sity be entirely different from those of the rover.
Every one held his or her breath. In that critical moment the keen cutting of steel runners on the ice alone greeted the ears of that assembled multitude. And thousands of eyes were glued upon that flitting figure, back of which trailed six or eight players, some ready to assist, others to block his design.
It was nearly time for the first half to come to an end. The contestants were already breathing hard, and almost exhausted with their strenuous labors of twenty minutes. Would Paul succeed in launching a shot that the waiting McQuirk could not baffle in time, or must the whistle catch him in the very act!
"There he goes!" whispered Buster, gripping his fat thighs unconsciously as he bent forward to watch the result.
Darting forward suddenly Paul Bird had made a complicated movement with his stick calculated to bewilder the guardian of the net. Then with one swift stroke he sent the puck spinning along.
"Missed!" howled a delighted Cliffordite.
"Not for Joseph!" echoed Buster instantly "don't you see it landed in the net?"
And then the whistle of the referee announced the closing of the first half.
