Down the Ice, and Other Winter Sports Stories Page 2

  THE ICE CYCLONE

  "You can't play hockey and you never could!"

  "Is that so?"

  "Yes, that's so. You're just a fancy skater but your figure eightsdon't do you any good in a game."

  Rand Downey, right wing on the Kirkwood High six, was boiling mad. Thisfellow, Frederick, the _Great_, Barker, had finally gotten so on hisnerves as to cause him to explode. The idea of Coach Howard puttingthis impossible person on the team at left wing, replacing the veteranDon Keith who was out with a sprained ankle! What did Coach want todo--throw the whole team off its stride and right before the big gamewith Melville?

  "It's true I haven't played much hockey," the slenderly built Frederickwas replying. "You must remember, old boy, I didn't come out for theteam--I was ... er ... pressed into service when the ... er ...expediency arose."

  Frederick was like that. Big words, stilted sentences, haughty,superior manner. He didn't have a close friend in the school; keptpretty much to himself; played a lone hand when it came to sports.Track and ice skating had seemed to be his two favorite athleticdiversions. In his peculiarly aloof way he had stepped out and won thetwo-twenty and four-forty, setting county records for both events. Onthe ice, Frederick had exhibited a brand of fancy skating which hadastounded the natives.

  "I should be able to skate," he had said, after winning the cup withease. "My folks spent a couple years in Canada and, you know, babiesare born with skates on their feet up there."

  It had been Coach Howard's idea that the conversion of Frederick, theGreat, Barker into a hockey player, would add amazing strength to theteam. Strangely enough, the newcomer to Kirkwood had not beenenthusiastic about the thoughts of playing.

  "Ice skating is a game of grace and beauty of movement," had been hisexplanation. "I just don't see anything to this rough and tumblebusiness."

  But the old appeal "for the honor and glory of the school" had wonFrederick over. He had readily agreed to Coach Howard's declarationthat Kirkwood High possessed few really good skaters although he wasnot so sure that his addition to the team would have the bolsteringeffect predicted.

  "I'll do the best I can," had been his promise.

  "You'll be a whiz," the coach had encouraged. "A man as fast on hisfeet as you? Why, say--when you get this hockey game in your blood,you'll burn up the ice!"

  Thus far, however, Frederick's participation had only succeeded inburning up his fellow players. Rand Downey, who had to play oppositehim on the other wing, had reasons to be the most upset.

  "I'd like to ask," flared Rand, "how's it come you've always pickedsoft sports to excel in?"

  "What do you mean--'soft'?" Frederick's expression was one of hurtsurprise.

  "No physical conflict ... no bumping up against a real opponent ...like in football or baseball or--_hockey_?"

  "Competition of that sort doesn't interest me," stated Frederickfrankly, a flush creeping into his cheeks.

  "You mean," taunted Rand, bent on driving home his thrust, "that you'drather not mix it with anybody ... you're afraid of getting your hairmussed or a punch in the eye or your nose rubbed in the dirt."

  Fellow players glared at their new team member, obviously in support ofRand's accusation.

  "I admit," answered Frederick, unblinkingly, "such things do not appealto me."

  The fellow's absolute candor was amazing. Rand had deliberately set outto antagonize him and here he was, quietly agreeing to everything.Apparently Frederick, who came by his title "the Great" through thisair of superiority, could not be fussed nor aroused. He made nopretense of that which he was not and indicated quite plainly that hefelt entitled to his views on sport.

  "I suppose you know, then," fired Rand, as a last broadside, "that youplay hockey like a lady!"

  "Worse than that!" broke in Steve Lucas, captain and center. "It wouldbe different, Fred, if you weren't such a good skater ... but there'sno excuse for the way you're side-stepping and skating in circles anddropping the puck at the blue line instead of trying to go through thedefense. There's a certain color that applies to guys who pull whatyou've been pulling. We wouldn't care only we'd give our skates to beatMelville this year."

  "And a fat chance we've got with Don Keith out," ranted Bill Stewart,stocky right defense. "He was the spark plug of our team. All you'vedone is fill us up with carbon!"

  "I'm sorry," was the new team member's comment as he unfastened hisskates and stepped off the rink. "But why jump me about this? I suggestyou take your story to the coach. Any time he wants me to leave theteam, I'll be delighted."

  * * * * *

  Fellow players groaned helplessly as Frederick, the Great, Barkerwalked off, head high.

  "He's a conundrum, that bird!" declared Rand. "You'd think he didn'thave any fight in him."

  "He doesn't when it comes to sports like this," said Bill. "You hit thenail on the head when you razzed him about not wanting to mix it. I canunderstand now why he's steered clear of us fellows. He's againstanything boisterous."

  "He's grooming himself to be one of those gentleman sportsmen," twittedSteve, "whose pictures you see in the rotogravure section ofnewspapers, sitting on a horse, dressed in a polo cap; or elsestretched out on a country club veranda, in golf togs. The pictureslook swell but most of 'em don't mean any thing."

  "He's a grand guy," summed up Rand. "I have to hand it to him for onething. He's sure satisfied with himself. If I'd bawled any of you birdsout the way I did him, I'd have started a free-for-all. He's got thespunk of a caterpillar."

  "Coach certainly won't leave him in the line-up after today's game,"reassured goal tender Chub Roland. "We were lucky not to lose. Fredspent about the whole time dodging collisions with the enemy. I thinkhe only went down once. He's a fancy skater all right. He did some ofthe fanciest shifting I ever saw. Never used his body to block once ...tried to do it all with his stick. I yelled to him once to get in frontof his man but he acted like he thought it wouldn't be the gentlemanlything to do. Too bad he has to be such a lemon. I still think if wecould get him steamed up about something--he might surprise us."

  "Not that baby!" scoffed Rand. "He's got chronic cold feet. You'llnever see him make a showing where he's got to swap bumps with someoneelse. He says himself that's not his idea of sport. Personally, Iwouldn't get any kick out of running races or making fancy doodads onthe ice. I'd just as soon take up crocheting."

  The Kirkwood ice hockey squad laughed. It had been a hard, tense seasonwith little opportunity to relax against an unusually high brand ofcompetition. That Kirkwood had managed to remain a contender for thestate interscholastic ice hockey championship, despite the absence ofdependable spares, had been due to the heroic effort of the originalsix and the excellent guidance of Coach Howard. His latest move,however, in recruiting Frederick, the Great, as a hockey player, hadappeared a psychological mistake, affecting as it had, the team'smorale. Even sporting accounts of the game were none too complimentary.

  "Fred Barker, playing his third game at left wing for Kirkwood," saidthe _Daily Eagle_, "still left much to be desired. Making allowance forthe fact that ice hockey is new to the champion fancy skater, Barker,in the judgment of this sports writer, should be entering more into thespirit of the game and teaming up better with his mates. Time andagain, on capturing the puck, he seemed at a loss as to what to do withit, taking some pretty turns about the ice which promised much butproduced nothing. Coach Howard still seems of the opinion that Barkeris going to fill Don Keith's skating shoes but, on the basis of hisperformance today, he will have to come along rapidly to even approachDon's stellar ability. Keith-to-Downey-to-Keith used to be the passcombination which brought scores for Kirkwood. Either that or thereverse: Downey-to-Keith-to-Downey with the resultant shot for goal.But Kirkwood has lost her scoring punch, temporarily at least--a punchshe sorely needs in the coming battle against Melville, a sextetpossessing such defensive power that not a goal has been scored againsther the entire
season!"

  "I suppose you read the papers," was Coach Howard's greeting toFrederick, the Great, Barker on calling him aside at the next practicesession.

  "Yes, sir," Frederick replied, in a disinterested tone.

  "That being the case, it saves me breath," said the coach. "Theaccounts of your playing were fairly accurate."

  "I thought so myself," agreed Frederick.

  "But you can do better than this. Why, man--you haven't begun to letyourself out yet! I've seen your fancy skating exhibitions and I knowwhat you can do--your daring leaps and whirls. That airplane dive, asyou call it, is one of the most hairbreadth things I've ever seen onskates."

  Frederick's face spread into a slow smile.

  "That isn't bad, is it?"

  "Bad? It's simply great. But why can't you transmit a bit of that dashinto hockey? You're doing some nice straight skating but that recklessabandon isn't there. I believe in you, Fred, or I wouldn't have urgedyou to play, against your own inclination."

  The champion fancy skater dug the point of his skate into the ice.

  "I know that," he said, with his first show of feeling, "but I can'thelp it, coach--I'm doing the best I can."

  Coach Howard eyed the new left wing shrewdly.

  "You're just kidding yourself, Fred," he said, pointedly. "There'ssomething troubling you, boy. It's been troubling you for a long, longwhile and it's time you were getting it off your chest. Comeclean--what is it?"

  A hurt expression came into Frederick's face which he ordinarily keptwell masked beneath the external attitude of indifference.

  "You wouldn't understand if I told you," he returned, huskily.

  "Perhaps I would."

  "How could you when I don't really understand myself? All I know isthat I've never had a desire for direct competitive sport. It datesback to the days when I was sickly and my parents discouraged me fromtaking part in the games and bucking up against the stronger fellows. Iwas disappointed, of course, and it sort of killed something inside me."

  "You can get it back," reassured Coach Howard. "Give yourself a chance."

  Frederick shook his head, sorrowfully. "Since I couldn't go in for thesports other fellows were playing, I developed the habit of staying offby myself. That hasn't helped me, either. I guess I've been tooretrospective. There's such a word, isn't there?"

  The coach smiled, sympathetically. "I think so--but I've been so busywith my present that I haven't had time to look backward. You shouldn'tlet the past have such a hold on you, Fred--snap out of this! You'remissing half the fun in sport!"

  Frederick nodded, ruefully. "I'd give a lot to be able to getenthused," he confessed. "When I see the kick the other fellows get outof playing, I know something must be wrong with me. All my athleticdevelopment has been individual and team play has left me cold. Youwant to know what hockey seems like to me? It's just a series ofcracked heads and shins and so many knockdowns."

  Coach Howard laughed. "It's because you haven't thrown yourself intothe game ... haven't caught the spirit of it," he insisted.

  "I guess I haven't," Frederick conceded. "As an individualist, I'mimpressed with the fact that, in hockey, skating is secondary to thegame and I get no particular thrill out of chasing a puck and bangingat it with a stick. Neither can I see any necessity for letting myselfbe bumped to the ice if I can possibly help it. For that reason, someof the fellows are insinuating that I'm yellow. I hope you don't thinkthat?"

  "Frankly," said Coach Howard, "you're one fellow I can't catalogue.You've got me astraddle a fence."

  "Well, I feel better for talking with you," said the champion fancyskater. "I've never opened up like this before. No one's seemed tocare...."

  "No one's cared because you haven't seemed to care what they weredoing," explained the coach. "They won't warm up to you until you warmup to them--that's only natural."

  Frederick swallowed, miserably. "Then I really don't know what I can doabout it," he said, hoarsely. "I'm so used to doing things by myselfthat I don't feel at home with other fellows. I guess you'd better callit 'quits', Coach. I wouldn't want to lose the Melville game for you... almost anyone would be better in there than me ... no matter howgood a skater I am...."

  "Nonsense!" decided Coach Howard. "This game means thechampionship--but if it meant a chance for you to win out overyourself, I'd rather play for that. You're going to discover one ofthese times, Fred, that you need hockey much more than hockey needs youand when you do--well, you'll be a different fellow!"

  * * * * *

  All of Kirkwood sat on the anxious seat the day of the Melville game.It was biting cold and clear and the rink was in the fastest conditionof the season. There could be no complaint of the day or of the ice.The only cause for concern was the Kirkwood team which had playeduncertain hockey since the loss of Don Keith. But Coach Howard had beenkeeping a surprise up his sleeve for the fans. Don's sprained ankle waswell enough for him to play a part of the game, properly taped. When hereported for duty before the contest and told his overjoyed comradesthat he had been working out secretly for the past three days, the oldmorale returned. The feeling of apprehension over Frederick, the Great,Barker vanished at once; in fact, Kirkwood's new left wing was leftcompletely out of the demonstration, sitting quietly on a bench in thecorner of the locker room.

  "I'm glad to see you back, Keith," he welcomed, when Kirkwood'sveteran, limping slightly, came back to his locker.

  "Glad to be back," Keith rejoined, eyes gleaming. "We've got to takethat chesty outfit today. Can you imagine their not even being scoredon all year? Have to watch out for their crack centre, Scotty Lathrom.He's the backbone of their offense and defense ... one of the bestpoke-checkers in the game!"

  "We'll lay for him all right," promised right wing Rand Downey. "Boy,it seems like old times again. We've got the winning combination now!"

  Frederick, marveling at the revival of spirit, studied the fellow whowas responsible for it. Don Keith possessed, in addition to a sturdyphysique, a radiant, aggressive personality. He commanded attention andinspired others to follow his leadership. Noting this, Frederick enviedDon Keith sincerely.

  "If you can't feel a thing," he said to himself, consolingly, "youcan't be a part of it."

  Coach Howard, as the team left the locker room for the rink, pattedFrederick on the back.

  "I'll be using you to relieve Don," he informed. "So be ready to go inthere and tear loose!"

  Frederick smiled, ironically. He knew he'd be regarded as doing his bittoday if he merely helped hold the fort until Don should get his"breathers" and go charging back into the fray. Perhaps it was just aswell. He'd only consented to play hockey as a duty to the school and,this way, whatever the outcome of the game, no one could hold himdirectly responsible.

  Don Keith received a tremendous ovation from home town supporters as heskated on the ice. Frederick joined the secondary forward wall andpracticed pass work. The Melville team flashed by, a rugged lookingoutfit.

  "Where's this Frederick, the Great, person?" a voice suddenly shrilled.

  Frederick looked about, surprised, and found himself confronted byMelville's grinning star, Scotty Lathrom.

  "So you're the champion fancy skater, eh?" Scotty accosted, in a loudvoice which attracted the attention of the crowd. "Well, I've beenwaiting to meet you, brother, because I've worked out a few gyrationsI'd like to see you duplicate!"

  Frederick stared at his unexpected challenger, coldly. What was thisScotty Lathrom trying to do--get his goat--or make him look foolishbefore the fans?

  "If you thought you were so good," he replied, quietly, "why didn't youenter the fancy skating competition?"

  "I'm going to next year," announced Scotty. "And I'm going to pull somestuff they never saw before. Look at this one!"

  Melville's crack hockey player spun about on the sides of his skatesand went into a roll.

  "That's easy," said Frederick, and followed suit, reproducing the rollwith an even
more polished finish.

  "But that's not all of it!" Scotty called, and rolled to the side,doing a surprise handspring, picking up the roll again, then going intoanother handspring, alternating from side to side and with a cadencethat was pretty to watch. "There you are!" he cried, as the crowdapplauded.

  Frederick felt the competitive urge well up within him. He forgot forthe moment that this meeting between Kirkwood and Melville wasessentially for the playing of hockey. Here was an individual who daredmeeting him on his own ground--who defied the ice skating champion! Thestunt that Scotty had pulled was a new variation, one in whichFrederick was not practiced, but the crowd had begun yelling for him torepeat the trick as Scotty stood by, banteringly.

  "I guess that stumps you, doesn't it?" taunted Melville's crack centre.

  Rand Downey, with other members of Kirkwood's team, watched thedevelopments with great interest and no little amusement.

  "Frederick, the Great's in a hotbox now," chuckled Rand. "If he refusesto try to duplicate Scotty's stunt, he admits he's licked; and if hetries it and flops, he's just as bad off! Serves the old boy right.Scotty's hitting him in the only place where he can be hurt!"

  Deadly serious and grimly determined, Frederick skated off across theice, whirled and came back in a series of rolls. Twice it seemed asthough he was about to go into a handspring but checked himself andcontinued on. It was obvious that the maneuver was a new one to him andthat he was feeling his way before actually attempting the stunt.Scotty winked at fellow team mates.

  "Stumped on the very first one," he said, in a loud voice, "and I'vegot plenty of others!"

  But Frederick, with confidence in his own ability, was not admittingthat he could not duplicate Scotty's performance. He suddenly left hisfeet on a lunge to the side, struck the ice on his hands and attemptedthe handspring. He was off balance, however, and succeeded only inthrowing himself, joltingly.

  "Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Scotty. "She's not as simple as she looks, isshe?"

  Frederick, red of face, got to his feet, painfully. He immediatelytried again with similar embarrassing results.

  "Here's an easier one," cried Scotty, as the crowd murmured itshilarity at the impromptu skating match.

  "Look--he's written his name 'Scotty'!" exclaimed an amazed spectatoras Melville's star finished his complicated twistings and turnings."Marvelous!"

  "Let's see you write _your_ name!" called Scotty.

  "You think you're clever!" flashed a greatly chagrined Frederick. "I'llshow you...!"

  But the referee's whistle screeched, announcing time for the startingof the game.

  "Just a second!" Frederick pleaded as he turned toward the referee.

  "Off the ice!" waved the referee, "all you fellows who aren't in theopening line-up!"

  "Well, see you again some time!" razzed Scotty.

  A thoroughly upset fancy skating champion found his way to the benchand slumped down upon it. He had not cared what might be thought of himas a hockey player but to be humiliated on his own rink in his ownsport ... this was terrible!

  It was half way through a blistering first period before Coach Howardsent Frederick in, along with two other spares, to replace Kirkwood'sregular forward wall. The score was nothing to nothing and the hot paceof the battle had the crowd on edge.

  "Hello--if here isn't Frederick, the Great!" kidded Scotty. "Here'shoping he's as good a hockey player as he is a fancy skater! If he is,it'll be duck soup!"

  Frederick glared. This Scotty had the habit of 'riding' his opponents,all those who let themselves be 'ridden'. And Frederick was taking thebait nicely.

  "You'll never get past centre ice!" Scotty predicted, as Frederickcaptured the puck a few seconds later.

  Kirkwood's substitute left wing said nothing but skated back around hisown cage and came out on the other side with a burst of speed. He putmore behind his drive than he had ever displayed in a game and thecrowd cheered hopefully. At mid-ice a crafty Scotty waited, grinning ashe saw his own left wing force Frederick toward the centre, away fromthe sideboards.

  "He's my meat!" muttered Melville's star, and hooked out his stick asFrederick tried desperately to pass him. The crook of the stick stolethe puck so cleanly from Frederick that he did not realize it was gonefor several flashing strides. When he did pull up short, it was to hearthe crowd roaring as Scotty, on a scintillating dash into Kirkwoodterritory, had fired a shot at goal-keeper Chub Roland. Chub fended thepuck off with his stick but Scotty, following up, clubbed the discviciously and sent it flying past Chub into the net for the first goalof the game!

  "There, Freddy!" taunted Scotty, as the Melville stands went crazy withjoy. "That's how to play hockey!"

  A hot retort was on the tip of Frederick, the Great's tongue when CoachHoward hastily threw his regular forward wall back into the game.

  The first period ended with Melville leading, one to nothing, and RandDowney, whose contempt for the fancy skater exceeded that of his teammates, had certain things to say to Frederick in the locker room.

  "You let that baby talk you out of a score," he branded. "He got you soup in the air you didn't know whether you had a puck or an egg at theend of your stick."

  "He won't get the puck away from me again!" Frederick replied.

  "He won't have to," snapped Rand. "All that Melville bunch has to makeis one goal to win their games. Here we are, playing our fool heads offand you...!"

  "Oh, shut up!"

  Kirkwood's right wing stared at Frederick unbelievingly.

  "What did you say?"

  "I said shut up!" repeated Frederick, a look in his eyes that Rand hadnever seen before.

  Fellow team mates gasped their amazement. Was Frederick actuallycommencing to come to life?

  "How's your ankle?" the coach asked Don Keith, concernedly.

  "Holding up okay," answered Kirkwood's veteran. "That Melville defenseis the toughest I ever went up against. We never got a puck near theircage this period. They broke up practically every formation at mid-ice.And that guy Scotty is seemingly in every play! Fred wasn't to blamefor that score.... Scotty went through the entire team...!"

  The second period was a torrid repetition of the first except thatneither six was able to score. Frederick twice got in the battle forthree minutes each, renewing his feud with Scotty but accomplishingnothing. Instructions were to play defensive hockey while the spareswere in. Should Melville jam through another goal, Kirkwood's everychance would be gone. Now there was a glimmering possibility of a tieresulting could Kirkwood get the puck past goalie Pete Hardy who wasfighting to establish a season's record of not having been scored upon.

  "My ankle begins to feel lame," Don admitted during the intermissionbetween the second and last period. "Come on, boys--let's give 'emeverything we've got. I'd like to take the grin off that Scotty's face!"

  "So would I!" echoed a voice, impulsively.

  Team members glanced about, questioningly. The voice belonged to Don'sunderstudy, the champion fancy skater. Frederick appearedself-conscious and a bit confused as attention focused upon him.

  "You ought to feel like taking Scotty's grin off," rapped Rand,mercilessly, "you're the guy who put it on him!"

  "I know it," answered Frederick, lamely, "but...!"

  "Aw, razzberries!" exploded Rand. "We've had enough of you already!"

  A tired but grim Kirkwood six skated out on the ice to resumehostilities in the third period. Melville, deciding to coast in on theone goal lead, threw up a stiffer defense than ever. As the minutescrawled along, the one goal advantage grew mountainous. Don Keith,handicapped as he was by the weak ankle, had played a stellar game buteven his presence in the line-up had failed to penetrate the Melvillegoal. The visitors were just too good. Hats off to the greatest team astate high school had ever produced!

  "Oh, oh--Don is out!" A sympathetic murmur went the rounds asKirkwood's right wing was helped to the sidelines.

  "Go after 'em, Freddy!" Don called to the man who was to substitute forhim, as Fr
ederick got up from the bench, peeling off his sweater."Don't let that Scotty kid you! He'd like to make a monkey out ofeverybody if he could!"

  "I know," Frederick shot back. "I've got a score to settle with him!"

  Certain fans could not suppress a groan as Frederick, the Great, tookDon Keith's place. But these certain fans had no way of knowing, at themoment, that something had snapped inside the champion fancy skater--asomething that had been holding him back for years. First evidence ofthe change was a collision which took place at mid-ice between party ofthe first part and one Scotty Lathrom who became party of the secondpart, and quite the most worsted party, inasmuch as he did a backwardsomersault following the impact while the party of the first partsimply rebounded and set off into Melville territory at a blazing pace.

  "Yea, Frederick!" shrieked astonished Kirkwood rooters, as the fellowwho had never shown any fighting spirit in a hockey match, zig-zaggedthrough to within fifteen feet of the Melville cage and blazed away.His shot was accurate, a startled Melville goalie warding it off withhis chest pad. Frederick became lost the next instant in a slashingpile-up in front of the Melville cage as he threw himself after thepuck, trying madly to get his stick on it again and to drive it intothe net for a score. It was the first time during the game thatKirkwood had gotten deep within Melville territory and Frederick's featwas immediately heartening to his fellow players.

  "Face-off!" cried the referee, diving into the melee and separatingScotty and Frederick, both of whom had fallen over the puck.

  "You're not mad are you?" joshed Scotty, and grinned.

  As the puck was dropped between them, Scotty knocked the puck to theside. It whanged against the sideboards with Frederick again in furiouspursuit. He bumped shoulders with Melville's solidly built rightdefense and sat down suddenly but was up in an instant and trailing thedefense man who had set off down the ice. Frederick was using his speedand his natural skating wizardry now as he glided around from behind,crouched low, hooked the puck away from the defense man, sent up ashower of ice as he swerved and did an about-face. Most of the Melvilleteam was ahead of him as he cut back toward the Melville goal amid thewildest sort of clamor. A pop-eyed Rand Downey came sliding in fromnowhere, pounding his stick on the ice.

  "Shoot it to me!" he yelled, "to me!"

  And Frederick shot, scooting the puck across the ice on a perfect pass.

  Almost at once, Rand was covered, so that he stopped short and swung tothe side.

  "Right back at you!" he shouted, and backhanded the puck on a sizzlingdrive.

  "Holy cats!" screamed Kirkwood's veteran right wing, dancing about onhis injured ankle. "Who said Freddy couldn't play hockey? The guy'sgone goofy! He's a whiz! Look at him spear that puck, will you? Andlook at him dodge in there--right on top of the goalie! Oh! Oh!... Aperfect feint! He's pulled the goalie out of his cage and there goeshis shot!... It's IN.... Man alive! Freddy's the first to put a puckinside that Melville net!!!... Oh, am I glad I had to leave thegame?... Oh, this is wonderful!... Look at Scotty!... Where's that grinnow, Scotty?... Tied the old score, didn't we?... How much time,somebody?... Three minutes?... You _will_ kid that baby about his fancyskating, will you?... Well, how was that for a _fancy_ exhibition?"

  On the ice, Rand Downey put an arm around the fellow he had cussed, andcried his apology. Team members clapped a fussed Frederick on the back.He knew what team spirit meant now ... knew why fellows fought shoulderto shoulder to try to win for each other ... knew what real comradeshipfelt like for the first time in his life. And knew it simply because hehad been wounded to the quick by an opponent who had thought to havesome fun at his expense. Thwarted at answering Scotty's fancy skatingchallenge, Frederick's only way of getting back at him had been throughdirect competition. And now he was finding what a thrill actual combatreally was! That backward flip-flop that Scotty had taken as a resultof their meeting head-on had done Frederick a world of good!

  "I'm not through with you yet!" the fancy skating champion toldMelville's star centre as the puck went back to be faced off in thecentre circle.

  Melville team mates glumly consulted one another. It was a shock tohave been scored upon since no other opponent had been able to turn thetrick. But this Frederick, the whoever he was, would be a marked manfrom now on! They'd bottle him up and put the cork in.

  The puck had scarcely been put back in play than the cyclone struckMelville. It was twisting and turning, taking a zigzag course over theice, threatening, receding, and threatening again, as a goalie crouchedin the mouth of the cage like a Kansas farmer in a storm cellar, afraidany moment that a little round, black object might blow into the netand take the game with it! Such an exhibition of skating and stickhandling had never been witnessed as Kirkwood's substitute left wingput on for the edification of the crowd and one Scotty Lathrom inparticular. But Melville, fighting desperately to stand off thistempestuous one-man attack, stopped a stream of shots at the goal,fired either by Frederick or one of his team mates who had been placedin an advantageous position due to his whizzing passwork.

  "Half a minute to play--looks like an overtime game!" shouted someone.

  A terrific mix-up occurred at centre ice. The cyclone went down,curling up in a heap and with most of the wind taken out of it. RandDowney grabbed a dazed Frederick up and set him on his feet. Thereferee's whistle screeched. It looked like someone was going to bepenalized but the official called no foul as Scotty separated himselffrom the tangle and stood swayingly on his feet to face a rival who hadshaken Melville's defense to its foundations.

  "I still think you're a rotten fancy skater!" he taunted.

  But it was Frederick now who did the grinning. And it was Frederick whogot the puck on the next face-off, blazing it down the ice on anattempted long shot for goal. The shot was blocked, however, by theMelville left defense but he was set upon almost instantly by RandDowney and Steve Lucas and Bill Stewart--Kirkwood sending a formationof four into Melville territory in a last second effort to score. Sofurious was the onslaught, players on both sides went to the ice. Inthe melee the puck was hit into the open between the struggling groupand the Melville cage. Scotty and Frederick, near centre ice, set outin a race for the disc. The heaving mass of players blocked the directpath, so Scotty veered to go around it.

  "Man, oh man--look at Frederick, will you?..." gasped Don Keith. "He'sheading straight for that gang on the ice. He must be going to pull hisairplane dive in order to beat Scotty to the puck ... hey! There hegoes...!"

  Leaving his feet in a spectacular dive through space, Frederick, theGreat, Barker, cleared the heads and forms of mates and foemen, armsoutstretched, to land on his chest and go sliding across the ice,skimming directly in front of Scotty who catapulted over him and wentskidding into the sideboards. Raking out his stick as he slid along,never for one instant having taken his eyes off the puck, the championfancy skater made connections, clipping the disc so that it upended androlled, skimming the leg of Melville's desperate goalie as it bouncedover and into a corner of the net.

  Bang!

  At the sound of the timer's gun, Don Keith deliriously hugged CoachHoward and Kirkwood rooters did unaccountable things. They tried mainlyto get down on the ice and capture a fellow who had written hockeyhistory with his skates and who was now jabbering about writingsomething else for the especial benefit of a crestfallen Scotty Lathromwho was sitting dazedly where he had fallen, propped up against thesideboards and staring unbelievingly at the final score which read:Kirkwood, 2; Melville, 1.

  "Stick around!" cried the champion fancy skater. "See if you canduplicate this!"

  And, despite the furious pace he had just undergone, Kirkwood'ssubstitute left wing started a series of intricate maneuvers which heldspectators spellbound. Melville team members stopped to look on, Scottycrawling to his feet that he might see the better. Finishing with aflourish, the skater bowed mockingly in the direction of his opponentsas he pointed to the lines he had etched into the scarred ice.

  Everyone strained thei
r eyes for a moment, then a great shout went upand Melville team members made a hurried rush for the clubhouse, Scottyleading the way. And well he might, for Melville's star centre hadalready seen more than enough of the figure who had left his nowundisputed autograph on the ice:

  _Frederick, the Great_....