Dave Porter and His Rivals: or, The Chums and Foes of Oak Hall

"I heard him and Nat whispering together. Bolton said their side must win – he had a bet on it with somebody. Then Nat advised him to take chances – which means that they may club you, or kick you with their skates."

"We'll be on the lookout," answered Dave, and he immediately let the others know what Poole and Bolton had in mind to do.

Amid a cheering for both sides, the puck was brought out and placed on the ice, directly in the center of the field, and between the sticks of two of the players. Then the whistle blew, and the contest commenced.

Back and forth over the smooth ice flew the rubber disc, first towards one goal and then towards the other. Dave got it and carried it far down the field, and then turned it over to Plum. Gus lost it to Poole, who knocked it over to a player named Foss. It came dangerously close to Dave's goal, but was sent spinning forward again by Sam, and then followed a turning and twisting back and forth, in the midst of which Nat Poole went flat on his back, and Phil went sprawling over him.

"Foul! foul!" yelled Nat, as he scrambled up. "You did that on purpose!"

"I did not!" answered Phil, with flashing eyes. "I guess you fell on purpose!"

"There was no foul!" decided Mr. Dodsworth. "It was simply an accident all around." And then the play was resumed.

At the end of eight minutes of play Dave's team rushed the puck forward once more. Nat's team tried its best to send the disc back, but lost it by a bad fumble by Bolton. Then straight into the goal net flew the puck.

"Hurrah! One goal for Porter's team!"

"That's the way to do it!"

"Humph! They got that by a fluke!" growled Bolton.

"They got it because of your error!" answered one of the students at the side line.

Again the puck was placed in the center of the field, and once more the struggle was renewed. This time the disc was again forced close to the Porter goal, but without avail. Sam sent it back, and Dave shot it to Phil, who whizzed the puck over to Shadow. Then came a mix-up, and the puck flew close to the Poole goal.

"Back with it!" was the cry. "Don't let 'em score another goal!"

A player named Gardener had the puck. He was about to send it to Bolton, when Phil interfered and sent the disc over to Ben Basswood. As Ben swept over the ice with the disc Bolton rushed forward, swinging his hockey stick viciously.

"Look out!" yelled somebody, and many saw a swing of the stick that came dangerously close to Phil's head.

"Bolton, you try that again, and I'll knock you down!" said Phil, his eyes flashing fire as he spoke.

"My – er – my stick slipped," stammered Bolton, and turned away quickly. Before more could be said a cheer went up.

"Another goal for the Porter team!"

"That's the way to play ice hockey!"

It was true, Ben had made the second goal. With five minutes more of the half to play the puck was placed in position once again.

"Say, we've got to do something!" growled Nat Poole.

"All right, do it," answered one of the team, who had seen Nat make several errors, and who was growing disgusted.

Both Nat and Bolton were ugly, and showed it in every movement. The puck was worked down into the Porter territory, but again without avail, and as it commenced to move in the opposite direction Nat and Bolton grew furious. Nat gave his follower a meaning look, and a minute later Bolton swung his hockey stick around, almost on a line with Dave's shoulder.

Had the blow landed as intended, Dave would have been seriously lamed, and possibly his arm might have been broken. But Roger was close at hand, and in a flash the senator's son thrust out his hockey stick, so that the blow glanced off, doing little harm.

"Time!" called Roger, and it was granted, and both teams at once gathered around Dave and Bolton.

"Bolton, that was done on purpose; you can't deny it!" cried Roger. "You did your best to injure Dave."

"I did not!" roared Bolton, growing red in the face.

"He did! He did!" was the general cry. "Put him out!"

There was a great hubbub, in the midst of which Mr. Dodsworth consulted with Andrew Dale, who was assistant referee. Then Mr. Dodsworth came forward.

"Bolton," he said, clearly and coldly; "you are retired."

"Can't I play any more?" growled the student.

"No. Your conduct is unworthy of a gentleman, and you must leave the field. The game will proceed."

CHAPTER XXVIII

A DISCOVERY OF INTEREST

It was a stinging rebuke, and everybody within hearing felt its effect. There was a sudden hush, and then Bolton turned and skated away, muttering savagely under his breath.

Once more the game proceeded, but before the puck could be gotten within striking distance of either goal the whistle blew; and the first half of the game came to an end.

"Wonder what Nat Poole thinks of his team now?" remarked Roger, as the boys gathered in a group to discuss the plays made.

"He is as mad as hops," reported Plum. "He says Bolton was not to blame, and that it wasn't fair for Mr. Dodsworth to rule him off."

"They ought to be satisfied," said Messmer, who was close by. "Langley, the substitute, is as good as Bolton, if not better."

"Say, we must keep them from scoring in the second half!" cried Ben. "That will break Nat's heart. He has been blowing constantly that he was going to do us up."

"Look out for tricks," cautioned Dave. "They may have something up their sleeve they haven't tried yet – although I doubt it."

Promptly on time the second half of the game started. As soon as the puck was put into action it was seen that Nat's team had adopted new tactics. This was to "worry" the disc along close to the side line, and in such a manner that Dave's seven had to either miss it or run the risk of off-side plays.

"Get it out, fellows!" cried Dave, and then gave a signal to bring it back. This was not expected by the Poole players, and before they realized what was occurring, the Porter seven had the puck nearly to the goal net. Here a fierce fight occurred, and the disc went back and forth with astonishing rapidity. But at last Dave got it and made a goal so swiftly and so neatly it brought forth tremendous applause.

"Another for Porter's side!"

"Say, they are piling 'em up, aren't they?"

"Come, Nat! Get in the game and show us what you can do!"

With a glum face Nat Poole ordered his team to their places, and again the try for a goal started. But the seven was now thoroughly demoralized, and another goal was made by the Porters in less than four minutes. Then followed three minutes of ragged work near the middle of the field, and then the whistle blew and it was all over.

"And a regular slaughter for Nat Poole's team," was the comment of one of the students.

"It knocked us out to take Bolton out of the game," grumbled Nat. "That wasn't fair."