Glengarry Schooldays [80]
Ben.
"The game is over," he said, in a low, fierce tone. "You cowardly blackguard, you weren't afraid to hit a boy, now stand up to a man, if you dare."
Jimmie Ben was no coward. Dropping his club he came eagerly forward, but no sooner had he got well ready than Craven struck him fair in the face, and before he could fall, caught him with a straight, swift blow on the chin, and lifting him clear off his skates, landed him back on his head and shoulders on the ice, where he lay with his toes quivering.
"Serve him right," said Hec Ross.
There was no more of it. The Twentieth crowds went wild with joy and rage, for their great game was won, and the news of what had befallen their captain had got round.
"He took his city, though, Mrs. Murray," said the master, after the great supper in the manse that evening, as Hughie lay upon the sofa, pale, suffering, but happy. "And not only one, but a whole continent of them, and," he added, "the game as well."
With sudden tears and a little break in her voice, the mother said, looking at her boy, "It was worth while taking the city, but I fear the game cost too much."
"Oh, pshaw, mother," said Hughie, "it's only one bone, and I tell you that final round was worth a leg."
CHAPTER XV
THE RESULT
"How many did you say, Craven, of those Glengarry men of yours?" Professor Gray was catechizing his nephew.
"Ten of them, sir, besides the minister's son, who is going to take the full university course."
"And all of them bound for the ministry?"
"So they say. And judging by the way they take life, and the way, for instance, they play shinny, I have a notion they will see it through."
"They come of a race that sees things through," answered the professor. "And this is the result of this Zion Hill Academy I have been hearing so much about?"
"Well, sir, they put in a good year's work, I must say."
"You might have done worse, sir. Indeed, you deserve great credit, sir."
"I? Not a bit. I simply showed them what to do and how to do it. But there's a woman up there that the world ought to know about. For love of her--"
"Oh, the world!" snorted the professor. "The world, sir! The Lord deliver us! It might do the world some good, I grant."
"It is for love of her these men are in for the ministry."
"You are wrong, sir. That is not their motive."
"No, perhaps it is not. It would be unfair to say so, but yet she--"
"I know, sir. I know, sir. Bless my soul, sir. I know her. I knew her before you were born. But--yes, yes--" the professor spoke as if to himself--"for love of her men would attempt great things. You have these names, Craven? Ah! Alexander Stewart, Donald Cameron, Thomas Finch--Finch, let me see--ah, yes, Finch. His mother died after a long illness. Yes, I remember. A very sad case, a very sad case, indeed."
"And yet not so sad, sir," put in Craven. "At any rate, it did not seem so at the time. That night it seemed anything but sad. It was wonderful."
The professor laid down his list and sat back in his chair.
"Go on, sir," he said, gazing curiously at Craven. "I have heard a little about it. Let me see, it was the night of the great match, was it not?"
"Did you know about that? Who told you about the match, sir?"
"I hear a great many things, and in curious ways. But go on, sir, go on."
Craven sat silent, and from the look in his eyes his thoughts were far away.
"Well, sir, it's a thing I have never spoken about. It seems to me, if I may say so, something quite too sacred to speak of lightly."
Again Craven paused, while the professor waited.
"It was Hughie sent me there. There was a jubilation supper at the manse, you understand. Thomas Finch, the goal-keeper, you know-- magnificent fellow, too--was not at the supper. A messenger had come for him, saying that his mother had taken a bad turn. Hughie was much disappointed, and they were all evidently anxious. I offered to drive over and inquire, and of course the minister's wife, though she had been on the go all day
"The game is over," he said, in a low, fierce tone. "You cowardly blackguard, you weren't afraid to hit a boy, now stand up to a man, if you dare."
Jimmie Ben was no coward. Dropping his club he came eagerly forward, but no sooner had he got well ready than Craven struck him fair in the face, and before he could fall, caught him with a straight, swift blow on the chin, and lifting him clear off his skates, landed him back on his head and shoulders on the ice, where he lay with his toes quivering.
"Serve him right," said Hec Ross.
There was no more of it. The Twentieth crowds went wild with joy and rage, for their great game was won, and the news of what had befallen their captain had got round.
"He took his city, though, Mrs. Murray," said the master, after the great supper in the manse that evening, as Hughie lay upon the sofa, pale, suffering, but happy. "And not only one, but a whole continent of them, and," he added, "the game as well."
With sudden tears and a little break in her voice, the mother said, looking at her boy, "It was worth while taking the city, but I fear the game cost too much."
"Oh, pshaw, mother," said Hughie, "it's only one bone, and I tell you that final round was worth a leg."
CHAPTER XV
THE RESULT
"How many did you say, Craven, of those Glengarry men of yours?" Professor Gray was catechizing his nephew.
"Ten of them, sir, besides the minister's son, who is going to take the full university course."
"And all of them bound for the ministry?"
"So they say. And judging by the way they take life, and the way, for instance, they play shinny, I have a notion they will see it through."
"They come of a race that sees things through," answered the professor. "And this is the result of this Zion Hill Academy I have been hearing so much about?"
"Well, sir, they put in a good year's work, I must say."
"You might have done worse, sir. Indeed, you deserve great credit, sir."
"I? Not a bit. I simply showed them what to do and how to do it. But there's a woman up there that the world ought to know about. For love of her--"
"Oh, the world!" snorted the professor. "The world, sir! The Lord deliver us! It might do the world some good, I grant."
"It is for love of her these men are in for the ministry."
"You are wrong, sir. That is not their motive."
"No, perhaps it is not. It would be unfair to say so, but yet she--"
"I know, sir. I know, sir. Bless my soul, sir. I know her. I knew her before you were born. But--yes, yes--" the professor spoke as if to himself--"for love of her men would attempt great things. You have these names, Craven? Ah! Alexander Stewart, Donald Cameron, Thomas Finch--Finch, let me see--ah, yes, Finch. His mother died after a long illness. Yes, I remember. A very sad case, a very sad case, indeed."
"And yet not so sad, sir," put in Craven. "At any rate, it did not seem so at the time. That night it seemed anything but sad. It was wonderful."
The professor laid down his list and sat back in his chair.
"Go on, sir," he said, gazing curiously at Craven. "I have heard a little about it. Let me see, it was the night of the great match, was it not?"
"Did you know about that? Who told you about the match, sir?"
"I hear a great many things, and in curious ways. But go on, sir, go on."
Craven sat silent, and from the look in his eyes his thoughts were far away.
"Well, sir, it's a thing I have never spoken about. It seems to me, if I may say so, something quite too sacred to speak of lightly."
Again Craven paused, while the professor waited.
"It was Hughie sent me there. There was a jubilation supper at the manse, you understand. Thomas Finch, the goal-keeper, you know-- magnificent fellow, too--was not at the supper. A messenger had come for him, saying that his mother had taken a bad turn. Hughie was much disappointed, and they were all evidently anxious. I offered to drive over and inquire, and of course the minister's wife, though she had been on the go all day