The Bulldog growls ominously. His recent chastisement smarts, and behind his glaring eyes there lurks one thought; revenge! For weeks he has rushed about like mad, and inflicted sundry injuries on lesser rivals; his teeth are sharpened and his claws tense. Tonight, the bulldog springs.

The last hockey match did not give Harvard the victory once and for all. The outcome was not a decisive determination of superiority. Tonight, that victory is to be refought. Both teams are determined, the margin of strength and skill is narrow, and the safest predictions will be made tomorrow.

The ice awaits, the referee nervously tries his whistle, the crowd stirs and murmurs, impatient. The game is on, and only when the last thrilling minute of play has sped by unobserved, will Harvard know whether its stick has again beaten off the Bulldog.