“Go up and get them on and hurry back!”
Then he was speeding off to his position.
Gerald stared after him. Get his togs on! Why, that meant—meant that Alf was going to let him into the game! Meant that he was to play in the big contest! Meant that he was to get his Y! For a moment he stood there motionless.
“Gee, you’re in luck,” said Sanderson enviously. “Why don’t you get a move on, you idiot?”
Then Gerald thrust the silver cup and the ebony pedestal and the flannel bag into Andy Ryan’s hands and fought his way out of the throng and went tearing up the hill.
The half was ten minutes old and a like number of minutes were left to play. Broadwood was in the lead with three goals to Yardley’s two. The playing in the second period had been fairly even and the puck had been flying back and forth from one end of the rink to the other. Dan had spoiled two nice tries and the Broadwood goal had three brilliant stops to his credit. Broadwood’s score had come from a scrimmage in front of the cage during which a Green forward had found a moment’s opening and taken advantage of it by whizzing the puck past Dan’s feet. Now Yardley braced, however, and forced the fighting. With but six men on a side the playing was more open and it was harder to penetrate the defense. Three times the Blue charged down to within scoring distance only to lose the puck. Then the penalized forwards came back into the game and Durfee, as though to make up for the lost time, sprang into the line, took the disk at a nice pass from Roeder, evaded the Green’s point and slammed the puck viciously past the goal tend, tying the score again.
How Yardley shouted and cheered and pounded the boards with her feet! “Four minutes to play!” cried Ridge excitedly. “I’ll bet it goes to an extra period!”
“Play together, fellows!” called Alf. “One more like that!”
Again the puck was centered and again the two teams sprang desperately into the fray. Skates rang on the hard ice, sticks clashed and broke, players stumbled and sprawled to the delight of the cheering audience, the referee whistled and interfered time and again and the precious moments flew by. Warner, the Green’s right center, getting the puck near his goal took it almost alone the length of the rink amid the wild, expectant acclaim of Broadwood, sent Felder flying on his back and shot at goal. But the puck went squarely against Dan’s padded leg, dropped to the ice and was whisked aside before it could be reached by the nearest green stick. Half a dozen players met in the corner of the ice and fought like maniacs for the disk. Finally it slipped out and was slashed toward the center in front of goal. But before a Broadwood player could reach it the referee’s whistle sounded.
“Time’s up!” was the cry along the boards. But play had been stopped only for off side and the referee motioned for the puck.