“So I did hit you first,” answered Durgin readily. “And you deserved it too—wanting to break up that last shell race!”
“Did he really try to break up that race?” questioned Gif eagerly. “I saw him at the wheel of your motor-boat when we were on the homestretch.”
“That’s what he did!”
“It’s not so!” blustered Flanders.
“It is so! He wanted to steer the boat and I told him I’d do it. Then he shoved me aside and grabbed the wheel and steered right for your shell. Then I slapped him in the face, turned off the power, and steered my boat away from the course. A whole lot of people on the other boats saw it.”
“That was a fine piece of business, Flanders!” said Gif contemptuously. “A fine piece of business, trying to spoil our chance to win! You ought to be hooted out of Longley Academy for it.”
“Oh, say, Garrison, don’t get so smart,” put in Paul Halliday. “Tommy wasn’t going to run into your shell, or anything like it. He simply wanted to get close so he could see what was going on. All the boats were crowding in.”
“I don’t want anything from you, Halliday. I’ve got your number, and always have had,” returned the cadet who was at the head of the Colby Hall athletic committee, and who had been the coxswain of the eight. “I know you thoroughly.”
“We don’t belong at Colby Hall any more, and you’ve got no right to say anything to us,” remarked Billy Sands.
“Well, we’ll take the right when you knock down a man as you did Durgin,” came from Spouter.