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“We usually practise on the river,” explained Sam, “but it isn’t good enough yet. We’ve got some nets, but there’s no way of getting them out here, and so we just use the posts. They’re mean things, though; always getting pushed out of place. Come over here and meet some of the fellows.”

Sam’s appearance was vociferously hailed by a knot of boys at the edge of the ice. Some of the younger fellows had started a fire there and were scurrying around, far and near, for fuel. Joe was introduced to seven or eight chaps, many of whose names he either didn’t catch or promptly forgot. Those he did recall later were Arbuckle, Morris and Strobe. Arbuckle proved to be the coach, although he was apparently no older than several of the players, and Morris was the captain. Morris, whose first name was Sidney and who was universally called Sid, was a handsome chap, lean, well-conditioned, and a marvel on skates. He was of about Sam Craig’s age. Arbuckle was a heavier fellow of eighteen and bore signs on his upper lip of an incipient mustache. Strobe Joe remembered chiefly because his name was unusual, although the latter wasn’t certain whether it was Strobe or Strode at the time.