handicapped by one fault: he was blind――or perhaps near-sighted――to the abilities of Clifton Cobb Bingham, Third Class. Not that Pinky hadn’t used Clif, for he had; there had been the Horner game in which Clif had, miraculously as it seemed to him, shot a clean goal from a forty-degree angle just before the enemy point had sent him rolling over on the ice. And two or three other games, as well, in one of which he had also scored, although less spectacularly. But here it was the last contest of the year, the biggest game of the big games, and the time was almost up! And Ogden was still playing left wing and Clif Bingham was still huddling on the bench with his skates in a snowbank and his stick clasped by gloved but slowly congealing fingers. Clif, hazarding another glance at the coach’s rapt but calm countenance, reflected that the other two members of the Triumvirate were going to be seriously displeased with Pinky if he didn’t soon recall the existence of a certain substitute! Play stopped while the Wolcott cover point and captain recovered from the effects of a violent collision with the boards and the Wyndham team gathered panting about Captain Cooper and indulged in hurried, low-voiced conversation. Clif watched and speculated and hoped that Cooper would notice him; and then, lest he might seem to be courting recognition, relapsed against the back of the bench, partly obscuring himself behind Joe Hanbury’s broad bulk. Some one further along the bench asked about the time and Mr. McKnight, timekeeper, responded callously with “Four minutes and twenty seconds!” Gee only four minutes! Clif leaned forward again into sight. So did at least five other youths. This was no time for reticence! Captain Cooper pushed from the group and skated toward the barrier. Planting his stick in the bank of snow beyond it, he leaned forward and spoke to Pinky. Clif couldn’t hear what he said, but when the captain’s eyes swept along the huddled, blanketed line on the bench he met them squarely. Perhaps Cooper had been seeking some one beyond Clif, but his gaze stopped. For an instant he stared back at Clif, still talking. Then he smiled very suddenly and nodded. Ever after that Clif insisted that Cooper had the most wonderful smile in all the world! Coach Hilliard leaned forward and his gaze, too, rested on Clif. Then he said something else to Cooper and waved a hand, and Clif, arising suddenly, tripped over his stick and fell across the barrier. Both Cooper and Pinky were grinning when Clif reached them, although they pretended they weren’t. “Left wing, Bingham,” said the coach. “Watch Houston and cover him close every minute. Go in and see if you can beat him. Don’t be afraid of smashing into him. He can’t hurt you. All right, Ogden! That’s enough!”