"You can't scare me, Jimmie Ben," said Hughie, white with rage. "You tried your best and you couldn't do it."
"Play the game, Hughie," said the master, in a low tone, skating round him, while Hec Ross said, good-naturedly, "Shut up Jimmie Ben. You'll need all your wind for your heels," at which all but Jimmie Ben laughed.
For a moment Dan drew his men together.
"Our only chance," he said, "is in a rush. Now, I want every man to make for that goal. Never mind the ball. I'll get the ball there. And then you, Jimmie Ben, and a couple of you centers, make right back here on guard."
"They're going to rush," said Hughie to his team. "Don't all go back. Centers fall back with me. You forwards keep up."
At the drop Dan secured the ball, and in a moment the Front rush came. With a simultaneous yell the whole ten men came roaring down the ice, waving their clubs and flinging aside their lightweight opponents. It was a dangerous moment, but with a cry of "All steady, boys!" Hughie threw himself right into Dan's way. But just for such a chance Jimmie Ben was watching, and rushing upon Hughie, caught him fairly with his shoulder and hurled him to the ice, while the attacking line swept over him.
For a single moment Hughie lay dazed, but before any one could offer help he rose slowly, and after a few deep breaths, set off for the scrimmage.
There was a wild five minutes. Eighteen or twenty men were massed in front of the Twentieth goal, striking, shoving, yelling, the solid weight of the Front defense forcing the ball ever nearer the goal. In the center of the mass were Craven, Johnnie Big Duncan, and Don fighting every inch.