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 thin