"And he can't run with you, anyway," said Flemming. "It is possible that he can lead you in a short dash, like the race to the station to-day, but he would not be in it in a long run."
"That race was one of his tricks," asserted Emery. "I believe the job was put up by him."
"How?" asked Yates, huskily.
"Why, he saw you in company with the rest of us, and he thought he stood a good show of outrunning you for a short spurt, so he had Diamond and Rattleton make the talk that they did to bring the race about."
"If that was not crooked, I don't know what you could call it," nodded Flemming. "He sprung it on you when you were not suspecting, and he led you to go against him for a short run, in which he is at his best. All the time, he knew he was not your match for a long race. That doesn't make a bit of difference to him."
"Not a bit," said Andy. "He is not looking for the good of Old Yale, but he is looking to get into the big race at the tournament. He has been lucky in everything he has tried, and he is depending on his
luck to win the race and acquire further glory for himself."
"Let's have another drink all round," suggested Flemming, as he produced Thornton's flask once more.
Yates took several swallows. Emery and Flemming pretended to drink in a hearty manner, but they allowed very little whiskey to go down their throats.