appearance was that of one better qualified for the hospital than the rink. His face was gory, his blue jersey was smeared with blood; his swollen nose and bruised, discolored cheek gave him a desperate look. He swung round once or twice cautiously, then took a half-dozen long confident strokes.
“All right,” he said; and the game proceeded.
Within a few seconds Edward realized that St. Timothy’s had singled out Charles now as the vulnerable point, and were directing at him their most severe attack—just as in the football game Charles had singled out Edward. The understanding came to Edward in a flash when Durant wheeled with the puck and charged clear across the rink at Charles.
He did not get by; there was a momentary scrimmage, and then the puck was hit wildly out into the centre, where Sheldon secured it. He pivoted an instant, hesitating; then shot it to Durant, who this time approached Charles with tempting deliberation. Charles made a rush; Durant flicked the puck out of his reach,