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to the others on Dave's seven. "He makes me sick!"

      "Speaking of having it won already, puts me in mind of a story," came from Shadow. "A little girl went in the pantry and stayed quite a while. When she came out she asked her mother: 'Ma, can I have a cruller?' 'Yes, my dear,' answered ma. Then she saw that the little girl wasn't eating anything, so she asked: 'Why don't you take a cruller, Alice?' 'Oh,' says Alice; 'I had that when I first went to the pantry!'"

      "Wow!" murmured Sam. "That joke came from the ark!"

      "It was told to Pharaoh by Napoleon, when they were hunting for the North Pole," added Plum.

      "Well, I don't think it hits Nat Poole's case," was Sam's comment. "He won't get any cruller in this game."

      "Right you are!" cried Plum.

      Plum was as anxious as anybody to defeat the money-lender's son. Since the former bully had turned over a new leaf Nat was constantly saying mean things about him, and it was only Gus's grim determination to "keep the peace" that kept him from pitching into Nat "rough-shod." In keeping his hands off Nat, Plum had a harder battle to fight than if he had attacked the money-lender's son bodily.

      It had to be admitted that, as the day for the contest between the two Oak Hall sevens approached, Poole's team was in good shape. Nat had drilled them with care, and had profited by the work of two of the players who had been on another boarding-school seven the winter previous. One of these players knew several sharp tricks, and it was hoped that these tricks would help to defeat Dave's seven.

      The game was to be played under the inter-scholastic rules of that year, with two halves of twenty minutes each, and an intermission of ten minutes. Mr. Dodsworth was the referee, and the accustomed goal umpires and timekeepers were also selected. The "field" had already been marked on the ice, and the goal nets set, so that everything was in readiness for the match. Each player had the regulation ice-hockey stick, and wore regulation hockey skates, well sharpened for the occasion.

      "Well, we've got our work cut out for us," said Phil, as he came out for practice.

      "Beware of off-side plays," warned Dave. "Don't give Poole's crowd a chance to claim off-play or fouls--and don't let them do anything unfair without a protest."

      Just before the play was to start Chip Macklin beckoned to Dave.

      "Look out for Bolton," he whispered, as Dave skated up.

      "Why do you say that, Chip?"

      "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

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