For some time Dan watched the result of his tactics well satisfied, remaining himself for the time in the background. During one of the pauses, when the ball was out of play, he called one of the little Reds to him.
"Look here," he said, "you watch this. Right after one of those rushes of Craven's, don't follow him down, but keep up to your position. I'll get the ball to you somehow, and then you'll have a chance to shoot. No use passing to me, for this little son of a gun is on my back like a flea on a dog." Dan was seriously annoyed.
The little Red passed the word around and patiently waited his chance. Once and again the plan failed, chiefly because Dan could not get the ball out of the scrimmage, but at length, when Hughie had been tempted to rush in with the hope of putting in a shot, the ball slid out of the scrimmage, and Dan, swooping down upon it, passed swiftly to the waiting Red who immediately shot far out to his alert wing, and then rushing down the center and slipping past Johnnie Big Duncan, who had gone forth to meet Dan coming down the right, and the master who was attending to the little Red on the wing, received the ball, and putting in a short, swift shot, scored another goal for the Front, amid a tempest of hurrahings from the team and their supporters.
The game now stood three to one in favor of the Front, and up to the end of the first hour no change was made in this score.
And now there was a scene of the wildest enthusiasm and confusion.
The Front people flocked upon the ice and carried off their team to their quarter of the shanty, loading them with congratulations and refreshing them with various drinks.
"Better get your men together, captain," suggested Craven, and Hughie gathered them into the Twentieth corner of the shanty.
In spite of the adverse score Hughie found his team full of fight.
They crowded about him and the master, eager to listen to any explanation of the present defeat that might be offered for their comfort, or to any plans by which the defeat might be turned into victory. Some minutes they spent in excitedly discussing the various games, and in good-naturedly chaffing Thomas Finch for his failure to prevent a score. But Thomas had nothing to say in reply. He had done his best, and he had a feeling that they all knew it. No man was held in higher esteem by the team than the goal-keeper.
"Any plan, captain?" asked the master, after they had talked for some minutes, and all grew quiet.
"What do you think, sir?" said Hughie.
"O, let us hear from you. You're the captain.""Well," said Hughie, slowly, and with deliberate emphasis, "I think we are going to win." (Yells from all sides.) "At any rate we ought to win, for I think we have the better team." (More yells.)"What I mean is this, I think we are better in combination play, and I don't think they have a man who can touch the master."Enthusiastic exclamations, "That's right!" "Better believe it!""Horo!""But we have a big fight before us. And that Dan Munro's a terror.
The only change I can think of is to open out more and fall back from their goal for a little while. And then, if I can hold Dan--""Cries of "You'll hold him all right!" "You are the lad!""Everybody should feed the master. They can't stop him, any of them. But I would say for the first while, anyway, play defense.
What do you think, sir?" appealing to the master.
"I call that good tactics. But don't depend too much upon me; if any man has a chance for a run and a shot, let him take it. And don't give up your combination in your forward line. The captain is quite right in seeking to draw them away from their goal. Their defense territory is too full now. Now, what I have noticed is this, they mainly rely upon Dan Munro and upon their three big defense men. For the first fifteen minutes they will make their hardest push. Let us take the captain's advice, fall back a little, and so empty their defense. But on the whole, keep your positions, play to your men, and," he added, with a smile, "don't get too mad.""I guess they will be making some plans, too," said Thomas Finch, slowly, and everybody laughed.
"That's quite right, Thomas, but we'll give them a chance for the first while to show us what they mean to do."At this point the minister came in, looking rather gloomy.
"Well, Mr. Craven, rather doubtful outlook, is it not?""O, not too bad, sir," said the master, cheerfully.
"Three to one. What worse do you want?"
"Well, six to one would be worse," replied the master. "Besides, their first two games were taken by a kind of fluke. We didn't know their play. You will notice they have taken only one in the last three-quarters of an hour.""I doubt they are too big for you," continued the minister.
"Isn't altogether size that wins in shinny," said Mr. Craven.
"Hughie there isn't a very big man, but he can hold any one of them.""Well, I hope you may be right," said the minister. "I am sorry Ihave to leave the game to see a sick man up Kenyon way.""Sorry you can't stay, sir, to see us win," said Craven, cheerfully, while Hughie slipped out to see his mother before she went.
"Well, my boy," said his mother, "you are playing a splendid game, and you are getting better as you go on.""Thanks, mother. That's the kind of talk we like," said Hughie, who had been a little depressed by his father's rather gloomy views. "I'm awfully sorry you can't stay.""And so am I, but we must go. But we shall be back in time for supper, and you will ask all the team to come down to celebrate their victory.""Good for you, mother! I'll tell them, and I bet they'll play."Meantime the team from the Front had been having something of a jollification in their quarters. They were sure of victory, and in spite of their captain's remonstrances had already begun to pass round the bottle in the way of celebration.
