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the more active play, would relieve him, and he would take his place among the forwards, and sometimes get his stick on the rubber disk and run with it clumsily a little way, but he never kept it long. It seemed as if anybody could get it away from him—even a midget like young Vance. Even Keating, in spite of his toeing in and his tendency to walk on his ankle-bones, skated better than Edward.

It was endlessly humiliating—and yet it was all rather good fun; and Edward found himself just as eager each day for that scrub game as he had ever been for the football or baseball games in which he more noticeably shone.

Keeping goal, he had plenty of opportunity to watch the crack hockey-players, who were having their practice near by; Bell and Payne and Durant and Sheldon were the best of them. Blanchard was temporarily out of the game on account of his injured knee, but hoped to be all right after the Christmas vacation, and able to take part in the Pythian-