Part 22 (1/2)
”Green! Green! Green!”
A confused medley of shouts rose on the air, and the noise grew in volume as one by one the spectators, girls and mistresses alike, joined in. So great was the pandemonium that the referee's whistle could hardly be heard when it blew a moment later.
”What's that for? Is it a goal? Is it? Is it?” cried Vera, in an agony of excitement.
”No! It's off-side! Dorothy pa.s.sed it forward. Oh, bother! That means a free hit for them. And Alice will take it and send it miles down the field, and time's nearly up! There can't be more than three minutes left now!” cried Marjorie, dancing about the ground in her impatience.
Alice Metcalfe came forward to take the free hit. Her forwards ranged themselves far down the field, while the Pink forwards also were obliged to retrace their steps to the limit imposed upon them by the penalty. Dorothy made a penitent apology to her captain.
”I'm most fearfully sorry, Muriel,” she said. ”It was quite an accident, but I'm afraid it's done for us, all the same. We'll never have time to score again now.”
”Never mind. We'll make one last desperate effort before the whistle goes,” said Muriel encouragingly. ”Look out for Alice's. .h.i.t and try and stop it if you possibly can, if it comes your way. It's our only chance!”
Whack! Alice sent the ball flying out to her right wing with a mighty ”swipe,” and a groan went up from the partisans of the Pink Dormitory.
That hit surely had done it! n.o.body could be expected to get in the way of such a terrific slog--Alice had excelled herself this time. The ball would inevitably go flying out of bounds, and by the time it could be recovered and thrown in again, the last three precious minutes would have sped by. Already the referee had her whistle to her lips. Once again the dormitory final would end in a draw!
But wait a moment! The Pink Dormitory's left outside, with a ribbon favour flaunting gaily on her breast, was standing right in the way of the coming ball. Gerry had watched Alice hitting it, and she knew that her chance had come. If she could stop the ball just right and centre it, there was just a chance that Muriel and Dorothy might be able to do something with it.
But could she ever stop it? The ball was coming with all the force of Alice Metcalfe's leather-bound hockey stick behind it. It needed some courage to get in the way of one of Alice's slogs! Gerry wanted to slip aside and let the ball go by. How badly she wanted to do it n.o.body but herself could ever know. Surely it wouldn't be cowardice to get out of the way of a ball like that! But her determination not to let Muriel down this time was strong within her, and she fought down the panic which urged her to step aside, and remained grimly waiting the advent of that flying ball.
The next moment a great shout went up from the spectators, friends and foes alike.
”Stopped! Oh, well stopped! Stopped, indeed!”
”My hat! That must have hurt! Did you see? It ran right up her stick and caught her on the nose. Why--_if it isn't German Gerry_!” cried Vera Davies in amazement.
It was an amazement which was shared by the rest of the school. The girls were so dumbfounded that the cheer suddenly died down, and n.o.body applauded at all when Gerry, recovering from the first stunning shock of the blow, pa.s.sed the ball to her inside wing, Dorothy Pemberton, before the Green half-backs could tackle her.
Then events moved quickly.
”Centre it, Dorothy,” called Muriel, and flew to intercept the ball, which Dorothy pa.s.sed to her. Dodging, tackling, dribbling, and pa.s.sing, the head girl and her inside left carried the ball into the enemy's goal circle. And before the Green defence could recover from the unexpected onslaught, the ball was safely through their goalposts, put there by Muriel's stick. The whistle blew for goal and time simultaneously, and a perfect storm of cheering broke from the watching school. It had indeed been an exciting finish to the dormitory hockey final!
There were certain formalities to be gone through before the teams could leave the field. Alice Metcalfe, as captain of the defeated team, called for three cheers for the victors, to which Muriel had to respond by calling for three cheers for the runners-up for the Cup.
Then the rival captains had to shake hands and thank each other for the good game--a little ceremony which had existed at Wakehurst Priory since hockey matches first began, and which was never omitted.
But directly these formalities were over, and the girls who had been watching the match came flocking around the dispersing teams, cheering and asking questions and pouring out congratulations, Muriel looked about for Gerry Wilmott and hastened to her side.
”Well done, Gerry! You were splendid!” the head girl exclaimed. ”It was all through you that we scored that last goal. If you hadn't stopped that free hit so pluckily, we could never have done it. I'm jolly glad I put you in to play.”
Gerry's nose was bleeding badly, and it was cut and swollen from the blow she had received. Her head was aching too, and she was feeling dreadfully dazed and tired. But in spite of her injuries, the face she raised to Muriel's was a very happy one.
”I'm _awfully_ glad I managed to stop it,” she said.
”I say! You did get a bang, kiddie!” said Muriel concernedly, looking down at her junior's injured nose. ”You'd better come at once and let me take you to Sister. She's got some ripping stuff for bringing down bruises. If we get it seen to directly, perhaps it will save you from being quite black in the face to-morrow.”
And putting her arm round Gerry's shoulder, the head girl led her off the field.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE PLUCK OF GERMAN GERRY