Blanchard captured it and got safely away from all the forwards, and past Jackson at coverpoint, only to be thwarted at the last by the goal-keeper, who sent the puck skimming out of danger amid the shouts of St. John’s.
Charles picked it up at the side of the rink and started with it. He came down along the side, close by where Edward stood, and right there Sheldon rushed to meet him.
Edward held his breath; was there to be another collision like the last? Perhaps the same question caused Sheldon a moment’s uncertainty—the question and the glimpse of Charles’s bloody face; he slackened his speed a little, as if undecided whether to charge his man or to try to snatch the puck from under his hockey; and in that instant of indecision Charles made a sudden swerve, seemed to leap into increased speed, and eluding Sheldon entirely, swept down the middle of the rink.
In a moment he seemed surrounded by St. Timothy’s players; but then magically he emerged from them, still racing toward their goal, the puck clinging in the crook of his