swung at the black object but his stick landed atop Carl’s and bounced off.

“Shoot!” begged Lank, from the bench.

And Taber’s hockey star, without having time to regain his feet, skidding in close to the goal, punched the puck ahead of him with a sidearm swing, almost under the very feet of a goalie now out of position. The puck turned on edge and rolled into the cage where it snuggled in a corner of the net. The scorer’s red light blazed almost simultaneous with the blazing of the timer’s gun.

“It’s all over!” yelled elated Taber supporters. “What a play!”

It took a moment after that for Taber fans to appreciate that their hockey team had completed an undefeated season ... and that one great hockey star had demonstrated his superiority over another star, almost equally great.

“Awfully sorry you had to get hurt on account of me!” a contrite Carl Hemmer was apologizing the next moment as he clasped Lank’s hand.

“I’m okay now!” grinned Lank, in open admiration. “Boy, the bump I took was worth it to see you stand Siddall on their heads!”

“I felt that bump myself,” said Carl, pointedly, as Taber rooters gathered hilariously about to cheer their hockey idol whose star was once more high in the heavens. “I felt it,” continued Carl a bit huskily, “thanks to you—right where I needed it most!”