A smaller boy went by, calling the evening newspaper. Tom Reade bought one and stood at the edge of the crowd, reading.
"Here comes Hi Martin!" called someone. That youth had just turned a corner, swinging from his left hand a pudgy rubber bag of the kind that is used for holding a wet bathing suit.
"Hello, Prescott," was Hi's greeting. "Are you all ready to be left behind in the spray tomorrow?"
"If you can leave me there," Dick smiled. "Been out for a practice swim, have you?"
"Yes," nodded Hi; "and if you had seen my speed this afternoon you'd have been scared away from the river for to-morrow."
"Well, I hope one of us wins," grinned Dick.
"One of us?" sniffed Hi. "Of course, one of us has to win when there are only us two in that race. And, after I beat you to-morrow," Hi added consequentially, "I'll be off and away for a good time. Saturday father is going to take our family to New York for three weeks."
"Going to stop at one of the big hotels there?" Reade inquired, looking up from his newspaper.
"Of course we are," Hi rejoined, swelling out his chest. "We shall stop at one of the biggest and finest hotels in the city."
"Then don't get a room too high up from the ground," advised Tom. "I've just been reading in the evening paper that the city authorities in New York have taken all the elevators out of all the biggest hotels."