Glengarry Schooldays [78]
big men, and the inevitable reaction following their unwise "celebrating" began to show itself in their stale and spiritless play. On the other hand, the Twentieth were as fresh as ever, and pressed the game with greater spirit every moment.
"Play out toward the side," urged Dan, despairing of victory, but determined to avert defeat, and at every opportunity the ball was knocked out of play. But like wolves the Twentieth forwards were upon the ball, striving to keep it in play, and steadily forcing it toward the enemy's goal.
Dan became desperate. He was wet with perspiration, and his breath was coming in hard gasps. He looked at his team. The little Reds were fit enough, but the others were jaded and pumped out. Behind him stood Jimmie Ben, savage, wet, and weary.
At one of the pauses, when the ball was out of play, Dan dropped on his knee.
"Hold on there a minute," he cried; "I want to fix this skate of mine."
Very deliberately he removed his strap, readjusted his skate, and began slowly to set the strap in place again.
"They want a rest, I guess. Better take off the time, umpire," sang out Fusie, dancing as lively as a cricket round Jimmie Ben, who looked as if he would like to devour him bodily.
"Shut up, Fusie!" said Hughie. "We've got all the time we need."
"You have, eh?" said Jimmie Ben, savagely.
"Yes," said Hughie, in sudden anger, for he had not forgotten Jimmie Ben's cruel swipe. "We don't need any more time than we've got, and we don't need to play any dirty tricks, either. We're going to beat you. We've got you beaten now."
"Blank your impudent face! Wait you! I'll show you!" said Jimmie Ben.
"You can't scare me, Jimmie Ben," said Hughie, white with rage. "You tried your best and you couldn't do it."
"Play the game, Hughie," said the master, in a low tone, skating round him, while Hec Ross said, good-naturedly, "Shut up Jimmie Ben. You'll need all your wind for your heels," at which all but Jimmie Ben laughed.
For a moment Dan drew his men together.
"Our only chance," he said, "is in a rush. Now, I want every man to make for that goal. Never mind the ball. I'll get the ball there. And then you, Jimmie Ben, and a couple of you centers, make right back here on guard."
"They're going to rush," said Hughie to his team. "Don't all go back. Centers fall back with me. You forwards keep up."
At the drop Dan secured the ball, and in a moment the Front rush came. With a simultaneous yell the whole ten men came roaring down the ice, waving their clubs and flinging aside their lightweight opponents. It was a dangerous moment, but with a cry of "All steady, boys!" Hughie threw himself right into Dan's way. But just for such a chance Jimmie Ben was watching, and rushing upon Hughie, caught him fairly with his shoulder and hurled him to the ice, while the attacking line swept over him.
For a single moment Hughie lay dazed, but before any one could offer help he rose slowly, and after a few deep breaths, set off for the scrimmage.
There was a wild five minutes. Eighteen or twenty men were massed in front of the Twentieth goal, striking, shoving, yelling, the solid weight of the Front defense forcing the ball ever nearer the goal. In the center of the mass were Craven, Johnnie Big Duncan, and Don fighting every inch.
For a few moments Hughie hovered behind his goal, his heart full of black rage, waiting his chance. At length he saw an opening. Jimmie Ben, slashing heavily, regardless of injury to himself or any others, had edged the ball toward the Twentieth left. Taking a short run, Hughie, reckless of consequences, launched himself head first into Jimmie Ben's stomach, swiping viciously at the same time at the ball. For a moment Jimmie Ben was flung back, and but for Johnnie Big Duncan would have fallen, but before he could regain his feet, the ball was set free of the scrimmage and away. Fusie, rushing in, had snapped it up and had gone scuttling down the ice, followed by Hughie and the master.
Before Fusie had got much past center,
"Play out toward the side," urged Dan, despairing of victory, but determined to avert defeat, and at every opportunity the ball was knocked out of play. But like wolves the Twentieth forwards were upon the ball, striving to keep it in play, and steadily forcing it toward the enemy's goal.
Dan became desperate. He was wet with perspiration, and his breath was coming in hard gasps. He looked at his team. The little Reds were fit enough, but the others were jaded and pumped out. Behind him stood Jimmie Ben, savage, wet, and weary.
At one of the pauses, when the ball was out of play, Dan dropped on his knee.
"Hold on there a minute," he cried; "I want to fix this skate of mine."
Very deliberately he removed his strap, readjusted his skate, and began slowly to set the strap in place again.
"They want a rest, I guess. Better take off the time, umpire," sang out Fusie, dancing as lively as a cricket round Jimmie Ben, who looked as if he would like to devour him bodily.
"Shut up, Fusie!" said Hughie. "We've got all the time we need."
"You have, eh?" said Jimmie Ben, savagely.
"Yes," said Hughie, in sudden anger, for he had not forgotten Jimmie Ben's cruel swipe. "We don't need any more time than we've got, and we don't need to play any dirty tricks, either. We're going to beat you. We've got you beaten now."
"Blank your impudent face! Wait you! I'll show you!" said Jimmie Ben.
"You can't scare me, Jimmie Ben," said Hughie, white with rage. "You tried your best and you couldn't do it."
"Play the game, Hughie," said the master, in a low tone, skating round him, while Hec Ross said, good-naturedly, "Shut up Jimmie Ben. You'll need all your wind for your heels," at which all but Jimmie Ben laughed.
For a moment Dan drew his men together.
"Our only chance," he said, "is in a rush. Now, I want every man to make for that goal. Never mind the ball. I'll get the ball there. And then you, Jimmie Ben, and a couple of you centers, make right back here on guard."
"They're going to rush," said Hughie to his team. "Don't all go back. Centers fall back with me. You forwards keep up."
At the drop Dan secured the ball, and in a moment the Front rush came. With a simultaneous yell the whole ten men came roaring down the ice, waving their clubs and flinging aside their lightweight opponents. It was a dangerous moment, but with a cry of "All steady, boys!" Hughie threw himself right into Dan's way. But just for such a chance Jimmie Ben was watching, and rushing upon Hughie, caught him fairly with his shoulder and hurled him to the ice, while the attacking line swept over him.
For a single moment Hughie lay dazed, but before any one could offer help he rose slowly, and after a few deep breaths, set off for the scrimmage.
There was a wild five minutes. Eighteen or twenty men were massed in front of the Twentieth goal, striking, shoving, yelling, the solid weight of the Front defense forcing the ball ever nearer the goal. In the center of the mass were Craven, Johnnie Big Duncan, and Don fighting every inch.
For a few moments Hughie hovered behind his goal, his heart full of black rage, waiting his chance. At length he saw an opening. Jimmie Ben, slashing heavily, regardless of injury to himself or any others, had edged the ball toward the Twentieth left. Taking a short run, Hughie, reckless of consequences, launched himself head first into Jimmie Ben's stomach, swiping viciously at the same time at the ball. For a moment Jimmie Ben was flung back, and but for Johnnie Big Duncan would have fallen, but before he could regain his feet, the ball was set free of the scrimmage and away. Fusie, rushing in, had snapped it up and had gone scuttling down the ice, followed by Hughie and the master.
Before Fusie had got much past center,