Cath.”
The boys stood in line and crouched, ready to go.
“One! Two! Three! Go!” yelled Cathy, and the boys took off, their skates biting into the ice as they sprinted toward the rocks
about eighty yards away.
Phut! Phut! Phut!
It was a language only ice skates could speak.
They were even most of the way. Then Scott pulled ahead. He stayed ahead as he reached the rock on the right-hand side and
skated sharply around it, keeping his turningcircle less than five feet beyond the rock. Heading back on the return trip to the finish line he glanced at Del Stockton
and saw the boy make the turn even more sharply around the rock on the left-hand side.
Del had gained a few feet on Scott as he came around the turn, but Scott remained in the lead by about four feet. Del stepped
up his pace, his arms swinging back and forth as he tried to close the gap between him and Scott.
“Come on, Scott! Come on!” yelled Cathy.
Scott put on more speed. He crossed the finish line and knew he had won, even if Cathy hadn’t jumped and shouted as she did.
“You won, Scott! You won!”
He slowed up and glided around to meet Del coming toward him. They stopped and Del stuck out his hand, smiling. “I guess I
should have kept my mouth shut,” he said. “You’re really a fast skater.”
“Thanks,” said Scott.
“Can you skate backwards?”
“Hardly.”
“You ought to practice it,” suggested Del.
Scott looked down and noticed Del and Skinny McCay both were wearing hockey skates.
“Ever play hockey?” asked Del.
“Never.”
“Be at Cass Rink tonight at six-thirty,” said Skinny. “We play with the Gold Bears in the Bantam Hockey League. If you want
to play, maybe Coach Roberts will put you on one of the lines.”
Scott had thought about playing hockey, but had never had the nerve to go out for it.
“You think he would?” he asked, trying not to show how pleased he was at the prospect of playing.
“You’re a lot faster skater than most of the guys we’ve got,” said Del. “He should.”
“We’ll be the Three Icekateers,” smiled Skinny.
For a long minute Scott stood there, moving back and forth on his skates. Cathy and Pete were jabbering about something, but
he didn’t hear a word they said.
2
T here’s one catch,” said Del. “If you play you’ll have to get your own stick and skates. Those won’t do.” He pointed at the
flat-bottomed skates Scott was wearing.
“You can get your stuff at Fred’s Sporting Goods,” drawled Skinny. “Tell ’em you’re playing with us and they’ll give you a
discount.”
Scott thought of the bank in his room where he put part of his allowance each week and whatever money he earned from shoveling
neighbors’ sidewalks and driveways. He knew he did not have enough to buy a hockey stick and skates.
He looked at his wristwatch and saw that it was close to five-thirty. Mom would have supper ready in fifteen to twenty minutes.
Six-thirty would come before he knew it.
“C’mon, Cath,” he said, “we’d better get home. So long, Del… Skinny! Glad to have met you!”
“Same here!” they called back to him.
Scott and Cathy skated to the bench, took off their skates, and put on their shoes. Pete went along with them. He lived next
door. Because he had no brother or sister he usually trailed after either Scott and Cathy or one of the other neighbors.
They walked home, their skates strung over their shoulders. It was a ten-minute walk to Chippewa, their street. The name of
the town was Shattuck. Scott and Cathy had lived here all their lives.
Pete said good-bye and walked up the snowpacked driveway leading to his home.As Scott and Cathy walked up their own driveway they saw a light in the garage and figured that Dad was tinkering with the
car again.
“Hi, Dad!” shouted Scott.
“Hello!” came Dads voice from inside the garage. As the children headed for the kitchen door they saw Dad crouched over the
right front
The boys stood in line and crouched, ready to go.
“One! Two! Three! Go!” yelled Cathy, and the boys took off, their skates biting into the ice as they sprinted toward the rocks
about eighty yards away.
Phut! Phut! Phut!
It was a language only ice skates could speak.
They were even most of the way. Then Scott pulled ahead. He stayed ahead as he reached the rock on the right-hand side and
skated sharply around it, keeping his turningcircle less than five feet beyond the rock. Heading back on the return trip to the finish line he glanced at Del Stockton
and saw the boy make the turn even more sharply around the rock on the left-hand side.
Del had gained a few feet on Scott as he came around the turn, but Scott remained in the lead by about four feet. Del stepped
up his pace, his arms swinging back and forth as he tried to close the gap between him and Scott.
“Come on, Scott! Come on!” yelled Cathy.
Scott put on more speed. He crossed the finish line and knew he had won, even if Cathy hadn’t jumped and shouted as she did.
“You won, Scott! You won!”
He slowed up and glided around to meet Del coming toward him. They stopped and Del stuck out his hand, smiling. “I guess I
should have kept my mouth shut,” he said. “You’re really a fast skater.”
“Thanks,” said Scott.
“Can you skate backwards?”
“Hardly.”
“You ought to practice it,” suggested Del.
Scott looked down and noticed Del and Skinny McCay both were wearing hockey skates.
“Ever play hockey?” asked Del.
“Never.”
“Be at Cass Rink tonight at six-thirty,” said Skinny. “We play with the Gold Bears in the Bantam Hockey League. If you want
to play, maybe Coach Roberts will put you on one of the lines.”
Scott had thought about playing hockey, but had never had the nerve to go out for it.
“You think he would?” he asked, trying not to show how pleased he was at the prospect of playing.
“You’re a lot faster skater than most of the guys we’ve got,” said Del. “He should.”
“We’ll be the Three Icekateers,” smiled Skinny.
For a long minute Scott stood there, moving back and forth on his skates. Cathy and Pete were jabbering about something, but
he didn’t hear a word they said.
2
T here’s one catch,” said Del. “If you play you’ll have to get your own stick and skates. Those won’t do.” He pointed at the
flat-bottomed skates Scott was wearing.
“You can get your stuff at Fred’s Sporting Goods,” drawled Skinny. “Tell ’em you’re playing with us and they’ll give you a
discount.”
Scott thought of the bank in his room where he put part of his allowance each week and whatever money he earned from shoveling
neighbors’ sidewalks and driveways. He knew he did not have enough to buy a hockey stick and skates.
He looked at his wristwatch and saw that it was close to five-thirty. Mom would have supper ready in fifteen to twenty minutes.
Six-thirty would come before he knew it.
“C’mon, Cath,” he said, “we’d better get home. So long, Del… Skinny! Glad to have met you!”
“Same here!” they called back to him.
Scott and Cathy skated to the bench, took off their skates, and put on their shoes. Pete went along with them. He lived next
door. Because he had no brother or sister he usually trailed after either Scott and Cathy or one of the other neighbors.
They walked home, their skates strung over their shoulders. It was a ten-minute walk to Chippewa, their street. The name of
the town was Shattuck. Scott and Cathy had lived here all their lives.
Pete said good-bye and walked up the snowpacked driveway leading to his home.As Scott and Cathy walked up their own driveway they saw a light in the garage and figured that Dad was tinkering with the
car again.
“Hi, Dad!” shouted Scott.
“Hello!” came Dads voice from inside the garage. As the children headed for the kitchen door they saw Dad crouched over the
right front
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