Thanks principally to the marvelous agility and strategy of Nick, a goal was shot inside of two minutes.  It was immediately followed by another, this time Nick winning the score without the least help from anyone.

Wild applause rang out from parts of the crowd, where, of course, Scranton rooters mostly congregated.  How sweet those cheers must have sounded in the ears of Nick Lange, who for years had only earned the hoots and jeers of his fellows in Scranton, on account of their distrust, and his own evil ways.

Why, the Belleville folks sat up and rubbed their eyes.  They had never dreamed that any fellow not a professional player could prove himself such a marvelous wizard on steel runners.  Nick fairly dazzled them with his speed, his eccentric twistings when hotly pursued, and the clever way in which he kept that rubber disc just in front of his hockey stick, always carrying it along toward the point where he meant to strike for goal.

And when he did make that stroke vain were the frantic efforts of the usually dependable Leonard to block its amazing passage; for almost before he swung he heard the plug of the puck landing in the wire cage which he was especially set to guard, and knew that another tally had been added to Scranton’s growing score.

The conditions had changed, and the shoe was now on the other foot.

Thanks to the fine playing of Nick Lang Scranton was now ahead, and it seemed extremely doubtful whether Belleville would have another chance to make a single tally.  The boys were plainly disconcerted by the excellent work of the substitute, and seemed to have lost much of that aggressive spirit so absolutely necessary in ice hockey in order to win games.  They played almost sullenly, as if realizing that it was all over but the shouting.

Vain were the efforts of Captain Kramer to put new life in his followers.  He himself fought more desperately than ever, and once even succeeded in taking the puck away from the triumphant Nick, the only one who attained that glory; only to lose it immediately afterwards to Owen Dugdale, who transferred it to Stevens by way of Hobson; and then it plunged into the cage, despite Leonard’s mad attempt to stay its swift flight.

“Who’s this you Scranton boys have thrown into the game?” demanded one chagrined Belleville gentleman, as he saw what a radical change Nick’s coming had made in the affair on the ice rink.  “He plays suspiciously like a certain Canadian I saw last winter, who set everybody in New York City wild with his work.  Is Jean La Rue visiting anybody in Scranton; and have you rung him in on us to-day, to send our poor chaps down to defeat?”