As Tom uttered these words he opened one of the wide gates that gave entrance into Mr. Wayring’s grounds, and the three walked up the carriage way toward the house, until their progress was stopped by the sudden appearance of one of Joe’s pets—a Newfoundland dog, which came out from among the evergreens and stood in their path. He was a noble-looking fellow, and although he was gray with age, the attitude of defiance he assumed seemed to say that he considered himself quite as able to keep intruders off those premises as he had been during his younger days.
“Come on,” shouted a familiar voice. “Mars won’t trouble you. He don’t like tramps,” added Joe Wayring, leaning his double paddle against the side of the house, and coming forward to greet his visitors. “But fellows like you could go all over the place; and so long as you did not pick up any thing, Mars would not say a word to you. How are you, any way; and where are you going on foot? Why didn’t you come over in your canoes, so that we could have a little race all by ourselves? Come on. Sheldon and Hastings are down to the boat-house waiting for me.”
“We came over to ask a favor of you,” replied Tom, as soon as Joe gave him a chance to speak. “Would you mind taking in our names at the next meeting of the canoe club?”
“On the contrary, I shall be pleased to do it,” answered Joe, readily. “You have been pretty sly since your canoes came to hand, but we know more about you than you think we do,” he added, as he led the way through the carriage-porch and down the terraced bank toward the boat-house.
“I don’t quite understand you,” said Tom.
“I mean that we have watched you while you were taking your morning and evening spins up and down the lake, and we have come to the conclusion that some of us are going to get beaten. I’ll say this much for you, Bigden: I never saw a Shadow canoe get through the water, until I saw yours going down the lake yesterday afternoon.”
“Thank you,” said Tom. “Do you know who are booked for winners this year?”
“Booked!” repeated Joe. “There’s nobody booked. The best men will win, as they always have done.”
“I am afraid you are mistaken.”
“Oh, no; I guess not. We don’t have any jockeying here, and if any member of the club should so far forget himself as to interfere with one of the contestants, he would never row another race on this lake.”