“I know some boys who are going to take their chances on it,” said Tom, quietly.
“On fouling the head man so that somebody else can win?” cried Joe.
“That’s just what I mean.”
Joe could hardly believe his ears, and neither could Loren and Ralph believe theirs. This, then, was what Tom meant when he cautioned them against being surprised at any thing he might say! They were surprised—they couldn’t help it; and in order that Joe might not see their faces they fell behind, and allowed him and Tom to go on ahead.
“You know boys who are going to try to win by foul means!” repeated Joe. “I didn’t suppose that there was any one in the club who would be so mean. It is true that last year a certain canoeist persisted in keeping as close to me as he could, and drove the bow of his craft toward the stern of my own as often as he got the chance; but I thought it was accident, while some of my friends on shore declared that it was his intention to run into me, and claim the race because I got in his way. But, as luck would have it, I was able to paddle fast enough to keep out of his road. It seems to me that if I couldn’t win a prize fairly, I shouldn’t want to win it at all.”
“I know who that fellow was,” said Tom, “and I know, also, that he tried his very best to foul you. It was Prime. I heard all about it.”
Tom and his cousins supposed that Joe’s next question would be: Who told you about this plot, and what are the names of the boys who are “booked” to win by fair means or foul? But greatly to their surprise Joe propounded no such inquiry. The latter knew very well that if some one had not reposed confidence in him, Tom never would have heard of any plot; and Joe was too much of a gentleman to ask him to violate that confidence. He wanted to turn the conversation into another channel, and so he began talking about Mars, who was walking along the path before them.
“That fellow is the only foreigner in the party,” said Joe. “He was born and received the rudiments of his education on the bleak shores of Newfoundland.”
“Then how did you come to get hold of him?” inquired Tom.
“I was up there two winters ago with my uncle, hunting caribou.”