of the ice and her
forwards flew to their places. Down the rink they charged, the disk
flying from Kirby to Warren, from Warren to Jack Rogers and ultimately
from the latter's stick past goal's knees into the net. Hammond, 6;
Ferry Hill, 3.

There were eight minutes more to play. Ferry Hill seemed to have found
her pace at last; perhaps the last two goals had encouraged her. At all
events she played as she had never played all season. Roy was a streak
of greased lightning, Jack was a tornado, Warren and Kirby shot about as
though they had wings on their shoes instead of mere steel runners, Chub
was a bull-dog and a fierce and speedy one, Bacon seemed to have eyes in
the back of his head and Hadden was invulnerable. Ferry Hill was forcing
the playing now and for minutes at a time she appeared to have things
all her own way. Only the Hammond goal-tend saved the day for the Cherry
and Black. Time and again he was the only defense left and time and
again he turned seeming success into failure for the swooping enemy.
Then came another carrom back of goal, again Jack was on the spot and
once more the Ferry Hill sticks danced in air. Hammond, 6; Ferry Hill,
4!

Hammond was beginning to show herself tuckered. Her right-center was
plainly played out and gave his place to a new man. Even Schonberg
exhibited signs of failing strength and no longer played with the dash
and brilliancy with which he had begun the contest. And as the enemy
weakened Ferry Hill strengthened. Schonberg went to the ice and his
stick flew out of his hand while Roy flew on with the puck slipping
along in front of him. Kirby sent cover-point out of the play, the disk
slid along the snowy ice to Warren and he lifted it at goal. Goal-tender
stopped it with his knee, slashed it aside and crouched at the corner of
the net. Roy turned on his heel, found the puck as it flew by and rushed
back to goal. The whole Hammond team was about him and sticks banged and
whizzed. It was a bedlam of cries and whacks and the grind of steel on
ice. Science was forgotten for the moment; Hammond was fighting tooth
and nail to drive back the invader. Once the puck was wrested from Ferry
Hill and shot back up the ice to the middle of the rink, but Chub was
awaiting it and brought it back, speeding along like an express train.
He passed to Kirby in time to fool a Hammond forward, dodged, received
the puck again and charged down on goal, dispersing the foe by the sheer
impetus. Stic