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.