place between the posts, and a little forward of them; point stands
about four yards out, and a little to one side, so as not to interfere
with the goal-keeper's view down the centre; cover-point's position is
from ten to fifteen yards out from goal, and on the opposite side to
point; centre's post is indicated by his name; and the same may be said
of the right and left forwards, and the half-back, who supports centre.
[Illustration: "THE GAME GOES ON IN LIVELY EARNEST."]
For the control of the game there are a referee, who follows it about as
does the referee at football, and two umpires, one at either goal, the
sole business of the latter being to decide whether or not the puck has
passed between the posts, and not above the flags.
Play begins with a bully--that is, the puck is placed between the two
centres in the centre of the rink, and they, after solemnly striking
their sticks together, three times, scramble for its possession, trying
either to drive it ahead into their opponents' territory, or behind to
the half-back, who immediately passes it to one of the forwards. Then
the game goes on in lively earnest; and when the teams are expert and
well matched, there is nothing on ice to compare with it for brilliancy
and excitement. The exceeding swiftness of the players' movements; the
sudden variations in the position of the puck as, under the impulse of
sinewy arms, it darts from end to end, from side to side, of the rink;
the incessant grind and clatter and ring of the skates; the crack of the
hockeys, and the shouts of the eager players--all combine to work up the
deepest interest among the spectators; and the announcement of a match
between two good teams always insures a large and enthusiastic
attendance.
The rules by which the game is governed are easily understood. So long
as the puck is on the ice it is in play, even though it be behind the
goal line. Of course a goal can be won only from the front; but an
opponent who is not off-side may follow the puck behind the goal line,
and fight for the privilege of bringing it out again. The rules as to
on-side and off-side are precisely the same as in Rugby football; that
is to say, a player must always be between his own goal and the puck
when he plays on it. A violation of this rule calls for a bully at the
spot where the wrong stroke was made. The referee is the sole judge in
all matters of this kind, and from his decision there is no appeal. The
puck may be stopped, but not carried or knocked on by any part of the
body. In striking it the stick must not be raised above the shoulder.
The object of this rule is to check violence, and the effect of it is to
make the stroke move of a push than a blow, insuring greater accuracy in
shooting for goal or a fellow-player, and adding greatly to the grace of
the game. A practised player will, with wonderfully little manifest
effort, send the puck from end to end of the rink if the ice is at all
in good condition.
Another mode of propelling the puck which is at present permissible, but
is in danger of being ruled out, is "lifting." I cannot very well
explain in words how it is done; but by a deft turn of the wrist, gained
only by diligent practice, the rubber is made to spring into the air and
fly in the desired direction. It is a very effective but dangerous way
of gaining ground, the danger consisting in the liability of players to
be struck by the weighty missile, and ugly blows have often been
received in this way. A "lift" at the goals is very hard to stop, if
sent in low and swift, as I know by personal experience; for once, when
tending goal, the point of my opponents charged down the length of the
rink, and, without slackening speed, "lifted" the puck, and sent it past
me like a bullet, while I was making ready to receive it on the ice, not
imagining that he could lift successfully while at full speed.
No charging from behind, tripping, collaring, kicking, or shinning is
allowed; and if any player offends after two warnings, it is the duty of
the referee to order him off the ice for the remainder of the match. If
the puck goes off the ice behind the goals, it must be taken five yards
out, at right angles from the goal line, and there "faced" as at the
beginning of the game. When it goes off the ice at the sides, it must
be faced five yards at right angles from the side boundary.
The goal-keeper must not during play lie, kneel, or sit upon the ice,
but must maintain a standing position. He may stop the puck with his
hands or feet, but may not throw or kick it away from the goal. He must
play it properly with his stick.
Two half-hours, with an intermission of ten minutes to regain breath and
wipe off the perspiration, is the time allowed for a match, the team
winning the most goals being the victors. There are no other points
than goals to be scored.
Such are the principal rules; and now for a few words in conclusion of a
general character. Only those who are in good condition and at home on
their skates should undertake to play hockey. It is a violent game, and
tests both wind and muscle to the utmost. The player must make up his
mind to many falls, and no lack of hard knocks on shins and knuckles;
for such things will happen, however faithfully the contestants try to
keep to the rules. At the same time, these very characteristics make
hockey one of the manliest of sports. Strength, speed, endurance,
self-control, shrewdness, are the necessary qualities of one who would
excel in it. Combination play is just as effective in it as in
football, and there is no practical limit to the skill that may be
attained.
A very important feature of hockey is that it may be played at night.
Since the introduction of the electric light our rinks are made as
bright as day, and then the many hard-working young men who are too busy
all day to take part in any sport have the opportunity of an hour's
splendid exercise after their work is over.
Take it all in all, there is perhaps no winter sport exclusively for men
that is destined to become more popular, or have more enduring favour.
In Canada new associations are rapidly springing up, and local leagues
that arrange a schedule of matches for the season. The boys are taking
hold of the game with great zest, closely imitating the tricks and
artifices of their big brothers, and it is safe to say that hockey has
definitely taken its place among the national sports of Canada.
*ON THE EDGE OF THE RAPIDS.*
"Hurrah, Lon! we've got the sort of day we've been looking for at last,"
cried Alec Pearson, as he met his chum one lovely still summer morning.
"No trouble about getting over to Deschenes to-day."
"Right you are, Alec! This is just the correct thing. We'll start
straight after breakfast--hey?"
"As soon as you like, provided mother's got the grub ready. Can't think
of going without that, you know."
"No, sir. A basket of grub's half the fun. And mother's promised me a
big one."
"Ditto mine," responded Alec. "So there's no fear of our starving for a
while, even if we get cast away on one of the islands."
"Cast away on one of the islands!" echoed Lon. "That's a great idea!
Wouldn't it make a great sensation?"
"Perhaps it would," replied Alec, who was of a more cautious and
unimaginative cast of character. "But I'm not hankering to try it all
the same. To get over to Deschenes will be enough fun for me."
The speakers were two boys of about sixteen years of age, sitting upon
the front steps of a summer cottage, and looking out across the splendid
stretch of water that flashed like a flawless mirror beneath the fiery
morning sunshine.
They had come out to Britannia for the summer, and were enjoying its
fine facilities for boating, bathing, and canoeing as only city boys,
pent up in close quarters for three-fourths of the year, can enjoy such
exhilarating sports.
The great Lake Deschenes filled them with profound admiration. They
exulted in its magnificent breadth, its mighty length, its cool, limpid
depths, and most of all the glorious rapids which marked the place where
it gathered itself together to become the River Ottawa again, and resume
its steady course seaward.
Nearly all their time they spent upon the water or in it, and in the
course of a month had become tolerably expert canoeists, so that they
did not hesitate to take long trips up the lake or across to the farther
side.
The visit to Deschenes village, whose cottages were scattered along the
lake shore almost opposite to Britannia, had been put off until they
felt themselves to be thoroughly masters of their cranky craft; for in
order to get there it was necessary to cross the head of the rapids, and
to do this successfully would require both strength and skill.
For a week past Alec and Lon had felt themselves to be equal to the
task, but had been delayed by unfavourable weather. Great, then, was
their delight when this particular Saturday morning dawned clear and
calm, promising to be the very kind of a day they desired.
They started at nine o'clock, taking with them for company, besides
their well-filled baskets, Wad, Alec's handsome hunting spaniel, who had
learned to behave perfectly on board the canoe.
Their craft was of the most approved make, of which they were
joint-owners, completely equipped with paddles, cushions, sails, and
steering-gear.
There being not a breath of wind, they had no use for the sail, so the
mast was not put up nor the rudder shipped. In his enthusiastic
eagerness to realize their long-cherished plan, Lon set to paddling with
all his might; but Alec, who had the stern, laughingly checked his
ardour, saying,--
"Take it easy, Lon; take it easy, my boy! There's lots of work ahead of
you. Better not waste your muscle now!"
Alec had taken care to make inquiries of some of the Britannia folk as
to the course he should steer, and they had all impressed upon him to go
a good way straight up the lake, and away from the rapids, before
turning toward Deschenes, as the current was tremendously strong, and
made itself felt far higher up than one would imagine, looking at it
from the Britannia side.
Accordingly he pointed the canoe almost due north, as though he had
Aylmer in mind rather than Deschenes, and kept her on that course until
Lon began to grow impatient.
"What's the use of going up so far?" he protested; "you can't feel the
current here."
"Because old Lark told me to make that point before striking across, and
he knows all about it," replied Alec.
"Ugh: Lark's an old fuss. He goes away up there only because he's too
lazy to pull straight across where the current's strong," grumbled Lon,
who had a passion for short cuts, and who kept urging his companion to
head the canoe more directly toward their destination, until at last
Alec, for very peace's sake, and against his better judgment, altered
their course in compliance with his wishes.
For a hundred yards or so the paddling was no harder than before, and
they made no leeway, so that Lon could exclaim triumphantly,--
"There now, didn't I tell you? It's only a waste of time going so far
up."
But when another hundred yards' advance had brought the canoe fairly
into the middle of the mighty stream, moving with majestic flow toward
the angry rapids, the paddlers soon awoke to the fact that while they
were still making good headway, they were making considerable leeway
also, and that the task of getting across was going to be made much
harder thereby.
Although both noticed this, neither made any remark about it at first:
Alec, because he did not wish to alarm Lon; and Lon, because he shrank
from admitting that it would have been wiser to follow shrewd old Lark's
advice. So they paddled away in silence, putting plenty of muscle into
their strokes, and anxiously measuring their progress by landmarks on
the farther shore.
Presently their exertions began to toll upon their young frames. The
perspiration beaded their faces, their breath came short, their backs
began aching, and their arms grew weary.
Lon's heart was already sinking within him, and Alec deeply regretted
having yielded to his companion's ill-advised solicitations to disregard
old Lark.
But there was no time for reconsideration or exchanging of regrets.
They were beyond a doubt in the grasp of the current, and must strain
every nerve to extricate themselves.
Then, to add to their anxiety, the weather showed signs of betraying the
fair promise of the morning. Clouds began to obscure the deep blue of
the sky, and a breeze to ruffle the calm surface of the lake. Unable to
control his feelings any longer, Lon broke out with more than a hint of
a sob in his voice,--
"O Alec, I wish we hadn't started! I'm getting awfully tired, and we
don't seem to be making any headway at all."
"Oh, yes we are, Lon," responded Alec, doing his best to be cheerful.
"Paddle away; we'll get across all right."
Thus encouraged, Lon put a little more life into his strokes for the
next few minutes, and the canoe did seem to be gaining ground. But the
gain was only temporary. The further they advanced the more they felt
the force of the current.
Yet it was too late to turn back. Their only course was to keep on
until they had shaken themselves free from the power that was dragging
them downward to destruction.
Whether they would have been equal to this feat can only be guessed; for
in trying to change his position to relieve his cramped legs, Lon lost
his balance for a moment, and on attempting to recover himself did what
was even worse--let slip his paddle, which was instantly whirled out of
his reach.
"O Alec! what shall we do now?" he cried in dismay.
Alec's face was white and set.
"Nothing--we are powerless," he said quietly.
It was, of course, futile for him to try to contend alone with the
pitiless current. The little canoe, as if glad at having no longer to
fight its way foot by foot, glided gaily down towards the rapids, and
all that Alec could do was to keep it straight in its course, and not
allow it to swing around broadside.
Poor Lon, utterly overcome with terror, crouched down in the bow,
sobbing so that he shook the frail canoe. But Alec was not one to yield
to despair so long as anything could be done.
His brain was busy seeking some scheme for escape from their exceeding
peril, and as he glanced anxiously ahead, a thought flashed into his
mind that caused his eye to brighten and his pale face to light up with
hope and determination.
Right on the edge of the rapids, just before the smooth swift stream
broke up into tumultuous billows, stood a little island--a mere patch of
rocks, crowned with half-a-dozen straggling trees.
If he could only beach the canoe on this island they might yet be saved.
It was all that remained between them and certain death.
The island was not more than two hundred yards distant, and to reach it
he must make the canoe cut obliquely through the current. Summoning all
his energies for a supreme effort, he bent to his task, in the meantime
saying to Lon,--
"Be ready to jump the moment the canoe strikes."
For a boy of his age, Alec put a wonderful degree of strength into his
strokes, and he had the joy of seeing his frail craft obey, in spite of
the opposing waters, until it was pointing fair for the island. Then
with a glad hurrah he ceased fighting the current, and joined forces
with it, so successfully as to drive the canoe straight towards the
rocks.
He did not miss his aim. With a leap, as though it were alive, the
canoe rushed at the island and ran half its length out of the water, a
sound of splintering wood telling that its bottom had suffered in so
doing.
With feelings of indescribable relief the boys sprang out upon the solid
ground, and instantly embracing one another, danced about in sheer
exuberance of joy.
The rapids were cheated of their prey, and the worst of the peril was
passed.
Having thus given vent to their feelings, they proceeded to examine the
canoe, and were glad to find that its bottom was not very badly injured,
and could be easily repaired.
Their next thought was, how could they get off the island? They were
safe enough there for the present, of course, and they had sufficient
provisions, if carefully husbanded, to keep them from starving for three
or four days.
But they had no idea of playing the part of Robinson Crusoe and his man
Friday, even for that short space of time, if it could possibly be
helped. So they got on the edge of the island nearest Britannia, and
Alec held up his paddle with his coat on it as a signal of distress,
while both shouted at the top of their voices.
Their shouts were drowned in the ceaseless roar of the rapids; but after
a while their signal of distress was observed, and soon a crowd had
gathered on the shore opposite them, and there was great excitement.
Everybody was eager to help, but nobody knew just what to do. All sorts
of schemes were suggested for the rescue of the boys, the most feasible
of which was to have a large boat go out above the rapids and anchor
there, and then send down a smaller one secured by a rope, with which it
could be hauled back again, for no boat could by any possibility be
rowed back against that mighty current.
But there were two difficulties in the way of this plan. There was no
boat at the village big enough and no rope long enough for the purpose,
so some other way must needs be devised.
The morning wore away and the afternoon shadows lengthened without
anything being done, and it looked as though the boys would have to stay
on the island all night, when the cry was raised that there was a raft
coming down; and sure enough the great towing steamer, followed by a
huge raft of square timber, hove into sight far up the lake.
The problem of the boys' deliverance need no longer he worried over.
The raftsmen would solve it in short measure.
The big raft reached Britannia just long enough before dark to allow of
the rescue being accomplished. The moment the foreman heard of the
boys' situation he detailed six of his best men, three being Indians and
three French Canadians, to bring them off.
Landing their largest bonne, a kind of boat peculiar to lumbering being
flat on the bottom and very high at both bow and stern, they rowed off
briskly towards the rapids, laughing and chaffing one another, and
evidently deeming it quite a bit of fun, while the crowd gathered on the
shore watched their every movement with breathless attention.
Managing their clumsy-looking but most seaworthy craft with perfect
skill, they made an easy landing on the island, took the boys on board,
and then waving their hats to the admiring onlookers, continued gaily on
into the very midst of the boiling rapids, the big bonne bobbing about
like a cork, seemingly at the entire mercy of the waters, yet all the
time being cleverly steered by her crew, and after an exciting passage,
during which the boys hardly breathed, shooting out into the smooth
stretch below the rapids without having taken so much as a single drop
of water on board.
A hearty cheer broke from the delighted spectators at this happy
conclusion to the affair, and a few moments later the boys were in their
midst, receiving the embraces of their overjoyed parents and the
vigorous congratulations of the others.
The rescuing raftsmen were well rewarded for their timely service, and
Master Lon learned a lesson in caution that he is not likely soon to
forget.
[Illustration: THEO'S TRIUMPH. _Page_ 368.]
*THEO'S TOBOGGANING TRIUMPH.*
The boys of Bridgetown were all agreed that there had not been such a
winter for tobogganing since they could remember; and if they ever
thought of the weather-clerk at all, it was with feelings of the deepest
gratitude.
In the first place, it began with a frost that made the ground as hard
as iron, and the waters were, in Bible language, "hid as with a stone."
Then upon this came one fall of snow after the other, until there was
nothing left to wish for in that direction, and the hoys were thoroughly
content.
Not only was the weather-clerk thus considerate, but nature had already
been kind enough to provide them with the finest site for a toboggan
slide imaginable. The placid stream which bore the name of Bass River
spread out into a broad reach just before it came to their town, and on
one side the bank rose up into a steep bluff whose grass-grown face,
slanting right down to the water's edge without a break or gully, seemed
intended for no other purpose than to afford the boys a splendid
coasting-ground when well sheeted with snow. And the boys knew right
well how to appreciate their privileges, I can assure you. To go out to
Bass River Bluff on a Saturday afternoon was to witness a scene well
worth seeing. The hill would fairly swarm with boys and girls enjoying
themselves to the top of their bent. From Patsey Kehoe, the
washer-woman's ragged urchin, with his curious apology for a sled
constructed out of old barrel staves, on which he dared to take only
short slides from a little way up the hill, and which he sorely
regretted was not big enough to carry him and Katey at the same time, to
Ralph Masterton, the eldest son of the rich and haughty judge, with his
big toboggan, so finely varnished and comfortably cushioned, that could
take four persons down every trip, the young people of the town would
turn out and make the valley ring with their laughter and shouting.
One of the most regular attendants at Bass River Bluff was Theo Ross,
who, with his widowed mother, lived in a cozy cottage on the opposite
side of the river from the town, and consequently was looked upon as one
of the country boys, although he came in every day to the high school.
There was a good deal of rivalry between the boys of Bridgetown and
those who lived in the scattered settlement across the river, which was
known as Riverside--a rivalry that led to all sorts of matches, and now
and then to fights. No one took more hearty interest in this rivalry
than Theo. He was a strong, stout, hardy lad of sixteen, up to
anything, as the saying is, and was generally looked upon by the
Riverside boys as their leader. One Saturday evening he came home in
high spirits.
"Hoop-de-dooden-do!" he shouted, as he burst into the house.
"Why, Theo, what are you so excited about?" inquired his mother, looking
up with a glad smile of welcome for the boy that was the joy and pride
of her life.
"Excited? Perhaps I am; and no wonder, for aren't we going to have the
biggest tobogganing match next Saturday afternoon that you ever heard
of!" replied Theo, at the same time giving his mother a hug and a kiss
that were a credit to both, for it showed how thoroughly they understood
one another.
Mrs. Ross was a wise not less than a loving mother, and one of the
proofs of her wisdom was the hearty interest she took in her son's
sports as well as in his studies. He had lost his father when but a
baby, and she had determined to fill the vacant place to the best of her
ability. So from the very first she entered heartily into his
amusements, and made herself his companion as far as she could. Theo
never played cricket or lacrosse so well as when his mother was looking
on, and no applause was sweeter to him than the clapping of her hands.
He therefore felt sure of an attentive listener as he proceeded to
unfold the cause of his excitement.
"Well, you know, mother, the Bridgetown boys have been boasting all
winter about their toboggans, and saying that they can run away from
anything in Riverside, and our fellows have been talking back at them,
until both sides have begun to feel pretty hot over it. We've had a lot
of races, but they didn't settle anything, because sometimes the
Bridgetown boys would win and sometimes the Riverside; so this afternoon
I proposed to Ralph Masterton that next Saturday afternoon he should
bring a team of four tobogganers from the town, and I would bring four
from the country, and we'd settle the question without any more talk."
"Well, but, Theo dear, won't it be dangerous for so many as eight to
coast down together? You might run into each other," asked Mrs. Ross,
rather anxiously.
"O you dear innocent!" laughed Theo, "that's not the way we'll do at
all. Only two will go down at a time. You see there will be, first of
all, four heats, and we'll draw lots for our places in the heats; then
the four winners will run against each other, making two more heats; and
then there will be a final heat in which the two winners will run
together, and that will decide."
"That seems a very good arrangement," said Mrs. Ross approvingly.
"Whose idea was it?"
"Mostly mine, mother. It's the best way to get fair play all round,"
answered Theo.
"Will you have any difficulty in choosing your team?"