Down the Ice, and Other Winter Sports Stories

  Produced by Roger Frank and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  DOWN THE ICE!

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  Books by Harold M. Sherman

  It's a Pass Interference Down the Ice Over the Line Strike Him Out Under the Basket The Tennis Terror Captain of the Eleven Tahara--Boy Mystic of India Tahara--Among African Tribes Tahara--Boy King of the Desert Tahara--In the Land of Yucatan The Fun Loving Gang--In Wrong Right The Fun Loving Gang--Always up to Something

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  DOWN THE ICE AND OTHER WINTER SPORT STORIES

  BY

  HAROLD M. SHERMAN

  The Goldsmith Publishing Company Chicago

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  Copyright 1932 by Harold M. Sherman

  Made in U.S.A.

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  CONTENTS

  Down the Ice The Ice Cyclone Crabby The Ski Battle In Wrong Right The Ski Police The Penalty Box Criss-Crossed Skis

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  DOWN THE ICE!

  "Look out! There he comes!"

  Leaning far forward, riding a little black object along the ice in thecrook of his stick, the blades of his skates throwing a fine spray ofice as he swerved to right and left, Carl Hemmer, Taber High's greathockey star, was in the midst of one of his famed solo dashes. Anamazing individual performer, Carl had twice split Howard Prep'sdefense wide open, charging recklessly in on her goalie to smack thepuck into the net. There was nothing he relished more thandisconcerting the enemy and the entire Howard sextet was certainlyfrantically bewildered at his maneuvers. No team had, thus far, beenable to keep Carl bottled up. Irrepressible in nature, he defiedopposing sixes to stop him--combining daring with superb stick handlingand dazzling skating. The tougher the going, the more it stimulatedhim, Carl possessing the ability to rise to all situations.

  "We'll get him this time!" said Bentley, Howard's right defense, grimly.

  He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Morton, Prep's left defense, both ofwhom were smarting under previous assaults.

  "Get him if you have to dump him!" answered Morton. "That boy's beengoing through us like tissue paper!"

  Disdaining an attempt to go around the human bulwark of the two formshuddled to impede his progress, Carl--going at top speed--crouched forthe impact. Spectators were up on their feet, thrilled at the spectacleCarl was presenting. He was actually a one-man team. Taber hadn't losta game since his advent in school and ice hockey, through his exploits,had become the town's most popular sport.

  "Hit 'em high! Hit 'em low!" sung the Taber rooters, as though theywere cheering a football team.

  It was the third period of a game in which Taber led, three to one. Nonecessity for Carl's tempestuous drive down the ice except that hisdynamic nature sent him always on the attack whenever he could get hisstick on the puck.

  "Worry the enemy every minute of the game," had been his motto, "andthe enemy won't worry you!"

  Smack!

  Howard Prep's two defense men met the whizzing Carl Hemmer head-on.This time Taber High's crack hockey player did not go through. Insteadhis body was catapulted backwards, with pieces of broken sticks flyingin air, to land heavily some feet away and go skidding across the iceto bring up with a sickening thud against the sideboards.

  "Wow! They certainly stopped him that time!" breathed a spectator."Looked like dirty work, too! Illegal body-checking and free use oftheir sticks!... Yes, sir--there's the referee waving them off the ice... a major penalty for both of 'em!"

  A chorus of boohs followed the two Howard defense men as they skated tothe sideboards and clambered into the penalty box to remain out of thegame for five minutes which, in this case, meant that the contest wouldbe over before they could return.

  "Hello--Carl's hurt!" discovered the crowd, as the huddled figuresprawled near the sideboards, failed to rise. "He took quite a wallop!"

  Knocked unconscious by the impact and suffering a jolting bump on hishead, Taber's hockey star was carried off the ice to the dressing roomas the crowd gave him a burst of sympathetic applause. Minus two of herplayers, Howard Prep's scoring possibilities were so reduced that shewas forced to go strictly on the defensive save for lone attempts toput the puck in from long range. Taber High won the game a few minuteslater, three goals to one--the injured Carl's two goals again providingthe margin of victory.

  "Wonder how Carl is?" was Lank Broderick's first question, as the teamsleft the ice. "I'd like to take a punch at those two Howard guys. Sorrythey didn't get back in play!"

  Lank was Carl's team-mate at left wing, Carl serving as forward on theright wing. They thought much of each other, Lank sacrificing hischances of scoring to feed the puck to Carl because of Carl'sadmittedly greater prowess.

  "I'm not interested in who makes the scores, just so they're made,"Lank had often said. "Besides, I've got sense enough to know that we'dhave just an ordinary hockey team if it wasn't for Carl ... and we'd befoolish if we didn't build our six around him ... since he can do somuch for us!"

  In the locker room, stretched out on a rubbing table, fellow team-matesfound their idol, Carl. Taber High's right wing had just regainedconsciousness and was staring dazedly at the ceiling. He raised up onhis elbows and reached out his hand for an imaginary stick.

  "Game's over!" said Doctor Lawrence, pushing Carl gently back.

  "And we won!" informed Lank, stepping to Carl's side.

  The injured star nodded and moistened his lips, still staring.

  "How did I get in here?" he asked, and put a shaky hand to his head."The last I remember I--I was going through...!"

  Lank grinned, reassuringly. "Yes, but they gave you the works, Carl,old boy ... and you did a backward flip-flop, landing on your bean.That was 'lights' for you."

  "It--it must have been," said Carl, faintly.

  "I'm glad it wasn't a knee or an ankle," kidded Lank. "Only your head!"

  "_Only?_" repeated Carl, too stunned to react to kidding.

  "I mean--you'll soon be over this bump. We'll sure need you week afternext when we run into Siddall. You'll have a chance to give your onerival some real competition then," Lank went on.

  "Whiz Deagen?" spoke Carl, and bit his lips. "Gee--my head! If youdon't mind ... I don't want to talk hockey now ... I want to gethome.... Where's my clothes?... I want to get home...!"

  "We'll get you home all right," declared Doctor Lawrence. "Just take iteasy."

  Motioning to Taber High's team-members to 'clear out', Doctor saw to itthat Carl Hemmer was dressed and sent home in a car. Then, returning tothe locker room he called the squad together and said: "Carl's suffereda slight concussion. Nothing serious but he'll feel the shock forse
veral days. Better if he doesn't talk or think hockey. I suggest youlet him alone. A fellow usually reacts against an unpleasantexperience. A few days' rest and his old zest for the game will returnnaturally. Say nothing about this ... and when you see him ... act justas though nothing has happened. Get me?"

  "Yea, Doc!"

  "Okay--that's all!"

  Historic was the only word to describe the battles between Siddall andTaber, rivals of long standing. It was generally acknowledged thatthese two high schools turned out the best ice hockey teams in thecountry ... best of their class, that is. "We thirst for each other'sblood," was the way a Siddall rooter expressed it, putting on what hedescribed as a "bloodthirsty" expression. This season both sextetslooked forward to their clash with more than ordinary interest becauseeach possessed a hockey player of outstanding ability. Whiz Deagen hadbeen to Siddall what Carl Hemmer had been to Taber and this was thehighest compliment that could be paid--practically signalizing that hewas all but the whole team.

  "When those two boys clash it will be worth coming miles to see," aTaber supporter had declared.

  Concern, however, was now secretly expressed as to the possible extentof injuries Carl Hemmer may have suffered. Had Doctor Lawrence withheldany vital information? The fact that Carl was being kept in bed twodays after the game did not sound so good.

  "Say, if Carl's out of that game, we might as well forfeit!" commenteda sports authority. "Whiz will skate the rest of our team dizzy!"

  Great was the relief when, two days before the Winston game, CarlHemmer showed up at the locker room, ready to don his togs.

  "I feel fine," he announced, quietly.

  "That's great!" greeted Lank, cordially. "Glad to have you back!"

  Coach Corcoran conferred with Doctor Lawrence. The Winston game was notexpected to tax Taber seriously.

  "Better not scrimmage him yet," was Doctor's advice. "I doubt if theteam needs another scrimmage session. Just a running through theirformations."

  "I think you're right," said the Coach.

  In practice the presence of Carl Hemmer brought back the old snap inthe team. The puck skimmed from player to player as they swept up anddown the ice in formation.

  "I want to see these plays click in the Winston game," called CoachCorcoran. "It'll be our last chance to brush up on 'em before we hitSiddall!"

  "They'll look like a million!" promised Lank.

  * * * * *

  Thirty cents is as far from a million as the earth is from the moon.That Lank's enthusiastic prophecy was not fulfilled was due not so muchto Winston as to the fellow who had been Taber High's spark plug. Sincemost of the plays were built around him, Carl Hemmer absolutely had tobe functioning himself if the formations were to be successfullycompleted. But the game was not five minutes old before players andspectators alike knew that something was radically wrong with theusually dependable and scintillating right wing. Carl started hisdashes with the usual fervor but they faded rapidly as he passed centerice and, instead of going through at all costs, he veered to right orleft, attempting to evade the Winston defense and slipping into the endzone along the sideboards. His efforts, as a result, were reducedalmost to naught with the puck being lost repeatedly and Winston'sstarting an offensive of its own.

  "This sometimes happens to a fellow who gets a bad bump on the head,"remarked Doctor Lawrence privately to an anxious Coach Corcoran."That's why I wanted Carl to take things so easy. It's just as thoughhe'd been beaned by a baseball. He has a nervous reaction to thoughtsof another possible crash. But it'll wear off!"

  "That may be," conceded the Coach. "But when? That's the question!"

  "He should get better before this game is over," said the Doctor.

  But Carl Hemmer's improvement was not noticeable. And the falling offin his playing form was making what should have been an easy game lookhard. As late as the third quarter, Taber High was leading by only onegoal to none, and this goal scored by Lank who'd smacked in the reboundof a long shot which Carl had fired from the blue line.

  "What's the matter, Carl, old warhorse?" Lank finally asked, as teammembers looked on, wonderingly.

  "Nothing!" was Carl's tight-lipped answer.

  And no one had the heart to question him further.

  The game ended without a change in the score and sports writers now hadsomething to write about. "Injury Affects Hemmer's Playing," oneheading said. "Hemmer Shadow of Former Self," declared another."Crippling of Hemmer Menaces Chances Against Siddall," was a thirdfeature title. But it remained for one sport scribe to offer theexplanation that "Hemmer played under wraps, apparently by instructionsof Coach Corcoran who was running no risks against his not being inshape to meet Siddall next Saturday. There's little doubt but that Carlwill be in his customary great form at that time ... and then we'll betreated to a whirlwind battle between himself and Whiz Deagen--two ofthe smartest performers in high school hockey."

  * * * * *

  Rated as two evenly matched sextets, Taber and Siddall High Schoolsdrew a capacity crowd at the Taber rink to witness what had beenheralded as probably their most spirited encounter. Both rootingsections buzzed with excitement as their respective teams skated on theice. This excitement reached high tension when Whiz Deagen and CarlHemmer met up with each other and shook hands near the Siddall bench.

  "Hey, Carl," called a wit, "which one of you's the better player?"

  "We don't know yet," Taber's great star grinned in reply.

  "But it won't be long now," added Whiz, showing a nice set of teeth.

  "Those two could cut each other's throats," the bloodthirsty fanconfided to the rooter next to him. "They're just letting on thatthey're friends. Wait till you see what they do to each other in agame!"

  * * * * *

  Slashing sticks, racing forms, skidding slides, bruising falls--all inthe pursuit of a mad-traveling puck! The first period of theTaber-Siddall battle was replete with thrills, both teams putting up afrenzied defense, breaking up formations by stiff body-checking andclever poke-checking with their sticks. The puck changed hands inmid-ice with bewildering rapidity as the main fight centered betweenthe blue lines. Long shots were taken when it was found almostimpossible to crash through the human defense walls. During this hecticperiod even Whiz Deagen and Carl Hemmer were swallowed up in swirlingaction. Occasionally they would get free and the crowd would roar inanticipation of a spectacular dash but their chances didn'tmaterialize. They were set upon before going far and forced to retreator surrender the puck.

  "Whiz and Carl are killing each other off!" opined one rooter as theperiod ended, nothing to nothing. "They're so afraid one or the otheris going to break loose that they're spending their time on eachother's necks! However, the game is young yet!"

  Siddall started the second period with a rush. Having sounded outTaber's system of play the first fifteen minutes, the enemy--led bytheir redoubtable Whiz Deagen--assailed the Taber net. This time theybroke through Taber's defense for close-in shots and goalie Frank Caryhad a man-sized job on his hands warding the fast-flying puck off withstick, pads, gloves, body and head. He elicited cheer after cheer forhis marvelous goal-guarding but Siddall's persistent battering was notto be denied. Whiz Deagen, capturing the puck in mid-ice, whirled andfeinted a pass, then zig-zagged past Taber's two defense men who madedesperate attempts to stop him. He rode on his skate runners up to thevery mouth of the cage and shoved the puck, lightning fast, past goalieCary who, even then, threw himself prone in the wild hope of averting ascore.

  "No soap!" grinned Whiz, fishing the puck out of the net as thereferee's whistle screeched and the red light of the official scoreblinked on. "You're licked. It's just a question of how much!"

  "We'll get that goal back!" rejoined goalie Cary. "You'll see!"

  Whiz Deagen laughed. He was still laughing at the next face-off whenthe man whom Taber fans had picked to outshine him, got
his stick onthe puck and started on a lone dash. These kind of dashes were what hadmade him famous and Siddall who had worked out a special defenseagainst them, massed for the attack. To the consternation of all,however, Carl did not meet the challenge but veered sharply at the lastmoment and tried to get past without bodily conflict.

  "That's bad," said Doctor Lawrence who sat beside Coach Corcoran on thebench. "It's still got him!"

  Whiz Deagen, following Carl closely, caught him as he slackened hispace, crossed sticks with him and scraped the puck away as both broughtup against the sideboards with a crash, Carl pulling back instinctivelyto lessen the impact.

  "What's eating you?" fired Lank, skating up as Whiz was off with thepuck.

  Carl's usual self-confident manner was gone. His face looked drawn. Hewas actually trembling. There was no time to question him then withSiddall once more threatening Taber's goal and goalie Frank Carey doinganother magnificent job of standing the invaders off. A mix-up in frontof the cage brought a face-off and once again Carl had the puck. Onceagain his brilliant skating took him out of the pack on a solo dashwhich swept past mid-rink and beyond the blue line into Siddall's endzone. Once again, however, with the crowd screaming wildly, expecting acharacteristic Carl Hemmer drive through the enemy's defense, Taber'sright wing swerved to avoid a collision. In doing so he lost hisbalance and the puck was jostled from the crook of his stick, all hiseffort going for naught.

  "Booh!" shouted an over-zealous fan, but the razz died in his throat asthe crowd hushed him.

  Chagrined beyond words, Carl skated madly back into play, now chasingthe Siddall men with the puck and trying to wrest it from them. Taber'sidol was a hollow husk of himself and Siddall now knew it for acertainty. Whiz Deagen even took to taunting him by slapping the puckhis way, confident that Taber's crack player couldn't get pastSiddall's blue line.

  "I dare you!" he shouted, and a fellow whose face was almost as blue asthe line in the ice marking the zones, couldn't bring himself to acceptthe challenge.

  At the end of the second period the score was--Siddall, 1; Taber, 0.

  In the locker room perturbed team-mates gathered about Carl to inquirethe cause of his poor play. Carl could only answer them with a hopelessshake of the head. But Lank Broderick, more sympathetic, took him bythe arm and led him to one side.

  "What is it, Carl? Tell me!"

  Taber's right wing, always the bulwark of the team before, now clutchedhis running mate's arm, piteously.

  "Lank, I can't explain it. All I know is ... I can't make myself gothrough any more. I think I can when I start out ... but when I'm rightthere ... I lose my nerve or something!... It's the most terriblefeeling.... It feels like I'm just about to skate into _blackness_...!"

  Lank, watching Carl closely, nodded understandingly.

  "Listen, Lank," begged Carl, tremulously. "We've got to win this game.I used to break the defense and get through to take passes from you andshoot the goals. Can't we reverse things?... _You_ go through and I'llpass to _you_!"

  Lank hesitated. "I can try," he promised. "It's not so easy to getthrough that bunch. I don't have your form, you know. You had a systemall your own...!"

  "I'm sorry," Carl said. "I feel like a rotter."

  "You'll snap into it," Lank encouraged. "Come on--let's go!"

  * * * * *

  Siddall skated out for the third and last period a cocky sextet headedby a carefree Whiz Deagen. True, the visitors were only leading by onegoal but their defense had been impregnable and they had stopped themighty Carl Hemmer cold even as Winston, a much lesser team, had donethe week before. There was no reason why they could not add to theirscore or, failing in this, hold a stubbornly defensive Taber to nogoals.

  Lank Broderick, Taber's left wing, true to his word, tried to crackSiddall's defense but was repulsed. He tried again and again, beingbody-checked out of play. The crowd seemed to sense that he wasattempting to make up in a measure for Carl's strange loss of form andhe was cheered each time he took the puck.

  "Get going, Carl!" the fans yelled, to no avail.

  The much-heralded combat between Whiz Deagen and Carl Hemmer wasproving a washout. Whiz was having things much his own way and wouldprobably be credited with winning the game--most certainly should hisone goal be the margin of victory.

  With eight minutes left to play, Lank skated close to Carl.

  "Next time I get the puck," he said in his ear, "I'm going to crashthat defense or know the reason why. You follow right behind me andwhen I make the hole, you slip through. Watch for the puck because I'llflip it back to you just as I smack into them!"

  "I got you!" Carl replied. "I'll be there!"

  Lank's opportunity came two minutes later. Carl cut across the ice tojoin him as Lank started down the ice. He was trailing as Lank skimmedpast the blue line and prepared for a body-crashing contact withSiddall's two defense men. The puck came back to him on a perfectback-handed pass. Lank, having gotten up more momentum than everbefore, hit the two defense men with great force ... so much so thatall were knocked off their feet. Carl, going fast himself, had to tapthe puck to one side and leap their bodies to avoid entanglement. Hecaptured the puck, with the rink a bedlam of sound, and headed for theSiddall net with the goalie crouched in its mouth, broad-bladed stickacross his knees.

  "There she is!" screamed Taber rooters, going mad as Carl's close-upshot sent the puck hurtling into the net for the goal which tied thescore. "Carl looked like his old self on that one, eh?"

  "Sure--after Lank made the way for him!" agreed an observer. "And lookat Lank now--he's stretched out on the ice as cold as a Thanksgivingturkey!"

  Cheers died to a breathless silence as Coach Corcoran and DoctorLawrence hurried on the ice. Taber's left forward stirred and raisedpartially up, then writhed in pain.

  "Sprained knee," was the verdict after he had been examined. "Breathknocked out, too ... and a nice little bump on the head!"

  Carl's elation at his having scored was shortlived at seeing that thefellow who had made his score possible was 'out' on the play. Hereached Lank's side as Lank was lifted up.

  "Good work, Carl!" Lank complimented. "I knew--if I could get youthrough there...!"

  Carl winced. "It's all my fault," he blamed. "You were doing what _I_should have done. I scored on _your nerve_!"

  "You're welcome to it," proffered Lank, as they carried him toward thesidelines, Carl skating alongside. "Nerve is such a little thingcompared to a fellow who can play hockey like you can!"

  Taber's crack hockey player swallowed. A flash came in his eyes.Turning to fellow team members he cried: "Get me that puck, you guys!That's all you've got to do!... I'll take it down the ice!"

  Whiz Deagen, noting his rival's change of attitude, turned to histeam-mates. "I'll handle this baby!" he assured.

  With the next facing off of the puck at center ice, an electric thrillpassed through the crowd as the long-anticipated clash between the twogreat hockey stars arrived! It was now anybody's game and very likelythat the next goal would decide the victor. Whiz, catching the puck onhis stick as it slid along the ice on a pass from Siddall's center,started a dodging, twisting drive into Taber territory. Carl Hemmer,however, was on his heels, dogging every stride of his journey. The twoswooped together in front of Taber's cage and went down in a heap asthe puck upended and rolled to the sideboards.

  "Carl prevented a sure score then!" cried a spectator.

  Both stars were up in an instant and giving pursuit as team-mates divedin. And now it was Carl who stick-handled the puck out of the melee andbroke away for a dash, with Whiz frenziedly bringing up the rear.

  "Atta boy, Carl! _Down the ice!_" shouted a familiar voice from thesidelines.

  Taber High's great star passed the Taber bench at mid-ice and heardLank's shrill yell as he flashed by. A grim Siddall defense formed tomeet him. This time every one in the crowd knew that there would be noflinching ... that Carl was once again the Carl of old ... t
hat hewould crash through if it was humanly possible.

  Smack! The collision between opposing forces and one lone, speedingfigure was violent. All went down in a struggling heap and the puckskidded clear. Carl's dash had been broken up ... and Whiz Deagen, whohad trailed him fiendishly, was now in possession of the puck, spinningaround toward the Taber net with Taber's defense thrown out of position!

  "Stop him, somebody!" screamed Taber.

  Bobbing to his feet as he slid across the ice after being joltinglybumped, Carl Hemmer put on an amazing burst of speed in an effort toovertake the fast-traveling Whiz Deagen. Siddall's hockey star evadedTaber defense men as they rushed across the ice in an attempt to cutoff his path to the goal. An instant later he was driving in on goalieFrank Carey who looked particularly helpless in the face of thisinspired advance. Fifteen feet behind Whiz, and eating up distance withevery frantic stroke, was Carl ... but too late to prevent Whiz's shot.The crowd shrieked its excitement as goalie Carey made a phenomenalstop of a vicious drive--blocking the puck with his chest. The stop,however, pulled him from the mouth of the cage, leaving it totallyunprotected as the puck bounded directly in front with Whiz leaping into take the rebound and finish his job. But, just as his stick wasabout to make contact with the puck, a figure slid swiftly across theice and swept the puck to the side. Whiz tripped and fell on Carl andwas carried along with him. A terrific mix-up followed with everyonebut the goalies involved as the rink became a maelstrom ofheart-palpitating, eye-bewildering action.

  A minute of play was left as Carl Hemmer, who had suddenly become as amadman on the loose, emerged from a tangle near the sideboards, thepuck riding smoothly ahead of his stick. This time the mighty WhizDeagen was in front of him at center ice, and behind Deagen wereSiddall's two defense men, in position.

  "He'll never get through that pack!" murmured a Taber fan, nervously."This looks like an overtime tie game!"

  Whiz, preparing to dodge whichever direction Carl might dodge, crouchedwith stick across his knees. The two stars had managed to reduce eachother's brilliant efforts practically to naught thus far.

  Approaching his rival at top speed, Carl suddenly turned his skatessidewise and sent up a shower of ice. He veered to the left, thenreversed his direction, shot the puck ahead and followed it like ademon. Whiz, lunging to his right, was unprepared for a double shiftand a great cry rang out as Carl, outmaneuvering his rival drove oninto Siddall's defense. He was crouching low as the defense men soughtto body-check him. There was a resounding impact and both defense menleft their feet, bumping jarringly to ice. Carl, brought to his knees,the puck jolted from his stick ahead of him, slid after it towardSiddall's goal where a wide-eyed goalie braced himself for theonslaught.

  "It's a loose puck!" cried someone. "The goalie's going to bat it out!"

  It seemed the only thing to do ... leaving his cage for the momentsince no defense men could reach the scene in time to be of help. TheSiddall goalie advanced several feet in front of the cage, jabbing outhis stick. As he did so, Carl, still sliding in a half-sittingposition, hooked out his stick and contacted the puck. The goalie swungat the black object but his stick landed atop Carl's and bounced off.

  "Shoot!" begged Lank, from the bench.

  And Taber's hockey star, without having time to regain his feet,skidding in close to the goal, punched the puck ahead of him with asidearm swing, almost under the very feet of a goalie now out ofposition. The puck turned on edge and rolled into the cage where itsnuggled in a corner of the net. The scorer's red light blazed almostsimultaneous with the blazing of the timer's gun.

  "It's all over!" yelled elated Taber supporters. "What a play!"

  It took a moment after that for Taber fans to appreciate that theirhockey team had completed an undefeated season ... and that one greathockey star had demonstrated his superiority over another star, almostequally great.

  "Awfully sorry you had to get hurt on account of me!" a contrite CarlHemmer was apologizing the next moment as he clasped Lank's hand.

  "I'm okay now!" grinned Lank, in open admiration. "Boy, the bump I tookwas worth it to see you stand Siddall on their heads!"

  "I felt that bump myself," said Carl, pointedly, as Taber rootersgathered hilariously about to cheer their hockey idol whose star wasonce more high in the heavens. "I felt it," continued Carl a bithuskily, "thanks to you--right where I needed it most!"