"What did you think of the game," he asked.

But he had miscalculated. I could still make a faint sound through the
wet towels. He laid three or four more very thick ones over my face and
stood with his five finger tips pressed against my face for support. A
thick steam rose about me. Through it I could hear the barber's voice
and the flick-flack of the razor as he stropped it.

[Illustration: I shall not try to be quite so extraordinarily clever.]

"Yes, sir," he went on in his quiet professional tone, punctuated with
the noise of the razor, "I knowed from the start them boys was sure to
win,"--flick-flack-flick-flack,--"as soon as I seen the ice that night
and seen the get-away them boys made I knowed it,"--flick-flack,--"and
just as soon as Jimmy got aholt of the puck----"

This was more than the barber at the next chair could stand.

"Him get de puck," he cried, giving an angry dash with a full brush of
soap into the face of the man under him,--"him get ut-dat stiff--why,
boys," he said, and he turned appealingly to the eight barbers, who all
rested their elbows on the customers' faces while they listened to the
rising altercation; even the manicure girl, thrilled to attention,
clasped tight the lumpy hand of her client in her white digits and
remained motionless,--"why boys, dat feller can't no more play hockey
than----"

"See here," said the barber, suddenly and angrily, striking his fist
emphatically on the towels that covered my face. "I'll bet you five
dollars to one Jimmy can skate rings round any two men in the league."

"Him skate," sneered the other squirting a jet of blinding steam in the
face of the client he was treating, "he ain't got no more go in him than
dat rag,"--and he slapped a wet towel across his client's face.

All the barbers were excited now. There was a babel of talk from behind
each of the eight chairs. "He can't skate;" "He can skate;" "I'll bet
you ten."

Already they were losing their tempers, slapping their customers with
wet towels and jabbing great brushfuls of soap into their mouths. My
barber was leaning over my face with his whole body. In another minute
one or the other of them would have been sufficiently provoked to have
dealt his customer a blow behind the ear.

Then suddenly there was a hush.

"The boss," said one.

In another minute I could realize, though I couldn't see it, that a
majestic figure in a white coat was moving down the line. All was still
agai