CHAPTER XXIIHOT WORK.
Bink and Danny locked arms at the conclusion of the first half of the game and walked up and down like crowing bantam roosters, bellowing college songs, in which the name of Merriwell figured largely.
“What are you bawling about?” Defarge demanded. “Your favorites haven’t won the game. You’ve heard of the fools who ‘hollered’ before they were out of the woods?”
“Oh, go use some salt!” Danny flung back at him.
“What in the dickens did you mean by that?” Bink asked, when an opportunity offered. “Use some salt!”
“I meant for him to get off the ice,” Danny chuckled. “Salt or ashes, either one. I simply happened to think of salt first.”
Then the two marched on, singing:
“Oh, our Merry is the lad, boys!Rally round him true!Beating the battle-drum of Eli.He’s the best that Yale has had, boys,Rally round him, do!You’ll never see another at Old Eli.“Oh, Merry forever,Hurrah, boys! hurrah!Oh, Merry forever,The king without a flaw!We’ll sing his praises true, boys,For the honor of the Blue!For Merriwell, the glory of Old Eli!”
“Oh, our Merry is the lad, boys!Rally round him true!Beating the battle-drum of Eli.He’s the best that Yale has had, boys,Rally round him, do!You’ll never see another at Old Eli.“Oh, Merry forever,Hurrah, boys! hurrah!Oh, Merry forever,The king without a flaw!We’ll sing his praises true, boys,For the honor of the Blue!For Merriwell, the glory of Old Eli!”
“Oh, our Merry is the lad, boys!Rally round him true!Beating the battle-drum of Eli.He’s the best that Yale has had, boys,Rally round him, do!You’ll never see another at Old Eli.
“Oh, our Merry is the lad, boys!
Rally round him true!
Beating the battle-drum of Eli.
He’s the best that Yale has had, boys,
Rally round him, do!
You’ll never see another at Old Eli.
“Oh, Merry forever,Hurrah, boys! hurrah!Oh, Merry forever,The king without a flaw!We’ll sing his praises true, boys,For the honor of the Blue!For Merriwell, the glory of Old Eli!”
“Oh, Merry forever,
Hurrah, boys! hurrah!
Oh, Merry forever,
The king without a flaw!
We’ll sing his praises true, boys,
For the honor of the Blue!
For Merriwell, the glory of Old Eli!”
The teams again went on the cleared space, the puck was faced, and the referee sharply called “Play!”
Again, as in the beginning, Morgan secured the first scoop of the puck. He sent it toward Merriwell’s goal-posts and the Beckwith team again tried to rush it on.
Browning was in place, blocked it with his feet, and skipped it off to one side. But it was in position for another drive at Merriwell’s goal in a surprisingly short time. Starbright tried to get it, but Packard drove it past him, making a perilous lunge that came near pitching him on the ice. But Hodge’s stick caught the puck, cracked heavily against it, and the two teams rushing after it, the fight for its possession raged at the other end of the surface.
Then Merriwell secured the puck, shooting it back to Ready, who boastingly claimed that he was always “Ready” for anything. Jack proved his worthiness of the name and drove the bit of rubber between Beckwith’s flags.
Morgan was determined to win the game from Merriwell, and when he and Frank again faced each other with the puck between their sticks, awaiting the word of the referee, this determination was increased by the fact that Merriwell’s team was now one goal ahead.
But in spite of his determination, Merriwell’s stick was the first to move the puck. But he could not drive it for goal. It went down to Bingham, the opposing cover-point, who whirled it back. Then Hodge’s stick cracked against it, and it skipped once more toward Beckwith’s goal-line. Harlan stopped it here, and an exciting scrimmage occurred.
Out of the welter it flew back toward Merriwell’s goal, against the stick of Harlan, who began to dribble it down the ice. Fearing to lose it, he sent it back to Bingham, who shot it to one side to Ned Silver, who drove it, amid cries of “off-side,” for Merriwell’s goal.
Carson and Browning both tried to stop it, but they failed. Another goal was added to Beckwith’s side, and the score stood four to four.
“Oh, this isn’t easy work!” squealed Bink. “This is the kind of playing that turns a fellow’s heart into a force-pump!”
“Hang it! I’d hate to have Merry beaten after all our howling,” Danny grumbled.
“You base skeptic!” said Inza, turning on him. “Doubters have no place in Merriwell’s camp!”
“I ain’t ‘doubtin’ him,’ as the old country woman said when told that her husband was having an awful fight with a bear. ‘I ain’t doubtin’ him a mite; but I’m kinder oneasy!’”
Morgan was fighting now with great coolness, but with a sort of fierceness under it all that was wonderful to see. He was marvelously skilful. He was as quick as lightning, and as he was able to skate fast or slow, he was not easily thrown off his feet by the body-checking, blocking, and interference of an opponent.
He could dodge and twist as cleverly as Merriwell himself, and he could stop with a suddenness that was startling. Nearly every other player had at some time during the game been thrown from his feet, some receiving jarring falls, but nothing apparently could overthrow Dade Morgan.
In the next two minutes of play Beckwith’s men secured another goal through the fine work of Morgan, making the score five in their favor to four for the Merriwells.
Then how the friends of Morgan yelled! Bink and Danny tried to lift a song of encouragement for Merriwell’s men, but it was drowned in the roar that went up for Morgan.
Dade’s face was darkly flushed, his eyes were shining brightly and the smile had deepened. He began to see the possibility of defeating Merriwell’s men. If he could do that, he felt that it would reinstate him in the good graces of all his former friends, and perhaps give him the unquestioned leadership of the freshmen. That would, he fancied, humiliate both Starbright and Merriwell.
The game had begun nearly an hour late, and the short day was rapidly drawing to a close. But none of the players, none of the spectators, noticed this, so great was their interest and excitement. The spectators had come out expecting a good game, but not prepared for such bulldog and wildcat style of hockey-fighting. It was worth going miles to witness.
Again the play was on, with the groups round the cleared space crowding as close up as they were permitted, and all howling for their favorites and vociferously applauding.
Now and then through the uproar could be heard the shrill squeals of Bink and Danny as they piped for Merriwell.
After a fierce struggle Merriwell secured the puck in the open and made a rush of the entire length of the rink, dodging three opponents and scoring a beautiful goal, tieing the score, which was now five to five.
In the next play Beckwith’s men forced the puck to the flags of their opponents and made a desperate effort to get another goal. But they failed to get by Browning. Time after time his wonderful lifting and stopping sent the puck from his goal.
Then Beckwith’s men made another effort, and sent the puck between the flags with a high shot which was instantly protested. It had been made by Ned Silver, and no one thought that Silver had tried to cheat; but the rules provided that no player should raise his stick above his shoulder, and Silver had done that.
The goal was not counted; and with the match still a tie, the fight for goals was renewed.
Silver might have been ruled off the ice, but, the referee believing no infraction of the rules had been intended, this was not done.
Merriwell now began to push the work toward the other end of the rink, twice sending the puck for goal, but each time the disk was stopped by Beckwith, whose agility was remarkable for a man of his size. Beckwith was a great football-player, and he showed that he was equally good as a goal-keeper in a hockey-match.
The position of goal-keeper is a hard one, and often thankless. Though Beckwith frequently gained possession of the puck he was never given time or room to pass it down the rink, but was forced to shoot it off to one side, thus preventing another try-for-goal until the rubber could be worked back into favorable position.
Finally Merriwell found the opening he was seeking and drove the puck between the goal-posts, and the score became six for his team to five for Beckwith’s.
“Fellows, we can beat them!” Morgan urged, before the beginning of the next play. “We’ll do it.”
The response was all that he wished, so far as effort went. But Merriwell seemed now to have struck the winning streak. The puck went toward Beckwith’s side, and then farther along by clever lifting and dribbling.
The musical ring of the skates and the sinewy movements of the skaters were inspiring. Bink and Danny lost their heads completely and yelled and squeaked until they were hoarse.
Every inch of the way was hotly contested, and the puck skipping back and forth, the excited spectators could hardly tell for a time in which direction it was really progressing.
Several times there were cries of “off-side,” but Frank saw that his men were doing no off-side play, and the infractions of the rule by other players seemed inconsequential. Once, however, he saw a skater—it was Roland Packard—advance the puck with his skate. Merriwell would have protested against this if the puck had not been checked and sent on toward Beckwith’s goal. The officials did not see the trick of Packard.
Starbright secured the puck and was about to drive it for goal, when it was “biffed” away by Morgan’s stick. Morgan shot it to Silver, who attempted to send it farther along.
Then Ready secured it and started with it down the rink, dribbling it just ahead of him. He tried to “lift” it over the heads of the cover-point and others, but it was stopped, and came whizzing back again.
Dashleigh obtained it and sent it bang against Beckwith’s shins, and Beckwith shot it to one side.
After some more quick work it came into Merriwell’s possession. Morgan skated in with the speed of lightning to prevent Frank’s play; but, swift as he was, he was too slow. Frank’s stick pushed the puck with a quick flirt past Morgan and between the posts, and another goal had been added.
The score was seven to five when the timekeeper’s whistle blew.