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Joe was only a fair skater, and now, swinging along and following the curving shore, he found himself envying the ability of those chaps on the hockey teams. It must, he thought, be fine to be able to skate as they did, to feel as much at home on steel runners as on leather, and he wondered if any amount of practice would ever enable him to duplicate their marvellous feats. He wished he could play hockey, too. It looked mighty exciting. Experimentally, he turned and started to skate backward, zigzagging as he had seen the Second Team’s coverpoint do. All went well for a minute, but then he raised his hands to the sky, followed them with his feet and went down on his head and shoulders. He had quite a nice slide, but he wasn’t able to enjoy it much, since he was too busy watching the vari-coloured stars that flashed in front of his closed eyes. When he stopped sliding he felt gingerly of his head, grinned and climbed carefully to his feet again.

“That’s what you get,” he murmured, “for trying to be smart.”