The Chums of Scranton High at Ice Hockey written by Donald Ferguson

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He mused over it for several minutes, as if undecided. Then the
sound of voices outside caught his attention. One seemed to be gruff
and official, another whining.

Hugh jumped up and stepped to a window. He could see down the street
on which the Morgan home stood. Three persons were in sight, and
hurrying along toward the house. One of these he recognized as his
chum, Thad, who must have returned from Hobson's mill-pond earlier
than he had expected. Another was the tall, attenuated Chief
Wambold; and the party whom he was gripping by the arm--yes, it was
none other than Hugh's late visitor, Nick Lang!

"Oh, they've caught him, it seems, just like those awful police did
poor, wicked Jean Valjean," Hugh muttered, thrilled by the sight;
"and right now they're fetching Nick back here, to ask me if he
wasn't lying when he said I'd sold or given him my skates!"

He realized that, undoubtedly, by some strange freak of fortune Thad
must have seen the other gloating over his prize; and recognizing the
skates, for they were well-known to him, he had beckoned to the
policeman who happened to be near by, with the result that Nick was
nabbed before he realized his peril.

Hugh had to decide quickly as to what he should do, for they were
coming in through the gate even now. Once again did the wonderful
story he had been reading flash before his mind.

"I _must_ try it out!" he exclaimed suddenly, gripped by the amazing
coincidence between this case and that so aptly described by Hugo.
"I said I would if ever I had a chance. It worked miracles in the
story; perhaps it may in real life, Anyway, it's going to be worth
while, and give me a heap of enjoyment watching the result. So here
and now I say that I've sold my skates to Nick, and that they really
belong to him at this minute. But I reckon he'll be scared pretty
badly when he faces me again, expecting the worst."

Thad knew how to get in by the side door that opened on the back
stairs; so he did not waste any time in ringing the bell. Now Hugh
could hear heavy footsteps. They were coming, and the great test was
about to be made.

The door opened to admit, first of all, Thad, his face filled with
burning indignation, and his eyes sparkling with excitement. Close
on his heels the others also pushed into the room on the second
floor, transformed into a genuine boy's den by pictures of healthy
sport on the walls, besides college burgees, fishing tackle, a bass
of three pounds that had been beautifully stuffed by Hugh himself to
commemorate a glorious day's sport; and dozens of other things dear
to the heart of a youth who loved the Great Outdoors as much as he
did.

Chief Wambold looked triumphant and grim. Nick fairly writhed in
that iron clutch, and his face had assumed a sickly sallow color;
while his eyes reminded Hugh of those of a hunted wild animal at bay,
fear and defiance struggling for the mastery.

"Stand there, you cub!" snarled the police officer, as he gave Nick a
whirl into the room, closing the door at the same time, and planting
his six-foot-five figure against it, to prevent such a thing as
escape.

It was quite a tableau. Hugh believed he would never forget it as
long as he lived. But Thad, it appeared, was the first to speak.

"Hugh, this skunk has gone and beat you after all!" he cried,
pointing a scornful finger at the glowering Nick, who was eyeing Hugh
hungrily, as if trying to decide whether or not the other would tell
Chief Wambold to lock him up as a thief. "I chanced to see him pull
something out that he had been hiding under his coat, and recognized
your nickel-mounted skates. So I beckoned to Chief Wambold, and told
him about it; he made Nick come back here to face you, and confess to
the theft."

Nick growled something half under his breath, that sounded like:

"Didn't steal 'em, I tell you; I bought the skates fair and square
from Hugh here. You're all down on me, and won't listen to a thing I
say; that's the worst of it."

The tall head of the Scranton police force held up something he had
been carrying all the while.

"Here's the skates he had, Hugh," he went on to say. "Thad tells me
they are your property. He even showed me your initials scratched on
each skate. Take a good look at the same, and let me know about it,
will you, before I lug this sneak off to the lock-up. I reckon he's
headed for the Reform School this time, sure!"

At that Nick grew even more sallow than before, if such a thing were
possible; and the fear in his eyes became almost pitiable.

Hugh, meaning to make a straight job of his idea, calmly looked the
skates over. He knew full well how Nick was watching his every
action, trying to hug just a glimmer of hope to his heart that,
perhaps, Hugh might be merciful, and let him off, as the skates were
now once again in his possession. The shadow of the Reformatory
loomed up dreadfully close to Nick Lang just then, darker than he had
ever before imagined it could look. It terrified him, too, and
caused him to shiver as though someone had dashed a bucket of
ice-cold water over him unexpectedly.

"Yes, I recognize these skates very well, Chief," Hugh told the
waiting officer.

"And do they belong to you, Hugh?" continued the officer, with a
stern look at the cringing culprit near by, who weakly leaned against
the table for support after his recent rough handling.

"They _were_ my property until just ten minutes, more or less, ago,
Chief," said Hugh, deliberately fixing Nick with his eye, so as to
impress things on him in a way he could never forget. "Then I had an
offer from Nick here to buy them. At first I was averse to letting
him have them, but I changed my mind. These skates belong to Nick,
Chief. You must set him free, and not hold this against him. He's
going to wipe the slate clean this time and astonish folks here in
Scranton by showing them what a fellow of his varied talents can do,
once he sets out to go straight. And, for one, I wish him the best
of success from the bottom of my heart. I hope you enjoy your
skates, Nick."

He held out his hand, and the astounded Nick mechanically allowed
Hugh to squeeze his digits. But not one word could he say, simply
stared at Hugh as though he had difficulty in understanding such
nobility of soul; then, taking the skates, he went from the room.
They could hear the clatter of his heels as he hurried down the
stairs, as though afraid Hugh might yet repent and send the officer
after him.

Of course, Chief Wambold departed, shrugging his shoulders as though
still more than half convinced there had been something crooked about
Nick's suspicious actions.

Of course Thad had to be told the whole amazing story. He shook his
head at the conclusion, and went on record as being a doubter by
saying:

"I wish you success in your wonderful experiment, Hugh, I sure do;
but all the same I don't believe for a minute the leopard is going to
change its spots, or that Nick Lang, the worst boy in Scranton, can
ever reform."

Hugh would say nothing further about it, only, of course, he made
Thad promise to keep everything secret until he gave permission to
speak. If Nick made good this would never happen.

That night Hugh had a jolly time, and it was fairly late when he
crept into bed. As he lay there, instead of going to sleep
immediately, he looked out of the window toward the west, where a
bright star hung above the horizon. It seemed like a magnet to Hugh,
who lay there and watched for its setting, all the while allowing his
thoughts to roam back to the remarkable happening of that afternoon.

"It's a toss-up, just as Thad says, whether anything worth while will
come of my experiment," he told himself; "but, anyhow, I've given
Nick something to think over. And if he makes the first advances
toward me I'm bound to meet him half-way. I only hope it turns out
like the story of Jean Valjean did. But there goes my Star of Hope
down behind the horizon; and now I'd better be getting some sleep
myself. All the same I'm glad I did it!"

And doubtless he slept all the more soundly because of the noble
impulse that had impelled him to save Nick Lang from the Reform
School.

CHAPTER IV

THE HOCKEY MATCH WITH A SCRATCH SEVEN

There was a large crowd present to watch the local hockey match that
morning. Not only were Scranton High pupils interested, but many of
the town folks seemed to find it convenient to stroll around to the
field that, during the recent summer, had been the scene of bitterly
contested baseball games.

Even a number of gentlemen were on hand to criticize, and also
applaud, according to what their judgment of the work of the young
athletes proved to be. Some of these men had been college players,
or, at least, interested in athletic sports. They hailed the
awakening of Scranton along these lines most heartily. And most of
them had only too gladly invested various sums in the up-building of
the athletic grounds.

Now that the high board-fence surrounded the large field, and the
carefully planned clubhouse stood at the near end, the grounds had a
business-like air. Those who knew just how to go about it had seen
that the water was just the right depth, and this was now frozen
almost solid. As the enclosure was limited in dimensions, it became
apparent that half of the ice should be given over to the hockey
players. When the game was finished the entire pond could be used by
the general public.

The "rink" had been scientifically measured off, and such lines as
were necessary marked, after the rules of the game. The two goals in
the center of the extreme ends were stationary, the posts having been
rooted to the ice in some ingenious fashion, with the nets between.

Hugh Morgan had been unanimously chosen to serve as leader of the
Scranton Seven. He was admirably fitted for the position, since his
playing was gilt-edged, his judgment sound, and he never allowed
himself to become excited, or "rattled," no matter what the crisis.

The other members of the team consisted of fellows who had done nobly
in the stirring baseball encounters of the previous summer, and were,
moreover, well up in the various angles of skating.

By name they were as follows, and those who have read previous
stories in this High School Series will recognize old friends in the
list:

Julius Hobson, Thad Stevens, Joe Danvers, Owen Dugdale, Horatio
Juggins and Justin Smith, commonly known as "J. J."

The scratch team consisted of some fine players in addition, boys who
were swift on the wing and able with their hockey sticks. When the
two teams were lined up to hear the last instructions from Mr.
Leonard, who, being the physical instructor at Scranton High, had
taken upon himself the duties of umpire and coach and referee all in
one for this occasion, they stood as follows:

_Scranton High_ _Position_ _Scratch Team_
Stevens ......... Goal ........... Anthony McGrew
Hobson .......... Point .......... Frank Marshall
Danvers ......... Cover Point .... Dick Travers
Smith ........... Right End ...... Nick Lang
Dugdale ......... Center ......... Tom Rawlings
Juggins ......... Left End ....... Phil Hasty
Morgan .......... Rover .......... Tug Lawrence

Just before the game began there was a hasty consultation among the
players opposed to the regular team. One of their members had sent
word he could not come up to time, as his mother had refused to let
him play. This necessitated a change of program. A substitute must
be found, and as they knew that Hugh's Seven already greatly
outclassed them it was of considerable moment that they pick up a
player who would strengthen their team, regardless of his identity.

So Nick Lang had been approached and offered the position of Right
End, a very important place for swift action and furious fighting.
Nick had been skating quietly by himself and evidently greatly
enjoying his new skates, which many boys recognized as the pair Hugh
Morgan had once owned.

He had hesitated just a trifle, and then agreed to fill the vacancy.
There were those who shook their heads dismally when they saw Nick
the trouble-maker in the line-up. Previous experiences warned them
that the game was very likely to break up in a big row, for such had
been the fate of many a rivalry when rough-and-ready Nick Lang
entered the lists.

But Hugh, who had secretly been the first to suggest to the captain
of the other Seven that Nick be chosen, somehow believed the one-time
bully of Scranton might surprise his critics for once by playing a
straight, honest game.

Hugh, of course, was mounted on his new silver skates. He had found
little difficulty in persuading his mother to advance his birthday
gift a few days, after telling her the whole circumstances; and it
must be said that Mrs. Morgan approved of his plan from the bottom of
her heart.

Mr. Leonard had often had trouble with Nick in times gone by. When
he sternly told the boys before the game was started that he meant to
be severe in inflicting punishment and penalties for foul or off-side
work he had Nick mostly in mind. Indeed, everyone who heard what he
said concluded that it was meant almost entirely for the Lang chap.

Nick only grinned. Those who knew him best did not find any
encouragement about his apparent good nature. Nick could "smile, and
smile again, and still be a villain," as some of them were fond of
repeating.

The game began, and was soon in full progress, with the players
surging from one end of the rink to the other, according to which
side had gained possession of the puck, and were endeavoring by every
legitimate means possible to shoot the little rubber disc between the
goal posts, and into the net of their opponents.

It was soon seen that as a whole the Scratch Team was woefully weak.
Hugh's players had things pretty much their own way. Before more
than half of the first twenty-minute period had been exhausted the
score stood five goals for Scranton High, and none to the credit of
their opponents.

Then the tactics of the Scratch Team underwent a change. The captain
put Nick Lang forward to oppose Hugh Morgan when the puck was again
faced for a fresh start. In a fashion truly miraculous Nick managed
to gain possession of the rubber, and the way in which he sent it
flying before him along the ice was well worth seeing. Many started
to cheer, forgetting their former antipathy toward the bully.
Despite the clever work of Hugh, and others, as well as the able
defense of the goal-keeper, Thad Stevens, Nick succeeded in shooting
the puck between the goal posts for a score.

Hugh was ready to shake hands with himself, he felt so pleased. And
not once so far had Mr. Leonard found occasion to reprimand Nick on
account of foul work so flagrant that it could be no accident.

Many rubbed their eyes and asked their neighbors if that could really
be Nick Lang, the terror of Scranton, who played like a fiend, and
yet kept well within his rights?

"But just wait till something happens to upset Nick," they went on to
say, with wise shakes of the head. "We know how he's just bound to
carry on. It's a nice game so far, but the chances are three to one
it'll break up in a row yet; they always do when that fellow has a
hand in the going. He wouldn't be happy without a fuss, and an
attempt to win by some dirty work."

When the first half had passed, and there was a recess of fifteen
minutes called for the warm players to secure a little rest, the
score was five to three. That looked better for a well-contested
game. And so far there had not been any flagrant breaking of rules
to call for condemnation on the part of the referee.

Mr. Leonard himself looked a little surprised. He could not
understand it, but continued to keep an extra sharp eye on the usual
trouble-maker, as though expecting Nick to break loose with more than
ordinary violence because he had kept "bottled up" so long.

Hugh noticed another thing that interested him. During this
intermission Nick skated by himself. His old cronies, Tip Slavin and
Leon Disney, were on the ice, and, of course, indulging in their
customary derogatory remarks concerning the playing of the Regulars,
but Nick did not seem to want to join them, as had always been his
habit hitherto.

Twice Hugh saw the crafty Leon skate up alongside and speak
insinuatingly to the other, as though trying to persuade him to agree
to something; but on each occasion Nick shook his head in the
negative, and broke away. Leon looked after him rather
disconsolately, as though at a loss to understand what could have
happened to take all the fight and "bumptiousness" out of the former
bully.

Then play was resumed.

Hugh had taken his comrades to task during the intermission. He told
them several weaknesses had developed in their team play, which
should be corrected if they hoped to down the strong Keyport Seven.
Nor did Hugh spare himself in making these criticisms, for he knew
his own faults. It is a wise boy who does.

Having tested Nick's superb playing and found it good, the captain of
the Scratch Seven was willing to put him forward as their star
player, even if it went against the grain to realize that they had to
depend on a fellow so much in disrepute.

There were several hot scrimmages, as always occur during a strenuous
game of ice hockey. Even the most careful of players will sometimes
err in judgment at such times, and either be reprimanded by the
referee or having their side penalized on account of their too
energetic work. Strange to say, Nick Lang never once caused a
penalty to be inflicted on his side, though Rawlings, Hasty and
Lawrence were unwitting offenders, as were also Dugdale and Hobson on
the part of Scranton High.

Everybody was satisfied when the game finally came to an end with the
score nine to six. It was a pretty good contest, all things
considered. Perhaps the Regulars did not try quite as hard as they
might, since after all this was to be considered only in the light of
practice, and they were more taken up with correcting certain glaring
errors than in making goals.

The talk of the whole game, however, was the playing of Nick Lang,
who had left the ice after it was all over; but not before Hugh had
congratulated him on his fine work.

"How did he ever go through with it all, and never make a nasty break
once?"

"This must foe one of Nick's special good days, I reckon!"

"He's sure a hummer, all right, when he chooses to play straight.
What a pity he has that crooked streak in his make-up. Only for that
Nick would be a jim-dandy hand at any old athletic sport. I wonder
if it will last, or is he due to break loose, to-night perhaps, just
because he's held himself in so long."

These and many similar remarks passed between the astonished boys of
Scranton High, but they did not seem able to understand it at all.
Hugh, however, only smiled when they appealed to him, and would say
nothing; but deep down in his heart he was satisfied that the seed he
had sown had fallen on fallow soil and taken root.

CHAPTER V

THAD BRINGS SOME STARTLING NEWS

"Hugh, have you heard the news this Sunday morning?"

With these abrupt words Thad Stevens burst upon his chum who was
feeding some long-eared, handsome Belgian hares, which of late he had
taken to keeping, as it had become quite a fad among the Scranton
boys.

Hugh turned to look at his friend. It was plain to be seen that Thad
was laboring under considerable excitement. His face was flushed as
if with running, while his eyes glowed much more than was their wont
under ordinary conditions.

"Why, no, I haven't heard a thing except the church bells ringing,
and people going past our house early this morning for mass. You
know we live on a street that is largely used by those who have to
get out shortly after daybreak Sunday mornings in winter. What's
happened during the night? There couldn't have been a fire, because
I'd have heard the bell, and been out with the rest of the boys."

"Oh! you couldn't guess it in a dozen trials, Hugh. It was a regular
down-right burglary that was pulled off, even if the stuff taken
consisted of candy, cigarettes, and the like, as well as some
sporting goods and several revolvers."

Hugh looked interested.

"From the way you talk, Thad, I should say it might have been Paul
Kramer's Emporium that had suffered; because he's really the only man
in Scranton who keeps sporting goods."

"A good guess, Hugh, because Paul is the chap. They got in through a
back door, and everybody says it was a pretty slick job, too," Thad
went on to say.

"Let's see what you're telling me," Hugh remarked thoughtfully. "If
they took candy and cigarettes and sporting goods it would look to me
pretty much as if the robbery was the work of unprincipled boys,
rather than men."

Thad stared hard at his companion.

"Well, you are a wonder, Hugh, at seeing through things!" he hastily
declared. "Why, that was what Chief Wambold said right away. And,
Hugh, he followed it with the declaration that he guessed he could
put his finger on the guilty fellows without much trouble. You know
who he had in mind, of course, Hugh?"

"It goes without saying that one of them would be Nick Lang," came
the quick reply, while a small cloud crept over Hugh's face.

"Sure thing," continued Thad, shrugging his shoulders. "When a
fellow has built up a nice reputation for himself along those lines
he can't blame folks for suspecting him of every single tricky piece
of work that is pulled off in town. In the past Nick has been
ring-leader in lots of lawless doings, and the Chief was dead certain
he'd get him with the goods on this time, as he called it."

"Perhaps he may, but I hope that for once Chief Wambold will find
himself mistaken," said Hugh soberly, and then adding: "How did you
happen to hear about it, Thad?"

"Oh! I chanced to be out early this morning on an errand for mother,
taking some things over to that sick colored wash-lady we have do our
weekly work, and passing through the public square on my way back I
saw a crowd around Kramer's place. Of course I stayed on the job,
and heard all sorts of things said. But, Hugh, they've got one of
the thieves, all right."

"Who was he, Leon Disney?" asked the other, quickly, as he suddenly
remembered the actions of the boy in question when he twice
approached Nick Lang on the ice during that intermission for rest in
the hockey match; and when he, Hugh, fancied Leon was entreating his
former pal to do something which Nick refused to entertain.

"Just who it is," said the wondering Thad. "The Chief went to his
house and insisted on making a thorough search. He's a shrewd old
duck, is Chief Wambold, for all his faults. He seemed to guess just
where a boy like Leon would hide the spoils of a raid like this.
Under the floor of the old barn on the Disney place he found about
half the stuff that was taken, candy by the wholesale, cigarettes,
two revolvers, and even a pair of choice hockey skates."

"About _half_ you are saying, Thad; then it looks to me as if there
must have been just two of the thieves, for they had divided things
equally between them."

"What a lawyer you would make, Hugh, or a detective either, for that
matter," the other boy exclaimed.

"What did Leon say when they found the stolen stuff hidden under his
barn?" further questioned Hugh, deigning to smile at his chum's
compliment, however.

"Nary a thing would he say, except to declare himself innocent, and
that he himself had heard a noise out there last night, and guessed
that some enemy of his must have set up a mean game on him, wanting
to get him nabbed. But say, Hugh, the Chief pulled seven packets of
cigarettes out of his coat-pocket, every one stamped with the same
maker's name; and nobody in Scranton handles that brand but Paul
Kramer."

"It looks pretty bad for Leon, I should say," remarked Hugh.

"Oh! he'll get a free pass to the Reform School this time, as sure as
anything!" asserted Thad; "and a good riddance of bad rubbish, most
people in Scranton will be saying. Of course they'll be sorry for
his mother, who is a respectable woman, and has had heaps of trouble
with that good-for-nothing son of hers."

"But about the other thief, Thad?"

"Well, Chief Wambold said there wasn't any doubt in the wide world
but that it must be Nick Lang, and I guess everybody around agreed
with him, Hugh."

"Did he go up and arrest Nick?" asked Hugh, deeply interested.

"Just what he did, and I was along with the crowd," Thad told him.
"Well, sir, you never saw such a cool customer. Nick smiled as
brazenly in the face of the Chief as anything you ever saw. They
searched, and searched, but never a scrap of the stolen goods could
they run across."

"Well, what then, Thad?"

"Why, of course the Chief declared that Nick had only been some
smarter than his pal in hiding the spoils where no one could find the
stuff. He told Nick he would have to arrest him on general suspicion
because Leon and he were such great pals, and Leon was already as
good as convicted."

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