The game of tennis went merrily on, though the ground was wet and slippery, the balls soon became the same, and the rackets gradually became slow. In fact, the players knew the gut were ruined, but none of them would stop from playing. To-morrow was time enough to think of the cost.
It was just as the afternoon was getting along to a close, when the happy crowd of young folks was commencing to weary, that some one made a remark again about the race between the Rocket and the Speedaway.
“It will be only a few days more,” called out Fred Cunningham. “I have been watching the Rocket of Allen’s, and I saw the way it acted this afternoon. It really will be a shame the way the Speedaway will run off from the Rocket.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised but what you expect to run several rings around me,” declared Frank Allen, making a very brave attempt to make the speech laughingly.
“Now, that hadn’t occurred to me; but I believe it can be done.” Cunningham, instead of taking it up in the same bantering fashion, made a serious matter of it.
“Well, as you said, it will be only a few days. In the meanwhile I think I shall install a couple of pair of wings on the Rocket,” answered Frank.
For a while the conversation ran in this wise, and then veered off to a discussion of the Parsons robbery case, a subject which had thus far been taboo with Frank’s closest friends.
The boys supposed none of the girls knew the inside facts of what had been going on, and the five of them, Frank, Lanky, Paul, Ralph, and Buster felt that they could keep this particular subject clear of any personal references.
But they missed their guess, for Irene Rich was the one who spoiled their hopes with the remark:
“Frank was up there, and he ought to know a whole lot. Why not tell us all about it, Frank?”