It was peels at 8-to-8 in the tenth head as the skip stepped up to the crampit to deliver his iron. Up the ice with the soopers stood the vice-skip, Dentist Henry Hudson, his broom at the ready. Suddenly Dr. Hudson dropped his broom, clutched himself, yelled "I've been shot."
Last week Toronto police, having fruitlessly frisked the crowd around the curling rink, were looking for the person or persons unknown who had discharged a .22-caliber bullet into the seat of Curler Hudson's breeks.
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