“Well—yes,” said Prime, who knew that Noble and the rest expected him to say something. “We’d like to have you win under different circumstances, but as it is, I think—you see—look here; I suppose you are with us against Wayring and the other fellows who have been walking off with the prizes every year since the club had an existence!”
“Certainly I am,” answered Tom. “We all are, and we’re going to do the best we can to beat them, too. Didn’t you tell us no longer ago than yesterday that you wished we would come into the club and make Joe Wayring lower his broad pennant for a while?” he added, turning to Prime.
“I did; but I have had opportunity to talk the matter over with my friends since then, and we have decided that those who have worked so long and so hard for the prizes, ought to have them in preference to any new-comers.”
“All right,” said Tom, silencing by a look the words of indignant protest that arose to Ralph’s lips and Loren’s. “Who comes in for the paddle race?”
“I do,” said Noble.
“And who is put down for the upset race?” continued Tom.
Bob Lord said that he was; and a young fellow named Scott volunteered the information that his friends had decided that he ought to be allowed to win the portage race, because he came so near winning it fairly the year before.
“Then it seems that my cousins and I are to be left out in the cold,” observed Tom, who was mad enough to break things.
“By no means,” some of the boys hastened to explain. “There are some handsome prizes offered for the sailing races, and we intend that you shall win them if we can make you do it.”
“Don’t want ’em,” said Tom, gruffly. “Couldn’t enter for them if we did.”