ad been played to a finish. Nick seemed
capable of doing almost as he pleased. Whenever he got possession of
the puck it was, as one enthusiastic Scranton boy whooped, a "regular
procession." The Belleville lads just couldn't touch him. His
actions bewildered them, so that they were continually becoming mixed
up with their own side when they thought to corner Nick and the puck.

The score?

Well, it seemed too bad that after such a brilliant beginning
Belleville should fall so low, and see the terrible figures, thirteen
to seven, marked up against them.

In the annals of sport, as chronicled at Scranton High, that contest
would always be known as the "Battle of Winchester," just because, as
in the Civil War, when the Union army was in retreat and demoralized,
the coming of a single man, General Phil Sheridan, caused them to
turn about, and presently win a conclusive and overwhelming victory.
And Nick Lang had been the Phil Sheridan for Scranton on that
glorious day!

Nick tried to make a "grand sneak" as soon as the game finished, but
the crowd would have none of that, hemming him in so that he could
not run; and then for the first time in all his life the one-time
bully of Scranton tasted of the joys of popularity.

Fellows wrung his hand who had always treated him with disdain. He
was slapped on the back and praised to the skies. Why, even Sue
Barnes, Ivy Middleton, Peggy Noland, and a lot of other school-girls
seemed proud to shake hands with Nick, who was as red in the face as
a turkey gobbler, and rendered quite breathless trying to answer the
myriad of sincere congratulations that were showered on him.

But by the happy light in his eyes Hugh knew the die was cast, once
and for all. Having tasted of the sweets of popularity and honest
praise, nothing on earth could now tempt Nick to fall back again to
his former ignoble ways. His foot was firmly planted on the second
round of the ladder, and he had his aspiring eye on the better things
nearer the top.

The deacon had come over to see the game. He and Hugh went home
together, and the talk was mostly concerning the wonderful
reformation of Nick Lang.

"I'm hoping to have Nick come to me when he leaves school," the good
old man was saying. "He has the making of a clever blacksmith in
him, and I'd dearly like to turn over my shop to him some day not far
in the future; because it's almost time the old man retired, now that
he has a sunbeam coming t