On the bench, one of a half-dozen other coated and blanketed figures, sat Frank Lamson. Frank was still struggling with the surprise that had overwhelmed him three minutes before when Coach Loring, calling the line-up, had announced the name of Tucker instead of Lamson. Frank was still not quite sure the coach had not made a mistake! Only, if he had, why didn’t he discover it? And what was Orson Crowell thinking of that he hadn’t entered a protest against such absurdity? Frank stole a wondering glance along the length of the bench to where Coach Loring sat. The coach was looking intently at the game and evidently saw nothing wrong. Slowly, as the figures dashed up and down and in and out and the ring of steel and the clash of sticks and the cries of the players filled the air, it was borne to Frank that Toby had superseded him, that Coach Loring had done what he had done intentionally, that Crowell had connived at it, that, in short, he, Frank Lamson, was only a second-string man! Surprise grew to incredulity and incredulity to dismay. He wondered what the fellows on the bench with him thought of it, and turned to see. But they were all following the flying puck absorbedly, evidently with no thought for the stupendous wrong that had been committed! Indignation surged over him. Anger filled his soul. So they thought they could treat him that way and get away with it, did they? They thought they could oust him without a word of explanation and put a mere fifteen-year-old, inexperienced kid in his place? Well, they’d find out their mistake! No one could treat him like a yellow pup, by jingo! He’d show them so, too! Superbly he arose from the bench, dropped his blanket with a gesture of magnificent disdain and turned his back on the scene. Unfortunately, however, not a soul saw him, for at that moment Rock Hill had the puck in front of the Yardley goal and six pushing, slashing players were fighting desperately there. And no one saw him make his way off up the slope, bracing himself against the gale, for just then the referee’s whistle sounded and Rock Hill was brandishing sticks in triumph and skating, with perhaps a mere suggestion of swagger, back to her own territory. So Frank’s dramatic defiance was lost and neither Coach Loring nor Captain Crowell nor any of Frank’s companions knew that he had withdrawn in outraged dignity and left them to their fate.