Neither team went back on the ice during the two days off before Saturday’s game. After their marathon struggle on Wednesday, rest was more important than practice. Royal Brougham wrote about all the injuries the teams had suffered in his column on Friday:
THE CASUALTY LIST
by ROYAL BROUGHAM
Here is the list of injured players after the struggle on Wednesday night:
• Jack Walker, Seattle forward, two stitches above eye.
• Louis Berlinquette, Montreal forward, three stitches in lip.
• Frank Foyston, Seattle forward, badly sprained thigh.
• Roy Rickey, Seattle defense, cut across ankle.
• Bobby Rowe, Seattle defense, sprained ankle.
• Bert Corbeau, Montreal defenseman, strained shoulder.
Every other man on both clubs was nursing from one to a half-dozen minor bruises, sprains, and cuts.
The Seattle men were a sorry-looking lot yesterday morning. Several of them did not get out of bed until late in the day and all of them were sore from head to toe.
The Frenchmen, while in better shape, knew they were in a hockey game and several bore marks of the struggle. All of the visitors were dead tired and spent the day resting.
Al was kept busy on Thursday and Friday changing bandages on cuts and massaging muscles. For David there were holes to repair in the elbows of sweaters and knees of socks. But fixing them didn’t take all of his time. Although it was often raining, David went out when the weather wasn’t too bad. He walked the streets and peered at men’s faces, still hoping to spot a man who looked like him. On Friday he visited Mr. Embree’s office again, but Miss Carter told him that none of the other families had been able to provide any information. On Saturday morning David went across the street to see Mrs. Bailey at the newspaper office.
“We’ve been getting telephone calls and letters,”
she told him, “but they’re mostly from people who just want to wish you good luck. Several callers claimed to be your uncle.” Mrs. Bailey saw the flash of excitement in David’s eyes. “But they couldn’t even answer the simplest questions based on the things you were able to tell me.”
David slumped in his seat.
“Still, there was one call that seems promising. I wasn’t going to tell you about it until I had a chance to find out more, but there was a gentleman who called to say that he rents a room from a man named Daniel Williams. He has no idea if Mr. Williams was an orphan, but he said they’d been talking about the Stanley Cup series and Mr. Williams mentioned he had grown up in Montreal and moved west with his parents as a young man.”
David sat up straight. There was excitement in his eyes again, but then a look of doubt. “So why didn’t he call?”
“Well, the gentleman explained that Mr. Williams and his wife were called out of town last Saturday morning. They never saw the Sunday paper. They’ve been in Portland all this week, where Mrs. Williams’s mother has taken ill. However, they’re due back in town on the late train this evening. Our telephone caller has promised to speak with him when he sees him tomorrow and to call the newspaper office on Monday to let us know.”
But if the Canadiens lost on Saturday night, they’d be leaving Seattle to go to Victoria at nine o’clock on Monday morning.
Mrs. Bailey promised David that she’d send a telegram to him at the team’s hotel in Victoria if they’d already left before she heard anything. So as if he needed any more reasons, this was another good one for hoping the Canadiens could pull off a win that evening. But the team got off to another bad start.
Despite their many injuries — or maybe because of them — the Mets wanted to take care of business quickly. With another full house of four thousand fans screaming their support, the Seattle speedsters came out flying. The Canadiens stood their ground, hoping the Mets would tire themselves out. Vézina made a few good saves, but Frank Foyston found the net at 5:40 of the first period. He’d picked the puck up from a scramble in front and beat the Montreal goalie with a quick shot to the far corner.
Immediately, Newsy called in two of his substitutes. “Cleghorn for Corbeau,” the captain ordered. “Berlinquette for Couture.”
For the next nine minutes no one scored, but the Mets had the better of the play. Then Jack Walker scooped up the puck near centre ice. He zigzagged through the Canadiens’ defence and beat Vézina to make the score 2–0. That was how the first period ended, but just 1:18 after the intermission Walker scored again and Seattle led 3–0.
Both teams switched their players often during the second period, and the extra man the Canadiens were carrying started to make a difference. Pitre and Lalonde were pouring it on, but Holmes was having another great game. Nothing got past him, and the score was still 3–0 Seattle when the second period ended. The Mets’ fans cheered their team off the ice, certain they were twenty minutes away from becoming Stanley Cup champions.
The mood inside the Canadiens’ dressing room was surprisingly upbeat.
“It’s okay, boys! It’s okay!” Cleghorn kept saying over and over as David passed out the towels. “The tide’s turning. It’s going our way. We just gotta get that first one!”
“Odie’s right!” Couture hollered. “We get one, we’re gonna get a bunch. You can feel it!”
There were similar expressions of confidence from most of the players around the room. Vézina was his usual silent self, but that was what everyone expected. They would have been worried if he suddenly started getting excited. Corbeau wasn’t yelling much, either, but he looked as if he couldn’t wait to get back out there as Al re-taped the wrap on his injured shoulder. Only Joe seemed unusually quiet. He was pale, too. Pitre had dropped back on defence to take his spot during the second period, and Joe hadn’t returned to the ice after that.
“You all right?” David asked him.
Joe glanced up. His eyes seemed glassy. “I’ll be okay.
Just need some more rest.” He smiled weakly. “I’m not as young as I used to be.”
But it was obvious that ten minutes in the dressing room wasn’t enough time for him. Joe was worn out, and Newsy could see that his old rival was in no condition to go back on the ice. “Didier,” the captain said, “you’ll keep playing with Bert on defence. Odie, I want you up front with me. You, too, Billy.”
Newsy looked around the dressing room. He liked what he saw in his teammates’ eyes. “Okay, boys,” he said after a moment, “let’s go.”
Newsy beat Foyston for the opening faceoff, and the Canadiens poured into the Seattle end. They kept the pressure on but still couldn’t put the puck past Holmes. The Mets had their share of chances, too, but Vézina turned every shot aside. Then Couture picked up the puck deep in the Canadiens’ zone.
Couture usually played defence, but Newsy had been using him on the wing a lot in the series. He hadn’t added much scoring punch, but he’d been using his size to advantage against the smaller Mets defencemen. Now he showed his skillful side, too. Couture raced from end to end, stickhandling neatly into the Seattle zone. Then he zipped the puck across the ice for Cleghorn … and Odie scored!
Seattle 3, Montreal 1.
Newsy mussed Odie’s hair with a gloved hand. He tapped Couture on the butt with his stick. “Nice work. Now take a break.”
Berlinquette replaced Couture and lined up for the faceoff on Lalonde’s left. Cleghorn remained on the right wing. Again Newsy won the draw, and the three Canadiens forwards sped to the attack. Using Odie as a decoy, Newsy slipped a nice pass over to Berlinquette. Louis stepped around Roy Rickey on the Seattle defence, then froze Bobby Rowe with a quick pass back to Newsy. The captain snagged the puck and moved in on Holmes. Faking one way, then moving the other, Newsy fooled the goalie again. Just one minute later the team had another mark on the scoreboard.
Seattle 3, Montreal 2.
“Told ya!” Couture shouted on the bench. “They’re gonna start coming in bunches now!”
But the scoring stopped after that. Both teams had plenty of chances, but Holmes and Vézina matched each other save for save.
Time was running out when Newsy led another assault on the Seattle end. The Canadiens were buzzing around the net, but Holmes kept the puck out. He made a tough save on one sizzling shot, and the rebound went straight up in the air. Newsy reached as high as he could and knocked the puck down with his glove. As it was falling, he swung his stick like a baseball bat and swatted the falling disk into the net.
The score was tied 3–3. The Mets’ lead was gone. Their fans were stunned.
With only three minutes left to play neither team wanted to see overtime again. Both sides went at it hard for the winning goal, but Holmes and Vézina refused to be beaten. The score was still tied when the timer sounded his whistle to end the third period.
The league officials in charge of the Stanley Cup series had decided that if any more games went into overtime, they would be played to the finish no matter how long it took. It seemed impossible that the game’s fast pace could be kept up beyond sixty minutes, but this one raced on and on again with no end in sight. The Mets had some good chances early, but Vézina stopped them. When the play started going the Canadiens’ way, Holmes staved off defeat with save after save.
Finally, after fifteen minutes, the Canadiens got a break. The blade broke on one of Walker’s skates and he had to go off for repairs. Then Foyston took a hit on his wounded thigh and collapsed in pain. He struggled off the ice, and Seattle suddenly found itself missing its two best players. Even worse, the Mets had no substitutes left they could use, so when Cully Wilson came to the bench gasping for breath, there was no one to go on in his place. Wilson had to stay out there.
Like everyone else in the rink, David was up on his feet. From where he stood at the Canadiens’ bench, he was the first one to see the confusion on the Seattle side. Jack McDonald spotted it, too.
McDonald hadn’t seen any action for the Canadiens since the end of the third period, but he’d come onto the ice just a short while before Foyston got hurt. He was the freshest man in the game, and he sprung into action. McDonald scooped up the loose puck and steamed into the Seattle end. He split the defence of Rowe and Rickey, then moved in alone on Holmes. McDonald snapped a quick shot on goal and scored!
The Canadiens won the game 4–3. The comeback was complete.
The team was still alive … and so were David’s chances of finding his uncle.