"Bully for the Wanderers! They're going to make you hustle some, boys! Look at that for a clean steal, would you! Wake up, there, Lanky; don't go to sleep yet! Plenty of time after you get yours!"
Of course the backers of Lef's team, while not numerous, were exceedingly noisy, and there were times when it seemed as though the Columbias might have invaded the enemy's country, such was the clamor against them.
"It's going in the net!" shrieked one looker-on, as with a tremendous blow Klemm sent the puck speeding along.
"Will it—maybe, maybe not," jeered Jack Eastwick, who as a possible substitute, was hovering near the outside of the lines.
"Hey! what you doing there, West? Leave that rubber alone, will you?" howled some one, when the defender of the Columbia goal met the flying puck with a well-aimed crack that ended the suspense temporarily, and hurled it back toward the centre of the ice.
Like spokes leading toward the hub of a wheel, flitting figures shot toward the object of interest. A stick was thrust out to intercept its progress, and again a furious fight for the possession of the coveted puck was on.
Loud rang the voices of the referee and his assist-
