if that goal put the Green in the lead and hurried faster down the path.
Play had begun again before he reached the fringe of the crowd, but by the time he had wormed his way through to the substitute bench the whistle had sounded and the referee was in the center of a group of protesting players. Everyone was intent on the scene before him and Gerald’s appearance went unnoticed. The referee, shaking his head, backed away, motioning, and Durfee of Yardley, and Took of Broadwood, walked disconsolately and protestingly from the rink.
“Slugging,” answered Sanderson in reply to Gerald’s question. “Durfee’s been mixing it up all the half and Took got mad and came back at him. I don’t blame him. They had a lovely little squabble down there in the corner. Didn’t you see it?”
“I just got here,” answered Gerald.
“Just got—” exclaimed Sanderson, looking around at him where he was leaning over the bench. “Where have you been? What’s that you’ve got, Pennimore?”
But Gerald was trying to get Alf’s attention and made no answer. Alf, finding that protests were useless, was turning to skate back to his position when he heard Gerald hail him. He looked across and then skated up to the boards.
“Did you find it?” he asked. “Thought you’d got lost. Let’s have it.” He began to peel the tape from his wrist.
“Yes, and I found this, too, Alf,” said Gerald, bringing the cup into sight.