By eleven o’clock the next forenoon the thaw had begun in earnest, but it was too late to cancel the game. Rock Hill appeared on the scene promptly and at a quarter to three the game began. The ice was soft along the boards and there was a film of water everywhere, but it was possible to play for all of that. Felder was out of the game with tonsilitis and Sanderson took his place at cover point. The whole school turned out to see the contest and lined the rink two and three deep. Alf expected a hard game but defeat was not reckoned on. Yet at the end of the first twenty-minute period, with the score 2 to 0 in Rock Hill’s favor, it didn’t look so improbable. Rock Hill presented a team of older and more experienced players and far excelled Yardley in skating ability and stick work. Had it not been for Dan’s really brilliant performance at the cage the score would have been much larger. In the second half Yardley had what benefit there was[233] from the wind, but, in spite of that, the play remained about her goal most of the time and that Rock Hill was able to add but one tally to her score was due to good work on the part of the defense, and the fact that Rock Hill’s shooting was not as brilliant as her other game. With the score, 3 to 0, and some four minutes to play, Alf saved the home team from a shut-out by taking the puck himself the length of the rink and, with one short pass to Hanley and back in front of goal, scoring Yardley’s only tally. But there was no disgrace in being beaten by Rock Hill, and, on the whole, Yardley’s work showed a distinct advance over that of the game with the Yale freshmen. If the Blue could play as well a week from that day, when she was due to meet the Green, Alf believed that the Pennimore Cup and the season’s championship would remain at Yardley.

But the weather was to be reckoned with, it seemed, for all Saturday and Sunday and Monday the warm spell continued, until the hockey rink was a shallow puddle of water with not a vestige of ice to be seen. The river broke up and the last of the snow melted in the drifts. The weather was almost springlike and Alf fumed and fretted and studied the predictions. And, meanwhile, the only practice to be obtained was[234] in the gymnasium where, with two Indian clubs set up to indicate a goal, the fellows shot until their arms ached.

But winter was only sulking in his tent, and on Tuesday morning the thermometer began to go down. By night the mercury was hovering about thirty and Alf went to sleep hopefully. The ground was hard in the morning, but the noon sun thawed it out again. Alf never entered or emerged from Oxford that he didn’t pause to scowl at the big thermometer by the door. Toward evening a breeze sprang out of the north and the mercury dropped ten degrees in half an hour. Moreover, it continued to drop all night and in the morning it showed twenty-one degrees. The weather was cloudy and at noon it was snowing fitfully. The rink was frozen smooth and hard and practice began again that afternoon. Alf once more wore a cheerful countenance. In the locker room at the gymnasium afterwards he called across to Gerald: “Say, Gerald, we’ve got to get that cup back before the game. Do you mind doing it? You’d better run over to-morrow if you can find time.”

“All right,” answered Gerald. “I’ll attend to it, Alf. I suppose he will give it to me, won’t he?”

“Who? Proctor? I guess so, but I’ll give[235] you an order. Remind me to write it this evening.”

Gerald’s opportunity came after dinner the following day. He had no recitations between two and three and so, armed with Alf’s note to the store proprietor, he tramped over to Greenburg in the teeth of a northeast gale and got the cup. He wanted very much to warm himself with a hot chocolate, but they had agreed that it would be wise to stay away from Wallace’s until last week’s episode of the broken glasses had been forgotten, and, since Wallace’s was the only place where they knew how to prepare a hot chocolate properly, Gerald was forced to start on his homeward trip without refreshment. The cup was in its maroon-colored flannel bag and he tucked it under his arm so that his hands might have the benefit of his coat pockets. When he reached the bridge over the river he heard his name called and, looking down, saw Harry Merrow on the ice. There were several other boys with him, mostly youngsters, and Jake Hiltz was sitting near by struggling with a refractory skate strap.

“Going to skate?” asked Harry. Gerald shook his head and danced up and down in the effort to bring warmth into his numbed toes. Harry eyed the maroon bag.

[236]

“What are you doing with your skates, then?” he inquired.

“It’s not skates,” said Gerald. “It’s the hockey cup. I’ve been over to Greenburg for it.”

“Oh, I thought you had your skates there. Why don’t you get them and come on down? The ice is dandy.”

“I’ve got hockey practice in half an hour, Harry.”

“Oh, I forgot. Are you going to make the team? Arthur says you’re a good player.”

“I won’t make it this year, I guess,” Gerald answered. “Isn’t it cold? I must go on or I’ll freeze fast to the bridge here.”

In his room he took the cup out of the bag and set it on the table, ............