Glengarry Schooldays

R >> Ralph Connor >> Glengarry Schooldays


"Again and again my little demons pierce the heavy, solid line of the
Front defense, and score, the enemy, big and bewildered, being chiefly
occupied in watching them do it. By six o'clock that evening I had them
safe at the manse in a condition of dazed jubilation, quite unable to
realize the magnificence of their achievement. They had driven twelve
miles down, played a two hours' game of shinny, score eight to two,
and were back safe and sound, bearing with them victory and some broken
shins, equally proud of both.

"There is a big supper at the manse, prepared, I believe, with the view
of consolation, but transformed into a feast of triumph, the minister
being enthusiastically jubilant over the achievement of his boys, his
wife, if possible, even more so. The heroes feed themselves to fullness,
amazing and complete, the minister holds a thanksgiving service, in
which I have no doubt my little demons most earnestly join, after which
they depart to shed the radiance of their glory throughout the section.

"And now I have to recount another experience of mine, quite unique and
altogether inexplicable. It appears that in this remarkable abode--I
would call it 'The Saint's Rest' were it not for the presence of others
than saints, and for the additional fact that there is little rest for
the saint who makes her dwelling here--in this abode there prevails the
quaint custom of watching the death of the old year and the birth of the
new. It is made the occasion of religious and heart-searching rite. As
the solemn hour of midnight draws on, a silence falls upon the family,
all of whom, with the exception of the newest infant, are present. It is
the family festival of the year.

"'And what will they be doing at your home, Mr. Craven?' inquires the
minister. The contrast that rose before my mind was vivid enough, for
having received my invitation to a big dance, I knew my sweet sisters
would be having a jolly wild time about that moment. My answer, given I
feel in a somewhat flippant tone, appears to shock my shinny captain of
the angelic face, who casts a honor-stricken glance at his mother, and
waits for the word of reproof that he thinks is due from the padre's
lips.

"But before it falls the mother interposes with 'They will miss
you greatly this evening.' It was rather neatly done, and I think I
appreciated it.

"The rite proceeds. The initial ceremony is the repeating of a verse of
Scripture all round, and to save my life nothing comes to my mind but
the words, 'Remember Lot's wife.' As I cannot see the appropriateness of
the quotation, I pass.

"Five minutes before the stroke of twelve, they sing the Scottish
paraphrase beginning, 'O God of Bethel.' I do not suppose you ever heard
it, but it is a beautiful hymn, and singularly appropriate to the
hour. In this I lend assistance with my violin, the tune being the very
familiar one of 'Auld Lang Syne,' associated in my mind, however, with
occasions somewhat widely diverse from this. I assure you I am thankful
that my part is instrumental, for the whole business is getting onto my
emotions in a disturbing manner, and especially when I allow my eyes to
linger for a moment or two on the face of the lady, the center of the
circle, who is deliberately throwing away her fine culture and her
altogether beautiful soul upon the Anakim here, and with a beautiful
unconsciousness of anything like sacrifice, is now thanking God for the
privilege of doing so. I have some moments of rare emotional luxury,
those moments that are next to tears.

"Then the padre offers one of those heart-racking prayers of his that,
whether they reach anything outside or not, somehow get down into
one's vitals, and stir up remorses, and self-condemnings, and longings
unutterable. Then they all kiss the mother and wish her a Happy
New-Year.

"My boy, my dear boy, I have never known deeper moments than those.
And when I went to shake hands with her, she seemed so like a queen
receiving homage, that without seeming to feel I was making a fool
of myself, I did the Queen Victoria act, and saluted her hand. It is
wonderful how great moments discover the lady to you. She must have
known how I was feeling, for with a very beautiful grace, she said, 'Let
me be your mother for to-night,' and by Jove, she kissed me. I have been
kissed before, and have kissed some women in my time, but that is the
only kiss I can remember, and s'help me Bob, I'll never kiss another
till I kiss my wife.

"And then and there, Maitland, I swore by all that I knew of God, and by
everything sacred in life, that I'd quit the past and be worthy of her
trust; for the mischief of it is, she will persist in trusting you, puts
you on your honor noblesse oblige business, and all that. I think I told
you that I might end in being a saint. That dream I have surrendered,
but, by the grace of heaven, I'm going to try to be a man. And I am
going to play shinny with those boys, and if I can help them to win that
match, and the big game of life, I will do it.

"As witness my hand and seal, this first day of January, 18--

"J. C."



CHAPTER XIV

THE FINAL ROUND


After the New-Year the school filled up with big boys, some of whom had
returned with the idea of joining the preparatory class for college,
which the minister had persuaded John Craven to organize.

Shinny, however, became the absorbing interest for all the boys, both
big and little. This interest was intensified by the rumors that came up
from the Front, for it was noised through the Twentieth section that Dan
Munro, whose father was a cousin of Archie Munro, the former teacher,
had come from Marrintown and taken charge of the Front school, and that,
being used to the ice game, and being full of tricks and swift as
a bird, he was an exceedingly dangerous man. More than that, he was
training his team with his own tricks, and had got back to school some
of the old players, among whom were no less renowned personages than Hec
Ross and Jimmie "Ben." Jimmie Ben, to wit, James son of Benjamin McEwen,
was more famed for his prowess as a fighter than for his knowledge
of the game of shinny, but every one who saw him play said he was "a
terror." Further, it was rumored that there was a chance of them
getting for goal Farquhar McRae, "Little Farquhar," or "Farquhar Bheg"
(pronounced "vaick"), as he was euphoniously called, who presumably had
once been little, but could no longer claim to be so, seeing that he was
six feet, and weighed two hundred pounds.

It behooved the Twentieth team, therefore, to bestir themselves with all
diligence, and in this matter Hughie gave no rest either to himself or
to any one else likely to be of use in perfecting his team. For Hughie
had been unanimously chosen captain, in spite of his protests that the
master or one of the big boys should hold that place. But none of the
big boys knew the new game as perfectly as Hughie, and the master had
absolutely refused, saying, "You beat them once, Hughie, and you can do
it again." And as the days and weeks went on, Hughie fully justified the
team's choice of him as captain. He developed a genius for organization,
a sureness of judgment, and a tact in management, as well as a skill and
speed in play, that won the confidence of every member of his team. He
set himself resolutely to banish any remaining relics of the ancient
style of play. In the old game every one rushed to hit the ball without
regard to direction or distance, and the consequence was, that from end
to end of the field a mob of yelling, stick-waving players more or less
aimlessly followed in the wake of the ball. But Hughie and the master
changed all that, forced the men to play in their positions, training
them never to drive wildly forward, but to pass to a man, and to keep
their clubs down and their mouths shut.

The striking characteristic of Hughie's own playing was a certain
fierceness, amounting almost to fury, so that when he was in the attack
he played for every ounce there was in him. His chief weakness lay in
his tempestuous temper, which he found difficult to command, but as he
worked his men from day to day, and week to week, the responsibility of
his position and the magnitude of the issues at stake helped him to a
self-control quite remarkable in him.

As the fateful day drew near the whole section was stirred with an
intense interest and excitement, in which even the grave and solemn
elders shared, and to a greater degree, the minister and his wife.

At length the day, as all days great and small, actually arrived. A big
crowd awaited the appearance of "the folks from the Front." They were
expected about two, but it was not till half-past that there was heard
in the distance the sound of the bagpipes.

"Here they are! That's Alan the cooper's pipes," was the cry, and
before long, sure enough there appeared Alphonse le Roque driving his
French-Canadian team, the joy and pride of his heart, for Alphonse was
a born horse-trainer, and had taught his French-Canadians many
extraordinary tricks. On the dead gallop he approached the crowd till
within a few yards, when, at a sudden command, they threw themselves
upon their haunches, and came almost to a standstill. With a crack of
his long whip Alphonse gave the command, "Deesplay yousef!" At once his
stout little team began to toss their beautiful heads, and broke into
a series of prancing curves that would not have shamed a pair of
greyhounds. Then, as they drew up to the stopping-point, he gathered
up his lines, and with another crack of his whip, cried, "Salute ze
ladies!" when, with true equine courtesy, they rose upon their hind legs
and gracefully pawed the empty air. Finally, after depositing his load
amid the admiring exclamations of the crowd, he touched their tails with
the point of his whip, gave a sudden "Whish!" and like hounds from the
leash his horses sprang off at full gallop.

One after another the teams from the Front swung round and emptied their
loads.

"Man! what a crowd!" said Hughie to Don. "There must be a hundred at
least."

"Yes, and there's Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben," said Don, "and sure enough,
Farquhar Begh. We'll be catching it to-day, whatever," continued Don,
cheerfully.

"Pshaw! we licked as big men before. It isn't size," said Hughie, with
far more confidence than he felt.

It was half an hour before the players were ready to begin. The rules of
the game were few and simple. The play was to be one hour each way,
with a quarter of an hour rest between. There was to be no tripping,
no hitting on the shins when the ball was out of the scrimmage, and all
disputes were to be settled by the umpire, who on this occasion was the
master of the Sixteenth school.

"He's no good," grumbled Hughie to his mother, who was even more excited
than her boy himself. "He can't play himself, and he's too easy scared."

"Never mind," said his mother, brightly; "perhaps he won't have much to
do."

"Much to do! Well, there's Jimmie Ben, and he's an awful fighter, but
I'm not going to let him frighten me," said Hughie, savagely; "and
there's Dan Munro, too, they say he's a terror, and Hec Ross. Of course
we've got just as good men, but they won't fight. Why, Johnnie 'Big
Duncan' and Don, there, are as good as any of them, but they won't
fight."

The mother smiled a little.

"What a pity! But why should they fight? Fighting is not shinny."

"No, that's what the master says. And he's right enough, too, but it's
awful hard when a fellow doesn't play fair, when he trips you up or
clubs you on the shins when you're not near the ball. You feel like
hitting him back."

"Yes, but that's the very time to show self-control."

"I know. And that's what the master says."

"Of course it is," went on his mother. "That's what the game is for, to
teach the boys to command their tempers. You remember 'he that ruleth
his spirit is better than he that taketh a city.'

"O, it's all right," said Hughie, "and easy enough to talk about."

"What's easy enough to talk about?" asked the master, coming up.

"Taking a city," said Mrs. Murray, smiling at him.

The master looked puzzled.

"Mother means," said Hughie, "keeping one's temper in shinny. But I'm
telling her it's pretty hard when a fellow clubs you on the shins when
you're away from the ball."

"Yes, of course it's hard," said the master, "but it's better than being
a cad," which brought a quick flush to Hughie's face, but helped him
more than anything else to keep himself in hand that day.

"Can't understand a man," said the master, "who goes into a game and
then quits it to fight. If it's fighting, why fight, but if it's shinny,
play the game. Big team against us, eh, captain?" he continued, looking
at the Front men, who were taking a preliminary spin upon the ice, "and
pretty swift, too."

"If they play fair, I don't mind," said Hughie. "I'm not afraid of them;
but if they get slugging--"

"Well, if they get slugging," said the master, "we'll play the game and
win, sure."

"Well, it's time to begin," said Hughie, and with a good by to his
mother he turned away.

"Remember, take a city," she called out after him.

"All right, muzzie, I'll remember."

In a few moments the teams were in position opposite each other. The
team from the Front made a formidable show in weight and muscle. At the
right of the forward line stood the redoubtable Dan Munro, the stocky,
tricky, fierce captain of the Front team, and with him three rather
small boys in red shirts. The defense consisted of Hec Ross, the
much-famed and much-feared Jimmie Ben, while in goal, sure enough, stood
the immense and solid bulk of Farquhar Bheg. The center was held by four
boys of fair size and weight.

In the Twentieth team the forward line was composed of Jack Ross, Curly
Ross's brother, Fusie, Davie Scotch, and Don Cameron. The center was
played by Hughie, with three little chaps who made up for their lack of
weight by their speed and skill. The defense consisted of Johnnie "Big
Duncan," to wit, John, the son of Big Duncan Campbell, on the left hand,
and the master on the right, backed up by Thomas Finch in goal, who much
against his will was in the game that day. His heart was heavy within
him, for he saw, not the gleaming ice and the crowding players, but "the
room" at home, and his mother, with her pale, patient face, sitting in
her chair. His father, he knew, would be beside her, and Jessac would be
flitting about. "But for all that, she'll have a long day," he said to
himself, for only his loyalty to the school and to Hughie had brought
him to the game that day.

When play was called, Hughie, with Fusie immediately behind him, stood
facing Dan in the center with one of the little Red Shirts at his back.
It was Dan's drop. He made a pass or two, then shot between his legs
to a Red Shirt, who, upon receiving, passed far out to Red Shirt number
three, who flew along the outer edge and returned swiftly to Dan, now
far up the other side. Like the wind Dan sped down the line, dodged
Johnnie Big Duncan easily, and shot from the corner, straight, swift,
and true, a goal.

"One for the Front!" Eleven shinny-sticks went up in the air, the
bagpipes struck up a wild refrain, big Hec Ross and Jimmie Ben danced a
huge, unwieldy, but altogether jubilant dance round each other, and then
settled down to their places, for it was Hughie's drop.

Hughie took the ball from the umpire and faced Dan with some degree of
nervousness, for Dan was heavy and strong, and full of confidence. After
a little manoeuvering he dropped the ball between Dan's legs, but Dan,
instead of attending to the ball, charged full upon him and laid him
flat, while one of the Red Shirts, seizing the ball, flew off with
it, supported by a friendly Red Shirt on either side of him, with Dan
following hard.

Right through the crowd dodged the Red Shirts till they came up to the
Twentieth line of defense, when forth came Johnnie Big Duncan in swift
attack. But the little Red Shirt who had the ball, touching it slightly
to the right, tangled himself up in Johnnie Big Duncan's legs and sent
him sprawling, while Dan swiped the ball to another Red Shirt who had
slipped in behind the master, for there was no such foolishness as
off-side in that game. Like lightning the Red Shirt caught the ball, and
rushing at Thomas, shot furiously at close quarters. Goal number two for
the Front!

Again on all sides rose frantic cheers. "The Front! The Front! Murro
forever!" Two games had been won, and not a Twentieth man had touched
the ball. With furtive, uncertain glances the men of the Twentieth
team looked one at the other, and all at their captain, as if seeking
explanation of this extraordinary situation.

"Well," said Hughie, in a loud voice, to the master, and with a careless
laugh, though at his heart he was desperate, "they are giving us a
little taste of our own medicine."

The master dropped to buckle his skate, deliberately unwinding the
strap, while the umpire allowed time.

"Give me a hand with this, Hughie," he called, and Hughie skated up to
him.

"Well," said Craven, smiling up into Hughie's face, "that's a good,
swift opening, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's terrible," groaned Hughie. "They're going to lick us off the
ice."

"Well," replied the master, slowly, "I wouldn't be in a hurry to say
so. We have a hundred minutes and more to win in yet. Now, don't you see
that their captain is their great card. Suppose you let the ball go for
a game or two, and stick to Dan. Trail him, never let him shake you. The
rest of us will take care of the game."

"All right," said Hughie, "I'll stick to him," and off he set for the
center.

As the loser, Hughie again held the drop. He faced Dan with
determination to get that ball out to Fusie, and somehow he felt in his
bones that he should succeed in doing this. Without any preliminary he
dropped, and knocked the ball toward Fusie.

But this was evidently what Dan expected, for as soon as Hughie made the
motion to drop he charged hard upon the waiting Fusie. Hughie, however,
had his plan as well, for immediately upon the ball leaving his stick,
he threw himself in Dan's way, checking him effectually, and allowing
Fusie, with Don and Scotchie following, to get away.

The Front defense, however, was too strong, and the ball came shooting
back toward the line of Reds, one of whom, making a short run, passed
far out to Dan on the right. But before the latter could get up speed,
Hughie was upon him, and ignoring the ball, blocked and bothered and
checked him, till one of the Twentieth centers, rushing in, secured it
for his side.

"Ha! well done, captain!" came Craven's voice across the ice, and
Hughie felt his nerve come back. If he could hold Dan, that deadly Front
combination might be broken.

Meantime Don had secured the ball from Craven, and was rushing up his
right wing.

"Here you are, Hughie," he cried, shooting across the Front goal.

Hughie sprang to receive, but before he could shoot Dan was upon him,
checking so hard that Hughie was sent sprawling to the ice, while Dan
shot away with the ball.

But before he had gone very far Hughie was after him like a whirlwind,
making straight for his own goal, so that by the time Dan had arrived at
shooting distance, Hughie was again upon him, and while in the very act
of steadying himself for his try at the goal, came crashing into him
with such fierceness of attack that Dan was flung aside, while Johnnie
Big Duncan, capturing the ball, sent it across to the master.

It was the master's first chance for the day. With amazing swiftness
and dexterity he threaded the outer edge of the ice, and with a sudden
swerve across, avoided the throng that had gathered to oppose him, and
then with a careless ease, as if it were a matter of little importance,
he dodged in between the heavy Front defense, shot his goal, and skated
back coolly to his place.

The Twentieth's moment had come, and both upon the ice and upon the
banks the volume and fierceness of the cheering testified to the
intensity of the feeling that had been so long pent up.

That game had revealed to Hughie two important facts: the first, that he
was faster than Dan in a straight race; and the second, that it would be
advisable to feed the master, for it was clearly apparent that there was
not his equal upon the ice in dodging.

"That was well done, captain," said Craven to Hughie, as he was coolly
skating back to his position.

"A splendid run, sir," cried Hughie, in return.

"Oh, the run was easy. It was your check there that did the trick.
That's the game," he continued, lowering his voice. "It's hard on you,
though. Can you stand it?"

"Well, I can try for a while," said Hughie, confidently.

"If you can," said the master, "we've got them," and Hughie settled down
into the resolve that, cost what it might, he would stick like a leech
to Dan.

He imparted his plan to Fusie, adding, "Now, whenever you see me tackle
Dan, run in and get the ball. I'm not going to bother about it."

Half an hour had gone. The score stood two to one in favor of the Front,
but the result every one felt to be still uncertain. That last attack of
Hughie's, and the master's speedy performance, gave some concern to the
men of the Front, and awakened a feeling of confidence in the Twentieth
team.

But Dan, wise general that he was, saw the danger, and gave his commands
ere he faced off for the new game.

"When that man Craven gets it," he said to the men of the center, "make
straight for the goal. Never mind the ball."

The wisdom of this order became at once evident, for when in the
face-off he secured the ball, Hughie clung so tenaciously to his heels
and checked him so effectually, that he was forced to resign it to the
Reds, who piercing the Twentieth center, managed to scurry up the ice
with the ball between them. But when, met by Craven and Johnnie Big
Duncan, they passed across to Dan, Hughie again checked so fiercely that
Johnnie Big Duncan secured the ball, passed back to the master, who with
another meteoric flash along the edge of the field broke through the
Front's defense, and again shot.

It was only Farquhar Bheg's steady coolness that saved the goal. It was
a near enough thing, however, to strike a sudden chill to the heart of
the Front goal-keeper, and to make Dan realize that something must be
done to check these dangerous rushes of Craven.

"Get in behind the defense there, and stay there," he said to two of his
centers, and his tone indicated that his serene confidence in himself
and his team was slightly shaken. Hughie's close checking was beginning
to chafe him, for his team in their practice had learned to depend
unduly upon him.

Noticing Dan's change in the disposition of his men, Hughie moved up two
of his centers nearer to the Front defense.

"Get into their way," he said "and give the master a clear field."

But this policy only assisted Dan's plan of defense, for the presence
of so many players before the Front goal filled up the ice to such an
extent that Craven's rushes were impeded by mere numbers.

For some time Dan watched the result of his tactics well satisfied,
remaining himself for the time in the background. During one of the
pauses, when the ball was out of play, he called one of the little Reds
to him.

"Look here," he said, "you watch this. Right after one of those rushes
of Craven's, don't follow him down, but keep up to your position. I'll
get the ball to you somehow, and then you'll have a chance to shoot.
No use passing to me, for this little son of a gun is on my back like a
flea on a dog." Dan was seriously annoyed.

The little Red passed the word around and patiently waited his chance.
Once and again the plan failed, chiefly because Dan could not get the
ball out of the scrimmage, but at length, when Hughie had been tempted
to rush in with the hope of putting in a shot, the ball slid out of the
scrimmage, and Dan, swooping down upon it, passed swiftly to the waiting
Red who immediately shot far out to his alert wing, and then rushing
down the center and slipping past Johnnie Big Duncan, who had gone forth
to meet Dan coming down the right, and the master who was attending to
the little Red on the wing, received the ball, and putting in a short,
swift shot, scored another goal for the Front, amid a tempest of
hurrahings from the team and their supporters.

The game now stood three to one in favor of the Front, and up to the end
of the first hour no change was made in this score.

And now there was a scene of the wildest enthusiasm and confusion. The
Front people flocked upon the ice and carried off their team to their
quarter of the shanty, loading them with congratulations and refreshing
them with various drinks.

"Better get your men together, captain," suggested Craven, and Hughie
gathered them into the Twentieth corner of the shanty.

In spite of the adverse score Hughie found his team full of fight. They
crowded about him and the master, eager to listen to any explanation of
the present defeat that might be offered for their comfort, or to any
plans by which the defeat might be turned into victory. Some
minutes they spent in excitedly discussing the various games, and in
good-naturedly chaffing Thomas Finch for his failure to prevent a score.
But Thomas had nothing to say in reply. He had done his best, and he had
a feeling that they all knew it. No man was held in higher esteem by the
team than the goal-keeper.