“I know they lost money on this race,” said Bart Conners. “I just learned that they made bets that either they or Ritter would win.”
“To my mind, it is nothing but a put-up job,” said Andy flatly. “They really bet on Ritter and they plotted to hold us back, knowing we really stood a good chance to come in ahead.”
“But none of us reckoned on Joe,” said Jack, with a grin. “I don’t begrudge him the victory.”
“Not for a minute!” answered Andy.
None of the chums did, for Joe was a prince of good fellows, even though rather quiet and studious. All went up to shake him by the hand and congratulate him.
“I don’t know how I did it myself,” said Joe. “I didn’t think I could win at the start, but after I had gone a couple of miles I found that I was in prime condition, and then I just let myself out, that’s all.”
Ritter had retired, thoroughly disgusted with the outcome of the race. Without loss of time he sought out Paxton and Coulter.
“Well, I’ve lost, and I’ve got to hand over every dollar I can scrape up,” he said, uglily.
“You needn’t blame me,” answered Coulter. “We did our best to keep the others back.”
“You didn’t keep Joe Nelson back. He was at the front nearly all the way.”