Charles had been skating hard; he leaned forward, resting on his hockey-stick, and panted for breath. But a moment later, when the puck had been put in play, he seized it and started off as if to repeat his performance; he got by Sheldon in just the same way as before, and Lawrence remarked with chagrin, "He’s making a monkey of Sheldon.”

But this time Durant cut in and by a clever swoop snatched the puck and sent it, with a long pass, across the rink out of danger.

Sheldon’s blood was up; the two tumbles which Jackson had given him, the two pocketings which he had received from Charles Crashaw, had affronted the pride of one who was perhaps something of a grand-stand player. So when a third time Charles snatched the puck from a scrimmage and started off with it, Sheldon dug his skates in the ice and came at him at a sharp angle, with his teeth clenched. Perhaps Crashaw was more than his match at finesse; well, this time he would n’t get away with it. They might both go down together, but anyway Crashaw would n’t slip by.