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.[280] 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.

[281]

Alf’s face lighted up when he saw it.

“Great! Where did you get it, kid?”

“Found it on the table in your room.”

“All ready, Yardley?” called the referee.

“Just a minute, please,” answered Alf, strapping the wristlet on. “You say you found it on the table in—” He stopped and viewed Gerald suspiciously. “How did it get there?”

“That’s something I can’t tell you,” answered Gerald with a smile.

“Can’t or won’t?” asked Alf frowningly. “Well, never mind now. I’ve got to get back. Take the bag off it, Gerald, and don’t let it out of your hands until the game’s over. By Jove, I’m glad you got it, wherever it came from! You’re a trump, Gerald!”

He tossed the rejected tape onto the ground and turned to skate away. But the next instant he was circling back.

“Where are your togs, kid?” he asked abruptly.

“In the gym,” answered Gerald.

“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[282] 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[283] 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, pla............